An Echo in the Darkness(178)

“Yes,” she said shakily and rose, pain shooting up her bad leg. Grasping her walking stick, she stepped back from the bed. Had he seen her face? She couldn’t bear it if he had.

“Hadassah’s alive,” Julia said, smiling radiantly up at Marcus as he leaned down to her.

He had never seen her eyes shine as they did now. “I know, Julia. I heard.” He couldn’t look at Hadassah, for he knew if he did, he would forget everything and want to know why she had hidden herself from him. His heart pounded wildly and his throat was suddenly dry. Joy and rage churned within him, and one word screamed in his mind: Why?

Why hadn’t she revealed herself to him? Why hadn’t she told him she was alive? Why had she left him in his despair?

But now was not the time to get the answers he so desperately wanted. Now was the time to concentrate on Julia. One glance at Hadassah and Marcus knew he would forget Julia in her desperate need—and so he didn’t glance at her or speak to her. He simply lifted his sister gently, cradling her against his heart. Julia was so light she was like a child in his arms.

Julia stretched out her hand toward Hadassah. “Come with me.”

“I’ll follow,” Hadassah assured her, unable to look into Marcus’ face. He hesitated at the door and glanced back at her. “Don’t wait for me, my lord,” she said. “Go. Go now.”

Marcus carried Julia along the upper corridor and down the stairs. He crossed the peristyle, which was filled with sunlight, and went down another corridor that led through more archways to the family baths. Without removing his sandals, he went down the marble steps. The cool water rose around his legs and hips, dampening Julia’s thin gown.

“God forgive me if I overstep myself in doing this,” Marcus said aloud, “but there’s none other here.” He lifted Julia slightly as he bent his head and kissed her. Then he lowered his sister into the water, immersing her. “I baptize you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit,” he said, raising her up. Water streamed from her face and hair and body. “You have been buried with Christ and raised again in the newness of life.”

“Oh Marcus,” Julia said softly in wonder. Her eyes seemed to look past him, their focus on something he could not see.

Marcus pushed back through the water until he reached the steps. He walked up them and sat down on the edge of the pool, his sister cradled in his lap.

He heard Hadassah’s steps and glanced up as she entered the bath chamber. His heart beat heavily. She hesitated and then continued toward him, her walking stick tapping the marble tiles. “It is done,” he said hoarsely, and his voice echoed softly off the muraled walls.

“Praise the Lord,” she said with a soft sigh of relief.

Suddenly Julia’s breathing changed. It became more rapid, as though she was excited by something. Her eyes opened wide. “Oh! Can you see them?”

“See what, little one?” Marcus said, holding her closer, his hand lightly cupping her damp face.

“They’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her face filled with awe. “So beautiful.” She blinked sleepily. “Oh, Marcus, they’re singing. . . .” Her face softened and became beautiful again. She gave a long, deep sigh and closed her eyes. Her body relaxed completely in Marcus’ arms, her head resting against his shoulder.

“All is well,” Hadassah said, bowing her head in thanksgiving. She pressed her hand against her heart and closed her eyes. “She is home.”

“Thank God,” said a familiar voice that trembled with emotion.

Marcus glanced up sharply and saw the woman standing in the archway, Iulius just behind her.

“Mother!”





52

Phoebe came forward without assistance. “I knew the moment she accepted Christ,” she said, looking at her daughter’s face—a sweet, beautiful child, sleeping. “Feeling and strength returned to my body.”

Marcus lifted Julia and stepped out of the water, carrying her to his mother. Tears streamed down Phoebe’s cheeks, but she was smiling, her eyes shining. “Oh, how I prayed I would see this day,” she said and kissed Julia’s brow. “And I have. I have. . . .” She began to weep. “Oh, my child . . . my child . . .”

Iulius drew close to comfort her. He put his arm around her waist, and she turned toward him. Hadassah watched them leave the room with Marcus, who still cradled Julia close to his heart. After a moment, Hadassah limped to a carved marble bench against the wall and sat down. She was tired after her long vigil. She leaned her head back against the cool stone. She wanted to dance and leap and sing praises, but for now she was content to rest.