Love In A Broken Vessel (26 page)

He stepped closer. Loomed over her. Gazed down at her. Hungry.

Her mind reeled. What was he doing here? Did he really have a message from Hosea? Should she be afraid? The kitchen knife on the other side of the table came to mind. “I’m suddenly anxious to hear whatever you have to say, Commander Hananiah.” She kept her voice low, seductive.

He stepped to within a handbreadth, leaning over her, whispering, “Your husband has sent word through King Uzziah’s spies. He’ll be returning before next Sabbath.”

Her heart pounded, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of Hosea’s news or Hananiah’s nearness.

The commander traced a line from her shoulder to her fingertips, then bent and kissed her shoulder. His large hand came to rest on her kitchen knife. “You won’t need that tonight—or ever—with me, Gomer. Though I have wanted you since the moment I saw you, I will never force myself on you.” He placed both hands on her waist, felt the curves of her form. “It’s a crime that your husband leaves you alone for so long. Such a fine piece of pottery is worth a high price. I will pay you well if you are willing to be discreet. Tell no one of our visits. I’ll come at night, while your children sleep.” He bent to kiss her, hesitantly at first, teasing her. He smiled
and pulled away, but she captured his face with her hands and kissed him thoroughly.

When was Hosea coming home?

Hosea’s heart pounded in his ears, and even Micah was breathing heavily. They’d pushed themselves hard on the final hike from Bethlehem to Tekoa. Hosea needed to see Gomer, and they both needed to talk with Jonah. The gruesome images of Tiphsah still haunted Hosea. When he’d returned to the hideaway in Shiloh and recounted the atrocities to Micah, they’d gathered their supplies and sent word through Uzziah’s spies of their imminent return home.

“What’s the first thing you’ll do when you get home?” Micah asked, picking up speed on the way down a rocky incline.

A wash of sadness paused Hosea’s answer.

The young man looked back. “I’m sorry, Hosea. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s hard to plan when I don’t know what or who awaits me.” He’d considered the possibility that Gomer would be gone—even that she would have taken the children. “But I’m trying hard to trust that I’m not too late here as well.” That terrible feeling of helplessness revisited him. If he’d gotten to Tiphsah a little sooner, could he have stopped the carnage?

Micah waited for him on the trail at the crest of the next hill. Almost as tall as Hosea, the young man settled his hand on his teacher’s shoulder. “An eerily white old man once told me that Yahweh’s timing is perfect, and we should never live in a state of regret for things we cannot control.”

The comment earned a smile and lightened Hosea’s heart. “What old coot told you that?” Both chuckled and hurried toward camp, eager to see their old teacher.
Lord, let him be alive.

Jogging now that the camp was in sight, Micah pointed at the small stone structures situated north of Amos’s walled
compound. “Should we stop and report to King Uzziah before we go home?”

Hosea was huffing, feeling older than his twenty-four years. “I say we shout a promise to return after we say hello to our households.” Micah laughed, and Hosea added, “He can send his guards to collect us if he feels it’s a matter of national security.”

The jovial mood helped dull Hosea’s angst, but once he was inside the camp’s gate, emotion overwhelmed him. They passed Amos’s house and then hesitated at Hosea’s courtyard gate. Micah patted his shoulder and stopped at Jonah’s gate next door. They shared a glance, nodded, and stepped into their unknown circumstances.

Hosea noted the stable—clean and neatly kept, the animals calm and peaceful. The sun had begun its descent over the western hills.
Hmm. Isaiah did the chores early.

He stopped at the front door, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached for the latch three times before finally pushing it open. Jezzy was toddling after the cat, and a baby was swaddled on the worktable. Gomer looked up. Her hands stilled, full of barley dough.

“Hosea?”

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. His breathing grew more ragged, his knees suddenly weak. He leaned on his walking stick, stumbling to a goatskin rug.

“Are you hurt?” Gomer grabbed the baby and laid her on the rug beside him, then lifted his chin to search his face. “Are you hurt?” she asked again.

