The Favourite

           "Wait!" Lena gasped, fumbling at the straps of the basket on her back.  "I need a break!"
 
           Theo didn't even bother to rein in the donkey. "We'll never get there if we keep stopping," he remonstrated over his shoulder. 
 
           "Then let me ride for a while. This stuff is heavy, you know."
 
           "Sorry, dear. We have to be authentic. And stop talking English. Somebody might overhear."
 
           Lena made a supreme effort to focus on the language programming that had been downloaded into her brain before their departure, and failed to find any profanity powerful enough to give voice to the deep rage and frustration boiling in her gut. 
 
           Theo slapped his switch across the donkey's rump, urging it into an awkward, short-lived jog. His lanky body bounced like a scarecrow, feet nearly dragging on the ground.
           
           “This stinks – you know that?” she screamed after him in her native tongue. “The first woman I get a chance to talk to is going to find out all about women’s lib!”
 
            The bastard is enjoying this, Lena thought. He finally has me where he wants me. Theo had always been convinced that Holy Scripture decreed that the husband's place was on top.
 
           What would he do if she just dumped everything in the middle of the road and walked back to the temporal nexus? Would he come after her? Or would he load up the donkey and finish his quest on foot? His role as travelling vendor of salt and exotic spices did not require the presence of a wife.
 
           She sighed as she eased the straps away from her chafed shoulders. Defying Theo felt the same as defying God, and she had already done enough in her lifetime to annoy God. It could not be too far to Bethany now -- they'd been walking for hours. Or had they? She had never realized how much she relied on her watch. 
 
           Please God, let Bethany be on the other side of that rise. I can't take much more of this.
 
           She had registered for time travel as a favour to Theo, to double his chances of making his dream come true. How could she anticipate that by the perverse luck of the draw, they would both be selected for the same trip in April 12, 2034? Instead of sipping cold drinks in a luxury beach resort, she would be spending her fourth wedding anniversary in the stinking, dusty heat of first century Palestine.
 
           "This is the Lord's plan to bring us closer together," Theo had proclaimed in the hyperactive manner he adopted whenever he talked about God. "When you see Lazarus coming out of his tomb, you will believe."
 
           Believe what?  Lena wondered bitterly.  If I see Jesus raise the dead, I'll probably give him hell for not bringing back my Destiny.
 
            Destiny would be almost ten now.  Lena had drifted aimlessly through life until she discovered that she was pregnant by an unidentified donor. Her whole being had been transformed, wrapped around her precious little girl, until a drunk driver caught her on his bumper.     
 
           The months that followed Destiny's death were a blur of desperate pain dulled intermittently by chemical sleep. Lena had no idea how she ended up at the altar at a tent meeting, crying and shaking. When the singing and praying were all over, God seemed no closer, but she had caught the eye of the tall, blond and personable Theodore Bjorksen, aka the Lean Mean Gospel Machine, who insisted on being called "Theo" rather than "Ted" because truncating the Greek word for God would as disrespectful as shortening "Christmas" to "Xmas." Theo made her his personal project, lavishing every spare minute on her salvation, bulldozing over her hesitation and doubts to bring her home rejoicing to an avalanche of hugs in the church he pastored part-time. 
           
           She had married Theo without really getting to know him. She had done everything he told her, letting him play a spiritual Professor Higgins to her Eliza. The good people of their church were delighted with her performance, but her inner darkness was unchanged. 
 
           She was now as dependent on Theo as she had once been on drugs. The more she needed him, the more she felt shut out by his special, intimate relationship with God.
 
           She wanted to offer her time travel slot to Janine Proud, who had become a dear friend since the day they sat side by side in the waiting room; but Theo said that if God had intended Janine's sister to be healed through time travel, she would have been chosen in the lottery.
 
            A week before departure, a bootlegger had phoned, offering twenty thousand dollars for their reservations, paid in cash the moment the releases were signed.
 
           "It's untraceable, tax-free cash," she told Theo, unable to resist the urge to confront him with a final temptation. "Think of the vacation we could have -- with plenty left over for a computer upgrade!"
 
           Theo had swelled with holy indignation, like Elijah face-to-face with the priests of Baal. "Are you suggesting we sell our birthright for a mess of pottage?" 
 
           She had retreated to the kitchen to do penance by making a double batch of chocolate chip cookies. She couldn't stop the mutinous thoughts circling around her head like vultures. If Theo had so much faith, why did he need to see the resurrection of Lazarus for himself?
 
           That was her problem: questions.  Lena had quickly learned that there were "right" questions, appropriate questions that could be countered with a Bible verse or two. The others, the ones that tormented her in the quiet hours of the night, were WRONG, rebellious, tempting God's wisdom. His ways were higher than her ways, inscrutable, and not to be questioned. Once her faith had matured, Theo told her, she would understand that, and enjoy the peace that passes understanding.
 
