The Lamp of Darkness, - [any book recommendations txt] 📗

sitting and walking together. Two groups again formed on opposite sides of the vineyard, each much smaller than the night before. These must be the ones who failed to find a match. Would they be back next year?

“So you’re heading back to the gathering today?” Zim asked between bites.

It hadn’t occurred to me that Zim wouldn’t know. “No, the gathering was closed after the wedding.”

“Why?”

“So everyone can bring in their harvests before the rains.”

Zim’s eyes gleamed. “Even the prophets have begun to fear Baal? Yambalya will be pleased.”

My first instinct was to defend them, but I held myself back. It did feel as if the prophets were giving way to the Baal.

“You’re going home then?”

I stopped eating and stared down. “I can’t go home.”

“Can’t go home? Why not?”

“My aunt sent me away.”

“Why? What happened?”

My throat suddenly felt dry, and I swallowed hard. “My uncle brought a Baal into the house. My aunt said that my parents would never accept me living in a house with an idol, so she made me leave. She told me to go to my father’s family in Judah.”

“Judah? How are you supposed to get across the border?”

“My aunt gave me copper. She said in Mitzpah I’ll be able to find someone to guide me over.”

“So that’s it? You’re going? And you’ll just hope that whoever takes your payment can get you there alive?”

“What choice do I have?”

Zim shook his head. “Just because your aunt sent you to Judah doesn’t mean you have to go. You’re almost of age, Lev—it’s time to become a man.”

I turned away, my heart feeling like a cold stone in my chest.

“She threw you out—it’s no longer her choice. Come back to Shomron with me.”

“Shomron?”

“Yes, Shomron. Queen Izevel is building two temples, one for Baal, the other for Ashera. The nobility are competing to offer the biggest feasts each day. There aren’t enough musicians for all the ceremonies and banquets. Two nights ago, I even played for Uriel’s son.”

“Uriel’s son?’

“The Chief Priest of Israel.” Zim laughed at the look on my face. “Didn’t you notice their likeness at the wedding? It might have been Uriel forty years ago!”

I pictured the face of the priest. If the thick brows were white and the skin across his broad cheekbones wrinkled, it would have been Uriel. How had I not noticed? “But Uriel hates the Golden Calf. How can his son be its priest?”

Zim shrugged. “You can ask him when we get to Shomron.”

“I couldn’t do that!”

“Why not? I did.”

“You did? What did he say?”

“He said he used to walk in his father’s ways. But his father was always traveling, tending to the needs of the people. He wasn’t there for his own family. Ten years ago, he decided he’d had enough.”

“And you’re playing for him?”

“I’m playing for everyone. There aren’t enough musicians in Shomron. They need you there.”

I dropped the bread in my hand, my hunger forgotten. “You heard what my aunt said—my parents wanted me far away from the Baal.”

“Your parents are dead, Lev.”

My crying the day before must have unblocked the channel of tears, for fresh drops clouded my vision.

“I know it hurts, but it’s true.”

My eyes strayed toward the lone men leaving Shiloh with heavy steps.

“You can’t live your life for them. Do you even remember what they look like?”

“You don’t understand,” I said, my voice flat.

“Maybe I don’t.” Zim placed a hand on my shoulder. “But you need to hear this. Didn’t you learn anything last night?”

I shook off Zim’s hand. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at those couples down there. Every one of them would have preferred to get married in the usual way, but it didn’t work out for them. They could have stayed at home and cried about being alone—but they didn’t. They decided not to let a rotten past force them into an empty future.”

I gazed at the men and women holding hands under the trees.

“They went into that vineyard with all they had, and they left everything they didn’t need behind. Now look at them, most of them aren’t alone anymore. How do you think they feel?”

“I don’t know…Happy?”

Zim shook his head. “Scared. They’re starting a new life with someone they hardly know. But they know one thing: It’s better to jump into an unknown future than hold onto a dead past.”

I cocked my head. “What are you saying?”

“You were one of the best musicians here last night.”

I snorted at the flattery.

“No, really. But if I hadn’t come along, you would have walked away and never played a note. Emanuel took one look at you and decided you were too young. What did you say back to him?”

“Nothing. I left.”

“Exactly! Emanuel tells you to leave, and you go, even though you’re better than his musicians. Your aunt tells you to leave, and you go, even though you don’t really know why. Did you ever stop to think about what you want?”

Zim stood up. “Learn from the girls of Shiloh. Go into that vineyard and leave the past where it belongs. Come out ready to decide your own future, and let nothing stand in your way.”

I picked up a piece of cheese. “I hear what you’re saying.”

“Clearly you don’t, because you’re still sitting here.” Zim grabbed my arm and drew me to my feet. “Go on. Don’t come out until you’re ready to claim your life.”

Zim pushed me downhill. I continued on my own, then turned back to Zim. “Don’t eat all my food while I’m gone.”

“Don’t worry.” Zim broke off another hunk of cheese. “There’s plenty to eat in Shomron. Go!”

I ducked under the trellised vines, and the smell of warm earth rose up to greet me. Rays of sun peeked between broad, green leaves, painting the thick, twisted vines with swaths of light and shadow. Rows of grapevines stretched out in every direction, leaving the outer world far behind.

What Zim said made sense—I was on my own now. I didn’t choose to leave, but now every choice was mine. Hadn’t I come to Shiloh rather than going right to Mitzpah as my aunt wanted? I could just as easily go to Shomron—or anywhere else for that matter. Leaves trembled around me as a breeze swept off the hills above. I followed one path into the vineyard, but there were countless ways out. I settled myself at the base of a solid, olivewood post around which two vines were entwined. The young grapes, maroon and growing heavy with juice, hung above my head.

What do I really want? And what path will get me there?

A grasshopper landed at my feet. The wind died, and its rhythmic chirps rang loud on the still air. I closed my eyes and other sounds emerged, the rustling of leaves, a distant dove’s cry. I laid my head back against the knotty wood, the notes of the vineyard clear in my mind, and descended into their song.

Though I had walked far into the vineyard, it was easy to find my way back out; I just followed the bass notes of the drum. The sun was high, and my sack of provisions lay empty on the ground by Zim’s side. Zim beat out one last flourish and got to his feet. “If we want to get back tonight, we’ll need to go now,” he said.

I nodded, picked up my belongings, and followed Zim toward the road.

“Put out your hand.” Zim dropped three pieces of copper into my palm. “Emanuel paid us while you were gone. It’s nothing compared to the wedding, but not bad for a night of music. Are you still going to Judah?”

I inhaled more deeply than I could ever remember. “No. You were right. That’s what my aunt wanted—not what I want.”

“Excellent. Yambalya lent me a donkey for the trip. If we both ride, we should be able to make it back before they close the gates.”

I stopped Zim with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to Shomron either.”

Zim cocked his head. “No?”

“No. You go on your own.”

“Where will you go?”

“On my own path.”

Zim’s face glowed. “Good. Then for the second time in a week, we part as friends.” Zim embraced me with both arms. “Until our paths cross again.”