He stared into her beautiful hazel eyes with flecks of green, gold, and brown. Tears choked him. “You’re safe.” It was all he could think of to say. Somewhere in his soul, he had feared she’d be maimed or beaten—or gone.

“Hosea, are you all right?” She reached out to brush his beard with her fingers. “What happened? What’s wrong with you?”

“Ima?” Jezzy came to her for comfort, laying his head on her chest.

Hosea’s heart fluttered. Their son adored her, it was clear. He choked back sobs, his words garbled amid the emotions that tore at his heart and strangled his voice. “Tiphsah . . . families . . . Eitan said . . .”

Fear etched her features as she stroked his cheeks. “I can’t understand what you’re saying, Hosea.”

He shook his head, fell silent. How could he tell her he’d been too late? He glimpsed the baby girl on the rug beside him and whispered, “Lo-Ruhamah.”

“Rahmy.” Gomer’s voice grew cold.

Defeated, he let his head fall forward. “I can’t fight with you now, Gomer.” Hesitating, he pleaded, “Please be the little girl at Bethel. Be my Gomer.” He closed his eyes, spent.

She held Jezzy in one arm and slid her other arm around his shoulders, rocking them both. “You’re home, Hosea. Rest now. You’re home.” Her strength soaked into him, reviving, restoring.

He lost track of time, but when Jezzy’s tummy rumbled, Gomer sat him on Hosea’s lap. “I need to fix our meal.”

Hosea halted her and reached for the swaddled bundle beside him. “May I hold Rahmy while you cook?”

She hesitated, glancing between Hosea and Jezzy, seemingly cautious to trust him with her newest treasure. She nodded once but kept a watchful eye on all three. Hosea lifted the little bundle into his arms, studying her pink cheeks, wrinkled fingers, tiny nose. “She’s beautiful, Gomer.” Tears came again, this time grateful offerings to the One who plants the seeds of love.
Thank You, Yahweh, for this baby—for changing my heart to call her Rahmy, not Lo-Ruhamah.

He lay down on the goatskin rug, placing the babe on his chest. Jezzy resumed his pursuit of Sampson, too wiggly to cuddle for long. Throughout the night, Hosea marveled at Gomer’s tenderness toward the children, the richness with which she loved them.

“Tell your abba good night,” she said, holding Jezzy’s hand, guiding him toward Hosea. He received the sweet kiss from
his son’s rosebud lips and listened to Gomer sing a bedtime tune.
Yahweh, thank You for bringing me home.

“Hosea.” His wife stood over him in the dim light of a single oil lamp. She reached down, inviting him. “I’m no longer the girl from Bethel.” Her eyes were filled with compassion. “I can’t bear to see you in torment. Let me comfort you.”

He stared at her hand, breathless.
Yahweh, is this right?
What about his realization that he’d taken his wife in lust rather than love? Could he love her tonight? Did he still love her?

Her hand fell to her side, pain fleeting in her eyes before she squared her shoulders and turned toward their bedchamber—alone.

His silence had hurt her, and his heart broke.
Yes, Yahweh, I love her.
His heart pounded. “Wait.”

“I’ve
been
waiting, Hosea.” The words stung, aimed to wound as he’d wounded her before he left for Israel. Silence filled the space between them. She extended her hand once more, lifting a single eyebrow—her last invitation.

He stood on shaky legs and followed her into their bedchamber.
I love you, Gomer. I cannot stop loving you.

• A
MOS
5:27 •

I will send you into exile beyond Damascus, says Yahweh, whose name is Elohe Tsebaoth [God of Armies].

G
omer woke to an empty bed.
Why am I surprised?
She moved through her morning routine, trying to push Hosea out of her mind—and every corner of her heart. “Ouch!” She nicked her thumb with the knife while slicing the melon for Jezzy’s breakfast.

“Ima, ouchy!”

