As Sure as the Dawn (36 page)

When he said nothing, she felt desolate. “That’s all I wanted to say.” She started to turn away.

Atretes stood.

Startled, she caught her breath and stepped back from him. It was an instinctive action, one of self-preservation, and it told him more clearly than any words ever could where he stood with her. Should he be surprised or hurt now by her distrust in the wake of his behavior last night?

Caleb started to crawl toward the stream. Atretes took one step and caught his son up under his arm again.

“You shouldn’t hold him like that.”

He ignored her motherly concern and cut to the issue between them. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t repeat what I did last night.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

“Didn’t you?” he said dryly, noting the pulse throbbing in her throat.

“You startled me. That’s all.”

He just looked at her, wanting her all over again. When he had heard her approach, he’d expected words of retaliation, insults, even mockery. He had been prepared for those things, equipped with his own weapons. If she had railed at him, his guilt could have been salved. Instead,
she
apologized . . . and stripped him of his armor. He searched for words and couldn’t find any sufficient.

She waited a moment for him to speak. Searching his face, her own softened, her dark eyes filling with compassion and tenderness. “I forgive you, Atretes. I won’t speak of it again.” She turned away again and stepped up the bank. He saw the raw skin around her ankles where the leather straps of her worn sandals had rubbed over the long hours of walking. Not once had she complained. He wanted to wash her feet and rub salve in and then wrap them. He wanted to hold and comfort her.

“Rizpah.” His voice came out rough and hard, not the way he had intended. He waited until she looked at him. “If you hadn’t spoken as you did last night, I would not have let you go, and to Hades with your feelings,” he said with painful honesty.

“I know,” she said with equal frankness. “I know other means of protecting myself, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He laughed. It was such an outrageous statement. She smiled back, her dark eyes guileless and warm. His laughter died. It struck him again how deep his feelings for her went.

“I can’t promise it won’t happen again.” His mouth curved bitterly. “It comes of being what I am.”

“It comes of what you’ve
allowed
Rome to make you.”

His mouth tightened. He shifted Caleb in his arms and came closer. “I haven’t touched another woman since you came to my villa. It wasn’t for lack of opportunity.”

She blushed, wondering if he knew what he was revealing to her. His physical strength and beauty had always intimidated her, but never so much as this confession did, for it was as close as he would get to admitting he held her in any esteem whatsoever. Her response to him was appallingly strong.

Lord, don’t let this man be my undoing. You know all my weaknesses. Lord, put stumbling blocks between Atretes and me; otherwise I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand firm.

Atretes studied her face intently and saw a great deal he knew she didn’t intend him to see. He walked toward her slowly, feeling her tension increasing with each step. She moved a foot up to higher ground. He understood; she wanted distance between them. He looked into her eyes and saw something else. She didn’t want distance because she loathed him, but because he could breach her walls.

“Take him back with you.” He held Caleb up to her. She had to come down two steps to take him. As she did, she looked at him again. Atretes watched the pupils of her brown eyes widen until he felt drawn inside her. Need swept over him. He smiled bleakly. “You’d better keep your little shield close.”

Theophilus was ready to go when they returned. Atretes shouldered his gear, and they walked another six miles, making camp beside another small stream. Rizpah went down to a small pool and soaked her aching feet while she bathed Caleb. The water was cold, but the child loved it, splashing and babbling in pure pleasure. She laughed when he slapped the water. “Enough,” she said and plucked him out.

She carried him up the bank, where he squirmed, wanting to be free. She lowered him, supporting him under his arms so that he could walk. The soft blades of new grass tickled his toes, and he kept lifting his feet off the ground. Laughing, she put him down and let him crawl, remaining close to be sure he didn’t try to put anything in his mouth. It seemed he wanted to taste everything in the world around him.

Theophilus watched Rizpah following Caleb. Her laugh carried and made him smile. “She’s a good mother.”

