Love In A Broken Vessel (32 page)

Hosea felt his cheeks flame. Was he embarrassed that he had no prophetic message? It was a sure sign he’d let pride slip in unnoticed. “Tell Amos I was given no specific message to prophesy. My highest calling is to submit to Yahweh in whatever needs done.” He picked up Ammi, kissing his rosy cheek. “Right now, I serve Yahweh in camp.”

• H
OSEA
9:11–12 •

Ephraim’s glory will fly away. . . . There will be no more pregnancies, births, or babies. Even if they bring up children, I will take those children away before they grow up.

B
reathe!” Gomer shouted. The girl had gone white as stone, laboring to deliver her first child. “You’re dizzy because you’re holding your breath. Now breathe through the pain!” Hosea’s advice during Ammi’s birth nearly four years ago had made Gomer one of the foremost midwives among Jerusalem’s harlots. If this girl had been a member of Miriam’s household, Gomer would have fed her pomegranate rinds and wild carrot tea months ago, sparing her the heartache of carrying this baby to term.

“I have to puuuushh . . .” She bore down without coaching.

Gomer had learned much during the past four years of midwifery. At the top of the list? A woman’s body—left to its own design—would signal its needs and fulfill them naturally if possible. The other things Gomer learned provided
unnatural
solutions to women’s foolish choices.

“I see the baby’s head. A few more pushes, and you’ll greet this child in person!” She had to give the girl hope, but she
refused to fill her thoughts with candied figs when an anxious brothel madam waited to whisk the baby away to the highest bidder. “Here it comes. Here it comes!”

With one final
whoosh
, a little boy entered his cold, harsh reality. Gomer had locked the door of her heart and swallowed the key—except in these moments. Fighting tears, she wiped the baby clean and rubbed him with salt as he wailed that first newborn cry.

“Let me see him,” the new ima whispered, her exhaustion all too familiar.

Gomer remained silent, hurrying through the prescribed tasks. “You’ll feel another contraction soon, and I’ll help you deliver the afterbirth.”

“What? Oh—” The girl, surprised yet efficient, resumed her laboring for a few short moments.

The final task complete, Gomer shouted to the women waiting beyond the curtain, “We’re finished in here.”

Two women entered. The first Gomer recognized as the girl’s madam, owner of a competing brothel a few houses north. The second was Miriam.

“We’ll need compensation for the use of a room and my midwife.” Miriam extended her hand.

“Fine.” The girl’s madam dropped her silver pieces into the proffered hand and snatched the infant from Gomer’s arms. “I’ll make five times that on the child.”

“No!” the new ima screamed, watching her child being carried away. She leapt off the birthing stool and tried to follow, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. Miriam and Gomer caught the girl as she fainted, a rush of her blood flooding the wood-planked floor.

“Help me get her to the straw mattress, Miriam.” Gomer grabbed her herbs and poured some boiling water into a mug over a spoonful of broken leaves, stems, and stalks. She stirred its contents, blew the steamy liquid, and coaxed the girl to drink. Delirious, she drank and tried to speak but lost consciousness again.

“What are you doing?” Miriam said, panicked. “She’s bleeding to death and you’re giving her rue tea? Are you trying to kill her?”

Gomer rolled her eyes. Her friend could be so dramatic sometimes. “No. Rue tightens the abdominal muscles and stops the bleeding.”

She felt Miriam staring. “How do you know all this? I worked as a street harlot for years and then inherited this place from my dear old madam—but I don’t have half your knowledge of herbs and midwifery.”

Gomer’s heart squeezed in her chest.
Merav.
Even in death, she gave her life. “I had a friend in my first brothel, the midwife there, who taught me about herbs and keeping a man’s seed from taking root.” She glanced up to meet her friend’s gaze. “I also know from personal experience. I’ve given birth to five children and survived one rue-induced drop, so I know a little about what this girl’s going through.”

Miriam’s eyes welled with tears. “You left five children to come to Jerusalem?”

“I left three children with loving people who will give them a better life. My first two children were taken from me—as that baby was taken from her.”

“Taken?” A weak voice interrupted their conversation, and Gomer checked the straw mattress. The bloodstain had stopped spreading. The girl opened bleary eyes. “Where’s my baby?”

Gomer swallowed hard, replacing the impenetrable armor around her heart. “You are alive. You survived. That’s what’s important. You’ll have more children someday, but if you’re smart, you’ll never allow this to happen again—until you marry a wealthy old merchant with a house on a hill.” The girl turned her face away, but Gomer couldn’t let her deny reality. “Do you understand? If you remain a harlot, don’t let yourself become pregnant!”

The girl nodded, her eyes swimming in unshed tears, and Gomer felt her cheeks burn with shame. Who was she to
shout such commands? She’d maintained an empty womb in Jerusalem because of Miriam’s willingness to supply pomegranates and wild carrot seed for the girls, but without the provision of a kind madam, this girl had no chance to survive. She lifted an eyebrow at Miriam, a silent plea.

Miriam rolled her eyes and sighed. “I have space for one more girl in my house.” A spark lit the girl’s eyes. “If you promise to work hard, bring in at least two clients a night, I’ll take you in. And Gomer can help you remain childless.”

“Yes! Oh, yes. Thank you.” The girl reached for Miriam’s hand, but the madam turned and left without a word. The girl undoubtedly thought it was because she was harsh and uncaring—as was intended. Gomer knew a madam couldn’t reveal her heart any more than a midwife could share her soul.

“Gomer, wake up.”

The haze of deep sleep cleared slowly.

“Gomer, Commander Hananiah is downstairs. He says he must see you right away.”