           Lena sighed again and trudged forward, head down, leaning into the straps. At first she had looked eagerly around, comparing the reality to what she had gleaned from movies and Sunday school books; but now she was too tired to care.
 
           "WHOA!"
 
           Theo's frantic shout, mingled with the braying of the donkey, snapped Lena to attention. The animal's head was down, almost between its front legs, while its rear hooves lashed heavenwards. Theo yelled again, yanked on the rope reins in a futile attempt to pull the animal's head up, then slid down its neck and somersaulted onto the road, raising a cloud of dust. The donkey reversed abruptly, yanking the reins out of Theo's hand, then charged away, kicking as it went. 
           
           Lena's lips twitched. It would be most uncharitable to show amusement at her husband's topsy-turvy landing, but she understood exactly how that donkey felt. 
 
           By the time she reached Theo, he was already on his feet, dusting himself off under the sympathetic eye of a stocky, middle-aged woman who had run to his assistance. 
 
           "Would you like to wash the dust off your face?" the woman asked him, holding out the water skin she carried over her shoulder. 
 
           Theo shook his head abruptly. He had not yet recovered his charm.
 
           Smiling deprecatingly to make up for Theo's rudeness, Lena studied the woman. In orientation, Lena had learned that women stayed in the background, never speaking to men outside their immediate family. Perhaps that rule didn't apply in emergencies.
 
           "My name is Leah," Lena said, shaping each word with elaborate care, mistrusting her borrowed linguistic skills. "And this is my husband Thaddeus, a merchant of spices."
 
           "I am Mary," the woman answered. "Don't worry about your donkey. My brother will have him back to you in no time. Lazarus is truly gifted with animals."
 

*     *     *

 
           How long is this going to take? Lena fretted. Will they really bring Jesus back with them? 
 
           Because of the necessity of keeping the arrival and departure of time travelers unobserved, temporal computers were not always able to insert them in the exact time slot they had requested. Everyone had heard horror stories about the results of temporal substitutions. The Ministry of Temporal Affairs assured the public that these tales were primarily urban legends. According to their public relations representative, the actual distortion rate was less than five per cent, and usually minimal. Lena and Theo were now part of the "negligible" proportion of dissatisfied customers. They would not be seeing Lazarus rise from the dead during their visit, because Lazarus was still very much alive.  
 
           Martha had offered Lena a comfortable cushion in the courtyard garden and strong mint tea to sip, but that was no consolation for the casual way Theo had dumped her. He was on his way with Mary and Lazarus to the village of Tziyona, where Jesus was rumoured to be teaching and healing. Without consulting her, he and Lazarus decided that Lena would go to Lazarus' house with the donkey -- Theo had lost all interest in riding -- display the wares in her basket to Martha, and await their return. 
 
           "Martha will be glad to see you," Lazarus had assured her confidently. "She is the most hospitable soul in the world."
 
           Lena had been too tired to object. After wasting a half hour trying to tie her load securely to the donkey's back, she had found her way to the house with no trouble. Martha was in the midst of baking bread.
 
           "I love the Teacher just as much as they do," Martha told Lena as she slid the loaves into the oven. "but they don't realize how much work it is when he visits. He's always surrounded by a horde of hungry mouths, and I never know how long he's going to stay before he moves on."
 
           Martha was much younger than Lena had expected, no more than her early twenties. In all her Bible study, she had never considered the possibility that Martha was the younger sister, not the older one. Her strong, slender body was constantly in motion. She could not walk past a flower bed without stooping to pull a weed or two.
 
           Lena wanted to offer to help, but she was afraid of betraying her ignorance of Biblical housekeeping techniques. Instead, she closed her eyes, relishing the coolness of the shade.
 
           When she woke up, she discovered that she was lying on her side on her cushion, with another one under her head. The sun had sunk out of sight behind the wall of the house. Martha was sitting opposite her, mending a tear in a coarsely-woven robe.
 
           "Oh," Lena said, sitting up, momentarily disoriented. She stared at Martha's needle flashing in and out of the fabric, trying to separate dream from reality.
 
           "Have you come far?" Martha asked.
 
           "From the sea coast," Lena said vaguely, unable to recall the name of the port where they had supposedly bought the spices. "Did you see anything in my basket to your liking?" she asked, to pull the conversation into a safer direction.
 
           "Some salt, perhaps, and cardamom, if the price is right. Will your husband barter? We have wonderful honey."
 
           "You will have to ask him," Lena said, wondering how much the honey would weigh, and how far she was going to have to carry it before their twenty-four hours were over. 
 
           "Your husband is just like Lazarus," Martha said. "He wants to make all the decisions."
 
           Lena nodded. "Will they be here soon, do you think?"
 
           "Who knows?  It's only a two-hour walk, but they may stay the night. The Teacher cannot be rushed."
 
