Watching Mother Susana’s eyes wander behind closed lids, she wondered if the old woman would be able to rise under the weight of such tragedy. An ordinary human would have been knocked to the ground. But Ruth knew better than to question the woman whose strength had been forged in a fire hot with faith and reverence. She was therefore not surprised to see the elder woman open her eyes and stand, effortlessly, as if lifted by a large hand.

Mother Susana walked to a nearby lamp and lit the wick. She turned to face her visitor. “You speak the truth, Sister Ruth,” she said. Her eyes burned with conviction. “It is time that we gather.” She nodded. “Call a Circle.”

Sister Ruth lifted Jesus’s head and held a liquid-filled sponge above his mouth. She let the water drip between his lips. Jesus woke to the sensation of falling raindrops.

“Hello,” Ruth said, smiling when she saw his eyes open.

Through the haze of pain and hunger, he glimpsed her clearly for the first time. Her body was stocky and round. Her chest ample beneath the folds of her robe. Large dimples bore into her cheeks, especially when she smiled or laughed, which she did with relish and a toss of glistening auburn hair. Her eyes were a plain, ordinary brown, yet they danced with a spontaneity that Jesus found disarming.

“My name is Ruth,” she said, breaking the spell. “Keeper of the Tree of Life, Sister of The Way.”

Jesus wrinkled his brow. He had no idea what she was talking about.

Maybe she was demented?

Ruth continued her ministrations. She lifted the sponge again and squeezed it above his mouth. “You must drink as much as you can,” she said, as liquid streamed between his lips.

Jesus felt the room dip and spin. But he tasted sweetness in the water and could no longer resist. He drank with fury.

“Good.” Ruth nodded. “Very good.” She pulled the linen cloth from his body. He lay naked before her. She filled a copper bowl with water and mixed in two drops of flowery-smelling oil. She lifted his foot. He struggled to protect himself.

“Trust me,” Ruth said.

Jesus held still. Almost against his will. The water felt warm as she rinsed the dust from between his toes.

“Why do you not just get it over with and kill me?” he asked, watching her with suspicion.

Ruth smiled, amused by the youngster’s brashness. “How old are you?” she asked. “Fifteen? Maybe sixteen?”

He glared at her.

She laughed. “Oh! Those eyes!” she said. “They have a life of their own.” She moved the sponge up the calf on his good leg. She massaged the liquid deep into his muscles. While she worked, she considered his face. “You know, you really do look like a young man,” she said. “And a handsome one, too!”

Jesus blushed at the word. Handsome. His mother had first called him that.