As the days of Naaman's absence stretched into months and then the months to a year, the household returned to normal. The reconstruction was finally completed, and Baara's friends returned to the slave quarters. Although she was now alone at night, she still joined the other women to weave, and she saw Serah each morning on her trips to draw water.

Baara eventually questioned Serah about heavenly messengers. She didn't tell her about Naaman's vision, only that of Mara. Like Baara, Serah had no recollections of angels with names, but, unlike Baara, she thought Mara had been hallucinating when she saw the being rescue Zipporah.

"After all," she pointed out, "Zipporah's body was still in the rubble. She was buried after the death ritual. If a messenger had taken her, she wouldn't have been left there to bury."

"I know," Baara admitted. "Elijah disappeared body and all when God took him. But some think our soul separates from our body at death. Maybe the angel came for Zipporah's soul, leaving her unneeded body behind."

"That would be great," Serah said with a laugh. "Maybe my soul is encased in a slender frame like yours, instead of in such an ample body," she said, spreading her hands across her generous girth. "After all, this angel Mara saw had a body. Even if it was shining, it had substance. Maybe we'll be like him, all shiny and new."

"I don't think so," Baara said laughing at the idea of Serah's throaty voice coming from a dainty, shining body. "Can you imagine what a scare you'd give the angels if you spoke to them with that voice from a fragile, shining frame," she said dropping her voice and trying to imitate Serah. "Salam, there Michael. Thanks for bringing me here."

"No," Baara continued. "I don't think you'll be appearing before Yahweh in a slender, shiny body. But then, I don't know what kind of bodies we'll have or how our souls get to Yahweh. But I do believe the place of light Zipporah went in her dreams was real and that she encountered God there. A mere dream would fade and gradually fail to have significance. Zipporah never lost the peace she gained when she encountered Yahweh. She faced partial paralysis and being imprisoned in a damaged body because she knew she would one day walk upright with Yahweh in the land of light."

Shaking her head, Serah concluded, "I don't know what to think. There are no gray- bearded religious leaders here to tell us what to believe. I guess your interpretation of Zipporah's encounter with Yahweh will have to do. But I still think the idea of a shiny body that's our earthly ideal should be a part of eternity," she said impishly. "There are no religious zealots here to tell me otherwise. I think I'll just hang onto the thought of a slender Serah spending eternity in a place of light," she said, laughing and pirouetting in the street, almost dropping her water jar.

Baara grabbed Serah's arm to steady her, saying, "If you're not careful, you're going to break your water jar and cause a scene while you're at it."

When the two laughing women looked up, they saw a very silent crowd standing around the well, looking in their direction. The women were in small clusters, talking in hushed tones. As Baara and Serah approached, the women looked away, refusing to meet their eyes.

"What's going on?" Serah bellowed in her deep voice, choosing confrontation over discomfort. "The atmosphere here is more like a funeral pall than the usual boisterous babble. Come on, someone tell Serah what's up. I know my clumsy dancing in the street was not enough to cause quiet to descend on the well. So, what bit of gossip are you keeping under wraps today?" she queried.

At Serah's words, the women looked even more uncomfortable, shuffling their feet and keeping their eyes downcast. Finally one said timidly, "News has come from the battle front."

"Well, out with it," Serah commanded. "Since you fell quiet as we approached, I assume the news involves someone in one of our households."

"Well," another woman said, wetting her lips and then biting her bottom lip in vexation. "The war is over, and our troops have won. They're coming home after over a year of fighting."

"I know this good news is not what has silenced you," Serah noted. "Did men from our families die, or were they wounded in battle?"

When Serah voiced this question, Baara gasped, paled and covered her mouth, fearing that Naaman might not return home to Maacah. Her eyes searched the crowd for confirmation, but all she saw were heads shaking no.

"If your men were wounded in battle, we have no knowledge of it," a voice from the crowd said. "There is talk of disease, though."

"Who and what?" Serah demanded. "Speak up."

"Rumor has it that the commander has leprosy," the woman finally blurted.

"Naaman?" Baara asked in a high shrill voice.