“Yes, lovey. Eat.” She shoved the meager offering in front of her son and lifted a squalling Rahmy into her arms. “Shh, baby. Ima’s here. Your wet nurse will be here any moment.” Where was that fat, lazy cow? Jezzy’s wet nurse had let her milk dry, so Gomer had hired a new woman—far less responsible but the only one agreeable to nurse the
harlot’s child
.

The morning sun streamed in through the window. She’d slept late, and she wanted to get to the pottery shop before Hosea decided to come back—if he came back. Maybe he’d already gone back to Israel. Or was he staying home this time? Would Yahweh call him away again? What did last night mean?

Nothing. Last night meant nothing. She was taking the children and leaving Tekoa as soon as—

“Good morning.” The deep voice startled her. Hosea grinned as he clicked the door shut behind him. “I thought I’d let you sleep while I tended to the stable.” He tousled Jezzy’s curly hair and lifted Rahmy from her arms—as if she were his own.

Heart racing, she wasn’t sure what to say, what to expect. Was he staying? How could she earn enough silver to leave Tekoa if Hananiah couldn’t come at night? Did she even want to leave if Hosea promised to stay?

“What would you like to eat?” It was the safest question she could think of.

“I already ate some bread and cheese. I’m on my way to see Jonah and Uzziah. Have you heard how Jonah’s been feeling lately?”

She kept her hands busy, packing her midday meal, straightening Jezzy’s toys. “I haven’t heard. Jonah and I don’t exactly celebrate new moons together.” She met Hosea’s chuckle with a wry grin.

“Well, I suppose I can understand that,” he said. “Micah and I need to report to Uzziah after I see Jonah. I’m sure the king and his commander will want to know what we saw at Tiphsah . . .” His words trailed off as his eyes grew distant.

“Hosea?”

Deep sadness prefaced his words. “I saw Eitan.”

The mere name made her shudder. “Where did you see him?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is Menahem is now Israel’s king, and Eitan is his general. They’ve committed unspeakable acts of savagery against fellow Israelites, and I believe Yahweh’s judgment is imminent.”

She tried to sound uninterested, aloof. “What does this mean for you?” Fighting tears, she refused to ask,
What does it mean for us?

“I don’t know,” he said, averting his gaze. “I need to speak
with Jonah and King Uzziah . . .” He paused, hugged Rahmy a little tighter. “And then find out what Yahweh wants me to do next.”

She closed her eyes against the pain.
What Yahweh wants him to do next.
Nothing had changed. Hosea hadn’t come home to stay, he’d come home to refresh himself for another mission.

“I’ll prepare your travel bag.” She turned away, stuffing hard cheese and bread in a pack, wrapping herself in the shroud of indifference that kept her sane.

At least when Hosea left this time, Hananiah would hold her at night. The commander had been kind, brought her gifts—and he’d visited every night since delivering Hosea’s message last week. Dependable as the sun and moon.

The door clicked, and she looked up, finding Rahmy nestled on the goatskin and Jezzy eating his melon.
Hosea always leaves.

She allowed a single tear to fall down her cheek. Just one tear.
I must have Yuval bring back pomegranates from her next market journey with Amos.
Hopefully, her friend wouldn’t realize the fruit was a measure of birth control. If Gomer was to start entertaining men again, she’d need to employ some of Merav’s midwife tricks, or she’d end up with a third child.

Hosea’s visit to Tekoa had been too short but life giving—because death now had a face. The impact of the lives lost at Tiphsah didn’t sink into his soul until he saw Gomer with Jezzy and Rahmy. Families just like theirs were living in Israel—doing chores, preparing meals, playing with children—all without an inkling of Yahweh’s coming wrath. Amos had prophesied exile twenty years ago, and now Assyria and Aram were poised at Israel’s borders. Hosea and Micah felt Yahweh’s urgency as never before, proclaiming Yahweh’s truth to all of Israel during the spring, summer, and fall.