Atretes sat silent and morose, his back against the oak tree. He watched her for a long moment, then rested his head back, looking north, his expression grim. Theophilus suspected Atretes was just beginning to realize the monumental task he had set for a woman carrying a child on her back, a child bound to get bigger and even more active and demanding along the way.

The sun set, and Theophilus built a fire. He and Rizpah shared devotions of Scriptures and songs. Uncomfortable, Atretes rose and left them, seeking the solitude of a distant copse of trees. He returned later and watched Rizpah feed Caleb a portion of her own grain gruel. When the babe was replete, he wanted to play. Intrigued by the flickering fire, he crawled toward it.

“No, no,” Rizpah said gently. Over and over, he tried to go to it, and she would get up and retrieve him. Caleb cried in frustration, and she looked sorely ready to join him.

Annoyed, Atretes rose and came round the fire. “Give him to me.”

“He’ll settle soon.”

He reached down and scooped the child up, then returned to his space on the opposite side of the fire. Kneeling, he released him.

“He’s too close to the fire, Atretes.”

“He’ll learn to stay away from it.”

She rose as Caleb crawled straight for the flames.

“Sit down!”

“He’ll burn himself!”

“He has to learn boundaries.” Atretes made no move to stop him. “No, Caleb,” he said firmly. Leaning forward, he lightly smacked the small hand reaching for the bright embers on a stick. Startled, Caleb drew back and hesitated. Fascination won over obedience. He reached out again.
“No.”
Atretes smacked his hand harder. Caleb’s lip quivered, but after a brief hesitation, temptation won.

Rizpah rose quickly, but it was already too late. Caleb’s expression of wonder changed to one of surprised pain. Theophilus caught her wrist and held her where she was when Atretes plucked his son off the ground.

“How could you?” she cried.

“A few blisters won’t kill him,” Atretes said. “And he’ll learn obedience.” He tucked his son in the crook of his arm. “Next time, you know better,
ja?”

“Let me have him back before more harm comes to him.”

Atretes ignored her and spoke softly in German as he examined his son’s scorched fingers. He sucked on them, and Caleb’s crying eased. When the tot stopped crying completely, Atretes examined his fingers again.

“No serious damage.”

Rizpah glared at him speechlessly, her eyes awash with tears. Caleb plucked at his father’s lip, delighted to be the center of his attention.

Atretes uttered a playful growl and snapped at the tiny intrusive fingers, drawing a squeak of laughter. He nibbled his son’s fingers and sucked gently on the sore ones a moment longer before setting him down again.

Caleb looked at the fire.

“Oh, Lord,” Rizpah said. Theophilus’ hand tightened, keeping her where she was. “Atretes, don’t let him—”

“He’s a
boy
and not to be coddled!”

“He’s a
baby!”

Still fascinated, Caleb rocked back and forth, thinking.

Atretes leaned back and watched.

“He’s as willful as you,” Rizpah said. “If you let him hurt himself again, so help me, I’ll—”

Caleb started to crawl toward the pretty flickering lights. “No!” Atretes said firmly. Caleb plopped back on his bottom and flapped his arms, jabbering loudly as he made his frustration known. Theophilus laughed, releasing Rizpah.

Rizpah let out her breath softly, but kept watching Caleb lest he change his mind and head again for disaster. He headed for the packs and sat playing with the leather straps.

“He’s willful,” Atretes said, grinning smugly, “not stupid.”

She wasn’t amused or mollified. “Well, thank God he wasn’t on a cliff.”

A muscle jerked in Atretes’ jaw. His blue eyes turned hard and mocking. “You think you take better care of my son than I do? A painful lesson is hard learned, but never forgotten.” He stared straight into her eyes. “Pain teaches a man not to make the same mistake twice.”

She knew he had just deliberately smashed the bridge that had been built between them this afternoon. And it was her own fault.
Lord, when will I learn to hold my tongue?
She looked bleakly back at him and felt the boundaries he had drawn around himself. After all these months together, he still equated her with Rome and Julia Valerian. He would enjoy having her as his mistress, but heaven forbid he let her close enough to be a companion and friend.