"Yes," the woman said. "They say Naaman has leprosy, but you know how rumors are. I'm sure the gossips have exaggerated. He could have had the sniffles and by the time word drifted back to Damascus, he would be on his death bed."

"Don't worry, Baara," Serah said, putting her arm around her friend. "You know how Jobab likes to embellish his tales. I'm sure whatever healer at the front leaked the fact that Naaman was taken ill turned something harmless into leprosy."

Almost in a trance, Baara filled her water jar and turned to head home. The hilarity that had accompanied the women to the well was silenced by the awful rumor. Serah tried to reassure Baara, telling her that there were several forms of leprosy. The worst form caused the ill person to be quarantined as their extremities wasted away. The most harmless left skin discolored and ugly, but was not contagious. People with the non-contagious kind of leprosy weren't ostracized by society, at least not officially. They were allowed to remain within the cities. But even when the leprosy was of the less lethal variety, both girls knew that those with the disease were often treated like pariahs. The blotched skin scared the common man, even when doctors pronounced it to be harmless.

"Don't let the gossips get to you," Serah warned. "Just because they claim your master is gravely ill doesn't make it so. Wait until Naaman arrives home, you'll see. Now smile. If you go home with that long face, your mistress will suspect something. You don't want to share this bit of gossip with her so she'll worry needlessly."

"I suppose," Baara mumbled in response, trying to smile, but it was obvious she was not cheered by Serah's words. What Serah didn't know was that the rumor struck too close to the truth of what Maacah had confided. Baara could only imagine the worst.

When she arrived home, she intentionally relegated the rumor to the back of her mind. She went about her chores as usual, trying not to show she was disheartened. She thought she had succeeded until late that evening. At bedtime, Baara went to Maacah's room to give her a massage. She had been doing this for a couple of months now, at her mistress's request. Maacah was having trouble sleeping, and Baara's supple hands helped to ease the tension caused by an absent husband and rumors from the battlefield.

This night when Baara entered her mistress' room, she found Maacah standing in the dark room, her shutters open to the warm night.

"Come here, child," Maacah said.

When Baara stood at her side, Maacah asked, "Did I ever tell you why this window is different than the others in the house, or the ones in all the other houses, for that matter?" Not waiting for an answer, she continued. "When Naaman and I were newly weds, he had to leave for battle." Gesturing to the heavens, she asked, "Do you see that group of stars that looks like a water gourd?"

When Baara murmured in affirmation, Maacah continued. "Naaman and I agreed to gaze on the star at the tip every night while he was gone. We found we could feel the other's presence and felt reassured that all was well. When we moved into the city a few years after we were wed, Naaman had this house built for us. He put in this window that is somewhat lower than most latticed windows and positioned it over my sleeping couch. He also installed a dual set of shutters, solid on the outside and latticed on the inside. At night during warm weather we leave the outside shutters open and the inside closed so the cool night air can enter the room without danger of a thief entering. This is the purpose of all latticed windows. But ours is different because the lattice is not imbedded in the window. He made it so I can open it and view the night sky. I can find our star without having to go into the courtyard. I can stand or lay and gaze at the star for as long as I want, and no one questions my motives," she said with a smile.

"Years ago, we quit reminding one another to look at the star each night. I suppose we thought it was silly superstition, and we were older and wiser. But I never quit looking each night, and evidently neither did Naaman. This time before he left, Naaman asked me to meet him each night by gazing at the star."

"I know it sounds fanciful, but we can feel one another's presence and are reassured that all is well with the other, " Maacah said with a sigh. "When I asked you to begin coming and massaging my shoulders at night, it was because I was no longer comforted by the star and so had trouble sleeping."

"Do you think something has happened to Naaman?" Baara ventured.

"Yes, and no," Maacah said with a sigh. "I still feel his presence each evening, so he is alive, but something is troubling his spirit. Today, I have felt something is troubling your spirit as well. I can't ask Naaman what troubles him, and so I asked you to help me relax and banish my worries. But, you're here, and I can ask you. What troubles your spirit today, child?"

