Page 5 of A Lesson In Beginning

She waved me out of the room and towards the back of the house. The living room opened into a formal dining area and a kitchen to the side of it.

“You will make an excellent mother yourself one day.” I hoped a compliment would help pave the way towards opening her up to charity. Lord only knew if she still possessed the charity that a good Christian should.

“I already am, actually,” she said with a shrug.

“What?”

“I am a mother.” The smile on her face was one I recognized, having seen it many times in my own reflection. There was nothing out there like that secret smile a mother held when thinking of her child. And Ruth wore that smile with pride.

“When did that happen?”

“Theo is nine months old now.” She smirked, looking towards the other room where the staircase led upstairs. It was then that I noticed the baby monitor sitting on the counter near the stove.

“I’m sure he is a very sweet boy.” I struggled to imagine Ruth as a mother; not now, after everything had changed. But as I watched her smile and settle into that soothing far-away gaze that only mothers truly understand, I realized it was the most natural thing in the world for her to be a mother. The events that had transpired didn’t change that.

“Ha! I would love to say he is a sweet boy, and at times, he is. But he also has a streak of mischief a mile wide.” She shook her head good-naturedly, and I thought of my own sweet son in the next room.

“Yes, boys tend to have that, don’t they?”

For a moment, we sat in our shared experience of what it was to have small boys to raise. In that instant, just that singular moment, we weren’t two adult women at odds with one another, as we had been for the last few years. We were back to simply Adah and Ruth — sisters who shared everything. And for just that moment, I felt a hope that I hadn’t expected.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be as hard as I had thought.

Then I remembered the dog collar wrapped around her neck when I had first arrived.

Immediately, I shook off the pleasant moment of camaraderie and sisterly love, replacing it with the more comfortable wariness and antipathy. The fact that I immediately relaxed into these emotions was something I didn’t want to look too deeply into.

“So, Adah, I’m not sure how to even broach this, but… what are you doing here?” She sat down next to me at the table, setting glasses of water before each of us.

“I took the liberty of going ahead and getting Samuel settled in the spare room.” Leviticus’ voice nearly made me jump out of my skin as he appeared behind me. “I didn’t know what his normal sleeping situation was, so I put him in Theo’s pack-and-play. I hope that’s alright with you, Adah.”

He joined us at the table, sitting on the other side of me, directly opposite of Ruth.

“That works just fine. He’s been used to sleeping in a bed with no trouble. Hotel rooms don’t come fully stocked with such things, nor did we have one when we lived in Zion.” He flinched at my curt tone, but I could not bring myself to care all that much. I was tired — more tired than I had felt in a very long time.

“Fair enough.”

“I was just asking Adah what brought her clear out here to Portland.” Ruth smiled at her husband. There was an amiable nature between the two of them that felt so intimate that I almost wanted to leave the room.

“Well, as I’m sure you both can imagine, the last two years have been difficult after everything that happened.” Leviticus’s eyes widened as I shot him a glare, not even realizing I had done so. He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. “I have spent the last two years trying to manage while my parents, my in-laws, and my husband were arrested, tried, and have now been imprisoned.”

“Oh, Adah. They convicted Josiah?” She reached her hand out to me in an offer of comfort, one I quickly spurned.

“Of course he was, Ruth. Wasn’t that the entire plan? Zion is gone. It’s empty, a complete shell of the loving community it once was.” I could not hold back my scoff of derision. I scolded myself inwardly. I was here in search of help, and here I was spurning them and casting accusations within the first hour? Very unbecoming and very unchristian of me.

“To be clear, that was never the intent, Adah.” Leviticus’ voice was firm, yet held a kindness I was not expecting. “The goal was to stop the evil acts my brothers and I had discovered. Surely you can understand that.”

Though it was incredibly difficult, I set aside the acerbic retorts that hung on the tip of my tongue, begging to be released and thrust upon the two people I held most responsible for tearing my life apart. I thought about the little boy in the spare room down the hall. Right now, it was not my job to condemn nor chastise the only two people left in this world who could aid my son and I, no matter how desperately I wished to. It was my job to care for my son. I shoved my admonishments down deep within me and focused solely on Samuel.

“Yes, Leviticus. I can understand that. And surely you can understand what a nightmare the last two years of my life have been. We have no one left. No place to call home, no means to survive, and no one to help us out of this nightmare. You two are all I have left.” I cringed inwardly at just how desperate I sounded. It was the truth, but I loathed every second of showing that vulnerability to Ruth. It was not how things were done. I was Ruth’s older sister. It was she who should have been looking to me for guidance. Not the other way around.

“I had no idea you were in such a position, Adah.” This time she didn’t take no for an answer, reaching her hand out and placing it atop mine in an act of comfort that made me feel more uncomfortable than I had since arriving. She shared a look with Leviticus that felt almost telepathic. “Of course, you and your son are welcome here for as long as you need in order to get back on your feet.”

“Our home is your home, and you are welcome and wanted.” Leviticus echoed her sentiments, shocking me with the level of compassion and kindness they showed. I had expected to be welcomed, true, but I had expected it to be under scrutiny and judgment.

“I do not know where to begin.” My admission was hard, but as soon as the words had left my lips, I felt a wave of emotion, heavy and suffocating, threaten to overwhelm me.

“Don’t you worry about that tonight. You are both here. You are both safe. Tomorrow we can discuss it more, but I have a feeling that after all that travel, you are both well past the point of exhaustion. I can show you to our second spare room for you to sleep this evening.” Leviticus’ words were a surprise. Men didn’t show that level of compassion or care. Not in my experience. But I could not find an ounce of judgment in his tone.

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