Miriam’s mention of Hananiah’s name brought Gomer to her feet and out of her chamber door in one swift motion. She followed her madam downstairs, riddling her with questions. “Did he say what’s wrong? Is he alone or did he bring guards? Does he have a message or a scroll? You know I can’t read.”

“He said that he must see you right away. When I told him you see a few select clients, he became outraged and said he hadn’t come to sleep with you, only to talk with you.”

Momentary relief was replaced with fear. What could they possibly have to talk about? Unless he had word from Tekoa . . .

Her foot reached the last step, and she saw the terrified expression of Judah’s commander. Her heart stopped. “Hananiah, what is it?”

He glanced at Miriam and back at Gomer. “I must speak with you alone.”

The madam touched her friend’s elbow and leaned close. “Do you need me to call the house guards? I believe all four of them could restrain the commander if it came to that.”

Gomer patted her hand, touched by her concern. “No. I’ll be fine. Commander, you may come to my private chamber upstairs.” He appeared shocked, embarrassed. “Don’t worry.” She grinned. “What was it someone once said? ‘I’ll never force myself on you.’” She caught a glimpse of his fury before leading him upstairs. Neither spoke until they entered her chamber, where she lit an oil lamp. The room was small but seemed even smaller with his mountainous form consuming it. “So, Commander, what brings you to my home in the middle of the night?”

His jaw muscles danced, and he swayed from one foot to the other, looking more like a nervous groom than a confident soldier. “I’ve heard you’re the best midwife in Jerusalem.” He paused. “There’s a girl.” Another pause. “She’s pregnant.”

Gomer’s mind began to spin. He’d come to secure her midwife services for a pregnant girl? “And who is this pregnant girl, Commander?”

“Does it matter?” He spat the words, more like a threat than a question.

“She obviously matters very much if you’ve sought out the best midwife in Jerusalem.”

He sighed deeply and folded his arms across his leather breastplate—the first signs of defeat. “She is the daughter of a royal advisor, and she’s carrying my child.”

In that moment, Gomer was thankful she’d had four years to harden her heart and perfect her indifference. It gave her the strength to conduct business rather than melt into tears. “How far along is she?”

He looked at her as if she’d asked for directions to the moon.

“How many months since she’s experienced her womanly flow of blood?”

“Well, how would I know that?”

She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or slap him. “What is it you’re asking me to do, Commander?”

“We want to be rid of it.”

Now she was certain she wanted to slap him. “Is the girl as anxious to ‘be rid of it’ as you seem to be?”

His eyes narrowed. “She’s waiting outside with a guard. Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“I’ll speak with her only after you’ve settled on a price with Miriam. She negotiates the fees for my services, and I’m guessing this will cost you plenty.”

She started toward the door, but Hananiah grabbed her shoulders. “You were right before when you said this girl matters. She matters very much to me—personally and politically. Don’t think you can harm her and take your revenge on me. If anything should happen to her, I’ll charge you as a criminal, and you’ll endure the harshest penalties conceived in Judah’s kingdom.”

Gomer twisted out of his grip and stopped at her doorway. “Your threats don’t frighten me, Hananiah. I know who holds true power in your household. Now, do you want to talk with Miriam or not?”

He followed her downstairs like a lamb to the slaughter. Certain Miriam would require an exorbitant fee, Gomer hid a satisfied smile. She’d done dozens of rue-induced drops on the harlots in Jerusalem. Could nobility’s wombs be different? She would begin preparing the delivery room while Hananiah and Miriam worked out the details. By this time tomorrow night, their brothel would be richer, and Gomer would’ve won another victory over Judah’s commander. She must remember to plant a kiss on Lady Asherah’s bronze head before she offered rue tea to the advisor’s daughter.

“At least she’s stopped screaming.” Miriam’s pale face and sweat-stained robe testified to the lengthy vigil she’d kept beside the advisor’s daughter.

Gomer could only stare. Horror. Disbelief. How could this be happening? “She’s dying, Miriam.”

“What? No! She can’t be!” Panic seemed to set in, and she began shaking the girl’s shoulders. “Breathe! Isn’t that what you always tell them, Gomer? Breathe!”

“It’s too late for that.” She pushed Miriam away, cradling the girl onto the straw mattress. “Let her last moments be peaceful ones.”

They sat in silence, listening to the whisper of breath escaping the young girl’s blue lips. Finally, a long exhale.

Miriam lifted terrified eyes to Gomer. “What do we do?”

A girl poked her head through the curtain. “I don’t hear any more screaming. Should I send word to the commander that he can come to collect her now?”

“No!” they shouted as one.

Miriam took the lead. “Get out. We must clean her up before any message is sent. Do you hear me? No message until I give the order.”

The girl backed out penitently.

“We have two choices.” Gomer spoke quietly, ensuring they wouldn’t be overheard. “I can go to King Jotham with the truth and hope for his mercy.”

“King Jotham would never believe the word of a street harlot over his commander!”

Gomer shook her head, donning a wry smile.

“How can you smile at a time like this?”

“I forget you know almost nothing about my past. King Jotham is an old friend. I showed kindness to his abba Uzziah after he was struck with leprosy.”

Miriam stared blankly. “And you’re just mentioning this now?” She shook her head, seeming to dislodge all she’d just heard. “I don’t care if you’re Jotham’s ima, he’s not likely to overlook a murder charge—and that’s what Hananiah will call this—when it involves the daughter of one of his advisors.”

Gomer knew she was right, and the tears she’d held back
breached the stronghold. “That leaves us with choice number two. I slip out of Jerusalem now, and you delay the news of the girl’s death as long as possible.” She reached for Miriam’s hand and squeezed it as tears streamed down both their faces. “When Hananiah discovers you’ve let me escape, he’ll try to close you down.”