An Echo in the Darkness(175)

“Iulius says Mother refuses to eat. She sits on the balcony with her eyes closed. He says he doesn’t know if she’s fasting and praying or simply drifting away.” He bowed his head. “My God,” he said in a voice husky with pain, “am I going to lose both of them at the same time?”

Hadassah’s eyes filled with tears, for his face was lined with weariness and grief. She ached for him. “We must not give up hope, my lord.” She meant the words sincerely, but they sounded hollow in the quiet room with Julia’s still form on the bed.

“Hope,” Marcus said bleakly. “I thought I’d found hope, but I don’t know anymore.” He leaned forward and combed his fingers lightly through the dark hair that lay against the pillow. He stood slowly and leaned down, kissing Julia’s forehead. “Send for me if there’s any change.”

Hadassah took his place at Julia’s side.





51

Marcus entered the room as morning light crept over the wall. Hadassah glanced at him and saw how pale and strained his face looked. She rose from the seat beside Julia’s bed so that he could sit beside his sister.

“No change?” he said.

“No, my lord.”

“It’s been three days,” he said grimly. “Please speak with my mother, Azar. She still won’t eat anything, and she was awake most of the night. I’m worried about her. She’s not strong enough to fast.”

“I will pray with her, my lord.” She would do no more than that, for if Phoebe felt God called her to fast and pray, so be it, whatever came. Marcus sat down wearily. She felt his distress and put her hand on his shoulder, pressing lightly. “Trust in the Lord, Marcus. We’re all in his hands, and he’s assured us all things will work to his good purpose.”

“I haven’t your faith, Azar.”

“You’ve faith enough.”

As he started to reach up and cover her hand, she withdrew. He watched her limp toward the door and go out. Depressed, he rested his elbows on the edge of the bed. Raking his fingers through his hair, he held his head.

“Jesus . . . ,” he said, but no other words came. “Jesus . . .” He was too tired and despondent to pray or even think. In the three days since Julia had fallen asleep his mother seemed to be fading away as well. He was going to lose both of them, and he had to resign himself to it.

Jesus . . . , his heart cried yet again.

A gentle wind came in from the balcony and, like a whisper of kindness, brushed Julia’s brow. She drew in a soft breath of it and exhaled, turning her head toward it. Opening her eyes, she saw Marcus sitting beside her bed with his head in his hands. His posture was so utterly dejected, she reached out weakly and brushed her fingertips against him, wanting to give comfort. Marcus started slightly and raised his head. “Julia,” he said hoarsely, staring at her.

“I’m glad you came back,” she said softly. He grasped her hand and held it tightly, kissing it. Tears filled her eyes so she could hardly see his face. He did love her after all. Oh, God, he did love her!

A breeze brushed her face, oddly comforting. She felt so weak and light, as though that soft wind could lift her and carry her away like an autumn leaf. But she wasn’t ready. She was afraid where it would carry her. An oppressive darkness seemed to be closing in around her, and the heaviness within her heart had not eased, even for a moment.

“I’m so sorry for everything, Marcus,” she whispered.

“I know. I forgive you, Julia. Everything is forgotten.”

“Oh, if it were only that easy.”

“It is, little one. Listen to me, Julia. I’ve been such a fool, and I’ve so much to tell you.” And there was so little time left. “Do you remember how Hadassah used to tell you stories? I want to tell you a story, my story.” And thus he began, starting with the days in Rome when three emperors had reigned in a year, and half of his friends had been killed. He spoke of his lust for women, of endless banquets, of drinking, of the games—all of which he had used to sate the hunger within him. He’d lived by the adage “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” Yet nothing had satisfied, nothing had filled the empty aching place inside him.

Then Hadassah had come into their lives, roped among other survivors of the holocaust in Jerusalem. “Mother bought her and gave her to you. There was something different about her from the beginning. Despite everything she’d endured, there was a peace about her. I’d find her at night in the moonlit garden praying to God. For you. For me. For all of us.” He sighed, pressing his sister’s hand between his.