I heard the sound of running feet and then someone leaned over my suspended form. I felt strong hands roughly grab me on either side of my chest and lift me upward. The person pulled me to him, letting one arm encircle my upper body while with the other he scooped up my knees. Lifting me easily, he unceremoniously deposited me back on my pallet.

Standing over me his arms askew and his face angry, he demanded roughly. "Is this all the gratitude I get? You recover enough strength so you can end your life by throwing yourself over a wall."

My eyes narrowed in reaction to his outburst. In a chilled voice I answered, "If I choose to end my life, it will not be on your watch. Alian, I presume? Well, you needn't fret. I won't ruin your good deed today. I was simply trying to get a drink of water and slipped."

At my words, his anger fell from him like a discarded mantle. Kneeling beside me, he entreated, "Forgive me, Salome. When your water gourd hit me on the head and I looked up, I was certain you were about to follow it over the wall. My fear turned to anger, and I took my wrath out on you. If you will lie here for a second, I will retrieve the dipper and fetch you some water."

As he spoke I noticed for the first time that his turban was soaked with water. Perhaps my wits were still addled by the near disaster, but when I saw his wet state my own anger was overcome by mirth, and I began to giggle. I reached out a hand and took the corner of his turban and managed to gasp between chuckles, "There is no need for a dipper. I can just wring this into a cup."

As I dissolved into laughter the corners of his eyes began to crinkle, his deep brown eyes sparkled and his lips curved into a smile. Then he too began to rock with loud guffaws as he wiped his eyes on the corner of his turban.

Even as I laughed, I examined my rescuer. He was a big man, not comparable to Samson, of course, but large enough that most men would be loathe to anger him. Even kneeling, he seemed to tower over me. His arms were well muscled but devoid of hair. His hands were rough as though accustomed to work. His chin looked as though it had been chiseled from stone, but the softness of his mouth as he laughed softened the effect. Overall, he was a comely male.

Our almost frantic mirth was interrupted by the soft voice of Naomi. "What is going on here? I return from the market to find my water gourd lying in the street and the two of you sitting here in disarray overcome by hysterical laughter. What will the neighbors think?"

Rising quickly to his feet, Alian sobered and put a protective arm around the old woman."What do you care what the neighbors think?" he asked. "You've never worried about what others think. You did not hesitate to take in a sick gentile, even though it caused raised eyebrows and whispered censure. Why the sudden concern for decorum?"

"It is one thing for the people of Hebron to castigate me with their tongues. I am an old woman and am allowed my idiosyncrasies. They merely think me eccentric, but harmless. You, on the other hand, are a young bachelor. You are the son of my brother's old age. I feel responsible for you now that your parents have passed on. How will you attract a suitable wife if it is rumored that you sit unchaperoned on a rooftop making merry with a woman of unknown lineage?"

Looking down at my tightly clasped hands, I interjected, "Please, forgive me, Naomi. It is my fault that your beloved nephew finds himself compromised. I thought I had adequate strength to get a drink of water. I almost fell over the wall, and he came to my rescue – once again. I fear that the emotion of the moment turned into inappropriate laughter when we both realized that I was safe from harm."

"What?" Naomi exclaimed. "You mean you dropped the dipper into the street as you fell?"

"She did," Alian answered. "Right on my hapless head. After I removed Salome from her precarious position draped over the wall, the meaning of my wet turban caused us a moment of levity."

Dropping to the floor and leaning back against the wall, Naomi said, "I think I need a refreshing drink of water now. Alian, if you will," she ended, holding out a dirty, nicked dipper.

Alian hoisted the water jar, held the dipper over the wall and poured water over it to remove the dirt. Then filling the dipper, he brought it to Naomi. She drank deeply and then passed it to me. I too drank and then returned the dipper to Alian, who finished off the reviving contents.

We sat quietly for a moment and then Naomi said matter-of-factly, "Whatever damage is done, is done. I am glad Yahweh put you in the street below when Salome chose to swoon, Alian. Now that you are here, you might as well stay and eat. Salome looks awfully pale. I would feel better if someone stayed with her while I go below and cook. If your reputation has been sullied, the matter is already accomplished. Yahweh knew that when He chose to put you where you could see Salome's fall and come to her rescue. Get her some more water, boy, before she faints on us. Then sit here with her while she rests."

"How can she go from an irate aunt to concerned hostess so quickly?" I asked Alian as Naomi bustled off, and he brought another dipper of water.

He shrugged. "I guess it is a family trait. I went from angry rescuer to a laughing idiot in even less time," he said as he squatted beside my pallet and offered me the water and a smile.

Taking the bowl of the dipper in two hands, I lowered my eyes to the water so my tumultuous thoughts would not be mirrored in my eyes for Alian to see. I was strangely captivated by this soft-spoken Israelite. I did not want him to see my attraction and think he was somehow responsible for my happiness, since he had rescued me twice from grave danger. I knew I could only hurt him. I had already decided that no man would ever again be tainted by the bad blood that flowed in my veins. I had betrayed Samson. I was determined to spend my life paying for that betrayal. I would be a widow, devoted to serving others. No misplaced feelings for a hero rescuer would change that.  

