The Esther Paradigm (A Contemporary Christian Romance) Page 6

  My heart stalled…and then kicked in to high gear. I had a special phrase I called times like these. When God used someone or something to nudge me. Like a highlighter on a specific passage. Or a fluorescent light in a dark room. I called them sacred echoes. I’d read it once in a book and adapted it as my own ever since.

  And the echo I heard now reverberated against every bone in my body before seeping down into the marrow.

  I’m going to be a sheikh’s wife.

  Chapter 7

  Karim

  The ewe bleated mournfully as its stomach clenched in another contraction. I ran my free hand over the bulge, feeling the lamb within while my other hand was inside the animal, waiting for the contraction to pass so I could grip the legs and help the mother with the birthing. The mother’s stomach convulsed only with the constant intervals of her pains and not with any sign of life within.

  If sheer will alone could make a heart pump blood and lungs fill with air, this lamb would be born alive and well. Threads of hope were all I had of that outcome. More than likely this baby would come into this world like the three others had in the last hour. Stillborn.

  My grip on the lamb’s legs tightened, and when the ewe bore down, I gritted my teeth and pulled. Embryonic fluid dripped from the birth canal before two tiny hooves emerged. Gentling my touch, I cooed to the mother. Her breathing had grown labored, all the energy seeping out of her. A spasm overtook her, her muscles tightening of their own will. My fingers slipped from the body fluid, but I repositioned and gave a firm but easy tug. Six pounds of livestock slipped onto the birthing bed I’d made hours earlier.

  No sound. No movement.

  With a cupped hand, I opened the small mouth and scooped out any fluid that blocked the air passages and repeated the process with the baby’s nostrils.

  Breathe. Please, breathe.

  Nothing.

  In an act of desperation, I bent at the waist and leaned over the too-still head, holding its lower jaw in my hand. With mouth to nose, I blew, giving the source of my life to this little body in hopes that it too might live.

  I wasn’t sure how long I tried to resuscitate the lamb, fighting against the denial that was losing a battle with reality. A shadow crossed overhead, and still I blew, my thoughts repeating one single word—breathe. Someone knelt beside me, their presence fracturing the front lines of my inner war, and still I blew.

  “Karim.”

  My name was the white flag of surrender. Nothing I could do would save this lamb. My vision blurred, and I blinked once. Hard. Pushed back the visual signs of my emotions. I did not weep for a single lamb. I wept for the future of my people. Already we fought to keep our traditions and culture in a world that embraced convenience and technology. If we lost the nucleus of who we were, we’d fizzle out into nonexistence.

  Leaning back, I let the dead animal’s head go and rested my hands on my thighs. Blood streaked my forearms all the way to my elbows, and red stained the front of my tailored thawb.

  “Karim.”

  I turned to the voice, the wall that kept all the weight of responsibility almost bursting from the compassion shining in Hannah’s eyes. Her expression open, if not her arms. An expression that said she wished she could lighten my load. Share my burden.

  We sat there, side by side, not saying a word. A funny thing, silence. It could stretch until you thought you’d snap, make you so uncomfortable you could barely stay still, or slowly pull from you the stress that coiled in your center like a massage that loosens the muscles.

  My breathing came easier, my limbs looser. I reached for the basin of water and washed my hands and forearms, letting the grime slick away from my skin. I stood, and Hannah followed suit. When I took a step toward the other sheep in the pasture, I felt her presence just behind me. No doubt her gaze also downcast.

  Why did that unquiet my soul?

  When we stood amid the majority of the herd, I stopped. Following my cues, Hannah also stopped.

  For the first time, I wondered why she’d sought me out. Did it have to do with our conversation the night before?

  “They really are sick, aren’t they?” Her soft voice held concern. I looked at her over my shoulder. Her forehead crumpled as she stared at one lamb in particular. I followed her gaze, took in the pathetic creature that had once boasted of hardy stock.

