Daughters of Jared, page 21
“Good morning,” he says to his niece.
She starts to tell him about visiting Grandfather Omer and the flowers we’re going to weave for the wedding, and while she talks, Levi continues to gaze at me through the window.
It’s as if everything around me has disappeared and I can only see him. My rumpled tunic doesn’t bother me anymore, and I walk to the window without a word, not wanting to interrupt Isabel’s enthusiasm.
I lean out the window just as Levi leans in. He kisses me, and I close my eyes. For a moment, I can believe this is all my life is and will ever be. No evil king on the throne, no abused sister, no frightened children, just Levi and me stealing a kiss the morning of our wedding day.
When Levi pulls away, he says, “Are you ready?” He is still close enough that his breath touches my face.
“Not quite.” I blink, clearing the haze from my mind.
“I’ll wait out here until you are,” he says in a quiet voice.
I nod. That is very wise. If he is feeling anything close to what I am, keeping the walls of the hut between us is a very good thing right now.
Isabel runs back into the hut, breathless with excitement. I cast another glance at Levi, and he gives me a wink then disappears, whistling again.
“Hurry,” Isabel says, as if I need prodding from a child.
I finish combing her hair, and I dress in the finest robe I brought. My clothing is more luxurious than anything I’ve seen the women wear in the village, but I want to look my best when I meet Omer. After all, he is royalty.
Levi is waiting for us when we exit. He wraps my hand in his, and with his other hand, he takes Isabel’s. I smile at him. It’s as if we are already a little family.
Levi greets everyone as we pass through the village, and the ones I haven’t met already, he quickly introduces to me. I receive plenty of knowing looks—everyone seems to know who I am and what my relation is to Omer. The path of huts leads away from the coast and into the beginnings of jungle. Branches overhead provide plenty of shade as we walk. The birds chatter, and I wonder if they have any idea what an important moment this is for me. My heart pounds furiously, but I take great comfort in Levi’s presence.
When he slows at a clearing in the trees, I expect to see a quaint palace, but instead, we’ve arrived at a collection of huts, not much bigger than Levi’s.
Perhaps these are the guards’ huts, I think. I am about to ask Levi when a man about my father’s age steps out of the first one.
My knees lurch. He looks so much like my father, yet it is not he.
He seems to notice my gaping, and his expression goes soft. “I am Coriantumr.”
When I still say nothing, Levi answers for me. “This is Jared’s daughter, Naiva, and her niece, Isabel.”
I stare at Coriantumr, his strong physique, his sculpted cheeks, his trimmed auburn beard. This is what my father would have looked like if he’d lived and if he hadn’t given himself over to wine and darkness.
Thoughts of what might have been tumble through my mind, regret mixed with curiosity.
Coriantumr cautiously steps forward and takes my hand. Then he does the most extraordinary thing. He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Welcome to Ablom, my niece,” he says.
Tears flood my eyes, and I suddenly notice others have come out of their huts. Have they all been waiting for me to arrive?
I am introduced to men, women, children . . . all aunts, uncles, cousins, whom I have never met. Their names blur together just as my tears blur my vision. And through it all, Levi keeps my hand in his. Isabel is delighted as children surround her. She’s talking faster than I can follow, telling them things I should probably censor.
But for now, I can only marvel. All these people are here—living in exile—in small huts—because of the ambition of my father. How can they look at me with forgiveness . . . and love? Their gazes are open, pure, and welcoming.
And then a notable hush interrupts the introductions. A white-haired man walks through the gathering. I feel my legs weaken, and I grip Levi’s hand tighter.
Omer is younger, yet older, than I had imagined. His gaze is alert, his thin lips turned up at the corners, and I can see my father’s face shape in his. But there is nothing of my father in this man’s soul. It’s as if the Spirit has enveloped me from head to toe, and I have come face to face with an angel.
Without a doubt, I know this is a man of God.
He stops a few steps in front of me, just gazing at me. His tunic is of rough linen, no better than what I’ve seen the villagers wear. He wears a leather band around one wrist and simple sandals on his feet. I try to speak, but nothing comes out, and then I realize I probably need permission to speak to him.
“Naiva,” he says, his voice warm and deep. “At last you have joined us.”
I blink, hot tears forming again. What does he mean, at last?
