Pearls and Presence, Chapter Seven- Bitter

Once upon a starry and lonely night, when the Accuser was whispering promises into my ear, I gave him the key to the door of this empire just as I had given him the pearl. And that very night he locked it and hid away the key from me. He is so close to me now, and I see it there hanging from a string around his neck as he leans over me. And there in the tallest room of the tallest tower of my empire I am finally overcome by the Enemy. I get what I deserve. All the things I built walls up against to keep out, they are all visited upon me in full force at that moment. All the things I feared, they all came true. My idols are gone, and my Accuser was right. And this is the dark night of the soul, and I cannot escape my mistakes or undo my choices.

Who can save me?

~*~

Maras’ eyes were closed, and the craving she felt was all-consuming as she bowed low before her idols. It had been so long since she had worshiped here. All the pent-up energy came exuding from her being. Her hope was electric with anticipation.

“This is the moment you have been dreaming of, Mara, when you will get what you have always wanted.” Achor knew exactly what she needed to hear. His knowledge came from the many years of walking with her, listening to her talk and studying her habits and behaviors and choices. He knew her better than she knew herself.

“You will finally have companions on the island. You have given them your complete trust now, it is finished!” The power of his influence over Mara in this moment came from the many years of her choosing his companionship, allowing herself to walk with him, listening to him talk, and looking frequently into his accusing eyes for answers.

She was so convinced of her happiness that she hardly notice when Achor moved close to her and crouched down right next to her prostrated figure. He pressed his hand lightly on her back and whispered, “Give the necklace to me and you will have what you deserve. I know what to do next.” 

She wanted so badly to believe that his words were good, because his was the only voice she ever heard on the lonely island. So Mara lifted up her right arm, hands clasped around the pearl necklace, extended it towards him, and it fell through her open fingers into his hands.

The moment it happened she felt all the power go out from within her. That very second she realized she had totally destroyed her illusions.

She finally saw that her idols were false, and that they were made of nothing more than masks and fears and lies.

She wanted to take it back.

But it was too late.

What was done could not be undone.

He stood up with a victorious laugh, and then stepped between Mara and her idols. She felt his cold shadow fall over her, and regret manifested in her body. Mara looked up and saw that he was clutching the pearl necklace tightly and mocking her with accusing eyes- his voice was no longer encouraging, but full of selfish delight.

“I have waited years for this moment. I have been searching for the pearl of great price among your roses day after day after day. And now you just hand it to me of your own free will!”

He laughed and looked closely at her. Then he spoke with great clarity- “Always remember what you have done. You chose this by your own doing, Mara. This is your fault and you should be so ashamed.” That word burned like fire in her soul. “You have given me authority over your greatest treasure. Me, your lifelong Adversary and Accuser. And so now you will get what you truly deserve, what you have worked for all these years without even realizing it”.

And with one fell swoop he turned and smashed all the beautiful idols, the ones that represented the things she desired to love. They shattered into a million broken pieces on the floor around her. And even though she knew they were false, made of insecurity, instability and deception, even still Mara cried out in despair, reaching forward helplessly to stop the destruction.

The remnants of her idols were scattered everywhere, impossible to repair.

She had loved them so deeply that she would now mourn them like a dead brother. The tears began instantly, threatening to choke her with sorrow.

Achor turned back to watch her reaction and towered over her prostrate figure with haughty laughter.

“You are mine now. There is nothing left for you. This is what you deserve. This is what you asked for. This is your fault. And now you are going to pay the price for what you have done.” There was an almost drunken malice emanating from Achor as he towered over Mara, who was cowering on the ground.

In an instant of broken repentance she thought of the sea, and she knew she needed to escape the Valley and seek refuge by the ocean. But the darkness was so vast and the valley walls were so high and the way was blocked.

Achor was holding hostage her pearl of great price, clutching it in his tight fist, laughing at her. She put her head in her hands and grieved- I surrendered my gift and now I cannot take it back, I gave it carelessly away without even the slightest regard for its true value.

