“Hey, Petersen,” Kate said. “Do you believe that it really works?”
He turned to face her. “Do I believe what works?”
“You know . . . praying the way the sisters do. Are you a Christian like they are?”
He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Are you?”
“No fair. I asked you first.”
Petersen huffed and turned to look up at the canvas ceiling again. “Miss Rebecca asked me what I thought about prayer the morning after the sandstorm. I guess I still don’t know how to answer that question. Sometimes it seems like God is listening and that He’s answering people’s prayers—like when Mr. Edmund got better. And yet . . . I don’t know . . .” His voice trailed away, and he was quiet for a moment. “As for being a Christian . . . I’m not a good person like the sisters. I don’t know if they told you, but I was arrested and sent to jail in the past.”
Kate swallowed. “Me too,” she said softly. She remembered where she had ended up after getting out of jail and closed her eyes in shame. No, she wasn’t a very good person, either. “Miss Rebecca asked me what I wanted to do with my life, and I didn’t know how to answer her. Do you know what you’re going to do when we get back to Chicago?”
“I would like to keep working for the sisters and Mr. Edmund, if they’ll let me.”
“You’re a better servant than I am. . . . I suppose I could try harder if I do decide to stay.” She waited, wondering what Petersen would say. He was her worst critic, always yelling at her for getting everything wrong. She had no idea why she was talking to him this way, but after working so hard on the palimpsest these past few weeks and then having her hopes dashed of finally going home tomorrow, Kate just didn’t have any fight left in her. If the sisters’ prayers didn’t work, there was nothing much any of them could do.
“I hope you don’t go back to being a thief,” Petersen finally said. “You’re a really smart girl, Kate. You probably could do anything you wanted to once we’re home.”
“Thanks.” Kate wanted to say more but couldn’t speak. A lump had risen in her throat at the mention of home. Unless she worked for the sisters, she had no home to return to. She swallowed and said, “Good night, Soren.”
Three days passed. Kate waited inside the tent every morning while the sisters and Petersen went to the Bedouin camp with Mr. Farouk to talk to the sheik. He refused to budge.
With little else to do, Miss Rebecca asked Kate if she’d like to learn how to read and write. “I guess so . . .” she said with a shrug. If she could read, she’d be able to buy a train ticket to get out of Chicago. They sat in the shade of the monks’ acacia tree every day, filling up the blank pages in the back of Miss Rebecca’s diary with letters and words. Each night before bed, all four of them held hands and prayed.
On the fourth night, the sound of gunfire jolted Kate straight out of bed. Petersen ducked out the door while Kate crashed around inside the tent, bashing her shins and stubbing her toes as she searched in the dark for a place to hide. She was too panicked and too groggy with sleep to think straight. Then Miss Rebecca came inside, and a moment later Kate felt her arms surrounding her and heard her voice soothing her. “You’re safe, Kate. You don’t need to be afraid. It’s just the sheikh shooting off his rifle.” Miss Rebecca held her until she calmed down again, then said, “Stay here while I go outside and see what’s going on.”
Kate could hear the Bedouin shouting in the distance by the garden gate, and she dropped to her knees and closed her eyes. “Please let the sheikh have a baby boy,” she prayed. “Please, Lord. I-I promise I won’t steal anymore if you just get us all out of here!”
Miss Rebecca stuck her head through the tent door a few minutes later. “The sheikh wants us to come to his tent and pray. His wife is about to give birth.”
“Doesn’t that stupid man know it’s too late to change whatever kind of baby he’s about to have?” Kate asked as she searched for her clothes and shoes.
“Apparently not.” Miss Rebecca went outside again.
Kate clung to Miss Rebecca as they crossed the stony ground in the dark to the sheikh’s camp. They could hear his wife’s moans and cries of pain from a distance. Kate didn’t want to watch his wife or anyone else giving birth, and neither did the sisters, but they had no choice. Miss Flora led the way inside the tent, and they sat in a circle near the woman’s mat, holding hands as they prayed. Kate never could have imagined a night as strange as this one. She was on the other side of the world, sitting in a goat-hair tent in the middle of the night, waiting to learn if this Bedouin woman would give birth to a boy and set them free, or to a girl and doom them all.