“When I heard about your arrival in Ablom,” Omer says, “I offered a prayer of thanksgiving to the Lord God for answering our pleas.”
Around me, heads nod in agreement. They have been praying for me? I can’t comprehend it.
Isabel comes back to my side, staring at the man who is her great-grandfather. He bends over to touch Isabel’s shoulder, and she grins up at him. “What a beautiful child. So much like her Auntie.”
“You should see my real mother,” Isabel says.
I worry about Omer’s reaction, but he only smiles. “I hope to meet her someday.” His tone is genuine, and I wonder what Asherah’s reaction would be to meeting this man.
Omer continues, as if he doesn’t notice my muteness. “We are grateful that Levi was the one to lure you here.”
My relatives smile at me. They are smiling! Do they not know that my sister plotted against their father, that he is here in isolation because of my own father?
Yet they seem completely happy and content.
Take my daughter with you, Ash’s words float through my mind. I wonder what Ash meant, what she knew . . .
“Your Highness,” I whisper, not sure what I am going to say, only that I must somehow apologize and somehow explain.
Omer chuckles. “I have not been called that in many years. Around here, I am simply called Grandfather. Please, call me Grandfather.”
I swallow against my swollen throat, and then I am able to form the words that mean more to me than I could have ever comprehended. “Grandfather, I am so very sorry.”
The lightheartedness fades from Omer’s eyes. “My child,” he says as he steps forward and grasps both my hands. Levi has released my hand and is standing behind me.
“We know you were following your father’s counsel,” Omer says. “We forgive you, and you’ll find no guile here.”
I nod, my heart bursting. I do not deserve it. But I know he is sincere. As I look around at the people gathered to see me, I sense their hearts have long since healed.
“Come,” he says, gently pulling my hands. “Let’s visit for a few moments. Then I understand you have a wedding to prepare for.” The sparkle in his eyes is back, framed by wrinkles of wisdom. I follow him to a circle of cut tree trunks, where we sit close to each other, and I tell him of my sister and her children.
I tell him of Shez and how I futilely tried to take him food. Omer’s expression is grim as I speak. He does not ask about Akish, so perhaps we will discuss him another day.
My chest tightens as I tell him about my nephews, Nimrah and Jared the Younger, and how bright and kind they are—how Asherah has sent them to be apprentices.
Omer reaches over and places a hand on mine. “Someday, they will join us here.”
I open my mouth to ask how he could possibly know that when I remember what he said to me when I met him. He’d been praying for me, just as he must now be praying for my nephews. Comfort washes over me, and I do not question him. I find that I want to believe what he is saying will come to pass.
“Levi has spoken to me about your marriage, but I wanted to meet you first,” Omer says. “It would be my honor to marry the two of you under the commission of the Lord.”
“Yes, I would be honored,” I say without hesitation and realize I mean it more than I’ve meant anything in my life.
Levi joins us and places his hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you, Grandfather,” I say, my voice trembling, “for welcoming me into your family.”
“You’ve always been in our family; we have just been waiting for you to make the decision to come home.” He kisses my cheek and clasps my hands. I squeeze back.
“Until this afternoon,” I whisper.
Levi and I walk back toward the main village, hand in hand, Isabel running in front of us.
My heart knots and then expands as I think of marrying Levi in a few hours and the family who has greeted me so warmly.
My grandfather is right. I have truly come home.
Dear Reader:
Thank you for reading Daughters of Jared! I have 8 other novels set in Mesoamerica that you might enjoy: The Out of Jerusalem series and the individual novels Abinadi, Alma, Alma the Younger, and Ammon. I also write Biblical fiction, including Esther the Queen, Eve: In the Beginning, and The Moses Chronicles.
If you’re interested in joining my newsletter, please sign up on my website: www.hbmoore.com. Also, if you’d like to join my Review Team and receive e-book copies in advance, please send me an e-mail at heather@hbmoore.com.
Reader reviews help me spread the word about this book. If you have time, I’d love for you to post a review of Daughters of Jared on Goodreads or other retail sites. I keep book updates and event notices on my blog: http://mywriterslair.blogspot.com/
Thanks for your support!
Heather
Click on the covers to visit Heather’s blog:
Since writing an essay about the daughter of Jared for Women of the Book of Mormon (Covenant Communications, 2010), I’ve been intrigued with the idea of a woman whose wrong choices escalate into devastating consequences.