And in a flash she remembered the wild and regal Man in white, the one from her dream. She knew instinctively that she must go to Him. Somehow she knew this to be a fact; it was a call from deep inside her soul.

It was the first absolute truth she had believed in many years.

With a new hope Mara tried to get up from the floor, but Achor knocked her back. He was powerful now, strong and aggressive and in full control. He knew her every weakness and turned upon each one of them.

“It is too late, your mistake is permanent.” Achor declared triumphantly.

And he was right, it was too late for her. Now, by her own doing, she was completely at the mercy of her enemy’s authority. Nothing was left of the audacious gentleman he had been- he now stood before her revealed as his truest self, the Prince of Darkness. The one she had foolishly trusted with her greatest gift.

 “What has been set in motion cannot be undone. You have destroyed your future here. This is all your fault. This is why your name will always be Mara- bitter. These idols could never love you, and now all false hope is destroyed. No more pretense- yours forever will be a cup of bitterness.”

And as she cowered beneath the cutting accusations, Achor descended upon her with all the force of knowledge and power. He forcefully stripped Mara of all the things she held dear. He took away her dignity, her identity, her ambitions, her pride, her desires, her hopes, her dreams, her self-worth. All were lost.

She was weeping with regret and grief, and he laughed at her tears and slapped them. Her repentance only fueled his violence. He unleased the full extent of the consequences upon her with delighted malice. He declared all the unspoken truths about her failures. He used the power of shame to ravage her entire being.

Mara helplessly wept at the painful revelations that came to her awareness. Salt and water fell and her heart and mind were invaded with unbearable grief. Her entire self was violated and broken.

When it was over, Achor turned away in disgust at her absolute helplessness. His fury was spent, all truth had been told, and now his breathing slowed. He looked once more at her with haughty disdain and spoke his final farewell. His voice had returned to normal.

“I am leaving you now, Mara.” It was said with unfeeling finality. “This destruction will last a lifetime; my presence is no longer necessary. The consequences of your choices will be enough to carry on my work here for many years to come. You carry bitterness within you now. That bitterness will grow and then in due time it will give birth to anger. And anger will grow into hate, which will become your next and final companion.”

Achor smiled coyly, giving one final declaration of truth- “In time you will come to trust hatred just as you have trusted me. As always, you carelessly give trust to those who do not earn it. Your honesty and transparency have always been your greatest weakness. This is why you will need anger to survive from now on.” His tone had returned to normal and his eyes gleamed with deep satisfaction.

And he turned on his heel, throwing the pearls into the wreckage as if they were worthless trash. And then he walked away from her without so much as a backward glance.

Mara lay there in abject humiliation, broken on the floor, vulnerable and exposed, covered with shame and tears.

She had given deep and intimate trust away and it had been used against her. This was to be her eternal shame.

And for days and days she cried, wandering aimlessly among the broken idols there in the Valley of Achor. She could not sleep, eat, be happy or feel joy. She did not know where to go or what to do. Her only emotions were doubt, fear, worry and regret. Anxiety had replaced accusation, and her mind replayed her mistakes over and over and over again, until she wanted to die.

This was the dark night of the soul.

Where hopes and dreams and love once rested in Mara’s heart, now there was only an empty hole that would slowly fill to overflowing with bitterness and anger as time passed.

Her mind endured ravenous, endless warfare. There was a permanent seed of hatred within her being. She could not live with herself now.

But as she lay herself down among the broken idols, determined for her suffering to be over and so deciding to lie down in her mistakes and never get up from them again, the wind changed course.

The same breeze that met Mara on the shore of the sea now made its way over the land towards where she lay in the depths below. For the first time, the sea breeze wafted down into the valley, bringing the smell of peppermint and lavender.

Mara opened her weary, tear filled eyes and looked up.

She could hear a small bright sound, like tiny wind-chimes. The gentle wind brought with it the most sea spray Mara had even seen. It came in over the high walls of the Valley in great drafts, gathering and billowing into a great mist of sparkling light. It gently floated downward towards her. She watched with wonder as it settled all over and around her. The mist was glowing and covering her entire being, and she could feel that it brought healing with it.

