Pearls and Presence, Chapter Six- Desire

Day after day I climb the stairs of the tower to worship and serve at the altar of my favorite idols, and I find myself spending more time there than anywhere else in my vast empire. I prostrate myself before these idols, here in the tallest room of the tallest tower of my empire, and I forget about everything except my worship. This is my favorite time, I live for this and I am always hungry for it. I come empty and leave full, and yet I am never satisfied. I fall to my knees in reverence and bow my head to the floor, arms outstretched and palms turned upwards. My hands are open, ready to receive whatever my idols will give to me. I wait for even the slightest sign of response. I wait for them to love me, to validate me, to give me a purpose and an identity. I worship in expectation. 
I wait for them to give me a new name.

~*~

          Mara rushed to where the neat pile of rocks lay, sand flying up behind her feet as she ran, dress swishing precariously around her legs.  She bent down to pick one up and held it up in the fading light, head tilted and deep in thought as she observed.  Yes, these were definitely the same rocks.  Still clutching the stone, she raised her eyes and looked around her. 

If the tide hadn’t claimed the seaweed, then who or what did?  Curiosity perked her hope once again.  Nobody ever came down to this small alcove, least of all Achor, and the island never had visitors.

This place was always empty. Always.

Mara tossed the rock away from her over a boulder that was resting against a small embankment, and the sound of its clatter over the other pebbles echoed as it rolled.  But the sound stopped suddenly with the sound of wood hitting stone.  When the rock disappeared out of view, she heard it thud loudly against something other than stones.  It hit against something strong and solid, like the trunk of a tree. But there were no trees here, only sand and rocks and shells.

          She hurried over and peered around the rock.  She gasped with surprise.  A small wooden boat sat solid and out of place on the damp sand. She knew the beach like the back of her hand, and this had never been here before.  Instantly she remembered the mysterious shape that had been drifting out on the ocean not so long ago.

She stepped around the boulder and came closer to the boat. 

Draped on one side of it was the clump of seaweed, and the water-soaked wood immediately around it looked the color of blood in the fading light.  An unexplained sense of wonder came upon Mara, and she felt compelled to come closer.  This was the same seaweed that was wrapped around the pearl necklace.  Someone had taken time to untangle it.  Yet where was this person now? And where were the pearls?

          She looked over her shoulder towards the water, scanned the beach, and then squinted through the semi-darkness at the cliffs.  The last ray of sun had sunk into the sea, and the full moon provided pale white light, illuminating the sand and reflecting off the sea spray which collected on the stones.  If whoever had arrived in this boat was still here, it would be impossible to search the entire jetty, especially in such inadequate light. Still…

          Mara knew she should go home now that it was dark. 

Of course Achor would be furious with jealousy if he knew someone else was on the island. She feared what he might do to an uninvited guest and didn’t want to provoke him by walking home so late.  She decided she would leave as soon as she had investigated the mysterious boat.  Mara moved towards it on the cool sand, her dress swishing around her ankles as she took each step.  She stopped directly in front of the boat, and reached out her trembling hand to touch it. 

The wood was worn and coarse, although it looked well-made and sturdily put together, as if done by an expert craftsman.  She drew her hand away, feeling like an intruder, and instead bent down to examine the front of it.

          She saw a strange emblem, pearls resting within a red rose.

          This was inlaid into the center of a faded gold panel running along the top and bottom of the boat, which was otherwise quite plain.  She ran her finger over the small design, intrigued by it.  It was only slightly bigger than her hand, yet it was the most delicately crafted of any design she had ever seen.  Unlike the bare wood, the painted emblem was smooth and soft, and seemed almost warm.  As she continued to run her fingers over the curving, thorn-covered stem of the rose, her eyes were raised up and she stood to look inside the boat. 

          There on the bottom was a tiny wooden chest of the same material as the boat.  It was clean and dry and had an exactly matching rose emblem on its lid.  All she had to do was step into the boat and open the lid to see what was inside. 

