~~/*\~~ Arit ~~/*\~~
Arit couldn’t stop smiling, even as he worked with Vede. It was odd, but the whole world seemed a little lighter. Certainly the city did. It was like there had been a malevolent presence over everything the last few weeks; and now it was gone.
Vede brought out the newest wares, setting them out on the stall table carefully. “That’s all of them. Thank you for keeping the kiln hot overnight.”
Arit nodded easily. “It’s my job, after all. You’re kind enough to let me sleep back there-”
“Oh! On that subject, this is yours.” The Potter said, pulling out a cloth bag that rang with the coins inside. “Those customers who bought out a third of our stock yesterday? I hear they were couriers for Job. They came to this stall because of you, didn’t they?”
“They wanted to know what they should bring, to help Job prepare for the visit of his family.” Arit nodded. “Mahala had sold off much of what they had left, and that wasn’t even counting the goods they had lost, or what was stolen.”
The Potter nodded. “Well, as per our agreement, you receive a cut of any business you bring. Those couriers bought out half the stall because they came over and talked to you. There were others they could have turned to, even in this market, but you’re the reason they came here.” He tossed the bag to Arit.
Arit caught it and weighed the bag in his hand. It was more coin than he’d ever held in his hand at one time. It was true that the terms of his employment allowed for ‘finders fees’, but this was more extravagant than Arit had received at any point in his life. “All this from one day?”
“It was one of our best days in years. In fact, those Couriers bought up a lot of the food and livestock for sale at the market. Everyone has extra cash, and are looking to spend. It’s turning into a very good week for most of us, seeing as we buy from each other.”
“A very good week.” A woman’s voice put in. Somewhere in their conversation, Mahala had walked up to join them. “The couriers were carrying wealth from Job’s extended family. They had orders to help replenish the flocks and livestock. After all, his brothers and sisters could either walk their entire herds here, or purchase local stock when they arrived.”
“It seems appropriate, my lady.” Arit agreed with a smile. “Especially since most of the herders and shepherds in the area received some of their breeding stock from Job’s land at some point. His flocks fed half the city, once. Many of the shepherds who graze in the lands around this city got their start that way.”
Mahala laughed delightedly. “Our lands haven’t been this lush in a long time. Apparently, having all our own herds taken or destroyed allowed the grass to recover better than anyone predicted. Job tells me the horses may be foaling early this year. We’ll have our herds growing again quicker than you think.” She gestured around town. “Especially if his family matches the generosity of the couriers they sent ahead to announce their arrival.”
“A miracle, my lady.” Arit said warmly.
“Arit, I really need you to start calling me ‘Mahala’.” She chided him with a smile. “I do believe you’re more than just a humble attendant at this point. Certainly, you mean more than that to Job and myself.”
Arit pulled his head in. “That’s… very kind of you.” He said, voice lowering. There had been a time when he had dreamed of being part of the family; with Parisha as his wife. As overjoyed as he was to see his loved ones prospering again, he knew that dream was dead and gone forever.
Mahala gave him a sentimental smile, knowing what he was thinking. “I still miss her too. I miss them all.” She admitted softly. “But whatever else, you’re part of our family now, Arit. Job has asked me to invite you back to the house, as soon as you are released from your obligations here for the day.” She glanced at Vede, and drew out a small stack of silver coins. “In fact, I would be grateful if he could come with me now?”
~~/*\~~
“After weeks of living on scraps, it almost seems indecent to have our larder full again.” Mahala told him the current state of things as they walked back to the house. “When Job’s family sent reasons on why they couldn’t come, I had thought they were rejecting his pleas for help. But every single one of them came through in the end. Almost all at once. It’s been remarkable, listening to them compare their own stories of the last few weeks. They’ve all been held up for legitimate reasons, and all of them thought the rest of the family would arrive promptly, and all of them thought the people of the City would step up to repay Job for everything he’s done for them.” She actually laughed, now that it seemed to be ending. “It’s ridiculous, the sheer number of improbabilities…”
“I think we can agree that it’s never been random misfortune.” Arit nodded agreeably. “Remember, I was there. All the survivors had the same story. Total calamity, and only one survivor to tell the tale. And all of us arriving at the same time?”
“Your life can change just that fast.” Mahala murmured, still in some degree of shock about it. “And something we never considered was the possibility that life could get better just as quickly.”
“And… it is?” Arit was hopeful.
“It’s like they’re trying to outdo each other in their shows of support.” Mahala almost laughed. “They’re all mortified that we’ve been alone all this time.” She glanced at him. “I told them we weren’t alone. We had you.”
