I Am Not an Adulteress Anymore

Chapter Six

As I walk, I pull out the one stone I had kept, the one my hand had scraped against in the field, the one I had held on to for dear life as my womb had purged itself of all life.

It is a memento, perhaps. I really don't know why I kept it. Or maybe it is something more: maybe the sharpness of it, the way it cut into my fingers and distracted me then, will serve me well now, too.

Maybe I am ready for robbers.

It is as if the devil has heard my thoughts: to my left I see a hear a rustle, and I stop dead still. There are three big rocks hiding an olive tree.

"No," I whisper aloud.

The tree shakes again and I tremble, holding tight to the rock. I do want to live, or at least not die in this manner.

"Is anyone there?" I say. Even though my voice is wobbling, I try to keep my tone as low and hard as possible.

The tree moves again, and my knees are shaking so hard I have to lock them to keep straight. I could run. I could make a break for it. I could...

Just then, a head pops out from above the rocks, and I jump, just as I register the white fluffy coat: it is a lamb, a young one.

"Baaaa," it bleats.

I rush forward. "Baaa," it bleats again. I look behind me. There is no one. Then I look to the sloping hillside, on the other side of the rocks and trees. I can just make out in the moonlight a giant mass of white. The herd.

"Come on little one," I say, approaching the rocks.

But the lamb bleats harder and its eyes get big. It tries to turn, but it can't, and I realize then that its foot has been caught between the rocks, probably just a few moments prior.

"Come on, I can help you. Stay calm now," I say, keeping my voice low and soothing.

The lamb jerks harder, clearly terrified of me. In its eyes, big and terrified and waiting for a blow, I see my own.

"Come now," I say, just a pace from it now. I reach forward and lift the rock its foot has been caught in.

Without a moment's hesitation, the lamb jumps away from me and scampers back towards the flock.

I stand there, watching as it goes. If a wolf were to come now...if a bear...

But I watch it race across the blanketed hillside, and soon I hear the sound of an echoing bleat and see a tiny spot leaving the flock: his mother.

I turn and again, my eyes are filled with tears. My lips move:

"As a shepherd seeks out his flock when he is among his sheep that have been scattered, so will I seek out my sheep, and I will rescue them from all places where they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness"

It is the passage my father used to recite, from the prophets. He had made me memorize it with him in the temple courtyard, but until now, I had not remembered.

I look up at the moon. It is suddenly shrouded in clouds, and the distant sheep are hardly visible. Clouds and thick darkness, I think, and I remember Father's kind eyes, his front teeth with the small space in between them, his curly hair and the way I used to sit on his lap and twist it around my pointer finger, then yank.

"Lord God," I pray then, and although I had not done this in a very long time, I kneel down on the ground in the direction I think is Jerusalem, and I put my head to the ground. "I am scattered, Lord. Seek me out and rescue me. Forgive my many sins."

The clouds clear for a moment and the moon again shines down on me.