As she breathed it in, she felt something tight and hard beginning to uncoil inside of her.

Mara closed her eyes and cried again, but the tears were different now, free and healing. As the mist settled over her, Mara lost track of time, drifted off and and slept a peaceful and dreamless sleep for the first time in many days. Instead of frightening dreams, tranquil visions of hope filled the empty spaces within her as she rested.

When she awoke, the mist was gone and she had been clothed in a billowing white dress, unlike anything she had ever seen. She was radiant and beautiful, fully restored and completely healed. She could feel that her power and divinity had returned to her.

And a Man was there kneeling close beside her, leaning over her prostrate figure, smiling lovingly into her face. His face was beautiful and kind and benevolent. He was also dressed in shining white, and He touched her forehead and He called her beloved.

He was wild and majestic and his dark hair was untamed.

“My Redeemer,” Mara whispered in shock and awe.

Mara forgot all sense of fear when she looked up into His eyes. When He touched her forehead she noticed her reflection in his eyes and saw that she was very beautiful.

His gaze reflected both the moonlight and the bright sun, dark brown orbs with endless radiant depths.

The perfect contour of his face, the dark, smooth skin, and unruly dark hair which haphazardly framed his regal face made for a striking appearance.  He was unkempt, and yet His looks were stunningly dignified.  For a brief moment she was transfixed by His overwhelming beauty, but she quickly remembered her shame when she caught sight of the broken idols all around His feet.

“Oh, my God!” Her regret was both physical and emotional.

This Man from her dream was standing right in the midst of her foolish brokenness.

Mara pushed herself up onto her knees and knelt before Him, her long brown hair spilling all around and covering His bare feet. She pressed her forehead to the ground before him and sobbed in repentance, pushing the broken pieces away from him. A new wave of grief crashed over her.

“Oh, I am so sorry, please forgive me, I was so foolish, I am so sorry. I was wrong, this is all my fault. I am so ashamed. God forgive me. I shall have no other gods before You. I will worship only You.” She was weeping again, hot tears of regret, frantically scratching away the mess from all around Him.

“Beloved. Be still. Stop striving.”

He reached down and touched the top of her head with his fingers ever so lightly.  Immediately her tears stopped and her hands ceased their movement. She looked up, her hair falling back behind her, and found herself once again staring into his eternal expression.

What she saw there eased her shame.  Somehow the world seemed to stand still when she was gazing at the moon and sun that shone in his face.  Her fear dissipated with a foreign feeling she couldn’t explain except to call it joy, which made no sense in light of the destruction all around her. 

She said nothing, but waited for His next command, trembling slightly.  Overtaken with conflicting emotions, Mara was transfixed by a solitary tear which traced silently down his cheek.

He was crying for her…

~*~

Join me next time for chapter eight! 

www.persuasiveabundance.com

To go back to the beginning of this story, click here.

To read my personal confession of redeeming love, click here.

With deepest gratitude for all my readers- 

Rebecca

Pearls and Presence, Chapter Three- Remnants

In the tallest room of the tallest tower are my precious idols. This is where I spend most of my time in worship. I fashioned these idols carefully so that they would be everything I ever wanted, and I wait for them to love me back. I pick them up and turn them over and over in my hands, trying to make them love me. I press them to my heart and kiss them and speak words of adoration. I serve them, I devote my time and energy to them, I sacrifice my life for them. But it is never enough, and I keep giving more and more and hoping for them to reply. But these idols are made of stone. They are perfect, beautiful, cold, and lifeless. They are also safe, because they cannot hurt me, they cannot walk away from me, they cannot reject or abandon me.  They are on a pedestal, and they are mine.

Who will love me?

~*~

Mara pushed the heavy cart away from the house, over several mounds of sandy, grassy earth to the well-worn stone path, rolling the squeaky, wooden wheels over the rocky path towards the beach.  She moved rather quickly, wanting to avoid the guilt which followed closely behind.  Mara turned back just once to see if Achor had left.