In the preplanning stages, I discussed this idea with my then-editor, Eliza Nevin. It always means a lot to me to get an enthusiastic response, so I have to thank Eliza for that. I sent a proposal to managing editor, Kathy Jenkins, and she encouraged me as well with two thumbs up. I appreciate the tremendous support my publisher, Covenant Communications, has given me over the past several years. When the project was put under contract, editor Samantha Van Walraven was assigned to the manuscript, and it has been a pleasure working with her in many aspects.
I’d like to especially thank my beta readers: Lu Ann Staheli, Julie Wright, and Loree Allison. It’s a bit nerve-wracking waiting for that first critique to come back, and when it did, I was excited to receive such positive comments as well as much needed advice.
Also, members of my critique group offered great edits as always—many thanks to Sarah Eden, Rob Wells, Jeff Savage, Annette Lyon, Michele Holmes, and Lu Ann (again).
I must also thank those who are great supporters of my work and the time it takes to produce writing material versus other activities I neglect (like scrapbooking): my parents, Kent and Gayle Brown; my in-laws, Les and Jeanie Moore; and my husband, Chris, and our four children. (I’m not mentioning the cat since he can’t read anyway.)
Heather B. Moore is a USA Today bestselling author. She writes historical thrillers under the pen name H.B. Moore; her latest is The Moses Chronicles and Lost King. Under the name Heather B. Moore, she writes romance and women’s fiction. She’s one of the coauthors of The Newport Ladies Book Club series. Other works include Heart of the Ocean, The Fortune Café, The Boardwalk Antiques Shop, the Aliso Creek series, and the bestselling series Timeless Romance Anthology. Heather also writes in the young adult genre under pen name Jane Redd, her first book is Solstice.
For book updates, sign up for Heather’s email list: hbmoore.com/contact.
Website: www.hbmoore.com
Facebook: Fans of H.B. Moore
Blog: MyWritersLair.blogspot.com
Twitter: @HeatherBMoore
ABOUT DAUGHTERS OF JARED:
PREFACE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
Dear Reader:
OTHER WORKS BY H.B. MOORE
ABOUT H. B. MOORE
Heather B. Moore, Daughters of Jared
Thank you for reading books on ReadFrom.Net
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She starts to tell him about visiting Grandfather Omer and the flowers we’re going to weave for the wedding, and while she talks, Levi continues to gaze at me through the window.
It’s as if everything around me has disappeared and I can only see him. My rumpled tunic doesn’t bother me anymore, and I walk to the window without a word, not wanting to interrupt Isabel’s enthusiasm.
I lean out the window just as Levi leans in. He kisses me, and I close my eyes. For a moment, I can believe this is all my life is and will ever be. No evil king on the throne, no abused sister, no frightened children, just Levi and me stealing a kiss the morning of our wedding day.
When Levi pulls away, he says, “Are you ready?” He is still close enough that his breath touches my face.
“Not quite.” I blink, clearing the haze from my mind.
“I’ll wait out here until you are,” he says in a quiet voice.
I nod. That is very wise. If he is feeling anything close to what I am, keeping the walls of the hut between us is a very good thing right now.
Isabel runs back into the hut, breathless with excitement. I cast another glance at Levi, and he gives me a wink then disappears, whistling again.
“Hurry,” Isabel says, as if I need prodding from a child.
I finish combing her hair, and I dress in the finest robe I brought. My clothing is more luxurious than anything I’ve seen the women wear in the village, but I want to look my best when I meet Omer. After all, he is royalty.
Levi is waiting for us when we exit. He wraps my hand in his, and with his other hand, he takes Isabel’s. I smile at him. It’s as if we are already a little family.
Levi greets everyone as we pass through the village, and the ones I haven’t met already, he quickly introduces to me. I receive plenty of knowing looks—everyone seems to know who I am and what my relation is to Omer. The path of huts leads away from the coast and into the beginnings of jungle. Branches overhead provide plenty of shade as we walk. The birds chatter, and I wonder if they have any idea what an important moment this is for me. My heart pounds furiously, but I take great comfort in Levi’s presence.
When he slows at a clearing in the trees, I expect to see a quaint palace, but instead, we’ve arrived at a collection of huts, not much bigger than Levi’s.
Perhaps these are the guards’ huts, I think. I am about to ask Levi when a man about my father’s age steps out of the first one.