“Are you sure Amos said he would meet us here?” Micah asked for the third time, standing in the doorway of the old prophets’ hideaway in Shiloh. “Does he even know how to find this place?” The sun was sinking fast over the western horizon, and they’d wasted the whole day waiting on their friend.

“You saw the scroll Uzziah’s spy gave me in Ephraim yesterday.” Hosea heard an exaggerated sigh. “Amos has traveled from Damascus to Egypt. He’s a merchant
and
a prophet. Of course he knows how to find this place.” He chuckled, expecting their usual friendly banter.

“What’s so funny?” Micah shouted, fear glistening on his brow. “Do you enjoy being chased out of Gilgal with pitchforks and scythes? We offered those people life, and they wanted to butcher us rather than listen to Yahweh!”

The tension had been harder on his young friend than he’d realized. They’d been declaring Yahweh’s message in Israelite towns and villages since last year’s spring thaw. By summer, mounting persecution kept them off the trade routes, restricting their travel to the hills and shepherds’ trails. Hunted by Israelite soldiers and hated by pagan worshipers, they’d found themselves relying on Yahweh’s protection for every breath.

Hosea rose from his comfortable bench and joined Micah at the door, settling his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “True prophets are seldom popular, my friend. We speak Yahweh’s truth no matter the consequences, and it’s up to the Lord to protect us.” He squeezed his shoulder, trying to impart peace with a light heart. “Like He did at Gilgal when He made us run faster than those farmers.”

Micah offered a begrudging grin, but both men froze when they heard rustling in the brush near the doorway.

“Those are the faces we’ve longed to see since leaving Hazor two days ago!” Amos emerged with Yuval on his arm, greeting them as if they were all back home in Tekoa.

“Yuval? Why did you bring Yuval here?” Hosea hurried to meet his friends, noticing the old woman’s weary gait. He
circled her waist, and she leaned into his support. “Gomer told me Yuval had begun traveling with you, Amos, but she didn’t know why.”

“It wasn’t my idea!” she protested. “My old feet would much rather stay on Tekoan soil.”

Amos wrapped his arm around Micah’s shoulders, chatting as they climbed the few steps into the safe house. “We’ve got some news that you’re not going to like.”

They settled the weary travelers on the stone bench and removed their sandals, readying a warm bowl of water to wash their blistered feet.

Micah began washing, and Hosea read the tension on his friends’ faces. “Since when do you care what I like,” he said, nudging Amos’s sturdy arm. The man had been a shepherd, farmer, and tradesman his whole life. Though he was twice Hosea’s age, he was still as solid as a rock.

Amos inhaled deeply, gathered Yuval under his arm, and began his explanation. “Though we are brother prophets, Hosea, at times like these, you must remember that I am Judean and serve King Uzziah as my sovereign.”

Dread twisted Hosea’s stomach. “Uzziah is my friend too, Amos.”

“Exactly. Uzziah is my
king
first, my friend second
.
”

Hosea nodded, acknowledging the distinction—though as predicted, he didn’t like where the topic was going.

“When you and Jonah returned from your first journey to Israel without any military knowledge, King Uzziah enlisted my aid to begin carrying messages to his Judean spies throughout Israel. I suppose the idea of using a prophet hadn’t occurred to him until you two had traveled so thoroughly unscathed.”

“Unscathed? Is that what he called it? Unscathed?”

“Please, Hosea. I know both you and Gomer endured much while you were in Samaria. But Yahweh is bringing about His judgment on a whole nation—many nations, in fact—and I must ask you to look beyond what Yahweh is doing in
your
life
to His larger plan. In the strictest sense of military strategy, you were unscathed.”

Duly chastised, Hosea felt his irritation fade. “I’m sorry, Amos. Go on.” But when he glimpsed Yuval’s pained features, his defenses stirred again. “Why did Uzziah involve Yuval? She’s never traveled on your merchant trips before. Why now?”