O Abba, Abba . . .

Turning her head away, she hoped he wouldn’t know how easily he could cut through her own barriers. She had almost regained control when Theophilus put his hand over hers. The tender gesture broke down all defenses. “Excuse me,” she said in a choked whisper and rose.

Atretes came to his feet as she walked away into the darkness.

“Sit down, Atretes.”

“Stay out of this.”

“You got your victory. Enjoy it if you must, but let her withdraw with honor.”

“Mind your own business, Roman.”

“So be it, but if you’re going to chase her down, take Caleb with you.” He settled back comfortably on his blanket. “I’m going to sleep.”

Frustrated, Atretes clenched his fists and stayed where he was. Rizpah went down the bank and disappeared from sight. He wanted to go after her, but knew if he did, he would say or do something more to regret. He had seen the effect his words had upon her.

Stooping down, he picked up a thick branch, broke it in half, and tossed it onto the fire, causing a burst of sparks to fly heavenward.

“We’ll try for Civita Castellana tomorrow and then head west for the Tyrrhenian Sea,” Theophilus said without opening his eyes.

Rizpah sat down on the bank of the stream, her knees drawn up against her chest.

“O Lord, I need you,” she whispered brokenly. “Am I going to contend against this man for the rest of my life? I miss Shimei. I miss the safety I felt being with him. Why couldn’t I have gone on that way?”

She rested her chin on her knees, thinking she should go back and watch over Caleb. But Atretes had proven himself more than capable of that. Moonlight cast shimmering reflections, like sparkling jewels, on the dark moving stream. She let out her breath slowly, drawing on her faith.

“You are the God of creation, who gave us Jesus. How can I sit here and say you don’t understand? Who but you can understand, Lord?”

She stood and held her hands out palms up, looking to the heavens.

“Father, I thank you for the blessings you have bestowed upon me. You brought me out of the darkness in which I was living and placed Shimei in my life. He was such a pure, sweet man. He never made the mistakes I did. He deserved someone better than I. Some people are born obedient to your will, Lord, and Shimei was such a man.”

Her voice was thick with tears. “Help me remember you made me as I am for your own purposes. I don’t have to know what they are. I don’t know why I had to lose Shimei or why Rachel had to die. I don’t know anything other than you sustained me, Lord. Out of my sorrow, you gave me Caleb and joy.”

She lowered her hands.

And now there was Atretes.

She shook her head faintly, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the cool night. “It’s so peaceful and beautiful here, Lord,” she said softly. “When I’m by myself like this, I can think and convince myself that you’ll sustain me through whatever comes. But, Abba, I’m burdened with feeling where he’s concerned. You know the woman I am. You knit me together. Couldn’t you have made me a little differently? Lead me not into temptation. Lord, I know I’m a weak vessel. Atretes speaks, and I take his words to heart. He looks at me, and I melt inside. He touches me, and I burn for him.”

A soft night breeze caressed the leaves in the tree near the stream bank. The sound was peaceful.

“Lord, may it be your Word that is carved upon my heart,
your
love that I crave. Open my mind and heart to drink in the word Theophilus gives me each morning. Strengthen me for your purpose. Cast out the ‘if onlys’ and ‘what ifs’ that plague me when Atretes looks at me. I remember what it felt like to be loved by a man. Sometimes I hunger for that kind of loving again. Help me to see him through your eyes, Lord, and not through the eyes of a fleshly woman. Redeem him, Father. Bring him up out of the pit and set his feet upon the Rock.”

Insects chirped around her and the soft burbling of the stream soothed her.

A strong sense of peace overwhelmed her, and she fell silent, too choked with emotion to speak.
Music, Lord. All around me is the music of your creation.
She let the sounds flow over and around her in sweet harmony, thinking of all the times the Lord had sustained her and provided for her, and her heart rose and swelled, renewed.