  “Yes.” And I had no idea how to make them well again. “Was there something you needed, Hannah?” I turned toward her then. Waited.

  “I…” Her gaze wouldn’t meet mine, even though we had relative privacy. If one didn’t count the sheep, that was.

  “Look at me, Hannah.” It was a command, but not sharp. I needed to see her eyes. Read her thoughts. I needed to feel that connection that had always grounded me in her presence.

  Those sapphires turned up at me, wide and a little frightened. How inappropriate it would be for me to run my finger along the crest of her cheek. How I longed to do it. “It’s just me.” No need to fear.

  Her throat worked, and then her pink lips opened. “I have decided to accept your proposal of marriage.”

  Relief sagged my bones while simultaneously energizing my limbs. Hannah would be safe. The embers that had glowed in the pit of my belly surged to life as desire blew a strong wind and kicked them into full flames.

  She would be mine.

  “But…” Unspoken words flashed across her eyes as she struggled to find just the right ones.

  Other shepherds tended this herd, so I had to be careful. But I also wanted to give reassurance. I took a step closer to her, the back of my hand grazing hers. “All will be well.”

  “I am Christian, Karim.” Her brows dipped.

  Not ideal, but also not something I hadn’t taken into consideration. “This I know.”

  “I will not convert to Islam.”

  So that was her worry. “I will not ask it of you. Just, as I am sure, you will not try to convert me to Christianity.”

  She looked away.

  Oh no.

  With a hook of my finger under her chin, I brought her face back to mine. Waited until her eyes raised to meet my gaze. “You will not convert me, Hannah.”

  Another funny thing about silence—it could speak. And hers said more than I wanted to hear. “Say it.”

  “I will not convert you, Karim.” Her warm breathed fanned my face. The sparks grew higher.

  I let my hand drop and took a half step back, filling my lungs with air not tainted by the lingering hint of her morning Arabic coffee. Looking away, I let the line of earth meeting sky ground me. When I looked back, Hannah’s forehead was still furrowed.

  “Something else that worries you?”

  Her gaze rested on my chest, and while I was tempted to tell her to look at me again, something told me eye contact would only hinder the words emerging from her mouth.

  “You’ve been married before.” Soft words. And forced.

  A loveless unity. She could not feel threatened by my memory of my first wife. Why then the concern? “Yes.”

  Her weight shifted as her gaze flicked up to mine but a moment before returning to my chest. “I have not.”

  “No.” Understanding dawned and drew out the word. Heat crawled up my neck, and this time it was I who had to look away. In what manner could I reassure her that the ways between a man and wife were not something to fear? Or was it even fear? How much had her parents shared with her?

  A groan lodged in my throat. I was ill prepared to have this conversation with a young woman…any woman! Perhaps my mother would be willing?

  “Do you…” I cleared my throat against the thickness built there. “Do you need to talk to another woman about…” Modesty sealed my lips from the last word. Sex.

  Her blush rose all the way to her hairline. “No. I know…I mean…I’m familiar with…” Her shoulders rose weakly. “You know.”

  My head tilted back as I turned my face up to the sun. This was not going to work. Already there would be enough to stan
d between us. No matter the embarrassment, I couldn’t let whatever her concern was go unanswered. But we couldn’t have this conversation here.

  “Come on.” I marched past the far end of the pasture toward the cave. My legs ate up the distance, determination lengthening my stride. When we reached the mouth of the cavern, Hannah panted beside me, and I kicked myself for the thoughtlessness that caused her undue exertion.

  In an act of apology, I slid off my outer cloak and laid it upon the ground for her to sit upon.

  “Whenever we are in the area,” I said as I settled beside her, “this will be our special place. Whenever we need to speak to one another without the threat of other ears hearing us, we will come here. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  I took a deep breath and pushed on. “Now, what has you concerned?”

  She looked down at her folded hands in her lap. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “Hannah, look at me.”