“On one of my journeys into Bethel, I was recognized by a man who had seen me prophesy twenty years ago in the temple there. He aroused the city’s anger, and I was driven out. Fearful that my identity might jeopardize my effectiveness, Uzziah asked if Yuval would be willing to accompany me in order to appear more benign as an old merchant couple.” He leaned over to kiss the top of her veiled head. “I must admit, I’ve enjoyed having her with me—though it’s been hard on her.”

The tears she’d held in check spilled down her cheeks. “I was doing quite well until yesterday, don’t you think, my love?”

Amos hugged her tightly, and she buried her face in his barreled chest. “I think you were stronger yesterday than a thousand Assyrian soldiers, my wife.”

“Assyrian soldiers?” Hosea’s heart skipped a beat. “Amos.” He pinned the man with a stare. “Assyrian soldiers?”

Amos closed his eyes, dread evident in his weary sigh. “We’d made it as far north as Hazor and heard of Aramean raiding parties, so we decided not to risk traveling farther to Damascus. We’d walked a half day south when the ground began to shake beneath our feet.”

Yuval looked up then, seemingly overtaken by the memory and compelled to do the telling. “We saw a farmhouse in the distance and ran for shelter. The thunder beneath our feet intensified. Horses—many horses—and fast approaching. We reached the house and found a young couple with three children. They rushed us to a dried-up well, begging us to be lowered down with their children and keep them safe and
quiet while they dealt with the invaders. We agreed. There was fighting above us. Metal against metal. Men screaming, dying. We remained hidden until the only sound was a woman’s keening.” Yuval’s words tumbled out in a wave of grief, and Amos held her, letting her tears wet his dusty robe.

Hosea and Micah sat speechless.

“When I was certain the danger had passed,” Amos said finally, “I pulled us up by the pulley rope. Yuval distracted the children while the young widow and I washed their abba’s body.” Amos dropped his head, shaking away the memory. Almost too quiet to be heard, he whispered, “They were Assyrian soldiers. The widow said they’d boasted of annihilating an Aramean raiding party in Hazor.” He looked up then, eyes full of tears. “She said they vowed to violate every woman in Israel and Judah unless our kings paid tribute to the new king of Assyria.”

Hosea shot a questioning glance at his teacher. “I didn’t know Assyria had a new king.”

Amos nodded. “It’s the reason Uzziah’s been sending Yuval and me on trade journeys to Tyre, Syria, and Aram—in hopes of forming a coalition against Assyria’s rising new king.”

“Uzziah mentioned the coalition, but I had no idea Assyria’s campaign had already begun.”

Amos nodded sadly. “Their new king is much like Menahem—he began as Assyria’s ruthless general. However, unlike Menahem, King Pul has ascended to the throne through a bloody civil war, and his thirst for blood continues.”

Hosea felt a cold chill race up his spine. “The Assyrian soldiers you encountered—how can they already be this close to Israel?”

“They were mere scouts, but they’ve already begun assaults in Aram.”

The news was like cold water in Hosea’s face. “Are they headed to Judah?”

Amos nodded again, confirming Hosea’s worst fears. “King Uzziah believes Judah is Pul’s first target because Uzziah is
the strongest leader—even though he’s ruling from the house near my farm.”

“Does King Pul know Uzziah has leprosy? Does young Jotham know he’s inheriting his abba’s fight?”

“We’re not sure if or how much Assyria’s king knows of Uzziah’s illness, but yes, Jotham knows, and he’s terrified.” He reached into his pocket and produced a scroll with Uzziah’s wax seal. “This is the last scroll, intended for Menahem. He’s the last king we must convince to join Uzziah’s coalition against Assyria. But he’s the most important because he’s the last buffer between Judah and the other nations.”

Hosea exchanged a wary glance with Micah, and the young prophet returned a single nod. “Micah and I will take the scroll to Samaria. You shouldn’t take Yuval anywhere near Menahem. He’s a loose wheel, ready to fall off the cart and take all of Israel over the cliff with him.”

“I’m not afraid, child.” Yuval’s expression was tired but peaceful. Hosea had no doubt that she trusted Amos and Yahweh with her life.