  He was still standing in the same spot looking after her, a satisfied look on his face. Several rejected flower petals were scattered on the ground at his feet, glowing bright white and abandoned against the dark soil. Achor stood there by her vineyard, watching her until she was out of sight. Then he turned and walked silently back to the shadows of the Valley.

Mara looked down at the broken, mangled roses. She felt conflicted. She realized she might not see him for several days now. When he retreated, that was always when her vigor for writing returned to her in full measure. But then, eventually, the absence of Achor would make her lonely and she would run out of things to write, and then like clockwork he would return to her side without a word, somehow already knowing that she was lonely and missed his influence.

Mara was loath to admit that when she sent him away it left a hole in her life. She had come to depend on his attentive presence. At times she was secretly glad for the way his criticism motivated her to attain perfection.

And now she couldn’t shake the haunting truth of the words Achor had said to her before Mara departed. “You mismanage the white roses and make so many mistakes with them.”

The shaming words followed her with every step she took. There was so much truth in his condemnation. Painful truth- the kind that goes unaddressed for many years through denial and avoidance.

That night when she got home, Mara was able to compose many powerful words in her journal, ones which told the story of past hurts and present hopes. Writing was the healing balm for the doubts that Achor had inflicted on her heart.

~*~

A few days later Mara was feeling especially motivated and got an early start towards the beach. It was then that she noticed that more seagulls were in the air than usual. 

She was going to her normal spot to search for breakfast, and brought along her cart in case she found any unusual treasures to carry home. She never knew what the ocean would leave behind on its shores- rare rocks, shells, or driftwood, pieces of lost treasures- delightful relics of ancient stories that she would never know...

…broken and fragmented remnants of the past that had been broken and refined by the intentional and consistent pressure of the rolling sea. 

Bits of worn-out stories that had been made new by a powerfully destructive love.

She pushed her cart across the stony road while avoiding precarious ruts and rocks on the path. On each side of the pathway stood tall seaside grasses which moved with even the slightest breeze.  The trail came close to the shores of the bay, and the familiar smell of seashells and driftwood reached her nose as she came closer to the beach.  A gap between the rolling hills allowed a wide view of the coastline. 

Mara looked out on the water, remembering again the floating object she had seen there several nights ago.  Had it been a whale, or was it indeed a boat?  She found herself slowing down to study the rolling motion of the water, searching for the unexpected.

          As the empty wooden cart bounced over the sandy road, she thought again of the wild and majestic man in white from her dream.  Though she knew it was an empty curiosity, she stared intently in all directions, walking slower to take everything in around her.  What she was looking for, she didn’t know for sure. 

          Forging ahead, she turned away from the tiny path and continued on her way down the hill through uncharted grasses.  As Mara approached the sand, she noticed a group of seagulls suddenly take flight into the air on the opposite side of the beach, squawking loudly in protest.  They flew up from their nesting area, which was blocked from her view by another grassy hill on her left.  The tall dry grass tickled her ankles as she strode down the hill. 

As she came closer to the water, a sudden gust of salty air blew her gold-spun brown hair off her shoulders. With brazen freedom her dress billowed out, molding to her legs in front and trying to take flight behind her.  She put her hand on her head to hold down her over-sized tan sunhat, which she always wore to keep the sun off her face, and pressed her other hand to her heart. Her eyes closed and she paused to honor the current of the air. 

She was a picture of regal repose.

          The ocean stretched out before her so far that she couldn't quite differentiate it from the sky where they kissed on the horizon.  A light mist hovered over the water, the ghost of clouds which had been there in the early morning, before being burned off by the heat of the morning sun.  Several feet below the bluff on which she stood lay the sandy beach, where the waves crashed freely against the shore, unrestrained and powerful.

She felt the familiar longing to dig her toes into the warm sand and just sit idly by, watching the endless ocean stretch out before her.  She wanted to lay there on the sand and simply enjoy her existence within the natural world. She wanted to stand with her hands lifted up to the sky and sing. She wanted to sit and meditate on the vastness of the sea. 

