Page 42 of The Guardian's Promise

Ari entered the alcove. Her gaze met his as his sister Lydia offered him water. He drank deeply from the cup. And when he was finished he handed the cup back to his sister. His lips were shiny with moisture. She blinked as her toes curled at the remembrance of his lips touching hers. Did he recall with clarity the kiss they’d shared? Did the memory twist and turn his insides, too?

She tore her eyes from his and busied about with preparations. She would never last the trip to Jerusalem with him. She would constantly covet a life she could never have. Especially with his intense gaze following her.

One touch of his lips to hers, one small kiss, and she knew what it meant to desire something more than life itself. She had once thought she understood the looks passed between her parents when they thought no one could see. But after hours of traveling in the dark, with only the rustling of their clothes and the scurrying critters, with Ari’s presence close behind her, she realized there was so much more to understand. A realization that dawned on her when the emotion swirling in his eyes tugged on her heart.

* * *

He wouldn’t apologize for touching her with his gaze. He cared for her. And he would tell her once he’d made an offering to the Lord.

He moved toward his father and knelt beside him. He bowed his head and prayed silently. Father God, thank You for our safe passage. I beseech You to grant us safety for the remainder of our journey. Bless Thy servant with wisdom, anoint Joash as he learns to walk in Your ways. May he help return Judah’s heart back to You.

The whisper of Mira’s movements drew his attention. He opened his eyes just as she lifted her gaze to his. The bowl in her hand hovered above the leather table. Color rose in her cheeks. She quickly dropped her gaze and continued with her chore.

For some reason she had the look of shame. Why was that?

He rose from his knees and dusted his tunic. He untied the bag at his side and prepared his thanks offering to the Lord. He added his grain to that of his father’s and those of his brothers and uncles. If there had been too many more of them, they’d burn the mountain to ash.

All gathered around and watched as his father set flame to the grain. They muttered the blessing, and then they broke out in song. Even though the threat of their enemies continued to loom, and even though they shouldn’t have, they did not quiet their voices as they lifted them in praise to the Lord, for He was their protector.

After a few minutes, their voices droned to a stop and then they discussed everything from the heat of the day to what they would do when this was all over. Lydia brought him another cup of water. Parched, he swallowed it in one gulp. “Do I look as thirsty as I feel?” he asked Lydia with a teasing tone.

She smiled, nodding. “Your lips are cracked, Ari. It looks uncomfortable.” She took the cup from him and moved away.

He lifted his fingers to his mouth, running them over the sharp, jagged surface. His gaze sought Mira’s. Had he upset her when he’d kissed her? Was that why she had erected a shield between them? Was that why, even now, she avoided looking to him?

His sister returned and pressed the cup into his palm once again. “Drink, it will be of aid. And, here,” she said, removing the lid from a small pottery jar. “This will help. Your lips will soften in moments.”

Ari glanced at the purple-colored balm. It looked to be one of her salves. He would not put that on, and he was about to tell his sister so, too, but then he licked his lips and felt the harshness of his skin. Once again he looked to Mira. She bit down on her bottom lip, her hands at her sides where her fingers worried her tunic.

He shook his head, dipped his fingers into the thick salve and applied it to his chapped lips. He supposed he should be thankful that it tasted of pomegranates and not ashes.

“What is this?” Jesse asked. “Abba, your son is applying Lydia’s lip balm.”

“Do not be a jackal, Jesse.” Lydia punched him in the shoulder. “His lips are dangerously cracked. He could sicken and die,” she exaggerated.

“Then I would be your favorite brother,” Jesse mocked.

“Lydia, child, you are one for dramatics, but you shouldn’t call your brother names.”

“Yes, Mama.” Lydia tossed Jesse a sneer. “You could never be my favorite, Jesse. You think too highly of yourself.”

Ari listened as they bantered back and forth. He had missed this. Had missed them.

“You think I’m vain?” Jesse dropped his arms to his sides. He looked sorely wounded.

Ari almost said something to ease his brother’s sensitivities, but Joash, in his too-wise-for-his-age way said, “You do tense your arms and chest more than anyone I have seen.”

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