Mara hesitated, looked around, and then stepped in and shook the sand off of her feet.  Then, crouching down, she nimbly slid her fingers into the gap at the top of the small wooden box, just above the rose. 

She was filled with wonder as she felt it open with ease.  The trunk lifted up on well-oiled hinges and she set back on her heels there in the hull of the boat to gaze at the contents inside.

All time stood still.

          Mara stared with astonishment. In her heart she felt she was suddenly connected with an old friend, safe to belong and welcomed and loved.

The tiny box was ablaze with light from within, as if a thousand white diamonds had caught the pale moonlight and turned it into a dazzling multitude of tiny rainbows.  The colors caught in her hair and in her eyes, and her face glowed in its light. Her mouth parted and her eyes grew wide with rapture. 

The luminosity blazed out of the boat and shone out into the night sky for several moments, and then faded slowly away like the rays of a sunset. She lost her senses and stood transfixed for several moments, dazzled by the beauty of the treasure before her.

Inside, bright white and flawlessly clean, was the pearl necklace she had been searching for. It had not a single blemish upon it.

Time continued to hold still.

And then, suddenly and without warning Mara’s trance was interrupted with a bang, as the lid of the trunk was slammed down, causing a nearby group of sandpipers to fly off in a screaming flurry of white feathers.  The brilliant light was cut off and only the pale glow of the full moon shone on the beach.

Mara found herself face to face with Achor.

His eyes were inches from her own, deep and intense. The look on his face interrupted Mara’s wonder and startled her out the captivating effect of her discovery. She had forgotten Achor could easily have seen all that bright light shining out from her treasure, and he must have come running.

He had set foot on the sand for the first time since she had known him.

“Sacrifice this to your idols.” It was clearly Achor speaking, but his voice was so changed that she hardly recognized it. There was authority and power in it where there had once been patient reserve.

He was no longer biding his time.

 “Sacrifice this to your idols,” he said again, only slightly more subdued after seeing the way he had startled her. His seductive eyes were glowing in the moonlight and he didn’t even blink as he stared deep into her soul. She felt a vague sense of shame about the look in his eyes, as if he knew something very bad about her.

A seed of selfish willing weakness was planted within her thoughts when he mentioned the idols.

She desired to desire.

His voice was calm, but there was dark influence within it, and it seemed to reach down into every weakness within her that she had ever disclosed. He did not touch the boat, but he leaned in very close, their faces almost touching, and put his hand over her own, which was still on the wooden vessel.

He waited with intensity that she could feel radiating from his entire being. Mara hesitated, remembering as he gazed at her the idol worship from days long past.

She did not dismiss Achor.

She did not rebuke him.

She listened.

She desired to desire.

Conflicted, Mara broke his stare and turned away from him, lifting her eyes up to the dark valley in the distance. Slowly, ever so slowly, she moved her hand out from under his, picked up the small box and held it protectively to her chest.

“I wonder…” She paused and Achor nodded slowly, reading her face with delight. “I wonder if this might make them love me, if I give to them this pearl of great price.” She spoke out loud, hardly knowing her thoughts were audible. “I would be doing something noticeable and admirable by sacrificing such a valuable treasure to them. They will surely care about me after I do this. Certainly I will be counted as one of them after such an offering.” She spoke with a slowly increasing confidence that she did not truly feel in order to hide her uncertainty.

Achor replied, moving back and giving her room to stand. “Yes, Mara, yes, because you deserve this moment. You need to be loved, and this will make them love you.” He had ecstatic urgency in his voice, and it was contagiously compelling.

She completely lowered her defenses, embracing temptation and all its delightful lies.

Seeing her choice was made, Achor jumped up and flew into action. He urged her with every bit of influence he had over her. “Hurry now, to the Valley!”

