Ruth shook her head. She had sensed his anger. And knew to expect his outburst. But she was hungry and drained from the day’s work and had little patience to spare. “I made a choice,” she uttered flatly.

“What choice? To remain silent? To allow him to continue hurting people? How is that a choice?”

Ruth’s lips tightened. She knew his sudden zealousness arose, in part, from experiencing how potent an impact The Way could have on people’s lives. But there was also his unrelenting need to protect. Especially those who had been held down. And she feared that his growing fervor might come to endanger their lives—the very concern that Mother Susana had once expressed.

Frightened by this last thought, she blurted, “Have you already forgotten what happened in The Narrows?”

Jesus and Tabitha shrunk at the mention of their former home.

Ruth flinched, wishing she had held her tongue. “Forgive me,” she said. She sighed and allowed her thoughts to settle. She turned again to Jesus. “You are eager to share. To right what is wrong. I understand that. But not every fight can be fought today,” she said. “And not every heart opened in an instant. There were people who needed help. We gave them help. If you had confronted the young man directly, we would have been asked to leave. Or worse. So yes, I made a choice. I chose healing the sick over trying to break the hard and possibly paying with our lives.”

They walked in silence for several minutes before Ruth spoke again.

“I share your frustration,” she said. “But we are the only ones left, Anna, and—” Her breath caught. Her companions stared in horror. They well knew that such a slip in the wrong company would lead to death. Ruth recovered. “We are the only ones,” she continued, her voice weighted with solemnity. “If we are killed, The Way may very well die with us. If this were to happen, the world would lose this knowledge, perhaps forever. And without this understanding, humanity would abolish itself. There could be no other outcome. Without imbibing The Way, the human spirit will rot beneath a plague of domination and war and greed. Do you see?”

Jesus nodded stubbornly. He understood her concerns. But could feel a wall rising around him, casting a long shadow, heavy as a shawl, across his face.

For how long could he remain silent?

“We may never be able to reveal all that we know,” Ruth said. “Just as you may never be able to reveal all of who you are.”

Her words fell along his shoulders, heavy as bricks.

Had he made a mistake in readopting his disguise? Would it not accomplish all he desired? Would he crumble under its constant burden?