Love In A Broken Vessel (5 page)

• H
OSEA
5:4 •

The wicked things that the people have done keep them from returning to their Elohim. They have a spirit of prostitution, and they don’t know Yahweh.

G
omer’s head lolled back, eyes closed, and Hosea’s heart stopped beating. “Gomer?” He drew her to his chest and rocked her. “You can’t die! I’ve just found you again.” Violent sobs shook him as he buried his face in her blood-caked curls. A low moan escaped her lips, and he gasped.

“Lay her back on the mat.” The physician reached out to help but recoiled at Hosea’s threatening stare.

Hosea sat with his legs outstretched and cradled her in his lap. “Gomer?”

She moaned again, her swollen eyes fluttering. Her right eye too bruised to open, she peered through the narrow slit of her left eye. “Am I dreaming?” she whispered, a single tear rolling into her copper hair.

He choked on his answer, part sob, part chuckle. “Well, that depends. Did you dream that I asked you to be my wife?” He brushed her tear away, but instead of the welcome he’d hoped for, she turned her face from him.

“Leave, Hosea. Forget you saw me, and pretend I’m still the innocent girl you once knew.” She lay in his arms because she couldn’t push him away.

The physician reached for Gomer’s arm. Hosea hugged her close and shoved the man away. “You’ll not touch her again.”

“The wound needs dressed,” he said, motioning to the bandages in his hand. “I must pack it with herbs to stop the bleeding.”

Hosea nodded permission and laid Gomer back on the mat. While the physician worked, Hosea leaned over her and whispered, “When we were children, I let you lead in our adventures, and we often found ourselves in trouble for it.” He smiled, hoping her spirit would lighten with the memory. When she didn’t respond, he leaned closer. “This time I can’t let you lead, Gomer. I must obey Yahweh, and you must obey me.” He saw a spark in her eye—a little rebellion that told him the fiery Gomer he once knew still lived behind those beautiful hazel eyes. “I command you to live, Gomer, and I plan to make you my wife tonight.”

She closed her eye, squeezing out another tear, and released a long sigh. At least she didn’t refuse.

He planted a kiss on her forehead and turned to Tamir. “I will give you a fair bride-price, but I will not haggle. I realize the drought has hit Israel hard, so I will give you fifteen pieces of silver plus the equivalent in barley. It is my one and final offer.”

He noticed perspiration forming on the woman’s top lip. “But what about—”

Hosea lifted a hand to silence her negotiation. “It is my one and final offer.” He turned to the physician, noting Gomer’s arm had been tended and bandaged. “I will pay you a fair price for your service today, but you will never touch my wife again. She will be under my care from now on.”

“I require five shekels for the care she received today.”

Hosea raised one eyebrow. “You’ll get three shekels and realize that we are generous but not fools.”

Both greedy Israelites sputtered their discontent, suggesting counteroffers and arguments for more and better terms. Hosea’s stubborn silence won out, and the physician packed his supplies, muttering curses under his breath. He stormed from the room without an escort—evidently familiar with the brothel’s winding hallways.

Tamir hovered behind Hosea and then leaned over his shoulder. Gomer opened her left eye, seeming to sense her owner’s presence. Tamir spoke to Hosea but aimed her sharp tone at Gomer. “I will accept your offer, but I do not want to know anything about her. When she leaves my gates, she is dead to me.”

Gomer closed her eye and turned away.

Tamir straightened, standing over them both. “Are we agreed?”

Hosea nodded, a cold chill racing up his spine. “Agreed.” He glanced down at Gomer, and seeing another tear roll from the corner of her eye, he felt renewed pity.
Has anyone ever loved you, Gomer?

Tamir turned to leave, but Jonah stopped her at the door. “We’ll need to stay in Samaria until Gomer is recovered enough to travel. Would you be so kind as to send someone to sit with Gomer while Hosea and I search for a house to rent?”

“No,” she said flatly. “I would not be so kind. Everyone in this house works for their living.” Tamir pushed past him toward the door.

“What about the girl—” Hosea began, but Jonah cast silent daggers at him before he mentioned Jarah’s name.

Tamir stopped, turned slowly, like a predator luring prey. “And what
girl
would you suggest, Prophet?”

Hosea’s mind reeled to protect Jarah. “Uh . . . perhaps the girl you offered me when you thought I was one of Gomer’s paying customers?”

Her eyes narrowed as she measured his answer. “If you’d like to pay for another girl’s services, I don’t care what you
do with her. Otherwise, Gomer waits alone.” Tamir stormed from the room, and both Jonah and Hosea released a simultaneous sigh.

“I will go alone,” Jonah whispered. “I’ll use our blanket to signal Isaiah at the tombs as we had planned. This is about the time of day we told him to be watching.” The old prophet laid a comforting hand on Hosea’s shoulder. “The circumstances are different than we imagined, but Isaiah will still get to serve as friend of the bridegroom while I recite your wedding blessing. Yahweh is faithful, my son.” He nodded his farewell and slipped from the room, closing the curtain behind him.

