Read Desired: The Untold Story of Samson and Delilah (Lost Loves of the Bible) for Free Online Page B

“I didn’t ask. Isn’t that funny—money makes everything else unimportant!”
    Astra and I danced as we worked, a lightness sweeping our feet along. Friends from the village were coming for dinner. We didn’t even care who they were; we were blessed. Money meant joy in our hearts and freedom in our family and health to our bones. And money made us numb, so that we did not demand an explanation as to who our inopportune guests might be, or why a Hebrew beast would buy so many rugs, or even what else might happen that day.
    One lie would catch up to us, but much later. Astra could now be given in marriage, too. After all, her monthly cycles had started.

    Sirena brought our bread by while we worked, and Mother set to work kneading another loaf. The oven outside was free so Mother could get one more loaf in, and as long as the gods didn’t spit on her plans, it’d be done by the time our guests arrived.
    Astra and I worked until our tunics were stained with sweat. We finished polishing the tables, tidying the pallets and blankets, and removing old, dried herbs from their hanging hooks on the support beams. Mother had bought a new batch of herbs, and we worked bundling those together with ribbon and hanging them on the hooks for a fresh-smelling home. When there seemed to be nothing else remaining to do, Mother gave us a critical eye and a new list of chores, all of which involved our appearance. She thought we could use some attention ourselves.
    The roof, with those breezes we loved in the summer, was turning too cold for a bath, so Mother heated water outside over the fire and brought a crock in for each of us to freshen up. She plaited our hair, securing them at the back of our heads with a sprig of rosemary for adornment. I suspected the rosemary was to help disguise any remaining scent of our hard labor.
    Father came downstairs at last, keeping a wary eye out for more unexplained tears, and tightened the familiar red sash around his waist. As he did, a knock at our door echoed through the room. Astra clutched my hand in excitement. We hadn’t had guests for months. I hoped it was Sirena. She might let me rest my hand on her stomach and feel the babe kick at it.
    “I hope it’s Talos!” Astra whispered. “He’s more fun than Sirena.”
    I glared at her. For all her wisdom, she didn’t see the danger in talking to boys.
    Father opened the door, his back blocking our view as he offered solemn words of welcome. He stepped away, one arm sweeping back, gesturing for the guests to enter.
    The Hebrew stood on our threshold with an elderly couple behind him.
    Astra’s grip on my hand turned ferocious. I knew I would have a bruise, but I felt no pain. I felt nothing, because nothing stirred in my body. My blood froze in my veins, my heart stopped, and I could not breathe. Only my eyes still worked, taking in this massive Hebrew man-beast, with that black mane cascading down to the ground, his dark eyes twinkling as if he found amusement in my shock and horror.
    He lifted up his leg, which looked like the massive trunk of an oak tree, and crossed the threshold into my home and into my life. For that moment, as he moved through the doorway, he eclipsed all remaining light from the outside world, the torches, the stars, the oil lamps in windows. Everything went dark in his shadow. I shuddered.
    He stood before my mother and nodded. “ Ahaziku. Strength to you.”
    “And success to you,” my mother replied in kind to the traditional greeting. She cut her eyes to my father, who was busy exchanging small pleasantries with the elderly man.
    “I am Jocasta. Welcome to my home.” Mother gestured to my father. “You have met my husband, Adon.”
    The man-beast nodded. “I am Samson. And this is my mother.”
    I gasped, just a little, as did Astra. I knew exactly what she was thinking. This woman was ancient. She could not have birthed this man—not unless she had given birth in her seventies. She was close to ninety. I