Before she knew what was happening, Mara was scrambling along the shore, over rocks and up the grassy incline, past her packed dinner and the knife to cut the seaweed, climbing up and up, with Achor fast at her heels urging her onward.

“Why is he in such a hurry?” she wondered fleetingly.

She felt his hand under her arm, urging her forward, and he kept saying “faster, quickly, before it’s too late!” He kept peering greedily over her shoulder at the treasure that was pressed against her heart.

He consumed her cooperation like a power-hungry scavenger.

And they moved together so quickly down the path that it seemed she was transported to Achors’ dwelling place in a matter of mere seconds, as if through sheer willpower.

And in unison they descended into the depths of the gloomy Valley.

Achor presented Mara to the shrine of her idols with such formality and pride, it was almost as if he were announcing a bride at the entrance to her wedding reception.

 Mara took one look at her idols and fell to her knees in reverence, completely at the mercy of her own reaction to them, and placed the little chest hurriedly on the ground. With fearful urgency she removed the necklace in one swift motion. It could not catch the light here, because even the moon did not shine in the Valley.

And in what felt like the ultimate moment of victory, Mara held out the pearls and prostrated herself on her face before the lifeless stones with utter abandon. Mara was thrilled with anticipation that these idols on pedestals might finally come to life and love her at last.

She continued to bow low for an endless eternity with silent reverence before the lifeless stones. Her long hair had come loose and fell down onto the ground all around her.

Achor’s mouth curved into a deadly smile as he watched her from a short distance away. He encouraged her boldly, saying “Yes, Mara, now everything will be different, now you will have everything you desire. And now, finally, this empire will be inhabited.” 

His eyes darkened with the look of a conquering victor about to slay his opponent, and he gazed upwards towards the place where the sky hung far above the Valley.

The stars darkened.

Achor saw and laughed low as if at some great cosmic joke that was about to unfold.

Her submission to desire was almost complete.

The dark night of the soul was about to begin...

~*~

Join me next time for chapter seven! 

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 Four- Hope

If I looked out the windows of this tower I would see the ocean from here, and I could watch the gulls swooping and gliding, and see the beauty that is sparkling on the surface of the water below. The sun is shining through red stained-glass, and it tries to reach me. But I never look up, I never look out, because I am too busy worshiping. I come here often to honor my idols. The Accuser always follows me here- it’s his favorite place also. He watches me closely but never says a word. His eyes glow with desire, and they never leave me for a moment. They stare at me unblinkingly and wait. I have seen these haunting eyes in my dreams.

~*~

Mara was intrigued by the treasure. “Where did this come from?” she wondered. 

Nobody ever visited the island. She wondered briefly if Achor might know something about it. But she quickly pushed thoughts of him away.

She tugged at the side of the strand of pearls that had the word on it, trying to wipe it clean with her hands. She moved it this way and that, trying to free it from the kelp. The pearls were smooth and white and perfect, and they were hopelessly stuck.

Mara became lost in thought, remembering what this could mean. 

There was something from the past….something about perfume, anointing, baptism, purity, community and the forgiveness of white roses. 

She remembered a Presence, one before she walked through the Valley of Achor…

…a time before she took refuge in isolation. Before she became bitter.

And she felt a reminder of Hope that surpasses understanding, one that comes on the wind with the spray of the sea, the one that smells sweet like peppermint and deep like lavender and sounds bright like freedom and feels safe like home.

 “That name, this pearl.” She looked up at the seagulls and directed her words to their curious beady eyes. “This was a gift from Someone, and there is something I must do, something I need to surrender.” She looked out towards the sea, but she knew not what she saw, because she was watching a distant memory from her past. 

“There is someone I must meet with, a story I still need to write. I should talk to Him about it. But where is He?” She hardly knew where these thoughts were coming from or that she spoke them aloud.

The gulls listened closely, heads tilting from one side to the other. One by one they began returning to their nests, settling in and comforting their frightened young.

Rousing herself, Mara came to her senses and realized with urgency that she had a great deal she needed to record in her journal.