"What makes you think something is troubling me?" Baara countered.

Taking her eyes from the night sky, Maacah turned to Baara, placing her hand on her arm. "We have grown close over the several years you've been here," she said. "You're like a daughter to me. When you're troubled, you can't hide it behind a smiling countenance. You have an aura about you that is depressed, and deep in your eyes there lurks a sadness. Tell me your sorrows, child. Let me help with whatever is burdening you."

"I wish I could," Baara said. "But my fingers would not work their magic if you carried my burden and yours. You have enough troubles without my adding to your load. Besides, what troubles me is only rumor and conjecture. Until I can determine its truth, there is no need to pass along the information."

"Ah," Maacah said with a knowing nod. "The gossips at the well are up to no good again. I should have suspected, since you seemed cheerful enough before you went for water. I would think you would be above letting such nonsense affect you," Maacah noted. "You have weathered a great deal in your short life. What rumors could they concoct to hurt you now?"

Smiling, Baara concurred. "You are right, mistress. Nothing they say about me can get me down."

"Then look me in the eye," Maacah countered. "Let me see that the haunting sadness is gone."

Lowering her eyes, Baara looked briefly into Maacah's eyes. She tried to think cheerful thoughts, willing her eyes not to reflect the sadness that had possessed her since the women at the well had divulged the latest gossip. She held Maacah's gaze only for a second, though, fearing her mistress would see she was not telling all. Then she looked quickly away.

Maacah sighed, and said, "I suppose you are determined not to tell me what is bothering you, and I cannot force you. But, I know, Baara; I know something is distressing your soul. If you won't share with me, give your god this burden. He has brought you peace in the past."

Then changing the subject, Maacah asked, "Was there any news of our troops today?"

Without thinking, Baara nodded. When she tried to cover up by shaking her head and coughing, Maacah was not fooled.

"I saw that nod, Baara," she said. "There was word. Out with it."

"Yes, mistress," Baara said with a slight smile. "They have won. The men should be home in the near future. I wanted it to be a surprise."

Maacah gasped and hugged Baara convulsively.

Then pulling back and looking suspiciously at Baara, Maacah asked. "So why are your eyes filled with sorrow rather than joy? If Naaman is returning home soon, you should have been overjoyed for me. I would have detected repressed happiness rather than veiled melancholy. He was injured, wasn't he? That is why his spirit is troubled. Has he lost an appendage? Tell me what the gossips are saying, Baara. It is better that I prepare for reality rather than imagine myriad maladies. Are they bringing him home to die?" she asked, shaking the girl roughly.

"No, mistress," Baara said, pulling herself free of Maacah's grasp. "He is not dying from a wound suffered in battle."

"But he is dying," Maacah responded. "I see it in your eyes."

"No, mistress," Baara said quietly. "The gossips do not say he is dying. They only say that he has a disease."

"What disease?" Maacah asked. "Has some foreign epidemic wasted our troops?"

"No," Baara said, shaking her head. "His troops are not sick, only Naaman." Baara paused for a moment and then taking a deep breath, she said, "They say he has leprosy, mistress."

"Leprosy," Maacah gasped, sitting down on the sleeping couch. "No," she said shaking her head. "He can't have leprosy. Remember, Baara? I told you he had a skin disease that was causing his skin to turn white in patches. But, he didn't have leprosy. There were no oozing sores; his extremities were not rotting away. I washed his sores and even caressed them while he slept. Whatever disease Naaman had, it wasn't leprosy."

"Serah said there are various forms of the disease," Baara noted. "She said only the worst kind of leprosy causes the extremities to rot. A lesser form of the diseases causes skin discoloration, but nothing more severe. Those lepers are not societal outcasts; they live with their families and continue their lives as usual."

"They live with their families," Maacah responded, her eyes expressionless. "Yes, that is true," she said hollowly. "But everyone still fears them. Their lives are disrupted because people fear their skin. If the gossips are right and Naaman has leprosy, he will be little better off than an unclean leper. His troops will fear him. His King may force him to retire. He will be ashamed to be seen in public because children will stare and point. He will become a pariah, just as surely as if he had the deadly form of the disease."