When I raised my eyes after drinking, the veil was back in place. I handed Alian the gourd and said with a yawn, "You needn't keep me company. I am not going to make the mistake of trying to get up again. I wore myself out. I just need to rest. Why don't you go below and aid Naomi?"

Alian took the dipper but then hesitated, hovering near my pallet. He watched for a moment with curious, almost calculating eyes. Then he said, "As you wish."

I watched through lowered lashes as Alian replaced the dipper and then walked across the roof toward the stairs. At the opening, he turned and looked back quizzically for a moment, then shook his head and continued down the stairs.

As I lay pretending to sleep, I could hear the murmur of voices below, but I could not make out the words. I wanted to know if they spoke of me and what they were saying, but I knew I dared not risk trying to move closer to the stairs that led to the courtyard where Naomi was undoubtedly cooking in the open air. I would never make it back to my pallet if one of them came to check on me.

Eventually Naomi and Alain returned to the roof. Naomi helped me to sit and lean back against the wall, while Alain spread the simple meal on a leather table. He and Naomi took seats on two sides of the mat. Raising his hands toward the heavens, Alain gave his god thanks for the food. We ate quietly and quickly. Then Alain took what was left below, leaving Naomi and I alone once more.

As night neared, Naomi and I sat in companionable silence and watched the sun set. The blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds turned a brilliant pink. Color rippled across the sky and then gradually faded, until pale pinks disappeared as the dark cloak of night fell. Naomi had not lit the small oil lamp and so only a sliver of the moon illuminated the dark. Out of the darkness I heard a thin strain of melody. Naomi hummed softly for a moment and then she began to sing. As she sang her voice strengthened until the night was filled with a glorious psalm of praise.

"Yahweh, He leads his people;

Yahweh, He guides with a cloud;

Yahweh, He directs with a fire;

Yahweh, He is the Rock.

Yahweh, His work is perfect;

Yahweh, His ways are just;

Yahweh, His tongue speaks truth;

Yahweh, He is Upright.

Yahweh, I praise your name;

Yahweh, I bow down;

Yahweh, I accept your mercy;

Yahweh, You are Love."

As the echo of Naomi's song faded in the night, I said, "Explain this song to me. The religion of my ancestors has no songs that praise a god for his mercy or his love. I have no understanding of a god who protects. Our songs of praise speak of a god's might or valor. They tell of a god's virility or his gift of fertility. The stories warn us of the capricious nature of the gods. They are no more just than man, only stronger and blessed with immortality. We only bow down in fear to appease our gods. How is this Yahweh different?"

"I suppose He is different because His innate sense of justice is tempered with mercy. He knows we are weak; yet He loves us anyway. If we keep His commandments, He promises to be our refuge and strength. His love is not dependent on our obedience, but His ability to guide us and protect us is dependent on our keeping His laws. He has given us the freedom to choose. When we make bad choices we invite consequences that His justice does not remove. When we repent, though, His love strengthens us so that we can bear the consequences of our actions. In the song it speaks of Yahweh leading His people with a cloud and a fire. For those of us who are His people, those words have a special meaning. We were slaves in Egypt. My ancestors were oppressed and enslaved. They called out to Yahweh and He heard their cries. He freed them from the bondage imposed by Pharaoh. He intended to bring them to this land where they would set up homes and prosper. But the people did not trust God to deliver this land into their keeping. They were afraid of the giants who inhabited the land. Because of their disbelief and complaining, they were doomed to wander for 40 years in the wilderness. But even as Yahweh chastised His people, He led and protected them. He went before them in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. Even as they wandered, my people knew God loved them because His presence was always visible before them. Even in the desert, He was their rock and protector. Because His ways are just and He speaks truth, the children of Yahweh eventually were allowed to enter this land. Yahweh went with them and drove out their enemies before them. They took the fortress of Jericho without engaging in combat. While the people did not deserve to win conflicts without fighting, God in His mercy won battles for them. But we did not learn the lessons of our ancestors. Too many of us still make bad choices and must suffer the consequences. Even as we endure the aftermath of our poor choices, we can look to Yahweh and know He will give us new mercies each morning. That beautiful sunset we just watched was ours to enjoy whether we are walking in obedience or rebellion. The bright yellow flowers of the Shittah tree by the house are seen by the righteous and the sinner. After a rain, the rainbow brings hope to the hearts of both the prosperous and those in poverty."

"It sounds like you speak with the voice of experience," I said. "The stories of your ancestors mean nothing to me, but I have come to know and trust you. Tell me how this Yahweh has shown Himself to you. You sing with conviction about a god of love. What is the source of that conviction?"

With a sigh Naomi replied, "Mine is a long story, Salome. I fear it would tire you."

"No it would not," I countered. "I slept a great deal today. But if the story is too hard for you to share, then I understand. You do not have to tell me."

"I know I do not have to, but I think maybe it is time. I knew that one day Yahweh would require that I share my story with a heart that cannot find peace. I think that maybe you are the one that needs to hear it. I do not know what secrets you carry from your past, Salome, but from your fevered ramblings I surmise that you carry a heavy burden that is not entirely of your own making. Perhaps my story will provide the balm your soul needs to find peace."