The shore had always been her inspiration for writing, and perhaps, thought Mara, that was just what she needed to find something new to compose.

Glancing up at the sun and shielding her eyes, she saw that she still had time before the day was too warm to forage the shore. So feeling suddenly ambitious, she took off her shoes and abandoned them and the empty cart at the top of the bluff so she could wander freely and unhindered along the beach.  

She jumped down the short, rocky embankment to the sand below, and the sand crunched delightfully under her bare feet where she landed. The pressure of her steps made cracks in the soft dried sand and left a trail of imprints behind her.  She walked across the beach until her toes met the foamy edges of the tide.  

She paused and stood there, breathing in the fresh, salty air and listening to the sounds of the waves breaking on the shore.  She tilted her head back so that her profile was kissed by the bright sunlight.

She closed her eyes, brought her hands together at heart center and raised her soul up to the surface of her awareness, drawing it out into the light. And for a moment she was at peace and all was well. She smiled with deep joy. 

But then, pulled by the weary habit of worn repetition, her mind drifted back to Achor, and her soul receded and her countenance fell.

And then without warning something cold and clinging touched her feet, enveloping them with a groping heaviness.

          Gasping and stepping back, she saw that there, swishing back and forth in the tide, was a large, broken stalk of seaweed. Tangled in its mass of cold tentacles was a discarded string of pearls, bright and shining, peeking out from within.

          “When did this thing get here?” she asked out loud. Curious, Mara reached to pick up a stick of driftwood that lay a few feet away on the sand and used it to drag the massive stalk away from the tide.  It was heavy, a great clump of water-logged kelp leaves, so that she had to drag it very slowly and with much effort. 

When it was on higher ground away from the water, she caught her breath and paused to stare down at the string of white which peeked out from within. It stood in stark contrast to the dark oily green of the plant. Mara slowly got on her knees and bent cautiously over the tangled mess, using the stick to lift some leaves up in order to reveal more of the strange treasure. 

It was radiantly bright, and it was crafted so expertly that Mara couldn’t imagine how human hands could have done it.  Nothing on the island could explain this. She sat back on her heels and stared in wonderment. Her mind raced to understand. She blinked several times in confusion and then continued to poke and prod the entangled necklace this way and that.

She discovered small letters on one of the pearls- Tirzah.

“Tirzah” she read it aloud. She had meant to whisper, but it came out abruptly as a loud and powerful declaration which echoed and bounced back at her off the rocky cliffs. 

And as she spoke the word it was startling and invasive, like a foreign voice that breaks and shatters the total silence.  

The entire flock of gulls on the other side of the beach took off suddenly from their nesting ground, abandoning their young and calling shrilly to one another in excitement. They flew up to land on the cliffs above and settled in to observe Mara from a safe distance, watching her with curious animal eyes to see what she would do next with this mysterious and tangled remnant from the past...

~*~

Join me here next time for chapter four! 

www.persuasiveabundance.com

To go back to the beginning of this story, click here.

To read my public confession of redeeming love, click here.

With deepest gratitude for all my readers- 

Rebecca

Pearls and Presence, Chapter Two- Forbidden

The Accuser lives here with me, and I don’t know how he got in except that I must have left a window open. I don’t like him here, but at least he keeps his distance most of the time. I have come to tolerate him. Only I don’t like that he always watches me, and sometimes he walks with me. He is often nearby but rarely speaks. Occasionally he will offer a brief suggestion. I feel that he is waiting, but I don’t know for what. I accept him because I don’t know how to make him leave. Usually he does not scare me. Only sometimes I do wish he would leave. Other times I am glad for a companion in this vast and empty place.

Why am I lonely?

