Desired: The Untold Story of Samson and Delilah (Lost Loves of the Bible) by Garrett Ginger

Author:Garrett, Ginger [Garrett, Ginger]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Delilah, more to come from marketing, Fiction, honey, lion, Samson, history, temple, Philistines
Publisher: David C Cook
Published: 2011-09-30T21:00:00+00:00

MOTHER

This is still my tale.

Although another woman would enter into my story, her time is not yet. Not in my tale. I was still unaware of her, a merciful ignorance.

On one of those ignorant days, I was working in the vineyard. I cleared my throat, not willing to spill tears in front of the other mothers. They watched me closely, looking for clues, hoping for a weak moment when I needed their comforts more than my own good name.

I would not give that. Our name is all we have in this world.

I grasped the next vine, slicing the fruitless tendrils, letting them fall at my feet. Tending the vines is not easy work, for the sun returns in glory after the dark, blinding rains, and soft, sleepy people who had rested in the coolness of walled rooms are forced out to face the sun. There is much work this year; the harvest is plentiful. All of Zorah has turned out for the first day of harvesting. All except Samson.

I tended the vines, refusing to acknowledge this, my heart almost crushed after tending to Syvah the day before. She was so pale, so thin, but she still expected to rise from her bed. I pushed her even closer to her death. I told her the truth. You should never tell people the truth. This is what I have decided: The truth kills as surely as the blade.

She had grasped my hand, clutching it between her cold, dry palms. “Why so much sorrow, sister?”

I was more than old enough to be her mother. She was being kind, calling me sister.

I removed my hand and dipped the cloth in the water I had heated. I washed her face, neck, and hands. I dipped a dry cloth in a little jar of olive oil I had brought and rubbed the oil into her skin, across her gaunt face and lips, careful to make her face shine. As if good health were that easy, as if miracles could be so simple.

“You are afraid,” she said, settling back against her cushions. Her sons were working in the fields. We were alone. “You should just face the truth.”

“And what is the truth?” I humored her.

“You were mistaken. No angel visited you. It might have been a dream. Samson is not the man of God you thought he would be.”

I chuckled, not meeting her eyes as I moved down to wash her feet now. As I kneeled on the floor, she watched me with intensity.

She was right about Samson, in a fashion.

She sat up. “Why can’t you love him as he is? Why do you drive him so? If you would only accept him, he would come back to you.”

“I am his enemy, Syvah. That is the truth. And before you go telling me how I should face the truth, maybe you should face it too.”

Syvah looked away, her chin trembling.

“You’re dying, Syvah. You won’t get up from this bed.” I looked away now too, toward her window open to the afternoon sun.

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