Arit looked down, actually a little embarrassed.
“The less said about those ‘honored men’ from the city, the better.” Mahala sneered a little. “One thing I’m struck by is the difference between people who are making a show of support, and those who actually care. Job tells me his three ‘friends’ sat with him for a full week in ritual mourning, and none of them said a word the entire time. His family is here now, and they haven’t stopped.” She squeezed his hand as they walked. “We had you. And Job had God.”
“Didn’t we have Jehovah too?” He asked. “I know I prayed constantly. It seems Jehovah was listening.” He paused. “At least, it seems that way now.”
She hesitated. “I look back at the strength of my own character over the last few weeks, and I find it lacking.” She gave him a long look. “You stuck with us, despite facing your own opposition. I think you were stronger than I was.”
“I don’t think you can compare what we’ve gone through.” He reassured her. “And even if you could, this is not a competition.”
“Then what was it?” Mahala wondered philosophically.
Arit had no answer to that. Job had related his whole conversation with Jehovah Himself, but there had been no explanation of why any of it was happening. It was the question at the heart of their entire trial, and it still went unanswered.
By this time, they had reached the house. Job was dressed in his fine clothes again, his health and strength restored. There was a long table brought outside, and it was covered in plates of food, half eaten. The crowd of people were all reclined around it, taking a bite now and then, but all eyes were on Job.
As they came closer, Arit could hear their conversations. They were sharing stories of the children, examples of Job’s generosity and good nature, as well as testimonials of all the times their brother had helped them. The feeling was emotional. They were all related to Job’s children, even if they didn’t see them every day.
Job saw them coming. “Ah! Everyone, this is Arit. He was one of our attendants, and one of the lone survivors of that day. After we lost everything, this man had to find other work, and in spite of being warned, even threatened to avoid me? He spent almost every coin he got, keeping myself and Mahala fed during our darkest hours. He is almost the only man who still gave us his full financial and emotional support.”
The entire extended family stood and turned to Arit, crowding around him immediately. Arit was overwhelmed by the sudden rush, as applause rang out. He was embraced by a dozen virtual strangers in turn, money was put into his hands, as was a cup of wine. There were voices offering thanks, pledging rewards, and it all seemed to come from every direction at once.
After weeks of suffocating silence, this kind of enthusiasm was almost scary, but he made every effort to go along with it until Mahala called him into the house to help prepare further refreshments.
She took a platter out, and Arit got to work on the next one, when Job came in. “While we’ve got privacy…”
Arit laughed a bit. “Better to be crushed with kindness than the alternative, my lord.”
Job grinned. “I agree. Believe me, I’ve tried both.” He snatched a quick bite of food. His appetite had returned too. He was far less weak and bowed than he’d been even a few days before. “So, let’s talk about you.”
“Me?” Arit blinked.
“Well, my family is kindly restoring my flocks and livestock. Even out of season, some of the animals are already pregnant.” He gestured at the larder. “All our stocks are back. My siblings have granted me a loan, and apparently my name is worth something in town again. They’re even organizing work parties to rebuild the houses.”
“Barat’s house?” Arit was surprised.
“All of them.” Job nodded. “And they’re needed. After all, I supported several families or people in need. My wife tells me they’re all turning to Baal worship in times of desperation. My own circumstances weren’t the only ones made worse by the tragedies that struck us.” Job looked at him. “And that brings me to you, Arit.”
“If you’re suggesting I come back to work for you, then you should know I never really left.” Arit smiled.
“I don’t want you to take your old job back. You were an attendant to one of our children. As we have none anymore…” Job took a breath. “I need someone to manage my assets, now that I have some. I’d like it to be you.”
Arit dropped the knife. “Me?” He rasped, surprise making him nearly mute. “Honored sir, I was one of the lowest ranked employees in your service. I helped muck out the stables, or wherever else someone needed a hand, not…” He swallowed hard. “You’ve just barely gotten any assets back. Putting me in authority over them…”
“You can handle it.” Job assured him.
“...I don’t think I can.” Arit admitted in a small voice.
“You know how many times I wondered if I could ‘handle it’ the last few weeks?” Job held up a hand. “And before you say it, I know this is a different situation, but it requires the same response.” Job caught his shoulders and looked deep in the younger man’s eyes. “You have proven your character in a time of great trial. Your worth has been shown as something far better than other servants of Jehovah that I’ve known.”