~*~

          Knowing that she must protect her vineyard from her neighbors’ prying hands, Mara rapidly moved through her morning routine. She changed quickly into a tan, cotton dress which flowed gently to her ankles, sprinkled with tiny yellow rosebuds so small that it was difficult to tell what they were unless one looked close.  She glanced in the mirror, stood tall and approved of her dignified and courtly appearance. Although she was a very beautiful girl, she never thought so of herself.  She knew she was decent, presentable, with the appropriate touch of pride when she lifted her chin. She accepted her appearance matter-of-factly, nothing more and nothing less for this princess of the light, for she did not ever allow herself the luxury of arrogance.  Such reserved and simple self-perceptions were reinforced by her long, voluntary solitude on the island.

          Therefore Mara took no more time looking in the mirror than was necessary to pull her waist length, golden-brown hair into a high bun, secure it firmly with pins, and then hastily splash her face with cool water from the wooden basin which she had placed on her nightstand.  She rushed out of her room with an air of graceful hurry, flying down the steps to the kitchen.  She pulled up a stool and ate quickly, as she did not want to face her unwelcome visitor without the basic sustenance to rebuke him.

     Then she pushed open the front door and allowed the morning light to greet her with the kiss of the salty ocean breeze. She was drawn out by the sound of waves as they applauded her appearance. The sunlight made a faint golden halo around her head where it struck her light brown hair from just the right angle.

          The day was warm and the sun was bright.  Clusters of giant white tugboat clouds moved across the blue sky, reflecting their images in the pools of water that had formed in some nearby marshes.  Already, many birds out on the water were diving and scooping up beaks full of sea life to bring back to their young.  Turning her face away from the sun, Mara shaded her eyes and spotted the intruder in the north garden, leaning over a large cluster of white blossoms.  He appeared to be examining their leaves, and a small pile of uprooted roses sat in a cart behind him.

Even from a distance, his charisma and attractive physical features were apparent. His name was Achor. He lived in the valley neighboring her home, and he was the keeper of the idols, those lifeless objects which were the source of Mara’s shame.

She had never learned why Achor first came to her island, except that his purpose in life was to follow her around in close observation of her every move, accusing her of things and questioning her motives. There was a great deal left to criticize, after all.

He especially liked to remind her about the idols he saved for her in the Valley. She didn’t like this topic and refused to discuss it with him. It still brought her great inner pain and turmoil. Occasionally he would offer a brief suggestion about returning to visit the idols for worship, and that always made her feel deeply conflicted. He would remind her that she had not worshiped at those altars in so long, and he would look at her with condemning eyes. And her heart would threaten to break again.

His eyes were always knowing, charming, searching. And they made her completely forget her own Divine inner power.

Achor was a gentleman, despite his sometimes irreverant disposition. But there was one exception to his gallantry- when he pried into her vineyard of white roses it was the only time he directly opposed her wishes and invaded her personal space. Just as he was doing now. Otherwise he never too closely imposed himself where he was not wanted- he knew better.

He made it obvious that he didn’t like her white roses and often searched violently among them, pulling off the ones he didn’t like. He was looking for something- she wouldn’t ask what, she would just order him to get out. And he did- only to return at a later time when she least expected it and her guard was down. She often forgot to shield herself from his influence.

She hurried over the sandy grass to her rose garden, her dress billowing in a sudden gust of soft sea breeze.  There was a warning in the air even now, but she ignored it in her haste. As Mara approached him, she made a mental note not to think of her dream.  He could not read her mind, but Achor was very skilled at reading her face, and she knew the dream would translate as fear in her expression. 

He didn’t look up from the flowers in front of him when Mara spoke.

“Excuse me,” she said firmly, planting her feet and crossing her arms defiantly. “I would have been out here sooner, but I didn’t realize you would be meddling in my garden today. As I have said before, you are not welcome to work in my vineyard. I don’t want you in my rose bed. These belong to me and they are mine."

“Goodmorning Mara.” His voice was flat, as if he was too caught up in his work to pay her any attention. He was examining a white petal closely.

Achor pulled off the cluster of white roses he was studying and threw them into the cart with a dismissive gesture, then moved and lifted up two more from a neighboring plant nearer to the fence.  He continued to scrutinize them carefully, turning them this way and that in his tan, skillful hands.  