          Throwing the stick down on the mess of seaweed, she stood up and brushed the wet sand off her hands and knees.  She looked down at the pearl necklace one last time, realizing she could not bring it home with her until she freed it from the kelp. Reluctantly Mara stepped back and glanced towards the embankment, knowing that she couldn’t waste any more time or her inspiration would be lost. 

She decided to come back later after she was done writing. She piled several large rocks around the seaweed to secure it down safely and then began to carry out her original intent, to launch her tiny fishing boat and catch a meal.

          After a quick harvest of clams and fish, she took one last look at the strange treasure, making a mental note of its location in order to return to it later with tools to untangle it from the mass of heavy seaweed. Then she departed with an eager yearning to return as soon as possible.

          As Mara was pushing her laden cart up the hill, she heard a small avalanche of rocks cascading down towards the beach on her left.  She stopped and stared, but there was nothing unusual to see among the large rocks from where she was standing.

A strange feeling came over Mara, and she longed to search among the caves and crevices in the side of the hill to see what had made that noise.  Without a doubt it was not Achor- he always looked warily upon the sea with distaste in his eyes. One place that Mara knew he would never follow her was the beach- he had an aversion to water and vast open spaces. He never set foot on the sand- he preferred the confines of his dark Valley filled with idols.

  So maybe the disturbance had to do with the pearls she had found?  But she knew that Achor would probably start searching for her in her vineyard if she took any longer coming home, so Mara forced herself to continue walking. She must keep him away from her roses.

She consoled herself with the promise that she would return later in the cool of the evening, just as soon as she had finished her chores and, most importantly, her writing.

~*~

The quick pace at which she was pushing the heavy cart up the hill soon warmed her, and she was panting by the time she pushed it into the small shed next to the house. 

“You’re in quite a hurry this morning,” a smooth voice said behind her, startling Mara out of her activity.  She turned around to meet the familiar face and dark prying eyes staring down intently into hers.

“Achor.”  Mara blushed and backed up slightly.  She didn’t know what else to say, remembering their last fight not so long ago. She stood next to her cart and awkwardly leaned against it, wiping the perspiration from her brow. She stared at the ground by his feet, avoiding his face.

She didn’t want to admit she was relieved to see him again, nor did she want to tell him why she was in such an excited rush.

“What is it? Something happened.” Achor prodded for an answer. Since he could not enter her mind, he read her face, studying her every move quite intently and hanging onto her every word.

“Oh, it’s nothing interesting” Mara said with a tinge of annoyance that he was endlessly asking her personal questions.  “I am running low on supplies, so I just wanted to see if I could gather some clams and do some early fishing.”  She paused, hoping he wouldn’t ask if she had another dream about the storm.  She didn’t want to talk to Achor about her dreams.  But he evaluated her face and seemed to be satisfied with the impression.

“So,” he dismissed that conversation and smiled down at her with benevolent swagger, “can I walk you to the house?  I don’t have to be anywhere in particular, and I could use some company. I won’t talk too much, I promise.” He smiled coyly, falling into step beside her.

“Well, ok,” Mara responded, hiding her uncertainty.  Although she wanted to believe that his offer was friendly, she couldn’t help the doubt that rose up inside her.  It made her feel vulnerable, and she did not like it.  She knew Achor presented himself as a gentleman, but still she never fully trusted anything he said, although she wanted to and tried.

In her memory Mara could hardly recall a time when he had not been a constant presence in her life of isolation.  They sometimes walked together on the trail in the evenings and made up fanciful stories about what lay beyond Empire Island.  She never felt any direct imposition during these conversations, because he knew when to respect her insecurity.

 This was why he now watched her face both when she spoke and when she was silent, so he would know exactly what to say to make her feel safe with him. He always made suggestions that resonated with her deepest fears in a way that short-circuited her judgement.  He seemed to know her even better than she knew herself, which was daunting. 