"What you say is probably true," Baara admitted. "People are filled with fear by anything that looks different. Some non-contagious lepers are shunned. But Naaman is an important man; surely people will not veer away from him, especially if the King's physician says he is not contagious."

"I only wish life were that simple," Maacah sighed. "Power and prestige can be lost so easily, much easier than they are gained. In an ideal world, a physician's pronouncement would suffice. But we don't live in an ideal world. We live in Damascus with a lot of superstitious people. Naaman's spirit would only be troubled if the disease were causing him a problem. No, Baara, I fear his troops are have already grown cautious around him."

"Perhaps all of this talk is for naught," Baara concluded. "We don't know yet that the gossip is true," she noted and then added softly, "If it is, it's too bad we're not in Israel."

"Why is that?" Maacah queried. "Do Israelites show more tolerance of lepers?"

"No, mistress," Baara admitted. "Israelites are just as foolhardy and intolerant as gentiles, but in Israel there is a prophet that could cure Naaman of the disease. This prophet lives in Samaria and has cured many of deadly diseases. The spirit of God is with him. His faith is so strong, Yahweh rarely denies his requests."

"Ah, yes," Maacah said in resignation. "The great Yahweh; He is your answer to every crisis."

"I know you do not believe," Baara said quietly. "But you must admit that even in Damascus, He has intervened in ways that defy human logic."

"Sometimes it seems so," Maacah admitted. "But he didn't stop the carnage that killed your family, and he allowed Zipporah to harm you. Zipporah encountered Him, but she ended up paralyzed and then she died in a fire. I want to believe, Baara, but there are too many unanswered questions. If he loves you as you say, why does he let bad things happen to you?"

"I don't understand everything," Baara acknowledged. "In human dealings with Yahweh, there is always an element of faith. The Psalmist said God's ways are holy and different from those of man. I guess he sees the big picture. All we can see is what is happening right now."

After thinking for a minute, she continued, "Take my ancestor Joseph, for instance. Bad things happened to Joseph. His brothers threw him in a pit and then sold him into slavery. His master's wife framed him, and he was thrown in prison for a crime he didn't commit. He stayed in jail for years before he was brought to Pharaoh's attention. After interpreting Pharaoh's dream, he became a powerful political figure. In the end he was vindicated. When his brothers came to Egypt, they had to ask him for grain during a famine. They were afraid when they found out who he was. They expected him to torment them as revenge for their actions. Instead, he told them that what they had meant for evil, God meant for good. I'm sure that while he was in the pit and in prison, he could not see anything good happening in his life. He could have cursed Yahweh for abandoning him. He didn't. He had faith that Yahweh was in control. And in the end, events proved Joseph's faith to be well founded."

Baara reached out and grasped Maacah's hand.

"I know my faith in Yahweh seems simplistic. When I was first brought here, I was angry with Him. I still went through the motions of worship, but I did it out of fear. I only recognized Yahweh's love and concern for me after I broke down and told Him of my pain and bitterness. I still don't know why Yahweh let my family die or why He didn't stop Zipporah from plotting against me. For Zipporah's sake, it's good that He didn't stop her. She's better off because of what happened. I seem not to be."

Baara shook her head as she made the negative statement, but then the movement stopped and a smile lit her face.

"Still, when I sing the Psalms, when I pray, and when I tell the stories of my religious tradition, I feel Yahweh's love surround me. I trust Him. My faith may not make sense to you. I can only tell you of my experience with Yahweh. You have to decide for yourself whether to step out in faith. If the prophet were here, wouldn't it be foolish to ignore the possibility of healing? What would Naaman have to lose by seeking his help? Nothing, except a few wasted days, but he would have everything to gain. God would not be truly God if we could understand Him completely. Then we would be gods, and we wouldn't need Him."

As Baara finished her unusually lengthy speech, Maacah looked into her eyes. Baara could see emotion struggling there.

"Almost you persuade me to believe," Maacah murmured. "Life would be so much simpler if there was a god who really cared."