“You taught me well.” Arit offered. “But I’m not qualified-”
“Not yet. Neither was Barat, when I began training him to take over.” Job said warmly. “You are qualified by the right condition in your heart, and by loyalty to me in times of hardship. I can teach you what you need to know. Jehovah can make you ready for the rest. Mahala agrees. She suggested you, in fact. I think you have helped lighten the load for her during all this. Of course we’re going to return the kindness you’ve shown us.”
“You taught me everything that mattered in the last few weeks of my life, sir.” Arit promised. “I… I can’t promise I will succeed, but I vow I will do everything I can to learn my new lessons well.”
“When you go back to town, tell Vede that your time with him ends soon, and take Barat’s house for yourself when it’s fully restored.” Job told him. “Also, I have made mention to my family of how you made an effort to support us during this whole affair. They feel you should be rewarded. You’ll find gifts of wealth, spices, various wares, and promissory notes for livestock and horses of your own.”
It was the second allusion in as many minutes that suggested Job now considered Arit as his own son. Arit swallowed the emotion, and bowed. “I am… quite overwhelmed. And I’m grateful to you, my lord.”
Job nodded, and returned to his guests.
Arit’s hands were shaking as he picked up the knife and started working again. The platter of food suddenly looked different. It had been seven seconds since he’d paused work on it. A lot had changed since then.
Jehovah God, he prayed earnestly. I would never have asked for that. Not after all of this. I still don’t know why this happened to Job, but I know that You are going to save him, bring him back to what he was… Probably bless him even more. I don’t want to be the one that messes that up for him and Mahala. Not when things are finally getting better.
So I beg for one blessing only, my God: Make me equal to this task. Bless my efforts on behalf of this family.
Please.
Amen.
~~/*\~~ Cory ~~/*\~~
“Why am I here?” His brother asked him, voice low.
“Because I invited you, and you were dumb enough to listen.” Cory grinned. “Look, I came back here because this place has provided something I needed.”
“What’s that?”
“Forgiveness. Compassion. Value.” Cory said simply. “A sense that I mattered to God, and to… well, to them.” He almost smiled. “The Twelve Step Programs? They provide mutual support and a sympathetic crowd, but there’s a reason why the second ‘A’ is for ‘Anonymous’. The people there are united by something they dislike about themselves.” He gestured around the Hall. “These people are united by something far more positive.”
“I guess, but saying ‘it’s more warm and fuzzy than an AA meeting’ isn’t as big a deal as you seem to think.” Dwight retorted. “I’ve been to church before. The chairs here look more comfortable than pews, and the people are dressed better, but-” He trailed off, suddenly noticing the audience.
Cory said nothing, letting his brother look. They watched the audience. Dozens of people, hurrying to speak to each other. All of them were smiling. Some were greeting each other with tight hugs. The groups weren’t cliquish, either. People walking past got roped into quick chats, there were groups chatting with different races, different ages…
“The Churches we went to weren’t like this.” Cory told Dwight, who couldn’t help the nod.
Marco came over at that moment, with a big smile. “Cory, good to see you.” He greeted. “This must be your brother?”
Introductions were made, and they made conversation until the meeting started. Dwight behaved himself, though Cory noticed his brother was trying to hide a little in the crowd. He kept brushing at his jeans, and trying to fold his feet under his chair during the public talk, fiddling with a small stain on his t-shirt.
He’s feeling awkward because his casual clothing stands out. Cory realized, smothering a grin. Well, there are worse things to feel awkward about at your first meeting.
~~/*\~~
When the meeting ended, he was eager to hear what his brother thought, but left him in the company of a few sisters. He had business to discuss with Brother Rennie.
“Sure you want to leave your brother alone?” Marco asked quietly.
“I left him with three women. Believe me, he’ll behave himself for long enough.” Cory drawled, spotting Rennie over by the door. He went over. “Afternoon, Brother Rennie.”
Rennie beamed. “Cory, welcome back. I noticed you brought a friend along.”
“My brother. It’s his first meeting.” Cory agreed. “I find it’s a very different experience, listening to a public talk when you’ve got someone else along for the first time.”
“It’s a feeling we can all relate to.” Rennie agreed. “It’s not often someone has that experience so soon, my friend.”
“Well, not to minimize that, but there’s something I wanted your advice on, out in my car.” Cory nodded, sending a hopeful glance at Marco.
~~/*\~~
Outside the Hall, Marco helped him hold the package steady, while Cory took the cover off. It was one of Cory’s Paradise paintings. Rennie saw it and his eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly. A moment later he was leaning closer, studying every detail. The reaction was gratifying to watch, for the artist.
