River Jordan
A Jerusalem Love Song
The Dove and the Wolf series
Book 1
Lisa Shea
Copyright © 2015 by Lisa Shea / Minerva Webworks LLC
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Lisa Shea. The source image is the gorgeous Brera Madonna by Giovanni Bellini.
Book design by Lisa Shea
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Visit my website at LisaShea.com
Half of all author’s proceeds from this series benefit battered women’s shelters.
Prologue
Sarah leaned heavily against her husband, the weight of her nine-month pregnancy causing her to take slow, steady steps across the cobblestoned street. Jerusalem had been packed with travelers on pilgrimage during the long week of Passover, but that had ended three days past. Finally her beloved city was returning to its usual level of clatter and conversation.
The setting sun was sending long rays across the stone buildings, bringing out the gold that she loved so much. It was as if the entire world had been gilded, shining out its beauty.
And soon another child would join her family. Another delight in her already full-to-the-brim world.
She paused for a moment, brushing her long, brown hair back beneath its white veil. “John, a breath is all I need. Then we can continue on to find my father.”
“You could have stayed at home, my sweet.” He had said that perhaps ten times since they had set out from their small one-room bavith – the simple dwelling the entire family shared on the edge of town. “I am sure he is all right. He is getting older, but his wits are still about him.”
She looked with love at the man she had wed five years ago. He had been gentle and kind to her, and together they were raising three wonderful children - a son and two daughters. She ran a hand over her rounded belly, swaddled beneath the pale blue robe. Soon they would have a fourth blessing in their home.
“Once we bring my father home, then I will rest,” she assured him. “It’s not like him to be out this late in the afternoon. Perhaps he’s fallen or is hurt.”
John stretched a strong arm around her waist. “I’m sure he’s just at the temple, talking with his friends, and has lost track of the time. He misses it, you know, now that he’s not in the thick of things any more. He enjoys his sessions with them. The examination of minutiae. The exchange of ideas.”
Sarah nodded. She had been a late addition to her father’s family, born long after most of her siblings were grown and off with families of their own. Her mother was nearly sixty and her father past that. And yet both her parents still had a spring to their step; a sparkle to their eye. She hoped that her own life with John would be as long and healthy.
At last she smiled up at him. “All right, then. I’m ready.”
She loved Jerusalem. She loved the fragrant spice-sellers and the beautiful colors in the rug merchant’s shop. A young man with a twinkle in his eye tried to lure her in to sample his spiced wines. She waved him off. There would be plenty of time to rest and relax once she returned home. But, for now, they had to get to the temple.
Its massive walls loomed larger and larger as they approached. Finally they rounded the last corner and were at its long, polished steps. And sitting there, amongst a collection of other elderly men -
Sarah smiled in relief. There he was, his grey hair askew, his green robe held close for warmth in the shimmering spring sunset. He was leaning forward with interest, as were the men around him, listening to -
Sarah blinked in surprise. Was that a young boy talking to them?
All of a sudden a man and woman rushed up the steps toward the boy, crying out in heartfelt relief. The woman swooped up the boy into her arms, holding him close. The man drew them both in.
Sarah twined her fingers into John’s. It was clear what had happened here. She, too, knew the utter panic of losing a child. One time at the marketplace her eldest, Mattan, had managed to slip away from her while she wrangled over the price of a fish. She was at the point of tears before she finally found him, contentedly tucked away in a corner of an alley, dangling a string over a mewling bundle of kittens.
The reunited family turned to the street, and Sarah smiled at them as the two groups approached each other. “It is good that you found him healthy and whole.”
The woman’s cheeks were still pink with relief. “That it is,” she agreed.
The young boy looked with curiosity at Sarah’s swollen belly. “Shall it be a boy or a girl?”
Sarah smiled down at him. “We have one boy and two girls now, so I imagine John would prefer another son. But I shall be grateful as long as our child is happy and healthy.”
The boy placed his small hand on her belly. “A daughter, I think. She will know heartache and pain, but, in the end, great joy.”
Sarah chuckled. “That would seem to describe all of our lots in life. You are a wise child.”
The boy’s mother ran a fond hand through his hair. “He is, indeed.” She looked at her husband. “And we have to get him back home.”
Sarah nodded. “Safe journeys to you.”
“And to you.”
The family moved off down the street, lost in the hubbub and swirling humanity which was Jerusalem.
Sarah’s father came up to her, his grey eyes bright with interest. “Did you speak with him? Isn’t he wondrous?”
Sarah turned to look in the direction the family had gone. “Why? Who is he?”
Her father shook his head. “We have no idea at all.”