Mara bent down to move the cart away from him. He glanced over at her movement, and then his gaze drifted slowly from her head to her feet and back again, then returned to linger on her face- he studied her with the full attention of curious eyes. Then he lost interest and returned his attention to the work at hand. 

Mara stared at him in silence for several minutes, feeling violated and tapping her foot as she watched him ravage the flower.  She instinctively knew that he was waiting for her to do or say something, but she didn’t know what. The lack of conversation began to bother her even more than the unspoken tension between them.  She wondered if Achor knew something new that prompted him to raid her garden with such blatant irreverence.  

She uncrossed her arms and placed them on her hips, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Just as she was about to muster the courage to order him away, he finally broke the long tense silence.

          “I came here today because I heard you crying out in your sleep.”  He stood up to his full height, straightened himself and ran his free hand through his black hair. He threw the crushed roses he had been holding into the cart. As he stepped out of the rose bed, he wiped his hands carefully on a towel draped over the side of the fence with the grace of a proper gentleman. Then striding towards her purposefully, Achor closed the gap between them and looked down at Mara with an expression of feigned concern. Tilting his head, he arched an eyebrow and asked, “What was wrong?” His handsome eyes were very dark.

          Mara hesitated and looked away. His air of chivalrous gallantry was daunting and made it hard to think.  She didn’t realize that she had been crying out loud in her sleep during the night.  But as she could see, Achor already knew the truth, and so she decided beat him to the admission.  “I had the dream about a storm again.” And the man in white came for me this time- she instinctively knew she should not mention Him, because that part made Achor violently jealous. She would never speak of Him again.

          He sighed, a spark of worry flashing in his eyes, and he quickly turned his face away from Mara towards the ocean.  “I thought as much,” he said, an unusual hint of uncertainty in his voice.  Mara pushed back loose strands of brown hair out of her face as she followed his gaze out towards the bay.  Then she looked back at him, observing his strong profile against the light of the sun. She thought of the wild and regal man who she saw in her dream.

She recalled the mysterious boat she had glimpsed last night- or did she only imagine it? She wondered briefly if Achor had seen it, and what he would do if a visitor came to Empire Island. She shivered at the possibilities.

After several seconds of gazing out towards the bay, Achor turned back to Mara, a masked expression on his face where there had been worry moments earlier.  “I suppose,” he paused and gestured with one hand to her garden, ”I suppose you really should reconsider turning over this vineyard to my care. You are obviously under too much stress managing all of them. It seems you are not capable of handling them.” He pointed accusingly at her roses.

          Mara lifted her head proudly, snorted arrogantly at his suggestion and reacted in anger to push away Achor’s hand just as he was sweeping it in the direction of her rose bed. 

          The minute her fingers brushed his, Mara knew she had made a huge mistake. It was always anger that got her into trouble with Achor. It was innate fear of his opinion that made her lash out at him, and every time that happened shame had the last word in their conversation, just as it did now.

With an animal reflex he moved his hand so that he was gripping her wrist firmly, her small hand open towards him in the graceful pose of a beseeching prayer. He held it there tightly for several seconds, looking right past it and boring his eyes into her own. He was taking some of her dignity and power away. He remained silent in order to cultivate her shame and bring his own strength to fruition.

Their eyes were locked in battle- time stood still, and there was an aura of light glowing around Mara even as his knowing gaze penetrated into her soul. She held his look with equal intensity, refusing to break away. She knew better than to resist him, and knew to bide her time with learned patience. When he looked at her like that she knew he could see way down into her fears, where her shame was. And these were the opportunities for him to learn about her weaknesses. 

So she abandoned her uncertainty and stared back at him boldly. She called on her self-worth and goodness and channeled the image in her dream of the Rescuer in white.