“This night seems endless, doesn’t it?” Miss Rebecca whispered between her prayers and the woman’s groans.
“Yes—and probably even more so for that poor mother,” Miss Flora whispered back. “Imagine how she’s going to feel if her baby is another girl.”
“I’m so sorry I got us into this,” Miss Rebecca said.
“Nonsense,” her sister replied. “A boring life is hardly worth living. This is where we belong, isn’t it? On the path that leads to serving God? Isn’t that the essence of faith—walking forward, trusting what you can’t see?”
Kate was certain that even if God didn’t answer their prayers tonight, the sisters would continue to believe in Him. She had never met anyone like them, and in that moment, her own deepest prayer was to be able to live with them and work for them when they got home. And learn from them.
Kate had just nodded off when a baby’s frail cry awakened her. The sky outside the tent was growing light. “Is it a boy?” she whispered, afraid to ask.
“I’ll go see.” Miss Flora stood, stretching her back and arms. She peered over at the circle of women surrounding the new mother. “God be praised!” she said lifting her hands. “The sheikh has a son!”
“That’s wonderful news,” Miss Rebecca said. “Thank God, thank God!” She pulled Kate into her arms, holding her tightly as the sheik’s rifle boomed.
Joy washed over Kate, bringing tears to her eyes. God had answered their prayers. She could leave this place and go home—wherever that was. She would worry about that when the time came, but for now she no longer needed to worry about the sheikh.
Miss Rebecca held Kate tightly in her arms, and for the first time that she could ever recall, Kate hugged someone in return.
Part V
Rebecca
Chapter 32
THE ATLANTIC OCEAN
1890
Rebecca looked up from the book she was reading and gazed out at the vast expanse of gray-green ocean filling the horizon. The rhythmic thump of the ship’s boilers beneath her feet was comforting. She and Flora sat outside on deck chairs, their legs covered with plaid blankets as they read. “Thank heaven the voyage home has been smooth so far,” Rebecca said.
“Please don’t speak too soon, Becky,” Flora said. “You’ll jinx us! Remember that terrible storm on the Mediterranean years ago?”
“I thought for certain we’d be shipwrecked like the Apostle Paul. But I’m especially glad this voyage has been uneventful for their sakes,” Rebecca said, gesturing to Kate and Petersen, who were striding around the promenade deck in opposite directions, getting some exercise.
“They’ve had more than their fair share of adventure on this trip, haven’t they,” Flora said with a laugh.
“That’s for sure! And I think marriage has suited them, don’t you? Even if it was a phony, temporary one. It appears they’ve signed a peace treaty of sorts.”
Flora closed the book she’d been reading and folded her hands on top of it. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about Soren and Kate, and all that they’ve endured for our sake. I’ve been praying about their future, Becky, and I’ve decided—”
“Wait,” Rebecca said, stopping her. “Before you say another word I want to tell you what I’ve decided, first.”
“Oh, dear. This sounds very serious.”
&nbs
p; “It is serious.” Rebecca paused to draw a fortifying breath. “You know how hard I’ve been praying for Timothy to become a believer. I love him so much, Flora, that I get an ache in my soul whenever I think about being separated from him for all of eternity. It hurts so much!” Even now, the pain was so real Rebecca wanted to double over from it.
Flora reached for her hand. “God gave us a miracle with the sheik’s son, so maybe—”
“I know He did. I know. And I know that God can hit Timothy like a bolt of lightning and change him instantly the way He changed Saul on the road to Damascus. I also know that God respects Timothy’s free will, and that ultimately the choice to believe or not to believe will be his. But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. I’m not going about this the right way, Flora. Let me start all over.” She paused again. Once she spoke the words, they would become real, and she would start down the path of her next adventure. Was she certain she wanted to do this? She drew another breath. “Whether or not I ever have a future with Timothy, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. And so I’ve decided to adopt Kate Rafferty as my daughter.”
