The fisherman looked with disdain at the filthy boys and their mangled sister. “Whoever you thought I might be, I am not,” he said sharply, wishing to be left alone. The father bowed in apology and, not wanting to be further delayed, hurried on his way.

A few moments later, a husband and wife came walking from the same direction as the father and his children. “Greetings,” the young fisherman said, keeping his head lowered to avoid conversation.

“Glory be!” the husband blurted. “She could not move a single finger!” he beamed. “She dropped every dish and could not weave!” The husband lifted his wife’s hand for the fisherman to see. It was gnarled, as if prematurely aged, but the joints seemed remarkably flexible. She moved her fingers gingerly and covered her smile.

“He is a mercy from above, my friend!” the man said.

“Who is?” the fisherman asked, annoyed by his own curiosity.

“The healer! He has surely come to save us all!” The husband and wife departed.

Eager for a distraction, and perhaps a chance to cause trouble, the apprentice decided not to return to his tangled nets. Instead, he would go see the mysterious healer for himself.

CHAPTER 39

Somewhere within ancient Palestine—33 A.D.

Ruth kneeled over a fallen tree, shredding the leaves of several herbs into a bowl. Her eyes stared wide, but seemed unseeing. Overwhelmed by the number of people who continued to arrive, it had been several days since she had had time to herself. And Jesus’s extraordinary dream had left her bewildered, curious, and in need of Communion.

“Ruth?” someone said. She turned to see Tabitha kneeling by her elbow. Without another word, the younger Sister lifted the herbs from Ruth’s hand. “Let me finish these,” she said.

Ruth’s eyes watered with gratitude. But, looking down, she could see the dark circles under Tabitha’s eyes and knew that she was faring no better.

Tabitha smiled. “I am fine,” she assured her. “Go.”

Weary, but knowing it might be her only time alone, Ruth thanked her friend and slipped away.

Climbing a nearby slope, Ruth took refuge beneath an olive tree. Sitting, she drew in a deep breath and calmed her mind. Easing into the silence, she focused on a spray of olives dangling from a branch and let herself be drawn into the fruit, freeing her thoughts to wander.

Her mind drifted back to Jesus’s description of his dream. She entered this memory until she, too, could see and feel his vision. As she gazed upon the boundless rivulets of water, rushing outward in every direction, images of a new possibility began to unfold.

Ruth swooned at the sight that rose before her.

After a few moments, she heard voices.