The Heart of Rue - A Modern-Day Story of the Book of Ruth

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The Heart of

Rue

A Modern-Day Story of the Book of Ruth

Jewel Adams

Copyright © 2018 Jewel Adams

All Rights Reserved.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, names and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. The views expressed are solely the author's. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

To my sisters in Christ,

May we all have a Ruth heart.

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And Ruth said, Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: ~Ruth 1:16

The Journey

Spring

"Is that everything?"

My mother-in-law's voice is soft, strained, and tired as I place a final box onto the backseat of my year-old Lexus and shut the door. The car had been a gift that I couldn't bear parting with, despite the extra money that would have come from selling it and purchasing cheaper transportation. The interior is luxurious and still smells new. Our travels will be more than comfortable.

"That's it," I answer, slipping into the leather driver's seat. Everything we own, which isn't much, is now stored in the space behind us. Nala says nothing else, but the moment of hesitance I sense in her feeds my own. Various emotions emanate between us, swelling in the silence–a menagerie of sadness, loss, fear, love, longing for what once was, and trepidation in moving toward an uncertain future.

Her eyes are fastened to the house and I cover her hand with mine where it rests against her worn, Coach purse before returning my own gaze to the beautiful plantation-style dwelling that has been my home for the last eleven months. There have been so many memories made within the walls of the three-level building with its faded, red brick, beige siding, green shutters, and large white columns on the long front porch. The place boasts ten bedrooms, six bathrooms, and had been the perfect dwelling to house three families.

Ellis Atherton, Nala's husband, was a retired attorney when he moved the family from northern Utah ten years ago and settled in Savannah, Georgia, a town rich with history and southern charm. Their sons, Marlon and Carl, had moved with them, transferring to Savannah Law School to finish up the schooling needed for their degrees. Their dream was to open a practice together; Atherton and Atherton was the name they had settled on. Marlon was older than Carl by one year, and standing side by side, they almost looked like twins.

Nala Atherton was a beautiful woman. A fool-blooded Navajo, even at sixty, her striking Native features were stunning. Ellis was equally attractive. His blond hair was streaked with gray, his blue eyes dark and kind. The sons had inherited the best of both parents' features.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I smile slightly, losing myself in the memories of Marlon.

It had been the day of my twentieth birthday and I was just two months away from going to teach at my church's summer Bible camp when I met Marlon. I was finishing the afternoon shift at the café and he was seated at a table next to the one I was bussing. He was so attractive that a girl couldn't help but notice him. I could tell he was older, but not a full eight years older, as I would soon discover.