“What’s on your mind?” Asked Lucy.
“The man in the barn.”
“Oooh, I see. Why now? That memory hasn’t bothered you since we set out.”
“The look he gave me. I saw Hasidah before he left this morning, and both he and the man in the barn gave me the same look before they left. It’s bugging me, but it shouldn’t; it’s all so different out here; it can’t be related.”
“You never told me about the look the man in the barn gave you.”
“It was the least of the encounter. He told me everything while I sat there, petrified. Then, when he was almost out the door, I jumped up and caught his eye halfway out the barn. We looked at each other from separate worlds, it seemed. His face dirty from travel, mine fear-stricken. He looked at me like I bet Jesus looked at that criminal. I spoke not a word to Hasidah this morning and nor he to I. But he gave me the same kinda look. Sad, distant. The boy was disturbed by something.”
“Maybe he’s a runaway,” Lucy said. “Young boy runs away with nothing but some meat and a notebook, realizes living alone out here is rough and he’d have to befriend strange people to get by. Can’t sleep and decides to run back home. Maybe he thought you were the bigger man, able to take care of a family, but he couldn’t take care of himself. That would make one depressed boy, for sure.”
“Could. I’m just unsure I believe in coincidence like that. It must be a sign. We’re like the Israelites in the desert, we’re far from home but close to God, I know it. How else could we have gotten this far?”
“I don’t know, Joseph. I don’t even know where we’re at.”
“We’re close to the old Southwest; I can feel it.” Joseph felt a shift with his last four words and sat up straight, looking ahead at the grasslands as the sun beat down, burning the flesh on his arms once more. Patrick stirred, and they continued on.
“Joseph, do you still have Hasidah’s things?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, he’ll be back, I think.”
The family spent the rest of the day awash in the grand cycle. Patrick played, they all ate, Patrick slept, the horses ate, and the whole caravan moved incrementally closer to their mountainous destination. Imperceptible to them were the multitude of cycles flowing through the world and intersecting with each other. Chains of events began and ended without their involvement, and they paid no mind to it. They could hardly pay attention to the independent worlds in which the couple would retreat to pass the time.
Once Patrick began napping that afternoon, Lucy asked in a hush, " Can I have your attention for a moment?”
“Yes,” he responded after pulling himself from his thoughts.
“Okay. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t know how. I decided it was unimportant and would do nothing but concern you, but I need to say it out loud. It’s killing me.”
“Please, speak,” he encouraged, “it must be important.”
“I don’t believe in God, Joseph. I can’t believe in God. It’s just not in me. And I know how much he means to you, but he’s never come to me like he has you. As far as I can tell, the world just works how it does, and God doesn’t give me signs about it.”
“Oh,” he said, taking a deep breath.
“Do you hate me?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Is that all?”
Joseph laughed lightly from his nose, “I’m sure I’ll have something to say about it eventually.”
Lucy let the silence hang for a moment, becoming tense before speaking again. “I should have expected that.”
“You know me, Lucy. And I’m sorry, I think this damned sun is taking something out of me. Most of the time, when we’re quiet, I don’t even think I have any thoughts; I just notice a dull hum and the bump of the road. My thoughts begin when I lay down at night, though. Almost too many of ‘em.” Joseph offered a slight smile with exhaustion written on his face.
“It’s okay,” she said, lying down on the bench and putting her head in Joseph’s lap. "I’m taking a nap.”
Joseph scrunched his nose and nodded as Lucy put her hat over her face. The touch of her head on his thighs gave him a familiar feeling in his throat. It almost felt like he was about to cry, but he wasn’t sad, elated, or aroused. Instead, he felt like he could breathe easier, and each full breath he took sent shivers down his back. The sun began to feel welcoming, and a memory came to mind, this time of a summer day years ago. The day Lucy took his hand for the first time in his family’s field as they walked towards the river bank. There was silence between them on that walk, just as there was silence between them now.
Joseph’s thoughts slowed as Lucy’s breath did the same. He was once again lulled into the pace of the horses and rocking of the wagon but carried the feeling of connection to his wife with him. ‘Was she serious about her disbelief in God?’ The thought of Lot’s wife came to mind. ‘Maybe she’s with me because she doesn't believe in God. What would that say about me?’ He dwelled on this for a moment before trailing into the Lord’s Prayer to calm his mind.
“Our Father, which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, As it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses," he intoned breathlessly. "As we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, The power, and the glory, For ever and ever. Amen.”
The more he said the words, the less he felt while reciting them. Back home, Jesus’ words meant so much; his family’s life was a living testament to the truth and glory of the words. The more Joseph wrestled with their meaning, the more it became apparent that he would be unable to follow them to the letter. “Thy kingdom come,” and “forgive them that trespass against us … deliver us from evil” contradicted. ‘How could the kingdom have been in such a state as it was, but we needed to leave it to be delivered from evil,’ Joseph thought. ‘I was able to forgive those gypsies that trespassed and received a message that something was wrong. To the north and in our community. I was tasked with disobeying scripture and holy men in order to follow a message from the holy spirit. The holy spirit takes precedence. What does God have planned for us?’
Joseph’s thoughts ended with a crash in the bushes before them. He turned towards the noise in a flurry of mixed emotions, but Lucy gazed toward the man, barely registering the noise. Something familiar came up in the young woman; a placid-ness, near-deathly calm. It reminded her of Seminary, drifting off during emphatic lectures, and the lack of emotion necessary to deal with her father. This was the first time she felt it with Joseph, and she wished to cry but was stuck wide-eyed, staring at the man until he began to speak.
“Hey! Hey! Show yourself!” Joseph yelled as he stopped the horses, pulling their mouths tight and yanking the bit back with his sun-kissed, flaking arms. The bush stopped shaking as two boys rolled into the trail while grappling at each other. Joseph lifted the revolver and took half-assed aim at the two boys, forming one mess of tanned flesh cutting itself up on the rough road.
“Hasidah?!” Shouted Joseph, “That you? If not, I'm gonna shoot. " The tumbling continued, and muffled shouts and grunts became more frequent. Joseph looked at Lucy, and they made eye contact. He shrugged, rolled his eyes, and fired a shot above the two boys, missing them by yards. They stopped rolling on the ground and slowly stood to face the family of three, patiently watching them.
Joseph grinned, “I thought that was you. " He kept the gun on the boys to teach them a lesson: " Why don’t you explain what’s going on here?”