“What was so interesting out on the bay, anyhow?” he asked as they walked side by side towards the house together.  “I have noticed you watching it closely the past few days. You are starting to make me very jealous.”  At this, Achor tilted his head, ran his fingers into his hair and put on a dramatically sad expression on his face.

Mara surprised herself and laughed out loud at his unusual display of comedy, which made Achor drop his act and laugh, too.  She composed herself and corrected him.

“You know, sometimes I get tired of you accusing me, mister!” Mara shook her head, smiling to hide her confliction.  He may sometimes joke about his jealousy, but there was interrogation beneath his light words. She wasn’t sure how to answer his initial question, so she remained silent for a long while. He didn’t ask her again.

The two walked slowly, as the path between the shed and the house was not far. 

They stopped in front of her door.

“This is my stop.  I really should hurry, so I can collect my baskets and start cooking all those fish. I have a lot to do.”  Mara turned to push open the door.

“Allow me to help, won’t you? I will wait here.” Achor stood obediently with his hands clasped in front of him, feet firmly planted on the doorstep, with a demure and obedient countenance.

“Well, alright.” Mara hesitated, seeing his attempt at persuading her through easy compliance. She hurried inside, gathered up several woven baskets in her arms, and came back out to where he was standing. She handed him one of the more cumbersome baskets and they carried them across the lawn.

Working side by side in the dim light of the shed, Achor and Mara worked to shell the clams and prepare the fish for cooking, separating the different kinds and cleaning them. After her entire collection was attended to, they carried the full baskets back to the house.

Appreciative for his help, Mara smiled up at Achor when they returned to her door. She set her two baskets on the table and returned to get his. As she reached for the largest basket to take inside, their fingers touched. His eyes flickered and he put his hand on her shoulder when she took it from him. She hesitated, debating whether to look at his face, and when she did Mara saw him looking at her in that unsettling way again, with his handsome and searching eyes.

“Thanks for letting me help you with this, Mara. I love to work with you. You are always so busy and I want you to know that I am always available to assist you. You spend so much time in your garden or doing chores.”  He paused, choosing his next words carefully.  “You should take a break once in a while and come visit me in the Valley. Like old times.”

“It has been a while,” stammered Mara, debating whether to rebuke his remark. She decided to pacify him this time with a gentler approach.  “I just don’t ever think to come and visit. The Valley just never comes to mind anymore. I can hardly remember it now,” she added, careful to give that particular qualifier.

“I still would welcome you any time. You used to adore the Valley, when you were in your prime of happiness. I still have all your idols exactly as you left them last. I preserve them for you. I know you will want them again someday.” Achor spoke boldly.

“Oh. Well, um, thank you,” she responded lightly.  She would never visit him there again, nor her idols, ever. There was too much shame in the memory. The influence of desire was still too intimidating to her wounded heart and mind. 

His hand left her shoulder, though his eyes didn’t leave hers.  “Well, see you later, then!” He said brightly.  He threw her another crafty smile that would have made her laugh again if she didn’t know him better.

          She remembered the pearls.

Mara knew she would make quicker time now that Achor was gone, since she was no longer locked in a discussion with him.  She was in such a distracted state that she fumbled with the last basket and almost spilled it.  She set it down, and then she ran over to the kitchen window and looked out.  Before she began her morning chores, Mara wanted to pause and recall her discovery of such a strange and beautiful treasure.

But she kept her emotions in reserve, because now was not the time to feel. It was time to accomplish the tasks at hand.

She had a whole day ahead of her before she returned to the beach. She had to prepare her meals, preserve the remaining food, and tend to her rose beds. And she wanted to write something more in her journal.

 She needed to be present with herself and leave the excitement of her finding at the beach where she left it. Taking a deep calming breath, Mara stepped back from the window and looked around her.  

The room was still and quiet and filled with hope.

~*~

Join me next time for chapter five! 

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 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