My Enemy, My Love (Truly Yours Digital Editions) Page 9

  Barak frowned. Still, they rejected the full Scriptures and were lax in their obedience to them. They didn’t respect the sacred days as fully as they should.

  Guilt washed through him. Did he? Here he was, for the first time in his life, visiting a country most Jews would go miles out of their way to avoid. Not only that, but he was doing it during the most sacred week of Passover.

  Barak glanced heavenward, fully expecting to be struck down by a bolt of lightning. None came.

  “Barak?”

  Anna’s soft voice brought his reflections to an abrupt halt. He felt himself tense. When he turned her way, his face was closed, empty of all emotion.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you Sadducee or Pharisee?”

  His look passed over her and returned to the road. “I am a Pharisee.”

  “How is it that the two can worship together in harmony? Both serve on the same councils, the same Sanhedrin. How is this possible?”

  “We worship the same God. Their interpretation of the Scriptures is a little faulty,” he told her impatiently. He was not used to women discussing such things with him. For some reason it bothered him.

  As Mount Gerazim drew closer, Anna knew she didn’t have much time. She was afraid to continue, because as intelligent as Barak was, it wouldn’t take him long to put things together and come to the right conclusion.

  “Have you ever heard of a man named Saul of Tarsus?”

  Barak’s lips thinned with displeasure. “I’ve heard of him. I believe he calls himself ‘Paul’ now and follows the way of the infidel.” He shook his head sadly. “He was a brilliant man, although his words were more powerful than the man himself.”

  The look he threw her was suddenly full of misgiving. “How do you know of Saul?”

  “I have heard the elders speak of him, even in Samaria. He says that the Lord came to him when he was on the road to Damascus. . .”

  “I have heard the story,” he interrupted. “The Lord he claims came to him was a crucified carpenter from Galilee. A man they call Jesus. They claim this man was the Son of God.” He gave an incredulous snort. “Imagine believing such a thing. Our God is so powerful that He could defeat all the armies of the Israelites and make them the most powerful nation on earth, and they believe He would just allow them to kill His Son? And in such a way?”

  “The Jews are no longer the most powerful nation on earth,” she reminded him, and he turned on her a look full of annoyance. She shrugged her shoulders lightly. “Things are not the way they were in Father Abraham’s time. If they were, the Jews would not be scattered about the earth.”

  “It comes from disobedience.”

  “Yet we offer sacrifices every year for the removal of our transgressions. Somehow it doesn’t seem to work.”

  The perspiration increased on Barak’s face, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the increasing intensity of the sun or this woman’s conversation. For the first time in his life, he felt his faith waver. Pressing his lips tightly together, he told her, “I need to see to the horses. Azuba has found another wadi to water the caravan.”

  “Barak. . .”

  He had already gone from sight. Anna leaned back feeling as though she had just fought a major battle with an enemy. As in a way she had. Keeping someone from seeing the truth, or even listening to it, was Satan’s best defense against the Christian faith.

  She could not stop now. She had to make Barak see that he needed to search the Scriptures and compare them to the man known as the Christ. If only he would do that, she knew he had the mind and the heart to believe.

  Anna began praying fervently that God would give her the words, the wisdom, and the opportunity. Why it was so important to her, she didn’t know. But it was.

  ❧

  Barak led the horses to the wadi and allowed them to drink. He tried to turn his thoughts away from the things Anna had just told him, but they refused to be swayed.

  Little things from the Scriptures were returning to him now.

  I desire mercy, not sacrifice.

  Words from the prophet Hosea. If mercy is what Jehovah wanted, then how did this fit in with the Jewish idea of a battle to free the people?

  The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart.

  Barak shoved his palms hard against his forehead, closing his eyes and trying to eliminate the thoughts from his head. They refused to be budged. It was almost as though now that a crack had been found, they were spilling forth until he felt for sure the dam would break.

  To do what is right and just is more acceptable to the Lord than sacrifice.

  Raising his eyes heavenward, Barak beseeched the Lord. “What then do you want from me?” he whispered.

  There was no answer, only the gentle sighing of the wind as it brushed faintly through the trees surrounding the wadi.

  Others began to trickle back toward the caravan ready to leave, but Barak lingered longer, hoping to hear the voice of the Lord. If he listened hard enough, would Jehovah speak to him as He had spoken to others in the past?

  He sighed in frustration, knowing this would not happen.

  When he returned to the carpentum, he fastened the horses into their harnesses. He was reluctant to be with Anna, yet he found himself making his way toward the cart.

  She was reclining among the cushions, a distant look in her eyes as she studied the nearby mountain. The look she fixed upon him held such sadness that he wanted to reach out and comfort her.

  “Beneath that mountain lies Jacob’s Well and the end of our destination.”

  Barak felt himself go cold. He had refused to let himself think about the end of this journey, because he knew it would be the end for Anna and himself. She knew it, too. He could see it in her eyes. He should be glad to be free of the woman, but instead he was filled with dread and misgivings.

  He turned away. “As you said, it will be good for you to be home.”

  Everyone was in line ready to leave, but still the caravan remained where it was. Barak frowned. “I will go see what is holding us up.”

