An Echo in the Darkness(77)

“He loved you, my lady,” Iulius said quietly.

Quick tears came unexpectedly, and she looked away to hide them. Embarrassed by the stillness that fell in the room, she rose. As she turned with a smile, she saw the way Prisca watched her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, seeing the old woman’s eyes were filled with tears as well.

“Don’t be sorry.” Prisca gave a snort. “I’d rather see your honest pain than a brave front.”

Phoebe winced. She bent and kissed the woman’s withered, wrinkled cheek. “You’re a very difficult old lady, do you know that, Prisca?”

“Because I’m not blind and deaf?”

“I’ll see you in a few days.”

Prisca patted her cheek. “Send me more wool.”

On the walk back to the Valerian warehouses, Phoebe said nothing. Her mind was filled to overflowing with memories of Decimus and Marcus and Julia. She wanted to push them away because they brought with them only anguish. She had to accept and not dwell on her losses; she had to go on with what God expected. Love one another, Jesus had told his disciples, and that’s what she was trying to do. Her work was to take care of all those she could with the resources she had available to her.

Past and future were out of her hands. One was finished and couldn’t be undone. The other was beyond imagining. She didn’t want to imagine it. She couldn’t. The pain of losing Decimus was enough. Facing the fact that both her children’s lives were in shambles was too much. She only had this moment, and she must fulfill it worthily. Of what use was it to allow herself regret and grief, to ponder endlessly what she might have done differently? Could she have changed the courses of Marcus’ and Julia’s lives? Could she?

When she had accepted Jesus as her Savior, she had taken his yoke upon her. Now she must be worthy. Love one another, he’d told his apostles and disciples. Love one another, not in word but in deed.

Didn’t that mean do something for others? Surely her work was the will of God.

The litter was waiting at the warehouse. Iulius handed her in and she sank back into the cushions, exhausted. She needed to rest on the ride home so she would be able to make preparations for tomorrow. But rest would not come.

The villa was quiet as she entered. This was the part of each day she dreaded most, coming home to an empty home. She looked across the peristyle to the door of her lararium but turned away. She knew she should pray, but she was too tired even to think.

She went up the stairs and along the open corridor to her bedchamber. She removed her shawl and went out onto the balcony that overlooked Ephesus. At dusk, the city gleamed with colors as the sun struck the Artemision. It was a beautiful structure, amazing in its grandeur. Thousands were lured to the altars of Artemis, clinging to empty promises.

Did Julia still go there?

“I brought you something to eat, my lady,” her maid said from behind her.

“Thank you, Lavinnia,” Phoebe said, not turning around. She had to stop thinking about Julia. What good did it do to go over and over the past, trying to see where she had gone wrong? The last time she had gone to see her daughter, she had been ushered into the triclinium by Primus.

“She’s not feeling well this evening,” he had said, but it was all too clear Julia was drunk. When Julia saw her, she hurled such shocking insults and accusations at her husband that Phoebe was rocked with mortification. Never had she heard anyone speak as her daughter had. Primus stood by with a pained expression, apologizing for her behavior, all of which only seemed to incense Julia more. She cursed him. Ashamed and heartsick, Phoebe had left. Every time she thought of going back, something prevented her. Sometimes it was only a strong sense that she must leave Julia alone to find her own way home.

Julia was lost to her, and so was Marcus. Remembering the purpose of his quest, she wondered if she would ever see him alive again.

She tried to turn her thoughts away from the plight of her own children and concentrate on the needs of the widows she would see tomorrow. She had done everything she could for Marcus and Julia. Dwelling on the past only defeated her chances for changing the future. She had to help those she could and let go of those she couldn’t.

But they were her own children. How could she let go? How could she bear to see the anguish they caused themselves?

Alone and lost in her own sense of failure, Phoebe clutched the iron railing and wept. Somehow she had failed them. She hadn’t loved them enough or taught them what they needed to know to survive in the world. And what could she do about it now? She felt helpless and hopeless.

“I am defeated, Lord. What can I do? O God, what can I do?”