Shepherd's Wife (Jerusalem Road Book #2) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Angela Hunt

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

188 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

Yeshua of Nazareth has two sisters: Damaris, married to a wealthy merchant's son, and Pheodora, married to a simple shepherd from Bethlehem. When Pheodora's husband suffers an unexpected reversal of fortune and is thrown into debtor's prison, she returns to Nazareth, where she pins her hopes on two she-goats who should give birth to spotless white kids that would be perfect for the upcoming Yom Kippur sacrifice. In the eighteen months between the kids' birth and the opportunity to sell them and redeem her husband from prison, Pheodora must call on her wits, her family, and her God in order to provide for her daughters and survive. But when every prayer and ritual she knows is about God's care for Israel, how can she trust that God will hear and help a lowly shepherd's wife?

Sujets

Historical romance

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	06 octobre 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781493428311
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	4 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0384€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Cover
Half Title Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2020 by Angela Hunt Communications, Inc.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-2831-1
Scripture taken from the Tree of Life Version. © 2015 by the Messianic Jewish Family Bible Society. Used by permission of the Messianic Jewish Family Bible Society.
This is a work of historical reconstruction; the appearances of certain historical figures are therefore inevitable. All other characters, however, are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Maps are copyright © Baker Publishing Group.
Cover design by LOOK Design Studio
Cover photography by Aimee Christenson
Author is represented by Browne & Miller Literary Associates.
Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Maps
Epigraph
1. Pheodora
2. Damaris
3. Pheodora
4. Damaris
5. Pheodora
6. Damaris
7. Pheodora
8. Damaris
9. Pheodora
10. Pheodora
11. Pheodora
12. Damaris
13. Pheodora
14. Pheodora
15. Pheodora
16. Pheodora
17. Pheodora
18. Pheodora
19. Damaris
20. Pheodora
21. Damaris
22. Pheodora
23. Pheodora
24. Pheodora
25. Pheodora
26. Damaris
27. Damaris
28. Pheodora
29. Pheodora
30. Pheodora
31. Damaris
32. Pheodora
33. Pheodora
34. Pheodora
35. Damaris
36. Pheodora
37. Pheodora
38. Pheodora
39. Damaris
40. Pheodora
41. Pheodora
42. Pheodora
43. Damaris
44. Pheodora
45. Pheodora
46. Damaris
47. Pheodora
48. Pheodora
Epilogue: Pheodora
Author’s Note
References
About the Author
Back Ad
Back Cover
The Old and New Testaments are filled with stories of daring men and noticeably few courageous women. This is not surprising, for the inspired writers could not recount every story of each man, woman, and child who encountered God. But even though few women’s stories are recorded, they are still worthy of consideration. The J ERUSALEM R OAD novels are fictional accounts of real women who met Jesus, were part of His family, or whose lives were entwined with the men who followed Him.
Maps

