old stuff rewrite first chapter - Aballeh

Chapter One: Abbaleh

Alexenah looked at her father’s frail body. He lay motionless and quiet, his head in her lap, as she sat on the cold stone prison floor. His thin arms and legs were wrapped in bandages as though he had already been prepared for the grave. She cringed at the smell of pus and blood that seeped through the muslin cloth. His wrinkled gray tunic--as threadbare and simple as the small room they were in--rose slightly with each labored breath.
On the other side of the dark prison cell’s door, she heard the clink-clank sound of hobnailed sandals of the Roman guards as they paced back and forth.
“What will happen to me when you die, Abba?" she whispered, "Where will I go?"
She brushed back her long hair that had fallen across his face and noted the color was the same as her father's--black as a raven. His bruised and swollen eyelids shielded bright playful eyes--the same light brown tint as her own. His lips were full, and curved up ever so slightly at the edges. She recalled how people would say to her, "You are definitely your father's child."
She took his hand gently and enfolded it with her own. His hand felt cold. The fingers were stiff and unbending. The thin flesh was dry as old leather. His hands were no longer supple and caring as she remembered them. He was kind. Gentle. Loving, she thought, as she caressed her brow with her thin fingers. He was not even forty winters old. He had raised her--alone--given that her mother had died bringing her into the world. How had he come to this? He had never harmed anyone or taken anything from any man. No, quite the contrary, he was a giver—not a taker. How does that demand beatings and prison?
“Abbaleh,” Tobiah said. His sudden voice—a raspy, strained whisper—startled her. “Abbaleh," he repeated, "When you were very small, you called me ‘Abbaleh’." He opened his eyes. "Am I no longer Papa? Am I now just Father?” He squeezed her hand. Then, slowly, with much effort, Tobiah slid his hand from hers and pulled out a small leather pouch from inside his tattered shirt. Pulling harder, he snapped the worn leather cord from around his neck. He grasped the pouch close to his chest and said, as if to himself, “My Bundle of Life.”
Alexenah's eyes widened when Tobiah undid the leather tie-strap with his trembling hands. With difficulty, he reached in the pouch and carefully took out a linen handkerchief, stained and soiled with age--folded--with something inside. He offered it reverently to his young daughter as though it was a sacred temple object.
Alexenah looked back to the cell door. Did they know he possessed this hidden treasure? She heard the guards arguing. Their attention remained elsewhere.
She took the small bundle from his feeble fingers. Delicately, she pulled back the layers of linen to reveal what was so precious to her father.
“It is but a rock, Abba. A pebble.”
“Do you not recognize it, my child?”
She turned it over in her hand, held it up between her finger and thumb trying to see it in the dim light. There were sprinkles of granite that sparkled when held it just right.
“It looks like every other pebble you find along the road,” she replied.
“You were only a child when you brought it to me. Remember? You said, ‘Look, Abbaleh, it's a jewel! You called me Abbaleh. . .’”
“My pretty jewel!" she remembered, "But now. . .” she closed the linen over the stone and offered it back to him. "It is nothing more than a stone."
“Reminds me of you,” he said, gently covering her small hands with his. "It is truly a jewel." He closed her fingers over the parcel and pushed her hand back. “I want you to have it now.”
Alexenah paused, then nodded. She carefully wrapped the stone again in the cloth and placed it back in the leather pouch. “I will keep it always to remind me of you, my father.” Then squeezing it tightly in her palm, she wrapped the broken leather neck-strap around her knuckles to bind it in her hand.
“I am of little importance, my child. Let it remind you of your heavenly Father.”
“My heavenly father?"
“Yes, my dearest. Our Father in heaven placed you in His treasure pouch on the day you were born. You see, my child, you are most precious to him. He keeps you close to his heart.” He paused between each few words now to catch his breath.
As Alexenah drew her hand to her chest she felt the stone against her heartbeat. Tears welled up and overflowed as she lowered her head.
He tried to speak again.
"What is it you desire, my little one?" He asked.
"Desire?"
"In your life. . .what do you want more than anything?"