My knees lurch. He looks so much like my father, yet it is not he.
He seems to notice my gaping, and his expression goes soft. “I am Coriantumr.”
When I still say nothing, Levi answers for me. “This is Jared’s daughter, Naiva, and her niece, Isabel.”
I stare at Coriantumr, his strong physique, his sculpted cheeks, his trimmed auburn beard. This is what my father would have looked like if he’d lived and if he hadn’t given himself over to wine and darkness.
Thoughts of what might have been tumble through my mind, regret mixed with curiosity.
Coriantumr cautiously steps forward and takes my hand. Then he does the most extraordinary thing. He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Welcome to Ablom, my niece,” he says.
Tears flood my eyes, and I suddenly notice others have come out of their huts. Have they all been waiting for me to arrive?
I am introduced to men, women, children . . . all aunts, uncles, cousins, whom I have never met. Their names blur together just as my tears blur my vision. And through it all, Levi keeps my hand in his. Isabel is delighted as children surround her. She’s talking faster than I can follow, telling them things I should probably censor.
But for now, I can only marvel. All these people are here—living in exile—in small huts—because of the ambition of my father. How can they look at me with forgiveness . . . and love? Their gazes are open, pure, and welcoming.
And then a notable hush interrupts the introductions. A white-haired man walks through the gathering. I feel my legs weaken, and I grip Levi’s hand tighter.
Omer is younger, yet older, than I had imagined. His gaze is alert, his thin lips turned up at the corners, and I can see my father’s face shape in his. But there is nothing of my father in this man’s soul. It’s as if the Spirit has enveloped me from head to toe, and I have come face to face with an angel.
Without a doubt, I know this is a man of God.
He stops a few steps in front of me, just gazing at me. His tunic is of rough linen, no better than what I’ve seen the villagers wear. He wears a leather band around one wrist and simple sandals on his feet. I try to speak, but nothing comes out, and then I realize I probably need permission to speak to him.
“Naiva,” he says, his voice warm and deep. “At last you have joined us.”
I blink, hot tears forming again. What does he mean, at last?
“When I heard about your arrival in Ablom,” Omer says, “I offered a prayer of thanksgiving to the Lord God for answering our pleas.”
Around me, heads nod in agreement. They have been praying for me? I can’t comprehend it.
Isabel comes back to my side, staring at the man who is her great-grandfather. He bends over to touch Isabel’s shoulder, and she grins up at him. “What a beautiful child. So much like her Auntie.”
“You should see my real mother,” Isabel says.
I worry about Omer’s reaction, but he only smiles. “I hope to meet her someday.” His tone is genuine, and I wonder what Asherah’s reaction would be to meeting this man.
Omer continues, as if he doesn’t notice my muteness. “We are grateful that Levi was the one to lure you here.”
My relatives smile at me. They are smiling! Do they not know that my sister plotted against their father, that he is here in isolation because of my own father?
Yet they seem completely happy and content.
Take my daughter with you, Ash’s words float through my mind. I wonder what Ash meant, what she knew . . .
“Your Highness,” I whisper, not sure what I am going to say, only that I must somehow apologize and somehow explain.
Omer chuckles. “I have not been called that in many years. Around here, I am simply called Grandfather. Please, call me Grandfather.”
I swallow against my swollen throat, and then I am able to form the words that mean more to me than I could have ever comprehended. “Grandfather, I am so very sorry.”
The lightheartedness fades from Omer’s eyes. “My child,” he says as he steps forward and grasps both my hands. Levi has released my hand and is standing behind me.
“We know you were following your father’s counsel,” Omer says. “We forgive you, and you’ll find no guile here.”
I nod, my heart bursting. I do not deserve it. But I know he is sincere. As I look around at the people gathered to see me, I sense their hearts have long since healed.
“Come,” he says, gently pulling my hands. “Let’s visit for a few moments. Then I understand you have a wedding to prepare for.” The sparkle in his eyes is back, framed by wrinkles of wisdom. I follow him to a circle of cut tree trunks, where we sit close to each other, and I tell him of my sister and her children.
I tell him of Shez and how I futilely tried to take him food. Omer’s expression is grim as I speak. He does not ask about Akish, so perhaps we will discuss him another day.
My chest tightens as I tell him about my nephews, Nimrah and Jared the Younger, and how bright and kind they are—how Asherah has sent them to be apprentices.