“So.” Cory said finally. “Would you be interested in having it?”
Rennie grinned. “As much as I’d like to say yes, I can’t really afford it.”
“I meant for the Hall.” Cory nodded.
Rennie’s face changed. “We do have artworks in the Hall, but they were here before I arrived. I honestly don’t know what the procedure is for buying decorations… It might be up to the Elders, or it might be up to the Branch… Things are donated, of course; but I don’t think there’s ever been a donation of such a thing from someone who isn’t a Witness themselves.”
“Well, funny you should mention that.” Cory said brightly. “Because it’s probably time I started working on that.”
Rennie beamed. “Really? That’s great news!” He glanced at Marco, who was also smiling. “How are the studies going?”
“A little more ground to cover, but he’s got a clear understanding of most of the points that apply to him.” Marco agreed. “I think the next convention is too close, but the one after it is a lock.”
“I’ll have to change some of my shifts around, to make it easier to attend the meetings, but that’s doable.” Cory nodded. “Though I’ll admit, I’m still terrified of witnessing.”
“You get used to it.” Marco and Rennie said, then laughed at the ‘chorus’.
Rennie looked back to the painting, eyes lighting up as he examined it further. “Cory, I said I wasn’t certain of the procedure, but do you mind if I take this inside anyway? I’d love to show it to a few people.”
“Please.” Cory agreed, quietly thrilled at the reaction, and they made their way back inside the Hall.
“Cory...” Marco called him back, giving them a moment to speak privately. “You know most of what you need to know, to become a Witness. The rest we can cover in a few weeks. But there’s still one thing you haven’t ‘corrected’ about your own life.”
“Oh?” Cory was surprised. “What’s that?”
“You remember when you canceled your study over a… ‘disagreement’, regarding Saul?”
Cory winced. “I have apologized for that a dozen times.”
“Not what I mean.” Marco pulled out his phone and flicked through the verses until he found what he was looking for. “But all those hearing him were astonished and were saying: “Is this not the man who ravaged those in Jerusalem who call on this name? Did he not come here for the purpose of arresting them and taking them to the chief priests?”.”
Cory blinked, waiting for the point. “Yeah?”
“Paul was a changed man. It happened fast. But being accepted by others? By the people he had hurt? That could have been a real problem, given the damage he’d done beforehand.”
Cory groaned, suddenly getting it. “Right.”
“It’s no secret that your problem with the idea of God forgiving Paul had little to do with the man himself.” Marco said gently.
“...You saying I can’t become a Witness until I’ve forgiven my father.” Cory said in a low voice.
“I’m not saying that at all.” Marco promised him. “I’m saying that we are told, in the Bible, to look at people the way God looks at them. Jesus was begging God to forgive the soldiers that strung him up, while he was being tortured to death. Paul, of all people, knew the power inherent in forgiveness. If Paul had been told that he couldn’t ever come back after what he’d done, how many people would have missed out on hearing his preaching? And we have to become imitators of him, just as he was of Christ.”
~~/*\~~
Peyton adjusted his tie. “Are we sure this isn’t a joke? Or a trick, to get us to come to one of these conventions?”
Sabrina tried to speak discreetly, but the background noise from the crowd meant she had to shout to be heard anyway. “He was specific. He had something he wanted to show us, and the place is only open on convention days.”
Dwight nodded. “It’s the first convention here. They just finished construction a few months ago.”
“You know what this is about?” Peyton accused.
“I do.” Dwight nodded, pleased to know something his parents didn’t. “Try to be happy for your son, dad. Just one time? If you don’t enjoy it, we won’t force you to pretend for long.”
“Fine.” Peyton sighed. “At least you were good enough to dress for the occasion.”
This was true. Dwight had seen how under-dressed he was at the regular weekend meetings. For the convention, he’d shaved and worn his best suit. He fit right in, both with his family, and with the audience.
“They all know each other?” Sabrina observed, looking at the people around them. They were all shuffling into the auditorium, but a lot of them were stopping to talk to people, embracing friends they met along the way.
“Apparently.” Peyton nodded, until he saw his son. “There’s Cory.”
The family wandered over to Cory, who was standing and talking to Marco. They were standing by the auditorium doors, before a large painting. There were almost a dozen people standing around it, not together, just enjoying the picture. The image painted was of a group of people, all young and vibrant. Nature surrounded the table, with animals unafraid of the people on one side; and flowers growing at the other, with bright radiant sunlight shining on them from a misty mountain range.
“Why are we here?” Peyton asked as they came over.