  When he returned, his face was set in immobile lines. “There are some problems with a few of the camels. Azuba says that we will leave in about two hours.”

  Barak wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or not. Two more hours with Anna. But to what end? The time he spent with her only made these new feelings grow stronger. He needed to get away as quickly as possible.

  Anna slipped her legs over the side of the cart.

  “What are you doing?” Barak asked in consternation.

  She gave him a puzzled glance. “I wish to sit in the shade of the trees near the wadi.”

  Sighing in exasperation, Barak lifted her effortlessly into his arms and strode with her to the spot where he had been before. He set her on a boulder near the stream. The air was cool, the breeze heavenly.

  “I can walk, you know. The sores have healed well.” She smiled, and Barak felt his heart give a strong thump.

  “It’s peaceful here,” she told him when he didn’t answer.

  He looked everywhere but at Anna, and she felt growing confusion over his attitude. Although he had never been other than reserved, he now was aloof to the point of coldness. She was unsure just what to say to return them to their earlier amiability.

  She lifted the shawl from her shoulders and shook it out, allowing the breeze to blow through her hair. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back in the enjoyment of the moment.

  Suddenly, she laughed.

  “What do you find amusing?” Barak wanted to know, his ire increasing as he watched her graceful movements and felt himself helplessly caught up in the maelstrom of feeling she invoked in him.

  She opened her eyes slowly, the smile still on her face. “Oh, I don’t know. It just feels good to be alive.”

  Barak needed to get away. Now.

  “I’ll get us something to eat,” he told her, and exited before she could object.

  Anna watched his ret
reating back, a frown forming on her face. Was he avoiding being alone with her? Had her questions perhaps opened a hole in his defenses? She knew that there was too little time to really help him believe, but she also knew that the Word of God would not come back empty. Better to leave things in the Lord’s hands and just allow herself to be His vessel.

  Yet, hadn’t he overcome some of his silly prejudices against the Samaritans in helping her? Perhaps God would open a way for her to do the same where his hatred of Christians was concerned. Although she hadn’t mentioned the Christian faith, she knew without a doubt that Barak would abhor any connection with it. He was so purely Jewish.

  He returned with some fruit and water. Together, they ate in silence—hers reluctant, his unyielding.

  Anna saw him tense when she opened her mouth to speak. “Will you return to Jerusalem for Shavuot?”

  She saw him relax. “I think not. That Uncle Simon was able to arrange this journey was a miracle in itself.” His eyes met hers. “Will you return to Jerusalem?”

  She looked away. “I am uncertain. I don’t know what will happen when Father finds out about Amman’s treachery. I’m certain he will have him arrested, but the Lord only knows where it will go from there.”

  “He will want to keep you close to him for safety’s sake until he can be sure.”

  “Most likely,” she agreed, turning back to him. “And what of you?”

  He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the cool water. Picking up a stone, he spun it into the wadi’s depths. “I will farm.”

  Anna wanted to ask about Miriam, but she didn’t feel it her place to do so. She lifted her shawl, shaking it free of dirt and leaves. A stray breeze caught it and flung it from her fingers.

  She reached for it at the same time as Barak, their hands colliding among its soft folds. When Barak lifted his eyes to hers, his face was mere inches from her own. The tension between them crackled like a burning fire. They stayed thus a long moment before Barak lifted one large hand, wrapping it around the back of Anna’s neck.

  Anna closed her eyes, inviting his kiss. For an instant she thought he would refuse, but suddenly his lips were on hers and she gave herself to him freely.

  The hair from his beard tickled her face, but in a tantalizing way. Anna kept her hands still, afraid that if she so much as touched him, he would retreat from this moment.

  When he lifted his lips slowly from hers, she wanted so much to pull him back. She knew their time was limited, and she knew that if she wasn’t in love with him already, she was at least halfway there. There was so little time left.

  His eyes glittered like polished bronze, and she felt herself drawn into their depths. But suddenly, she saw them grow cold and he immediately released her.

  Without a word, he lifted her from the rock and returned her to the carpentum. After he settled her among the cushions, he left.

  Anna raised a trembling hand to her lips, closing her eyes as tears came unbidden. In her own selfish desire for pleasure, had she severed any hope of communication between them? Would he even allow her to speak to him now, or would he studiously avoid her as he had in the past? Please, Lord, give me another chance.

  Before long the caravan began moving forward, but Barak didn’t return to his place by the cart. Sighing with frustration, Anna leaned back against the cushions and intensified her prayers.

  What seemed only moments later, the caravan halted beside Jacob’s Well. From here part of the caravan would move on to Ginae, the other part to Scythopolis. Here is where Barak and Anna would leave the caravan.

  Barak returned the carpentum to Azuba, who bowed, thanking Anna politely for her presence with his caravan. Anna offered her thanks in return.

  Anna and Barak watched the caravan disappear from sight. Sighing heavily, Barak turned to her. “Can you walk now?”

  She nodded, unable to speak. The tears were still in her throat.

  As they passed Jacob’s Well, Anna stopped, sliding her hand slowly over the stone structure. Her eyes took on a glow.

