Well, I’m further along than I had anticipated. I’ll be able to have more posts up this week, in between other literary accomplishments and thoughts (yeah, I’m feeling good). Hope to see you then. If you’re just joining me, you can read the story from the beginning by clicking here. And if you’re enjoying it, please share it with a friend. Thanks again for visiting.
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It is the first sound of thunder that wakes Mary up. Not in the far distance, but right outside her window, it seems. She jerks up into a sitting position, unsure of where she is for a moment, remembering then she is home, a thought not so welcoming as it ought to be. She hears the pitter-patter of the rain outside and lays back down. It was only a storm.
She closes her eyes to try to sleep again, but is interrupted once more by a pounding outside – not from the heavens, but on the door…someone was knocking on the door.
The knocking continues for a few more seconds before it’s followed by a voice:
Mary doesn’t stir, afraid of what’s to come. She hears her mother anxiously whispering, as the pounding on the door continues.
“Mary!” the voice cries again, and for a moment she thinks she recognizes it. “Mary, please, I need to talk to you.”
Yes, she knows who it is – Joseph.
She gets up out of bed as a lamp is lit and her father opens the door. Mary looks briefly at her brother and sister, still sleeping soundly and wonders how they can do so in all this noise. Perhaps it’s best this way, she says to herself. The last couple of days had been stressful for everyone. On the urging of her mother, they had stayed inside, avoiding the neighbors and busybodies who would no doubt contribute to rumors floating around about her state of being. Nathan understood, but the girls were constantly asking why.
Something Mary had begun asking herself in moments of doubts…until she lay her hand on her belly, now beginning to expand and remembered it was G-d who did that, G-d who chose her. How could she doubt? She could hurt at the doubt and looks of betrayal coming from those closest to her, but she herself could not doubt.
The house is quiet again, as Mary tip-toes toward the door. Without a sound, she opens it enough to see her father talking to a sopping-wet Joseph, his expression more emotional than she had last seen him. All talking ceases as they realize Mary is up. They glare at her, seemingly in confusion and for a moment, she doesn’t know what to make of the situation. Then her father steps back, giving Joseph permission to approach her – something not done.
Mary opens the door to her room and steps out, closing it behind her so as not to disturb the other children. Joseph walks up to her, leaving a trail of water behind, his eyes always on her. He stops in front of her and takes her hands. She cannot tell if it’s tears or the rain that wet his face, but when opens his mouth to speak, she decides it doesn’t matter.
“Mary, I am so sorry I didn’t believe you.”