Journey to the Well: A Novel (39 page)

BOOK: Journey to the Well: A Novel

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Caleb shook his head in wonder. He had no words.

Eliab returned to the room carrying cushions that he placed about for the guests who were coming. There was a knock at the door and several neighbors were shown into the house. More people came and the room began to fill up. Some brought their own cushions or stools to sit upon. Many just sat down on the floor. There was an air of expectancy in the room. Caleb sat down with young Jacob by his side. Caleb’s face was serious and thoughtful as he observed all that went on.

The people had greeted Ahmal joyfully, speaking of prayers for his safe journey and return. Many of the women embraced each other. Men and women sat down unself-consciously by one another. Marah sat down to one side of Ahmal, who was obviously going to lead the meeting.

“My friends and fellow believers in Jesus, the Messiah, I praise Him, not only for my safe return, but today the safe return of our son. Let us rejoice together and bless our God.”

Many praised God out loud, and as they sang many of the hymns from Passover, Marah observed Caleb study the faces around him as joy permeated the room with its warmth.

After the singing, several people gave testimonies as to what the Messiah had done for them—healing, restoration, and forgiveness. Caleb listened intently as Marah shared the peace she had found. She felt it radiate from her like an inner glow.

At last, Ahmal was asked to tell his story once again, for the benefit of Caleb and several newcomers who were anxious to hear the tale from his own lips.

Marah watched Caleb’s rapt face as Ahmal’s story unfolded and she prayed earnestly that he too would become a believer.

As the tale unfolded, Caleb’s face reflected his emotions as it registered surprise, wonder, and thankfulness. This Messiah had indeed wrought a wondrous change in the people of Shechem. Blind eyes opened, lame healed, devils cast out. If he did not know the people who shared these stories as those he had grown up with and known all his life, he would have been skeptical. Yet, there was Jacob’s foot, as normal as any other boy’s. Shiva the carpenter . . . he had worked with him and known him well. Shiva also spoke in respectful tones of the Messiah. He had become a believer.

As the guests gathered their things and began to disperse toward their own homes, Caleb went out to the courtyard, to a quiet corner by the fountain. He hugged Jacob and bade him, Simon, and Hannah goodbye. They were like family to him. Simon had always been a gentle man, but now there was an inner strength that flowed from him; from Hannah too. He stared at the fountain and contemplated all that he had seen and heard.

Marah had seen to the house after the guests left and glanced around for Caleb. Ahmal and Marah at last saw him in the courtyard and were about to turn back to the house, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“Mother, Father, wait a moment.” He walked quietly over to them and looked at each of their faces. “I want to say again, how glad I am to be home, to have my family together again.”

They waited, for he had much on his heart. He looked down at the ground a moment, and when he looked up at them again, Marah saw that his face reflected the peace he had found.

“I have listened, and seen with my eyes, what the coming of Jesus to Shechem has meant. I too believe that He is the Messiah.”

Marah gave a glad cry and they embraced one another. At last, Ahmal lifted the lamp and they turned back toward the house.

“Come,” he said gently. “Let us take our rest. It has been a long journey, but it is at an end, and tomorrow is a new day.”

Epilogue

R
euben and his servant rode back from Sebaste. The caravan master Reuben had heard of was not Ahmal. Pleased, he spent the return trip to Shechem contemplating how he could go about selling off Ahmal’s house and remaining goods. He would have to go to the elders and announce his claim as Ahmal’s brother, a tiresome ordeal. There should be no problem, he reasoned. He knew Ahmal had no other relatives. He thought of Marah. Beautiful . . . yes, but there were many beautiful women, and he felt no need to retain only one. He would take her with him . . . for a time. When he was tired of her, he would leave her behind. She could make her living as women in her circumstances had done before. The men would find her desirable.

Pleased that he had resolved his problems so readily, he and Tema dismounted at an inn, where they would lodge the horses. Tema took the bridles and arranged for their care, then the two men headed through the town toward the house of Ahmal.

To Reuben’s surprise, he heard the sound of singing and dancing coming from the house. A celebration of some kind? Cautiously he pulled Tema back into the shadows with him and listened.

A man hurried down the street toward the house and Reuben stepped out and stopped him.

“My friend, we are strangers in Shechem. Can you tell me what is happening at that house? A wedding . . . ?”

The man peered at them curiously. “You must indeed be strangers not to know what has happened. The merchant Ahmal has returned after three years. His wife thought him dead. Not only has he returned, but he tells of being cured of leprosy by the Messiah. The same Messiah who came here to Shechem. He stayed with us two days and performed many miracles.”

“Ah, they indeed have cause for rejoicing. Thank you, my friend.”