  “You are a Christian, aren’t you?”

  Shocked, she turned to him in surprise. “How did you know?”

  He rubbed a hand behind his neck, blowing out through clenched teeth. “I should have figured it out sooner. How could I be so stupid?”

  She felt he was talking more to himself than her. “Barak. . .”

  “No!” He straightened. “Don’t tell me any of your heathenish nonsense.”

  Pressing her lips tightly together, she turned back to the well. “The Messiah talked to my aunt here several years ago.”

  “What?”

  “It’s true,” she told him, her eyes imploring him to believe.

  “Bithnia?”

  Anna shook her head. “No. My father’s other sister. She died some time ago.”

  Barak stared at her, unable to say anything. His mind was reeling with chaotic thoughts, but eventually one stood out from the others.

  “You speak blasphemy.”

  She turned her face away and sighed. “Speaking the truth is not blasphemy.”

  She truly believed what she said. Bothered by her steadfast denial, Barak asked her. “What makes you believe this man was the Messiah?”

  “He was a prophet. He knew everything she had ever done in her life.”

  “That information wouldn’t be hard to find out from anyone who knew her. There have been others before who claimed to be the Messiah, practicing their tricks and deceit.”

  “This man was different.”

  “In what way?”

  Anna sat on the well and looked clearly into Barak’s eyes. “He offered her life, not death.” She moved her hand in a circle. “He told her that it wasn’t important where you worshiped, but how. He said that true worshipers will worship in spirit and in truth.”

  The silence hung between them.

  “He wishes to share God’s love with all people,” she told him softly.

  Everything he had ever been taught rose up in defense of his faith. He glared at Anna, remembering again how the Israelites of old had succumbed to the beliefs of the people in this land. Intermarriage had made them weak. And he was no better. His senses swam whenever this woman was close to him. Had she managed to put some kind of spell on him that bound his thoughts to her?

  Such was the way of the pagans of old. But he would not let them have his mind, nor his soul. His voice was biting when next he spoke.

  “I will hear no more of your blasphemy. If you speak of this again, so help me, I will leave you here for whatever brigand comes this way!”

  Eight

  Anna followed the broad, rigid back of the man before her. His silence was unrelenting, and she began to despair of him ever saying another thing to her.

  “Barak?”

  He threw her a brief, dark look and continued on.

  “I was only going to say that my home is that way.”

  His eyes followed her pointing finger. Switching directions, he continued to lead the way in silence.

  The green hills of home surrounded Anna like a welcoming embrace. She sighed, realizing for the first time just how much she had missed her home and her father.

  The flax bloomed in sky-blue profusion along the hillsides. It would be used to make the linen that was a mainstay of Sychar’s economy. Everywhere spring covered the land in radiant beauty.

  When they drew within sight of the small town, Anna grew uncomfortable. Most of the people here knew her. She needed to make her way home without anyone seeing her and possibly getting word to Amman before she could reach her father.

  “Wait.”

  Barak turned to her impatiently. “What?”

  She was not looking at him, but beyond him to where several children were playing beside the nearest house. As yet, they were still undetected.

  “I must go another way,” she told him, turning and heading back the way they had just come.

  He caught up with her quickly, taking her by the arm and pulling
her to a stop.

  “Where are you going?”

  “There is an unused path that leads around the village to my father’s house on the other side. It would be better than going through the town.”

  Barak glanced behind them and then fell reluctantly into step beside Anna. She led the way through the thick brush blooming on the hillsides. A seldom used path could barely be seen through the greenery.

  “Tell me,” Barak asked finally. “What do the Samaritans think of your religion?”

  Relieved that he had been the one to open the conversation, Anna told him, “Many in this village are Christians. After speaking with Jesus, my aunt returned to the town and told others about Him. Many of the people went with her to see for themselves, and many believed because they trusted my aunt’s words.”

  Barak snorted. “They took the word of a woman on so important a matter?”

  Anna stopped, turning and facing him with anger blazing in her eyes. “She was respected by many in the town, even though. . .even though. . .”

  “Even though what?”

  “Nothing.”

  Anna started forward again, but Barak took her by the arm to stop her. His hold was gentle, but inexorable.

  “Even though what?”

  “It’s not important.” Her eyes met his doubtfully. “Jesus stayed in this town for two days. Many believed in Him after listening to Him and seeing the miraculous things He could do.”

  “I heard He was a magician.”

  Anna shook her head. “Not a magician. The Son of God.”

  Barak’s eyes hardened. Pushing past her, he began to lead the way along the path.

  “It’s true,” Anna insisted. “He fulfilled all the prophecies. You have only to search for the truth yourself.”

  He turned on her. “Be silent, woman.”

  “Barak. . .”

  “Enough!” he thundered, and the forcefulness of his voice scattered a dove from the branch of an olive tree. “Your people are well known to accept any and every god that comes their way. The Jews are not so foolish!”

  “There are many Jews who believe in Him. Even the great Saul of Tarsus who once killed Jews for their belief in the Way was turned. Only the power of God could have swayed such a man.”