“You should have gone with him.” Gomer’s voice was low and scratchy. “An old man alone isn’t safe in this city.” She kept her good eye closed so she didn’t have to look at Hosea. She couldn’t look at him.

“Jonah traveled alone to Nineveh and back. I think he can manage Samaria’s streets.”

She heard mocking in his voice, and it made her furious. She opened her eye as far as the swelling allowed, gritting her teeth against the burst of pain. “Why are you doing this? Just let me die.”

The emotion on his face was unreadable. He’d been kneeling, awkwardly hovering, but now he sat back. Perhaps he’d finally given up.

She bit back a small gasp when he repositioned and lay beside her, pulling her closer. “What are you doing?” Her body was dead weight, numb and motionless. “You heard the physician. What if I never regain the use of my arms or legs? I can’t be a wife, Hosea.”

He propped himself up on an elbow, leaning over, breathing his promise on her cheek. “I won’t let you die because as soon as Jonah returns with the bride-price, you
will
be my wife.” His lips brushed her ear lightly. “Yahweh has spoken
to me, Gomer. He told me to go to Israel, to marry a pros—” Hesitating, he stumbled over the word.

“How do you expect to marry me when you can’t even say the word?” Emotion seized her, but she forced the words past her lips. “You don’t know what I am—what I’ve
done
!” Her stomach churned; bile choked her. She cursed her lifeless limbs, wishing she could run far and fast from this godly man who couldn’t fathom what a woman must do to survive.

The caress of his long, slow sigh against her neck was both excruciating and enticing. He leaned down and whispered, “Yahweh said, ‘Marry a prostitute, and have children with that prostitute.’ I believe the Lord plans to heal you and give us a houseful of children, Gomer. From this moment forward, I will love you—as Yahweh loves Israel.” He leaned back, searching her face, his yearning so innocent it pierced her. “Do you understand what that kind of love means?”

“I understand that you’ve been swindled.” Her voice was becoming stronger, perhaps fueled by anger born of hopelessness. “You paid a bride-price for a harlot who will never feel your touch or satisfy your desire. How dare you appear from the great beyond after leaving me in Bethel at the mercy of my abba? Do you expect me to trust you now, Hosea? If you’re lucky, I’ll die before Jonah returns with the bride-price, and you can go back to your holy prophets in Judah, marry a boring wife, and raise fat babies!” Her final words escaped on a torrent of sobs.

Hosea’s arms consumed her, and her useless arms couldn’t even push him away. Oh, the utter humiliation of being at the mercy of another! When would
she
make the decisions? When would
she
have a choice?

With a voice as stony as her heart, she said, “Get off me.”

Startled, Hosea held her at arm’s length. She must have appeared quite a paradox with her granite countenance and tear-streaked face. Hosea’s confused expression brought her a measure of satisfaction.

“You asked if I understood a marriage relationship. The answer is yes. I’m a harlot, not an imbecile.”

She saw the first walls erected around his heart. He sat up, leaving his intimate repose.
Good
.
Maybe he’s not as slow-witted as I feared.
She averted her gaze, not trusting her emotions if his compassion should return.

“I’m sorry, Gomer,” he said, his voice controlled, “but you misunderstood my question. I said nothing of a marriage relationship. I asked if you understood the kind of
love
Yahweh feels for Israel.”

Oh, by the gods, was this to be her life? A tedious treatise on Hosea’s tiresome god? “I’m familiar with the marriage of the gods,” she said, hoping to cut short his explanation. “I was trained in the temple of Asherah at age ten when Abba Diblaim sold me. I know that when El married Asherah, they respected one another but maintained their independence.” Guilt nibbled at the edges of her heart. “I realize I may have been less than respectful to you . . .” Her words trailed off into silence. Finally, wondering why her talkative companion had gone mute, she was more than a little surprised to see a storm gathering on his features.

“Independence?” Hosea said, his voice bearing subtle remnants of his adolescent squeak. “You think this holy relationship is about
independence
?”

“And respect,” she added.

“No!” he said before she could spout any more nonsense about her silly gods. “You have no idea what Yahweh’s love entails. He adores Israel and calls her His treasure. He wants nothing more than to be the object of her singular love and devotion. His heart breaks when she runs after other gods or is deceived by false priests and prophets into believing that other gods can offer the same blessing He longs to pour out on His people.”

Gomer closed her good eye, curving her lips into a mocking
grin. “If your Yahweh loves Israel so much, why did I hear you tell Amaziah that He is going to destroy us all? Face the truth, Hosea. Sometimes people have wandered too far to return.” Her wry smile died on that beautiful, bruised face. “Sometimes people don’t deserve to be loved.”

In that moment, God’s voice resounded like a ram’s horn in Hosea’s spirit:
The wicked things My people have done keep them from returning to their Elohim.
And he knew Gomer’s callousness was the armor of a warrior who thought herself too scarred from life’s battles to ever be loved. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, all fury melting away.

Gomer recoiled, but this time he wasn’t angry. “Rest now,” he said. “When Jonah returns, I want to make you my wife.”

She didn’t respond.

He lay down beside her again but didn’t hold her. Instead, he tucked a blanket around her and kissed her cheek. “Sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”