This was not the first time he took advantage of her contact with him, nor would it be the last. He never once touched her first, it was always her move- this enemy of hers could not have access to her being without her expressed consent. And so many times she thoughtlessly gave him permission to overpower her by her own careless choices. For some reason she could never remember that reaching out to him in anger always ended in more pain and regret. And like a snake waiting to strike, he always took full advantage of it.

She had made the choice to connect with him, slapping his hand in animal fear, and now she knew the price would be a little piece of her dignity. So she waited until he was satisfied, until he had taken what he wanted from her steady gaze. This was how he possessed her soul, piece by piece, one mistake after another.

But the moment, though powerful, was ever so brief, and though their eyes remained in combat, Achor slowly released his grip. Mara jerked away and cradled her offended hand close against her heart, still staring back in offense. The hole he left in her spirit filled with arrogance now. She found her voice and spoke in a tone that defied her fear. She raised her chin higher and spoke loudly.

“I don’t need help with my vineyard. I want to work alone! Alone! This is why I came here in the first place, to keep my white roses to myself.”  She couldn’t keep a hint of desperation from her voice.  “There is nothing wrong- I have a harmless, reoccurring dream.  Nothing will ever come of it, and it has nothing to do with you! Nothing.” 

Flustered now, Mara bent down and picked up the last uprooted flowers near her feet, throwing them into the cart without even looking.  She continued to glare at Achor with all the malice she could muster as she shook the dirt off of her own hands and walked hastily around to the other side of the cart. 

Anger was unbecoming and unnatural to her bright blue eyes and courtesan face. Achor could read it like a hawk and knew just what to say.

          “You know you can’t keep this up forever, it’s too hard for you to do this by yourself. You mismanage the white roses and make so many mistakes with them...” Achor’s voice trailed off as he considered his next words carefully.  “You really should reconsider sharing your vineyard with me. I know exactly what to do with them.”  He smiled victoriously, seeing Mara’s discomfort at such a remark, then qualified his suggestion by saying, “I’m worried about you, that’s all. The gardening is too much work for you to handle by yourself. This vineyard is too great a burden. You should let me advise you- let me get involved. Let me help you tend your white roses. Give them to me.”

          “No. They are not for you, they are for Someone else.” Mara found her strength from the sound of the sea and the salty breeze it sent her way. She pictured the man in white, walking towards her, and felt that He was affirming her resistance to such a temptation. “No, Achor. There is no need for worrying and no need for your advice or your help. I have told you before- I don’t want you in my garden. I want you to leave my vineyard alone. My white roses are none of your business, they are mine to give to whom I choose.”

In her fear Mara added haughtily, “And now all the ruined flowers must be discarded of properly,” she gestured angrily at the cart beside them. She avoided any more eye contact with Achor as she lifted the cart up on its wooden wheels, because she was afraid he might see the doubt in her eyes. She clenched her jaw with stubborn determination as she lifted the cart, preparing to walk away.

Achor moved out of her way with a low bow and then grabbed his hat, which was resting on a nearby fence, and donned it with a sweeping arc of his arm. He looked closely at her as she continued her rebuke.

“I will take this to the beach and give them a proper burial, and I don’t want you to come with me. You are forbidden!”  She knew he would retreat now, because he never followed her when she rejected him.

“Ah! Forbidden, am I? Just so.” Achor found this choice of words to be comically delicious, and it showed up in the satisfied grin which spread across his handsome face. He reached up to tip his hat to her, nodded slightly and turned on the full force of his charisma. He spoke with exaggerated respect, “Yes, ma’am. Forbidden. As you wish.”

She felt utterly violated by his easy compliance. Mara turned her back to him and felt she had somehow lost the battle, because without a doubt he would return again with more temptations.

And as she turned from him, she heard him say in his genteel manner, “I will see you soon, Mara.” He arched an eyebrow and laughed softly to himself as he watched her walk away, narrowing his gaze and nodding his head. He would indeed be back- just as soon as she started to miss him. She would always long for the forbidden fruit of his presence.

~*~

www.persuasiveabundance.com

Join me next time for chapter three! 

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With gratitude for all my readers- 

Rebecca