  She did, her eyes pinched at the corners.

  “We have been friends for many years and have shared countless secrets. Nothing has come between our friendship, and as your soon husband, I want nothing between us now. You can trust me.”

  “I know. It’s just…I’m a little nervous, is all.”

  A question pierced my mind sharper than if I’d taken the gold-edged dagger from my belt and pricked my skull. “When you were in America, were you ever with a man?”

  Her eyes widened until they resembled two full moons. “Karim, no. How could you even think—”

  My laughter interrupted her, for I had caught my mistake even if she had not. If anything, the tension between us over the topic had waned from my miscommunication. “I did not mean that. I meant, did you have a boyfriend?”

  “For a short while.” There she went, avoiding eye contact again.

  “Did he kiss you?”

  She toyed with her fingertips. “Once.”

  I clipped the weed of jealousy that took root. I had no right to feel such, and it would only make it that more difficult for a garden of love to grow between us.

  “How did you feel when he kissed you?”

  “Karim, I don’t think—”

  “How did it make you feel, Hannah?”

  Again a shrug. “I didn’t feel much of anything, I suppose.”

  My lips tilted in a grin. “Then he did not do it right.”

  She slanted a gaze at me from the corner of her eye, her mouth also bowed from my smug declaration.

  I stood and offered her my hand, which she took and also rose. I led her farther into the cave’s belly until the light barely illuminated the darkness.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To ease your fears.”

  At that she giggled. “From inside a cave?”

  I stopped, making sure her back was to the wall. She had courage—the very fact she’d returned to teach children among a nation who did not place a high value on such, instead of staying in a life of comfort in her own country, a testament to that. But I had no idea how she’d react to my little lesson.

  “I went to a concert once, about five years ago. The national orchestra played in the capitol, and I took my mother to hear it.”

  “She must have loved that.”

  “She did.” I took a step toward her and placed a palm against the cool rock beside her head. “I was hypnotized, watching the conductor. Each flick of his wand produced a response in the instruments. The woodwinds soaring, the brass shouting, the percussion beating, until they all rose into a harmony that had you feeling out of this world.” I let the back of my hand graze her cheek before anchoring my palm on the other side of her head. “When two become one, even in as simple an act as a kiss, it is a little like a beautifully composed piece of music. Both are the conductor. Both are the orchestra.”

  Slowly, I lowered my head, allowing time for her to stop the lesson if she wished. When she didn’t move, didn’t utter a sound, I pressed my lips against hers. A steady cadence of a drum beat from my center, determined the rhythm. I kissed her again, gently taking in her bottom lip between my own. The strings of violin and cello sang a mournful cry, and the sweetness carried me to the next bar. Hannah’s hand reached up, her fingers running through the short hairs of my beard, and the music within me responded to her touch. My nails dug into the stone to anchor me, lest I lose myself in the moment. Her mouth parted, and I wanted nothing else than to continue this song we were making. I’d thought to teach her that unity could be a beautiful thing, but hadn’t counted on learning in the process.

  Never—I broke away, my breathing labored—never had I been stirred in such a manner.

  Chapter 8

  Hannah

  I wasn’t one to bite my lip in worry, but this was the fourth time I’d caught myself with my bottom lip between my teeth. Cinnamon and cloves permeated the air as steam from the tea drifted upward. My parents sat on overplush pillows, waiting for me to reveal why I’d called them together for a family meeting in the first place.

  I tilted the kettle, my hands shaking, and watched as the tinted hot water cascaded into the cups like a tiny waterfall. I took a fortifying breath before lifting the tray and carrying it to my parents. They each took a cup, their eyes full of questions but their lips unmoving.

  Slowly I sat in front of them, smoothed out the folds of my dress. “Mom. Dad.” Prepare yourselves.

  That was the whole point of me talking to them first, after all. In respect of our cultural traditions, Karim had wanted to come to my father and ask his blessing to our union. He must have seen that in a movie once or read it in a book. I had no other idea where he’d have learned it.

