Mary and Martha by H. B. Moore

Author:H. B. Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction;Mary;Martha;Bible;Sory;LDS;Mormon;Christ;Friend;Love;Jesus;Nazareth;Journey;Lazarus;hard work;Sisters;helpful;kind;service;witness;Clean
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2020-09-29T23:12:20+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Lazarus

“You have done too much this week, Lazarus,” Leah said as she brought him tea where he reclined on their platform bed. The few weeks after Jesus’s departure had been busy with work in the olive groves. Spring was well on its way.

Horeb had been a hard worker, though, cheerfully putting in long hours. In fact, the entire village was in good spirits. Discussions at the synagogue were lively and full of deep introspection as the men and boys studied the psalms, laws, and prophets with renewed vigor and understanding. The skeptics also had a voice, making sure they were heard.

Now Lazarus was feeling the effects of an illness that had settled deep in his chest, but he was sure it would soon pass. “Thank you, Leah,” he said, taking the tea and sipping at the hot brew. His cough had worsened over the past couple of days, but at home, he’d tried to keep his coughing as light as possible so as not to worry his wife.

Still, Martha had gone to the herbalist, Josiah, and requested various leaves and stalks. He’d had quite a variety of teas, but nothing seemed to be truly helping. A tickle worked its way down his throat, and he took another sip of the tea.

“I should be waiting on you, not the other way around,” Lazarus said, eyeing his wife.

Her delivery was less than a month away, and he’d been praying night and day that she’d deliver safely and her health would remain intact.

Leah only smiled at him, her dark eyes as beautiful as ever. Then her smile faltered. Lazarus set his cup down and pushed himself up in the bed, although the movement caused him to wheeze. “What is it? Are you all right?”

She looked away with a short exhale. “I haven’t felt well today. It’s not like the illness you have, yet I can’t explain it.”

He reached for her hand and squeezed. “Is it the child?”

Her hesitation was long enough that Lazarus pushed off his covers and rose from the bed. His chest felt like it was on fire, but he didn’t care.

“Lazarus, I’ll be fine for a while yet,” Leah protested, but her tone was weak.

“Where is Martha?” Lazarus moved about the room to fetch his robe. He tugged it on and ignored the steady burning in his chest. He covered his mouth with his sleeve and coughed deeply against the fabric.

“I can fetch her,” Leah said, watching him with widened eyes. “You shouldn’t be up—”

But Lazarus pointed to her. “You take the bed. I’ll find Martha, and until I know you are well, I’ll rest in the boys’ room to be near you. They can move upstairs.”

Without waiting for a reply, he left the bedchamber and called for Martha.

She must have heard the urgency in his tone because she hurried out of the cooking room, her hands dusted with flour. “What’s happened?”

“Leah is having birthing pains.” Lazarus’s tone was perhaps too sharp. “Did you not know this? She said she’s been ill all day.

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