“Hello, dad.” Cory said wryly. “Welcome to the convention. Why yes, I’m fine; thank you.”
Peyton waved that off. “Yes, yes. We weren’t invited to make small talk.” He gestured at the crowd. “I told you we were not interested in any of this. But you insisted, and we came.”
“I wanted to show you this painting.” Cory gestured at the large artwork on the wall. “It’s depicting the Bible’s description of a Paradise Earth. It’s the hope of a future where nobody ever gets sick, or hungry, or poor, or old. A world where there’s no war, no prejudice, no death.” Cory took a breath. “And I painted it myself.”
Peyton, who was about to say something cutting about such an obvious fairy tale, was caught off guard by that, and raised an eyebrow. “You painted this?”
“It’s beautiful.” Sabrina offered, glancing sideways at some of the people who were pausing in their passage to admire the artwork. “It seems to be popular, too.”
“I’ve painted several Paradise scenes.” Cory told his father. “Two are hanging up in the Kingdom Hall where I’ve been going to meetings since I was baptized. Someone noticed them and asked where they came from; which is how the third came to be included here.”
“Ahh, I see. An exhibition work.” His father nodded, almost pleased. “It’s a good idea. You target a niche audience; then you paint a scene that these people in particular would respond to, and then you hang the artwork where your target demographic can’t help but see it. Have you received any commissions yet?”
Marco smothered a smirk. Cory rolled his eyes. “No, father. You see, this was a donation. I donated them all, free of charge. This one was given anonymously.”
Peyton blinked. “Of course you did.” He sighed. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Do you know why I painted this, father?” Cory asked, unconcerned at the look of disappointment returning his way. “Because the more I studied, the more real this… this hope, came to be. I wanted to see it more clearly, so I turned my imagination into visualization, and here it is. When I hung the first one in our Hall, two different people came over to thank me; because they found it easier to visualize the future themselves. Why would I charge them for that?”
Marco spoke before Peyton could argue. “Inside that auditorium are thousands of people that hold onto this image, because this shared hope is what sees them through every trial, every loss, every pain. Your son has made it easier to hold on to hope.”
“And I loved doing it.” Cory said, as though he’d been holding it in for months. “It was… Good. It makes me happy, doing this. Even if I don’t get paid. I have a job for that. Adding something beautiful, encouraging, and hopeful to the world? And being happy doing it? Why is that not enough?”
Peyton was unmoved. “Because-”
“And before you start the same speech you’ve been giving me since I was in college-” Cory interrupted. “I know you don’t agree. But it’s my belief that it’s enough to add something good to the world; just to make the world better. I believe that money isn’t a measure of anything’s worth beyond its cost. I believe that when I’m old and gray, I’d prefer looking back on a life I’ve enjoyed; more than having a house full of possessions. And I believe that real love is not be conditional on value or earning potential.” He spread his hands wide. “These beliefs are the result of years of study, and no small amount of soul searching. Those… certainties, are why I was baptized as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses; because I’m holding onto that hope too.”
Noise came from the doors to the auditorium, as the microphones on stage came to life. “Brothers and sisters, the program will begin in five minutes. You may wish to make your way to your seats.”
Cory took the cue. “I’d love to share that encouragement with you.” He made the invitation. “If not, I appreciate your coming. Because I’m really proud of this work.”
“Well, thank you for the invitation, but I have things to do today.” Peyton said politely. “And it is impressive work. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He shook his son’s hand. “Dinner at six, of course.”
“Of course.” Cory said with a sigh, but he wasn’t surprised. “I’ll be there. I… have some other things that I’d like to discuss with you. Just so you know, I may be a little late tonight. The Program ends at five.”
“Then leave early, because Dinner is at six.” Peyton turned to head for the exit, when he noticed Sabrina and Dwight weren’t with him. He looked back to see Dwight still gazing at the painting. He’d been so quiet that everyone had almost forgotten he was there.
Dwight was looking at the artwork. Sabrina was looking at the other people. They’d all heard the announcement to head for their seats, but they were still pausing to take pictures, or even pose with the artwork. All of them were smiling at it, the image drawing them in.
Dwight noticed one of the women looking wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “My big brother painted it.” He told them with a grin.
“It’s wonderful.” The woman told him immediately. “Give him my compliments. Tell him he’s very talented.”
“I will.” Dwight promised, and almost followed the pretty woman into the auditorium automatically. His mother hooked his arm in hers and led the way out, but she was smiling too.
~/*\~~/*\~~/*\~
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