Ruth
It was a cold day along the Sea of Galilee. Wind blew in off the water causing vendors in the marketplace to huddle toward the backs of their booths. In a corner of Ruth's in a carrier bed James had made, baby Clarissa, now nearly six months old, gurgled and babbled. Daniel was on the dirt floor playing with toys James designed for him. Ruth and Melanie waited for customers. Few were about. Further down the wharf the daily crowd haggled with fisherman. Well past midmorning, Ruth had yet to sell anything, except a bolt of softly woven cloth to be used for diapers, said the maid of a rich woman.
Sales had been slow for the two days since the most recent crackdown. People were being stopped, questioned and beaten. With still no word of John's fate, each day Ruth became more distraught. Each morning she awoke, fearing this would be the day she would learn of his death.
"We might as well go home with the group that leaves at this time of day, Melanie," Ruth said. "We can come back after things calm down."
They packed the cloth into the cart, hitched the donkey to the wagon and headed to Simon and Sara's house. Oftentimes, they spent several nights in a row with their friends, but not this time. Ruth wanted to go home. They stored the cart inside the courtyard under an awning and headed out.
"You'd better hurry," Sara said, bidding them goodbye. "You don't want to get caught on the road in the dark."
"Are you okay, Sara?" Ruth asked. Her friend looked more peaked than the day earlier.
"I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant, and I just haven't been feeling well."
"You do look puny," Melanie said. "Maybe we should stay and look after you."
"No, that's okay. Mother's coming next week." She took a limping step and hugged Ruth. When she pulled away Ruth looked into her eyes.
In them she saw it, something she had seen in others. She didn't want to think that way about Sara. It wasn't time. It couldn't be. She was too young, too special, too caring about everyone she met.
"Be careful on the way home," Sara said.
"I really think we need to stay," Ruth said.
"No, that's okay." Sara said. "I'm fine."
"Okay, well, if you're sure. Take care of yourself," Ruth said, worried, thinking maybe they should stay regardless.
Leading the jenny with Daniel on its back Ruth and Melanie began the walk home. Melanie carried Clarissa in a backpack. They usually alternated; Melanie would carry her for a while, then Ruth would take over. Just beyond the old mill they met up with the group leaving the city. A dozen people straggled out in front of them. A few feet away a man and two women engaged in animated conversation.
"They killed him," said one woman, sounding angry.
"No," said the other woman.
The man said, "Who? Who'd they kill?"
"The one called the Prophet," the first woman said.
Ruth blanched. She hurried to catch up.
The first woman said, "They cut off his head and offered it to Pilate's daughter on a platter. Can you imagine?"
Ruth nearly vomited.
"You're not serious?" the man said.
"It was grizzly," the first woman said.
"What kind of barbarian would do something like that? How did you come by this information?" the second woman said.
"I was down the wharf buying fish," the first woman said, patting the basket on her arm. "Some soldiers were talking about it. One was laughing. The other one lost his breakfast."
"Did you know he has a wife?" the man said.
"I heard he wasn't married," the second woman said. "Someone told me he had no use for women."
"He has one all right," the man said. "She tends a booth here at the market sometimes. She sells cloth, I think."
"Really?" the second woman said. "Can you imagine how hard it'll be for her? To have your husband beheaded like that? Dear Lord, help her. What else did you hear?"
"Nothing," the first woman said. "The magistrate came along. They got to talking about something else."
Ruth couldn't speak. She couldn't think. The image of her beloved's head on a platter wiped everything else from her mind. Beside her, Melanie had tears in her eyes. Neither of them spoke. They shuffled along the road toward home.
"Maybe it was somebody else," Melanie said after a time.
Daniel stared at the countryside spotting goats and sheep in a nearby field. Instead of chattering like he usually did he was quiet.
"What are you going to do?" Melanie said.
Ruth took a shallow breath. "We'd better hurry, or we'll get caught in the dark."
It was dusk by the time they reached Nazareth. Once in the family compound, Melanie followed Ruth into the house. Mother Mary was waiting.
"You heard," Mother Mary said, her eyes filled with concern and sorrow.
"Yes," Ruth said. She felt bleak, vacant, like her soul had left her body and no one had bothered to tell her.
"So it's true?" Melanie said.
"Yes," Mother Mary said. She took sleepy-eyed Daniel into Ruth's room, bedded him down and placed Clarissa beside him. When she returned her daughter was huddled by the fire, shivering.
"Your father and Yeshua have gone to check it out to make certain," Mother Mary said.
"I didn't know Yeshua was here," Melanie said. She loved him so. He made her feel special and safe, especially safe.
"He brought the news," Mother Mary said.
"Why do people do things like that, Mother?" Ruth said.
"Lack of soul," Mother Mary said.
"You mean, like they don't have any?" Melanie asked. It was an awful thought, a body walking around without anyone in it.
"It's more like they haven't grown," Mother Mary said. "Violence in all forms indicates the perpetrators are still young souls."
"When they killed my father, I...." Melanie paused. She could still see his body, the dried blood, the flies. She could still smell death on him. "I vowed to stop war and people killing people. But the thing is, I don't know how. How can we do that, Mother Mary?"
"Teach love and practice kindness," she said.
"We're doing that. It isn't working," Melanie said.
"It takes some people life after life to catch on," Mother Mary said. "Each soul grows as it is ready and not an iota before."
"What if they're never ready?" Melanie said.
"That's their choice," Mother Mary said. "It's always about choice."
"I've heard that God will destroy the wicked," Melanie said, "wipe them out entirely."
"That isn't the way it works," Mother Mary said. "Some people say that to make themselves feel less vulnerable. Some people say it to control others. But the truth is, if that was the case, all would have been destroyed long ago."
Ruth did not hear them. She crouched next to the wood box, all hope gone.
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