Read Online Two from Galilee by Marjorie Holmes - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marjorie Holmes
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moved back into the house that was still redolent with the scent of food and the flickering oil lamps. She wished that Joseph knew that the towel nestled against her heart, that she would sleep with it beneath her cheek this night.
Sleep was a long time claiming her, however. At first she was too excited by the evening, whose wretchedness in the beginning seemed to enhance its gradually mounting harmony. She lay reenacting it, from the first shattering news, "He's here!" on through his every gesture, every word. Joseph's charm with the children, the gentleness of his manners at table (surely not lost on Hannah). The very assertiveness she had deplored seemed to have won Joachim's respect. And the way he'd responded to her mother when the women drew shawls about their shoulders and joined the men on the roof.
Warmed by food and wine and the certainty that only by her appearance had the evening been saved, Hannah had unbent. She had in fact become expansive, telling impish tales of her childhood that made Joseph's laugh ring out. He had matched them with stories of his own. "I remember the inn," he said. "Though I was only about three years old when my parents moved from Bethlehem."
"That's right, you were born there," Hannah exclaimed. "I'd forgotten. The City of David," she added—and this too seemed to confirm some subtle new bond between them, reminding her as it did that they were all of David's stock.
Everyone was smiling by the time farewells were being said. Hope flared as high in Mary as the torch which Joachim insisted on handing to Joseph to light his way down the dark winding streets. How foolish her earlier apprehensions, she thought. And how infinitely fortunate that first incredible impulse to seek out Joseph this morning, despite the shameless way she had hurled herself at him.
But even as Mary lay marveling, the muffled voices came to her from beyond the curtains. She lay stiff, scarcely daring to breathe. Her limbs, aglow a moment before, began to chill. Her parents were quarreling. In whispers that blurred their words, yet only made more appalling the impact of those she heard.
"No, no, he's not right for her, no matter how pleasant he is. That bright nature—it's like his father's. Light without substance, that may brighten a window but never cook a meal."
"You misjudge him, Hannah. He has a very serious side as well. Didn't you hear our discussion of Israel? He is deeply concerned."
"Ha, all men are concerned. It's the fashion to be concerned, small good that it does any of us. Let men concern themselves with their wives and children and how to provide for them. Especially if they come seeking our daughters in marriage."
"Our fate as providers depends upon the fate of Israel. When taxes take the very bread from the mouths of our families."
"Don't think to divert me from Joseph. Like father like son. He comes from a poor household."
"It's a happy household, Hannah. I was there today and felt their joy in one another. Even the children—"
"Did you also feel their ribs?"
"The ribs of Jacob's children are no thinner than those of mine. And there is other food, Hannah. The spirit too needs food, the food of love."
"Love!" Her voice broke rawly. Accused, "You speak as if there is small love in the house I have made for you."
"No, no. How you twist things. I am only trying to show you that Joseph's background is not so impoverished as you think. Love compensates for many things. And while it's customary and right that parents arrange such matters, how much better for everyone when two people love and want each other from the very beginning."
"Unlike us?" Hannah challenged. "You didn't love me. I was a poor bargain picked by your mother for heaven knows what reason, and a sorry disappointment in your bed."
"Must we rake up old miseries?" Joachim begged. "I loved you almost at once."
"No. No, you only pitied me."
"Yes, that too, but pity is close to love, Hannah, and in protecting you,
Sleep was a long time claiming her, however. At first she was too excited by the evening, whose wretchedness in the beginning seemed to enhance its gradually mounting harmony. She lay reenacting it, from the first shattering news, "He's here!" on through his every gesture, every word. Joseph's charm with the children, the gentleness of his manners at table (surely not lost on Hannah). The very assertiveness she had deplored seemed to have won Joachim's respect. And the way he'd responded to her mother when the women drew shawls about their shoulders and joined the men on the roof.
Warmed by food and wine and the certainty that only by her appearance had the evening been saved, Hannah had unbent. She had in fact become expansive, telling impish tales of her childhood that made Joseph's laugh ring out. He had matched them with stories of his own. "I remember the inn," he said. "Though I was only about three years old when my parents moved from Bethlehem."
"That's right, you were born there," Hannah exclaimed. "I'd forgotten. The City of David," she added—and this too seemed to confirm some subtle new bond between them, reminding her as it did that they were all of David's stock.
Everyone was smiling by the time farewells were being said. Hope flared as high in Mary as the torch which Joachim insisted on handing to Joseph to light his way down the dark winding streets. How foolish her earlier apprehensions, she thought. And how infinitely fortunate that first incredible impulse to seek out Joseph this morning, despite the shameless way she had hurled herself at him.
But even as Mary lay marveling, the muffled voices came to her from beyond the curtains. She lay stiff, scarcely daring to breathe. Her limbs, aglow a moment before, began to chill. Her parents were quarreling. In whispers that blurred their words, yet only made more appalling the impact of those she heard.
"No, no, he's not right for her, no matter how pleasant he is. That bright nature—it's like his father's. Light without substance, that may brighten a window but never cook a meal."
"You misjudge him, Hannah. He has a very serious side as well. Didn't you hear our discussion of Israel? He is deeply concerned."
"Ha, all men are concerned. It's the fashion to be concerned, small good that it does any of us. Let men concern themselves with their wives and children and how to provide for them. Especially if they come seeking our daughters in marriage."
"Our fate as providers depends upon the fate of Israel. When taxes take the very bread from the mouths of our families."
"Don't think to divert me from Joseph. Like father like son. He comes from a poor household."
"It's a happy household, Hannah. I was there today and felt their joy in one another. Even the children—"
"Did you also feel their ribs?"
"The ribs of Jacob's children are no thinner than those of mine. And there is other food, Hannah. The spirit too needs food, the food of love."
"Love!" Her voice broke rawly. Accused, "You speak as if there is small love in the house I have made for you."
"No, no. How you twist things. I am only trying to show you that Joseph's background is not so impoverished as you think. Love compensates for many things. And while it's customary and right that parents arrange such matters, how much better for everyone when two people love and want each other from the very beginning."
"Unlike us?" Hannah challenged. "You didn't love me. I was a poor bargain picked by your mother for heaven knows what reason, and a sorry disappointment in your bed."
"Must we rake up old miseries?" Joachim begged. "I loved you almost at once."
"No. No, you only pitied me."
"Yes, that too, but pity is close to love, Hannah, and in protecting you,
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