The man nodded and hurried on his way. Reuben pulled on his beard. He could not see Tema’s eyes in the darkness, but he sensed the fear of his servant, which echoed his own. He had not seen this Jesus himself, but even in Sebaste they were talking about the miracles. Why did he feel apprehension at the mention of this so-called Messiah?

“Master . . . ,” Tema began hesitantly.

“Be still, Tema,” Reuben growled. “I must think.”

The man had not mentioned Ahmal’s wife. If Ahmal had been the outraged husband, there would not be this celebration. If she had not told her husband, he would find out about Reuben in time. Marah would have to deal with it. Using his wits had saved him many times before. He stood quietly, listening to the laughter and music. After a few moments, he pulled his mantle closer about his face and turned back toward the inn. He could sense rather than hear Tema’s sigh of relief.

“There are other towns, Tema,” he said confidently. “Let us be on our way.”

Author’s Note

This book has been twenty-five years in the writing. When I read the story of the Samaritan woman years ago, it touched and intrigued me. I felt there was so much more to her than what first appeared, and God planted the seed of her story in my heart. I shared the idea and my first tentative chapters with the members of a critique group in the San Diego Christian Writer’s Guild, founded by Dr. Sherwood “Woody” Wirt to encourage budding writers. I appreciate the group’s encouragement and help over the years. At a writer’s conference at Forest Home Christian Conference Center, I talked with an editor about the book. Her question, “But can you write it?” startled me and made me pause. My genre was poetry and short stories, not novels. Perhaps I could not. With the difficulties of a broken marriage and raising three children alone, the manuscript was shelved many times. During my own journey through those years, I walked my own paths and didn’t seek God for what He had planned for me. Through my struggles and deep valleys, in bits and pieces came the story of Marah, the woman of Samaria. There were many revisions to the story.

During those years I was able to travel to the Holy Land and see the sights mentioned in the book including Jacob’s well. In 1986, while working at Point Loma Nazarene University, I was fortunate to find an old copy of
The Samaritans, the Earliest Jewish Sect
by James Alan Montgomery, PhD. It covered the more current dwindling generation of Samaritans, but gave me depth and insight into the lives of the Samaritan people, the
Samarim,
whose customs have really not changed through the centuries.

In 1990, I remarried and we moved to a small mountain community called Lewiston, in northern California. With all the time to write, God began to nudge me again about the woman of Samaria, and I knew I needed to finish her story.

I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to Mona Gansberg Hodgson, who first read and edited the budding manuscript through the Christian Communicator Critique Service; to my agent, Joyce Hart, for answering the cold call of an inexperienced but determined writer, for her encouragement and belief in the story, for keeping faith with me and becoming a true friend; to Jan Medley, who went through the manuscript with a fine-tooth comb and found things I couldn’t see; to the ladies of my book club, Donnie Cramer, Betty Alman, Ricki Cokas, Ronnie Feehan, Claire Hughes, Phyllis Kaylor, Doris Kenyon, Joanna Ludwig, Mary Meisner, Sue Randerson, Joanna Schumacher, and Carol Simpson, who faithfully read the manuscript in one month, enthusiastically endorsed the story, and have held me up with their prayers and encouragement; to my daughter, Karen Penrod, for her insightful comments and suggestions during the latter stages of the writing; to Glenna Hess, assistant manager of our Family Christian Bookstore, who read the manuscript and told me, “Good as anything on the shelf!” at a time when I was discouraged; and last but not least, to my dear husband for his patience as I burrowed down under mounds of research books and papers and lived in front of my computer.

Finally, there is not a great deal written on the daily life of the ancient Samaritans, so I used the life of the Jewish people in ancient times. Where it was possible, I used a known custom. In other situations, forgive me for taking poetic license. I pray that as you read this story, you will see in the woman of Samaria what Jesus saw in her and what Jesus sees in us all.

Diana Wallis Taylor
is an award-winning poet, songwriter, and author. A poet since the age of twelve, her collection of poetry,
Wings of the Wind
, came out in 2007. A former teacher, she retired in 1990 as director of conference services for a private college. After their marriage in 1990, she and her husband moved to northern California where she fulfilled a dream of owning a bookshop/coffeehouse for writers’ groups and poetry readings and was able to devote more time to her writing.

The Taylors have six grown children between them and ten grandchildren. They now live in the San Diego area, where between writing projects Diana is an inspirational speaker for Stonecroft Ministries, participates in Christian Women’s Fellowship, serves on the Board of the San Diego Christian Writer’s Guild, and is active in the music ministry of her church. She enjoys teaching poetry and writing workshops, and sharing her heart with women of all ages.

Visit Diana’s website at
www.dianawallistaylor.com
.