Epigraph
But you, watchtower of the flock,
are the hill of the Daughter of Zion.
To you she will come.
Even the former dominion will come,
the kingdom of the Daughter of Jerusalem.
Micah 4:8
CHAPTER ONE Pheodora
I did not feel like celebrating.
Surrounded by the aroma of roasted chicken and herbs, I looked around the table and tried not to care that the people most precious to me—my eldest brother, my husband, and my mother—were missing. Everyone else had gathered at our childhood home—James, Joses, and Simeon; Jude and his betrothed, Tasmin; Damaris and her five oldest daughters; me and my four little girls. Damaris’s youngest, a two-year-old, had remained at home with her grandmother.
“It doesn’t seem like Pesach without Ima,” Damaris said, passing the bread basket to her husband. “How many Passover dinners has she missed now?”
“Three,” Jude answered, glancing at his future wife. “Perhaps next year she will join us.”
“Perhaps next year Yeshua will be weary of wandering.” From across the table, Simeon met my gaze. “Speaking of wanderers, will we see Chiram anytime soon or will he insist on remaining in Bethlehem?”
I drew a deep breath to suppress a rise of irritation. “You know he cannot leave during Pesach. He has to take the lambs to the Temple.”
“But surely there are other shepherds who can do the work. If he cannot come for Passover, why not come to Nazareth for a Sabbath? We do not see enough of you.”
Damaris pinned our brother with a stern look. “Leave her alone. The shepherd is with his family often enough—Pheodora has four children to prove it.”
“Four daughters.” Joses, our youngest brother, flashed an infectious grin. “If he came home more often, he might have had a son by now.”
As my other brothers snickered, I lifted my chin. “A shepherd who does not spend his days and nights with the flock is not doing his job. I did not choose my husband’s profession, but neither do I fault him for it.”
I lowered my head and cast around for a topic to divert attention from Chiram. I could easily turn the conversation toward our missing brother whose activities were a frequent focus of our conversations.
I forced a smile. “Earlier, I was minding my own business at the market—”
“Bethlehem has a market?” Damaris interrupted. “I did not think it big enough.”
“It does. But I was in Nazareth, if you must know. And if you will let me finish—”
“Sorry.” Damaris inclined her head in a regal nod. “Go on.”
I blew out a breath, then began again. “A man came over to me and asked why Yeshua hated the Temple. I said he did not hate the Temple, but the man insisted that Yeshua had said the Temple would be torn down with not one stone left atop another. According to this man, news of Yeshua’s prophecy has spread throughout Jerusalem like a plague.”
From the head of the table—the place where Yeshua should have been seated—James frowned. “Surely he heard a false report.”
“I said the same, but he insisted it was true. The people of Nazareth already think Yeshua is a blasphemer; now they will hate him even more.”
Joses nudged me, then nodded at the platter of roasted chicken. I passed it to him, then glanced at my daughters to make sure they were eating. The girls were often too excited to eat when we visited my family, and I did not want them to go to bed with empty stomachs.
Judit had eaten well, while Eden had not taken any vegetables. No surprise, for she had never liked them. Jordan had eaten three of the flat loaves we served in honor of Passover, but Shiri, my youngest, seemed to think the chicken was some sort of plaything. She had tipped her head back and was dangling a scrawny wing above her open mouth as if she were a baby bird waiting to be fed.
“ Shiri .” I underscored her name with reproach. “We do not play at dinner.”
She dropped the chicken wing onto the floor, eliciting a chuckle from my sister. “Leave it,” Damaris said, shaking her head. “She is only doing what must come naturally for the daughter of a shepherd. Out in the fields, I would imagine that few men practice proper etiquette.”
I stared at my sister, amazed at her audacity, crossed my arms and turned to James. He was now head of the house, so if he was going to lead us in a blessing for the meal we had enjoyed, he had better do it before these young girls—and my sister—completely forgot their manners.

Joses waited downstairs with a lamp, eager to show me the donkey he had borrowed for my trip back to Bethlehem, but Damaris pulled me aside before I could join him.
“Sister,” she said, giving me an unusually sweet smile, “I am not sure how to ask this, so forgive me if I seem too forward.”
I lifted a brow. “You have never before felt the need to ask forgiveness before speaking your mind.”
Damaris shrugged, then her pleasant expression shifted to a look of concern. “I couldn’t help noticing that your girls are much thinner than my daughters. Are you sure they are getting enough to eat?”
I drew myself up to my full height, which still left me a handbreadth short of Damaris’s. “My girls are slender because they take after their father.”
My sister lifted her hands. “I know, and I don’t mean to intrude. But if you lack anything—food, clothing, anything at all—you have only to come to me. Write to me, if you must. Shimon will let me give you anything you need. I know it must be difficult to provide for your children when your husband is poor. And he is away from home so often—”
“We are fine, sister.” I spoke firmly, because the last thing I wanted from her was pity.
“I know you are. But since we rarely see each other, why don’t you spend tonight at my house? The girls can eat sweet cakes and tell stories while we talk all night, just as we did when we were children.”
I glanced toward the front door, remembering that Joses waited in the courtyard, then looked at my daughters, all of whom were watching me, their eyes alight. They had been to Damaris’s house before and were awed by how different it was from our humble home.
“Surely, Shimon does not want his house filled with giggling girls—”
“Shimon and his father went to Jerusalem for Passover. I do not expect them home for another week, which will give us plenty of time to catch up. Please, Pheodora Aiya, come home with me tonight.”
Her use of my full name—an effort she exerted only when she wanted to be especially charming—tugged at my heart. Why not go? After all, I had not seen my sister in months, and my girls always enjoyed playing with their cousins. Her girls were a happy lot, all of them plump and rosy-cheeked from indulging at their prosperous grandfather’s table.
“All right.” I gestured toward the door. “But I promised Joses I would look at the donkey he borrowed. He seems to think Chiram’s knowledge of livestock has rubbed off on me.”
“As if you would want it to.” Damaris released a charming three-noted laugh, then flashed a quick smile. “I will join you as soon as I have said farewell to everyone else.”
I sighed as she went off in search of James and the others.

Damaris and Shimon lived in the elevated section of the city, where homes stood a dignified distance from one another and were festooned with architectural details never seen