She thought a moment and to herself she said, That you would not die, but out loud, she said something else, "I have always wanted to grow up and be like you."
"And have beautiful children?" His lips turned in a fragile smile.
He was correct, she thought. She was now of betrothing age and desired children in her deepest soul.
"Yes, Abba. I will have beautiful children."
"Children are a gift." He struggled to continue, he moved his tongue as if to find moisture, then coughed uncontrollably, holding his chest. Pink foam appeared at the corners of his mouth.
She looked for a jug, a cup for water. She thought to call out to the guards for refreshment, but, changed her mind. They would not give him anything. She... had nothing to give him. She felt a choking knot in her throat.
"You can't leave me now. Not now. I want to give you a grandchild. You have to live to put the babe on your lap."
"A child? Just one?" He paused, then with emphasis, said, "Grandchildren. Yes, that would be a double blessing."
She placed her finger to his lips, “You shouldn’t talk any more, it only causes you pain.”
“There are things worse.”
“Worse than pain?” she questioned.
“Not feeling pain,” Tobiah sighed, his voice growing even more weak and trembling. He looked up at her and smiled. “I wish not to escape this. I am dying. I believe more in redemption than I do in recovery. And release from heartache and pain is not always necessary to see God’s hand.”
Then quietness. A long silence interrupted only by the muffled conversation of the guards outside.
Finally, he spoke her name again. Alexenah lowered her ear to his lips.
“When I die they will take you and sell you,” Tobiah whispered. She could barely hear his words.
“Should I fight them, Abba, or should I run? I will stand up to them. I am not afraid. I will resist them," then quieter, "I do not wish to be a slave.”
“Your wishes. . . will not matter. They are even now waiting outside the door . . to take you.”
Alexenah glanced to the door. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. She bit her lip.
“There is someone greater than Rome,” he said, reaching for her face. Then, louder, he grabbed her arm, “Jehovah will redeem you. He will redeem us all.” Then he was caught up in another paroxysmal of coughing.
Alexenah wiped the blood and sputum from his chin with the hem of her dress.
“I know the promise of the coming Messiah,” she said.
He appeared to sleep. His face more serene. His breathing shallow, slow, and calm. She counted the footsteps of the guards. The hallway was twenty-three steps long. She had just closed her eyes to rest when he woke and spoke to her again.
"Alexenah?"
"Yes, Abba, I am here." She still held him in her lap.
" Remember Chesed, my dear Alexenah?” he whispered.
“God’s loving kindness?”
“Chesed is God’s sure love. God is good. He is kind. Do not forget this.”
"I will not forget Abba, Father." She wiped the cold sweat that covered his forehead, nodded and swallowed. She watched as he struggled for air. Each painful breath sounded like a child's rattle. It was everything she could do to not let the scream in her belly escape.
Tobiah rose up on one elbow and strained to sit up. Alexenah held him so that he could gain breath.
Again, he breathed only a shallow breath, he leaned his head to the side and spoke again. “Earlier you asked where you will go….Go with him… in his loving kindness. He will never leave you…. never let our people go ... from…his embrace.” He squeezed her hand. Then slumping back down, he winced.
At that moment it seemed to Alexenah as if time halted. She held her breath.
He sunk deeper into her embrace.
Then, but a murmuring whisper, he said “When the best is torn from your life, He still holds you in the fold of His arms. He stared up to her face. "Oh, how I love you, my little flower.” He sucked in another measure of air.
She kissed his forehead, “I love you too." She paused, a tear trailed down her cheek. She ran her hand through his hair. "I love you too.... Abbaleh.”
Silence filled the room. No sound came from the hall. She felt her own heart beating. His eyes widened. His cheeks paled. He tensed. And slowly she felt his muscles relax.
Alexenah pulled him in and clutched him close. Putting her hand to cradle his cheek, she drew his face to hers and sobbed. "No. No. Come back to me, Abbaleh! Abbaleh! Come back. I will give you a grandchild. Grand children. Oh, they will make you happy."
His face paled.
She rocked him back and forth as she wept until her heart could contain the weight of grief no longer. A scream erupted from the depths of her soul as she wailed to the ceiling above.
The door latch opened.