“Keturah,” I said, striving to keep my voice full of the patience our Lord commands us to have for our wives, “You should be in bed!”
“Manasseh,” she said in her sweetest voice, which I have learned means she is determined to have her own way, “I am a pregnant woman, not an invalid. And in case you had not noticed, the inn is overflowing and we can ill afford to let work start to pile up.”
“But all the guests are in bed,” I took the broom from her hands, “And I can do this. You can supervise if you are feeling restless. Sit there, put your feet up- please, please indulge your poor, beleaguered husband his neuroses.” Keturah sighed and worked her knuckles into her lower back: she still had a month left before the child- our first- was due, but I could not fathom her growing any larger. Finally she grabbed my beard and pulled my face down so she could kiss my cheek.
“Alright I will sit. But only because I do not like to see you so fretful.”
“Thank you, indulgent ruby of the midnight hour.” She swatted playfully at my arm, and I did not dodge the blow- I had also come to learn that she did not like to be reminded of how she was not as nimble as she had been.
“I wish we could have a census every year,” she said in a satisfied voice as she eased herself into the chair I’d gestured at. “Just think of the lovely new cloaks we will have this winter.”
“I could wish we had them only in years my wife was not pregnant,” I grumbled, and it was true. As good as the influx of travelers had been for filling our coffers, it had not done much for my stress levels. I wanted Keturah to be able to stay in bed (not that she would) and for me to be able to see to her every whim, rather than both of us having to look after a great herd of people who were thoroughly disgruntled about being commanded to return to their place of birth for counting. I did not see the sense in it, myself- why not count people where they were? But who is a simple innkeeper to argue with an emperor’s decree? I was just glad we had never left Bethlehem. I could not imagine having to travel anywhere with my wife in her current condition.
Once I had swept the kitchen out to her satisfaction Keturah beckoned me over and placed my hands on her belly. I felt our child press up against my palm.
“He’s excited tonight,” I remarked, and knelt down to place my forehead against the bulge. My wife’s fingers begin to work through my hair, gently unsnarling my tangles back into curls.
“Yes, she is,” she said. “she must sense something momentous about to occur.”
“More likely he’s just not used to so many new voices,” I said, and then smiled as she tugged hard on a lock.
“You have no imagination,” she scolded, and tugged on another one. “Maybe our daughter will be a great prophetess, and then won’t you feel sorry for doubting her in the womb!”
“Mercy, gentle wife!” I laughed. “No more of your torture. If you say our child is a girl, and a soothsayer at that, so it must be! You know we poor men can never hope to understand the great mysteries of life as our wise women do.”
“That’s right,” she said, but gave me another, albeit more gentle, tug. “And as a matter of fact-“
But she was interrupted by a knock at the door. I groaned.
“Not another one!” I’d already turned away seven that evening, and did not relish the idea of telling yet another poor soul that he had to keep going at such a late hour. Some men got so angry it was as though they believed I had deliberately sold all my rooms before they could get there. I sighed, got to my feet, and held out my hand to Keturah, to help her rise. “Take our little prophetess to bed, my wise wife, and I shall join you shortly.” She smiled and tilted her face up for another kiss.
“Be quick, husband.”
I opened the door to find a man maybe ten years older than myself standing there, holding a donkey’s lead.
“Sorry friend,” I started, my voice as sympathetic as I could make it. “But we’ve-” and then I noticed who was sitting on the donkey. A woman- barely more than a girl, really- more belly than anything else. She made Keturah look downright reasonably sized.
“…no more… room…” I trailed off. The man looked haggard, the woman swayed as though she might fall off the donkey at any moment.
“Are you sure, friend?” he asked, in the dull voice of someone who has already repeated his request far too many times. I knew that we were not the only inn overflowing with custom. These two had probably been turned away multiple times tonight. “I can pay well.”
“It’s not about the money,” I said, wondering if I ought to move closer, to catch the woman if she fell. “It’s this census- we’ve sold every room, every bed, every bench, even space on the hallway floors! I’d give you my own bed for the sake of your wife, were not my own pregnant wife already in it.”
The other man closed his eyes and turned to go, murmuring a thanks- and I thought of Keturah, and how I would feel if it were me unable to find a place for her.
“Wait!” I said. “It’s true I have no room left in the inn… but… I am almost ashamed to offer this…”
“Please, we are not so proud as to be offended by any kindness you might offer,” said the woman in a startlingly sweet voice.
“I have room in my stable,” I blurted. “It’s warm and clean, and the hay might make a soft place to lay down on, if you don’t mind sharing space with animals. I could bring you blankets…”
“We’ll take it, and pay you handsomely for the privilege!” the man’s voice held such relief I feared he might cry.
“No need for that,” I mumbled, thinking again of my wife sleeping in our bed, of the movement of our child beneath my palms. “I offer it on behalf of our unborn children. I pray they grow up in a world where kindness is not so rare we feel we must pay extra for it.”
“Thank you,” said the woman, pressing her hands to her belly. “I pray that, as well.”
No comments:
Post a Comment