“What?” Flora asked in quiet disbelief. “You mean, legally adopt her?”
“Yes. I want to take her into our home and raise her as my daughter, not as a silly lady’s maid—a job at which she’s quite terrible, by the way. Kate and I have shared a lot of experiences as we’ve worked together, and I’ve come to the conclusion that she doesn’t need a job or new clothes or to learn good manners or even how to read and write, although we’ve been working on that. What she needs is love. She told me that no one has ever loved her, and that she has never loved anyone.”
“Oh, that poor girl.”
“I’ve tried to convince her that God loves her, but she has no way of comprehending that basic truth because she doesn’t understand what love is. She has never experienced it. I want to show her that I love her, Flora, rough edges and all, so she can begin to believe that God loves her, too.”
“Oh, Becky.” Tears filled Flora’s eyes. She leaned over to give her a hug. “That’s a wonderful, beautiful idea!”
“I know it won’t be easy, but being a parent rarely is easy. She’s a lot like me, you know, stubborn and pigheaded. She says what she thinks, and I like that—most of the time. I haven’t had much practice in truly loving others the way Jesus wants me to, but God knows I need to try.”
“You’ll have my full support, Becky. And Edmund’s, too, I’m sure.”
“Good. Thank you. Now, you were about to tell me your thoughts concerning Soren and Kate before I interrupted.”
“We think alike, Becky. We always have. I was going to tell you that I plan to ask Edmund if we can legally adopt Soren. I want him to be our son. I’m certain Edmund will agree because he loves Soren, too, but I was worried about how my decision would affect Kate, and what it would do to our household. You’ve now resolved that problem for me.”
“Imagine us becoming parents at our age!” Rebecca said as Flora hugged her again.
“I know that making such monumental changes in our lives won’t be easy for any of us but—”
“Bah! Who cares about ‘easy’?” Rebecca replied. “Easy is boring. We could use a good challenge to shake things up.”
“How do you suppose we should tell them the news? After all, they’re both over eighteen years old. For all we know, they might refuse to be adopted.”
“I don’t think they’ll refuse, Flora. We’ve been through a lot together, and we’re a family now.” No sooner had Rebecca spoken than Kate and Soren came into sight again as they rounded the deck from opposite directions. Soren gave a little wave when he noticed her and Flora staring at him. Rebecca laughed as another thought occurred to her. “How are we going to explain to them how wealthy they’re going to be? Petersen knows how to add and subtract, but Kate can barely count past one hundred.”
“We’ll figure something out. I know you’ll enjoy raising Kate as your daughter and teaching her things,” Flora said as the young people disappeared from sight again. “But what about Timothy? How will he fit into this new family picture?”
Rebecca felt the familiar ache in her stomach at the mention of his name. How could love bring such overflowing joy and such deep heartache at the same time? “I don’t know whether or not Timothy will be convinced by the discovery we made in Sinai. In fact I doubt it, especially since it’s going to take scholars a long time to make a complete transcription of the pages.” She paused, determined not to cry. “I think I’m going to have to let Timothy go. We’ll always be friends, nothing can change that. But I need to stop courting him and accept the fact that I may never be able to marry him. It’s just too painful.”
“Oh, Becky . . .”
“Please don’t feel sorry for me, Flora. You know how I hate pity. At least I won’t have to spend my life alone if I adopt Kate. And God has given me a lifetime of work to do for Him—along with enough joy and excitement to fill two lifetimes. I would be selfish to ask for anything more.”
Timothy was waiting at the train station in Chicago with Edmund when Rebecca and Flora arrived home. One look at the darling man with his rumpled hair made Rebecca’s resolve evaporate. She loved him. It felt wonderful to be held in his arms again after all these months, and she wanted to be with him forever. How could she let him go? Yet she knew she had to.
