“Then someone put a shovel in my hand. It might have been Shereen,” he said, his voice catching. “She told me to dig. And so I did. And as I carved more and more paths, the water began to flow in endless directions. Not just throughout the garden in the caves, but spreading through fields and villages and lands I had never seen. Yet the water’s supply never dwindled. Only replenished. And everything within and beyond the web of its paths began to thrive.”

Ruth stared in amazement. “What do you think the dream might have meant?” she asked.

Jesus shrugged. “I do not yet know. I only know that it left me with the distinct impression that my actions are not aligned with The Way. That I am making mistakes. And acting selfishly.” He turned to face his friend. “And that I am most likely putting us all in jeopardy.” Unable to hold her gaze, he cast his eyes downward and said, “I thought if we spoke the truth, if we spoke of the Mother, and refused to hide, that we could—” His voice failed him.

“I know,” Ruth whispered, laying a hand on his. “I know.”

CHAPTER 38

Somewhere within ancient Palestine—33 A.D.

Several miles downriver, a fisherman stood above his newest apprentice, watching him untangle the nets.

“Eh, there, not like that. You have to keep to the main strand,” he said, correcting the young man’s technique.

The apprentice frowned at being told what to do. His hands were scratched and scaly from hauling in the day’s catch. His clothes and skin reeked of fish. Despite his filth, however, the young man was handsome.

The fisherman grunted. “When you have got them straightened, store them in the boat’s hull. And be back before first light,” he said.

The apprentice nodded but did not look up as the fisherman departed.

Despite several further attempts to unwind the tangles, the apprentice had little success.

Disgusted, he threw the nets into the boat and went for a walk along the river. Though he had told the fisherman that a chronic shortness of breath had forced him to seek more sedentary work, that was not so, and his legs still ached to wander.

Farther up the road, the fledgling fisherman was overrun by a group of boys and their father. On the man’s shoulders rode a young girl with badly mangled legs. “What brings you in such a hurry, friend?” the apprentice fisherman asked, more out of irritation than real interest.

The father began to answer but when he saw the fisherman’s face, his mouth fell open. The man dropped to his knees and grabbed at the hem of the fisherman’s tunic. The fisherman drew back in annoyance. “Stand back! Why do you grab at me?” he demanded.

The father rose quickly, apologizing. “Forgive me,” he said. “I … I thought you were one of them … I thought you were he.”