  That wasn’t how things worked with the Bedouins. Here, the intended-groom’s father or a mediator worked out the particulars, such as the dowry the groom would offer the bride’s family. The reasons joining in matrimony would be beneficial to the families. No declarations of undying love fell from the groom’s lips to the future father-in-law’s ears, as Muslims traditionally believed love came from marriage, not the other way around.

  Well. I guess we were following tradition fairly closely, after all. Except for Karim’s insistence on talking to my father himself, that was.

  Which was why I sat there, stalling as I brought the cup to my lips and took a drink of fragrant tea. I thought it would be better if I broke the news to my parents myself first, before Karim showed up and blindsided them. He hadn’t been happy but respected my firm decision that this would be the best way to handle the situation.

  I hadn’t counted on how uncomfortable this would be. Especially since I knew exactly how my parents were going to respond.

  “Something on your mind, Hannah?” Mom’s face was still swollen and discolored. Against my father’s wishes, she’d insisted on getting out of bed for a few moments. Her ribs were wrapped tightly, but I noticed the sheen of sweat along her hairline.

  “Why don’t you return to your pallet, Mom. You need rest to heal.”

  She took a sip of tea. “I think I’m okay for another few moments. Besides, you look so ominous I think I should probably stand for the news.”

  Actually, no. She probably should lay down. That way if she fainted, she couldn’t hurt herself further.

  Dad reached over and squeezed my knee. “What is it, sweetheart? You can tell us.”

  “Ummm…okay. I’m just going to go ahead and say it.”

  Except my mouth didn’t want to say the words.

  “Yes?” Mom put her cup down. Clasped her hands.

  “Karim has asked me to marry him, and I’ve accepted.” There. The sentence might have rushed out on a single breath, but at least it was out there.

  Mom and Dad shared a look before they faced me again. Mom licked her lips, and Dad adjusted his weight on the pillow.

  “I didn’t know you two were in love.” Mom tilted her head, puzzled. Trying to remember, no doubt, a time when Karim or I had shown anything more than friendship toward the other
.

  She wasn’t in the cave yesterday. That thought sent a shiver down my spine. Thank goodness no one had seen us. The consequences, for me especially, would have been dire.

  A Bedouin code of honor protected women. Which meant they shouldn’t be touched at all by a man. Not even a graze of the fingertips. I’d shamed my family and brought dishonor to my name with that kiss.

  Funny, though, that it wasn’t shame that washed through my belly, but a tingling thrill and the stir of yearning. Did that equal love? No. I knew the difference between love and lust. Within the blessed union of husband and wife, lust, or passion rather, was a God-given gift. However, Karim and I were not married, so were these stirrings deep in the pit of me something I should be ashamed of? Maybe they were a gift as well? Like an appetizer before a main course?

  Ugh. I let my head drop. I was so out of my element here.

  “Hannah?”

  I lifted my eyes to Mom’s questioning gaze. “No, we aren’t in love.”

  “Then why…” She let her question die.

  My father stared at me, considering. His fingers drummed on his knee, his analytical mind working. I didn’t need to spell it out for him. He’d figure it all out on his own.

  “No matter the reasons, you know what the Bible says,” he said.

  This was the exact turn I knew this conversation would take.

  “You can’t be unequally yoked with an unbeliever.”

  Mom’s shallow breathing became audible. “Maybe I should lay down now.”

  Dad helped her to the pallet and supported her weight as she eased herself into a supine position.

  This conversation wasn’t over, even though there wasn’t anything they could say that I hadn’t already said to myself. I took the pillow I’d been sitting on and moved it beside my mother’s pallet, then settled on top of it.

  Mom closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and staring straight into mine. “Whatever you’ve told yourself, Hannah, that you’ll be a living witness and that will change him, convert him, may be true. But it also may not be.”