Timothy had hired a carriage so the two of them could be alone to talk, while the others rode home with Andrew. After the porters finished loading the luggage into the two vehicles, the carriages drove off for home. “Timothy, I found what I was looking for!” Rebecca said the moment they began to move. “I think my discovery may turn out to be a complete set of the Gospels! The pages were all out of sequence, so I won’t know for certain until we make a complete transcription, but I was able to date it to around AD 500! Can you imagine? That would make it one of the earliest copies ever found! Oh, how I wish you had been there with me to see it! Kate found it in a tiny, dusty closet with a half-dozen other codices, and the pages were all stuck together—and it was a palimpsest, Timothy. I didn’t realize what it was, at first. I thought it was a useless volume about the lives of saints, but then Kate noticed the underwriting, and I deciphered one of the headings—of Luke—and I nearly fainted! I grabbed my magnifying glass and . . . Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because I want to kiss you so badly, and you won’t stop talking.” He pulled her close and kissed her until the carriage hit a bump, and they were bounced apart. He sighed with satisfaction. “I love you so much, dear girl! Only my Rebecca would be this excited about an ancient codex. And I don’t know any other woman in Chicago who would even know what a palimpsest is.” He kissed her again, then said, “You may continue now, my dear. You were telling me about this magnificent find of yours.”
“It is magnificent, Timothy, because it proves that what I’ve been trying to tell you is true. The Gospels haven’t been altered and edited over the years. They’re the same as they were more than a thousand years ago. A thousand years! I know it’s going to take time to make a complete translation of the pages and compare them in detail with our modern Gospels, but I already determined that the pages from the Gospel of Luke that I worked on are the same. The story of the Virgin Mary, Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem, the angels appearing to the shepherds—they’re all there in a copy of the Gospels that’s centuries old!” Rebecca looked into his eyes, willing him to say that he was convinced, that he now believed, but she knew it was too much to hope for. She’d witnessed at least one miracle this summer when the midwife had held up the sheikh’s squalling son, and she scarcely dared hope for a second miracle. “Say something, Timothy. I promise I’ll stop talking for a minute.”
“I was miserable without you, Rebecca,” he said as he stroked her cheek with his fingers. “I don’t ever want to be apart again.”
Rebecca had to look away. She prayed for strength to do what she needed to do. “I can’t be wit
h you this way anymore, Timothy. I’m sorry, but it’s just too difficult. I love you more than you’ll ever know, but there’s no future for us except as friends.” He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. “The Bible tells me to love God with all my heart and soul and mind and strength,” she continued as her tears fell. “How can we be joined together as one when loving God is the very goal of my life, and He is absent from yours? I’m sorry, Timothy. . . . I’m so, so sorry.”
He gave her his handkerchief to dry her tears, then held her against his chest as he tried to soothe her. “I’m sorry, too, dear girl. . . . I spent time with Edmund while you were away, and he warned me this might happen. He also told me that logical arguments had never wooed anyone into the kingdom of God. He said I needed to lay aside my need for reason and logic and simply ask God to speak to me. Then wait for His reply.”
“And have you done that?” she asked, afraid to hope.
“Yes, Rebecca. I’ve been trying very hard to shut down the debate in my mind and simply listen. I don’t want to lose you.”
“But . . . ? I can hear your hesitation, Timothy.”
He sighed. “I’m afraid I have no experience in hearing the voice of God. It’s sad to say, but if He has been trying to communicate with me through a burning bush or an angelic messenger, I’ve missed it completely.”
“I won’t give up hope. Jesus said that if we seek Him we’ll find Him, if we search for Him with all our heart. In the meantime, my discovery should put at least one of your arguments to rest.”
“Yes, well, it does sound promising. And speaking from a strictly historical perspective, you’ve made an incredible find. I’m proud of you.”
The first thing Rebecca wanted to unpack when they arrived home was the crate of artifacts and manuscript fragments that she and Flora had purchased in Cairo. She sent Andrew to find a pry bar after he’d dragged the box into the foyer. “I can’t wait to show you and Edmund what we bought,” she told Timothy. “We met the same little dealer at the rug shop, and he had several wonderful things to show us. I’m certain we paid too much for them, but at least they’ll be accessible to scholars now.”