Omer reaches over and places a hand on mine. “Someday, they will join us here.”
I open my mouth to ask how he could possibly know that when I remember what he said to me when I met him. He’d been praying for me, just as he must now be praying for my nephews. Comfort washes over me, and I do not question him. I find that I want to believe what he is saying will come to pass.
“Levi has spoken to me about your marriage, but I wanted to meet you first,” Omer says. “It would be my honor to marry the two of you under the commission of the Lord.”
“Yes, I would be honored,” I say without hesitation and realize I mean it more than I’ve meant anything in my life.
Levi joins us and places his hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you, Grandfather,” I say, my voice trembling, “for welcoming me into your family.”
“You’ve always been in our family; we have just been waiting for you to make the decision to come home.” He kisses my cheek and clasps my hands. I squeeze back.
“Until this afternoon,” I whisper.
Levi and I walk back toward the main village, hand in hand, Isabel running in front of us.
My heart knots and then expands as I think of marrying Levi in a few hours and the family who has greeted me so warmly.
My grandfather is right. I have truly come home.
Dear Reader:
Thank you for reading Daughters of Jared! I have 8 other novels set in Mesoamerica that you might enjoy: The Out of Jerusalem series and the individual novels Abinadi, Alma, Alma the Younger, and Ammon. I also write Biblical fiction, including Esther the Queen, Eve: In the Beginning, and The Moses Chronicles.
If you’re interested in joining my newsletter, please sign up on my website: www.hbmoore.com. Also, if you’d like to join my Review Team and receive e-book copies in advance, please send me an e-mail at heather@hbmoore.com.
Reader reviews help me spread the word about this book. If you have time, I’d love for you to post a review of Daughters of Jared on Goodreads or other retail sites. I keep book updates and event notices on my blog: http://mywriterslair.blogspot.com/
Thanks for your support!
Heather
Click on the covers to visit Heather’s blog:
Since writing an essay about the daughter of Jared for Women of the Book of Mormon (Covenant Communications, 2010), I’ve been intrigued with the idea of a woman whose wrong choices escalate into devastating consequences.
In the preplanning stages, I discussed this idea with my then-editor, Eliza Nevin. It always means a lot to me to get an enthusiastic response, so I have to thank Eliza for that. I sent a proposal to managing editor, Kathy Jenkins, and she encouraged me as well with two thumbs up. I appreciate the tremendous support my publisher, Covenant Communications, has given me over the past several years. When the project was put under contract, editor Samantha Van Walraven was assigned to the manuscript, and it has been a pleasure working with her in many aspects.
I’d like to especially thank my beta readers: Lu Ann Staheli, Julie Wright, and Loree Allison. It’s a bit nerve-wracking waiting for that first critique to come back, and when it did, I was excited to receive such positive comments as well as much needed advice.
Also, members of my critique group offered great edits as always—many thanks to Sarah Eden, Rob Wells, Jeff Savage, Annette Lyon, Michele Holmes, and Lu Ann (again).
I must also thank those who are great supporters of my work and the time it takes to produce writing material versus other activities I neglect (like scrapbooking): my parents, Kent and Gayle Brown; my in-laws, Les and Jeanie Moore; and my husband, Chris, and our four children. (I’m not mentioning the cat since he can’t read anyway.)
Heather B. Moore is a USA Today bestselling author. She writes historical thrillers under the pen name H.B. Moore; her latest is The Moses Chronicles and Lost King. Under the name Heather B. Moore, she writes romance and women’s fiction. She’s one of the coauthors of The Newport Ladies Book Club series. Other works include Heart of the Ocean, The Fortune Café, The Boardwalk Antiques Shop, the Aliso Creek series, and the bestselling series Timeless Romance Anthology. Heather also writes in the young adult genre under pen name Jane Redd, her first book is Solstice.
For book updates, sign up for Heather’s email list: hbmoore.com/contact.
Website: www.hbmoore.com
Facebook: Fans of H.B. Moore
Blog: MyWritersLair.blogspot.com
Twitter: @HeatherBMoore
ABOUT DAUGHTERS OF JARED:
PREFACE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
Dear Reader:
OTHER WORKS BY H.B. MOORE
ABOUT H. B. MOORE
Heather B. Moore, Daughters of Jared