           "This Teacher of yours -- does he really do miracles, as they say?" Lena asked.  If she couldn't see for herself, she should at least take the opportunity to question an eye-witness.
 
           "Oh yes," Martha said. "You should have seen Mary before she met him.  She had lost interest in everything, even life itself."
 
           "How did that come to be?"
 
           "I thought everyone in the world knew that story by now," Mary said.   "Father married her to Gedalya, the wine merchant, who had just been widowed. It was a good match, and Father wanted her close by, because Mother was already very frail. Mary was so excited about being the mistress of her own household -- she stayed up late night after night, waiting for Gedalya to fetch her." Martha's needle stopped, and she looked straight ahead, her jaw set. "He finally came -- but there was no blood on the cloth in the morning."
           
           "No blood - - ?" Lena repeated numbly. What had she read in the Old Testament? Blood, the token of virginity, was required evidence of the bride's purity when the marriage was consummated.  If there was no blood, she was returned to her family in disgrace.
 
           "Mary was very outspoken in those days. She cried out that Gedalya had fondled her drunkenly, and passed out before he completed the act. She swore that she was still as virgin as the day when the contract was signed. Gedalya beat her in sight of the whole community, calling her a lying whore, and everyone was in an uproar. Nobody dared to offer for her after that. They still snicker and call her Mary the Virgin."
 
           "Didn't anyone examine her to find out the truth?" Lena asked.
 
           "Father had a midwife do it. Mary was innocent. But, even so, he was afraid to confront Gedalya. He is a powerful man, with many friends. Mother cried day after day and refused to eat. Both she and Father were dead within the year."
 
           Lena said nothing. The words she needed to use were not part of her Aramaic vocabulary.
 
           "Mary was Father's favourite," Martha continued. "He wanted a son as his first-born, of course, but when she came instead, he treated her like a son. He taught her to read and argue the scriptures. Even after Lazarus was born."           
 
           "And you?"
 
           Martha shrugged. "Lazarus' wife died in childbirth. Somebody had to do the housekeeping."
 
           Lena's heart twisted. She remembered her mother's voice: You'd better learn to cook, because nobody's going to want you for your looks. Annie was the pretty one, the talented one, the one with the singing lessons and the fancy outfits for concerts and beauty pageants. Like Mary, who got to sit with the men and argue theology while her sister played the role of Cinderella.
 
           Martha set down her sewing. "It's time to milk Segulah. Do you want to come along?"
 
           Segula, a long-haired black goat, bleated loudly when she saw Martha. She ran to her to have her head scratched, then jumped up onto a raised platform. Murmuring soft endearments, Martha set her bowl down and began to milk, while Lena watched with fascination. She had seen cows being milked on a visit to a farm when she was a child, but never a goat.
 
           "Can I try?" she asked.
 
           "Go ahead." Martha moved aside, but Lena held back, worried that she might make a fool of herself.
 
           "I've never -- " she began.
 
           Martha grinned. "Everyone has to learn sometime. Just keep squeezing until you get the feel of it."
 
           Martha held one of Segulah's horns and stroked her neck to soothe her as the unfamiliar hands touched her.  The task of milking was both harder and easier than Lena had imagined. Milk started to squirt into the bowl after only two unsuccessful attempts, but the muscles in her hands objected violently to the unusual exercise.
 
           "Poor baby," Martha murmured, scratching around the goat's ears. "We sold her kid to a temple merchant last week."
 
           Lena kept milking, searching for something comforting to say. 
 
           "If I had my way," Martha said, "none of them, unblemished or not, would leave their mothers until they are weaned. But Lazarus says there won't be enough milk for the household if we do that. I know he's right, but -- " She stroked the goat again, reflectively. "I know how she feels."
 
           "After Father died," Martha continued, "Lazarus began negotiating my marriage contract with Ethan's father. Ethan and I had always liked each other. He used to come to visit and make conversation with the men, but I knew he was watching me all the time. We even managed to spend a little time alone now and then."
 
           Lena's glanced at Martha's face. Martha was staring blindly into the distance.
 
           "We were supposed to get married as soon as my sister-in-law Rosana had recovered from childbirth. But she died, and Lazarus cancelled the contract. He said there had to be someone to look after the household.” 
 
           "I cried, of course, but there wasn't much time for crying. I had to take care of Lazarus and Mary and baby Ornah. Ornah is a traditional family name. I changed it around a little and called her Rona -- 'My Joy'. I thought that if I could not know the joys of being a wife, I would at least know what it is like to be a mother. But the Lord took her too."
 
           The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, Lena thought viciously, massaging her sore hands. Blessed be the name of the Lord. But why? Why would God do that if he really cared about our pain?
 
           "Would you like me to take over now?" Martha asked, perfectly self-possessed once more.
 
           "Yes please." Lena moved to one side. They finished the milking in silence.
 
           By nightfall, everything was ready for Jesus and whatever guests he might bring with him. But the courtyard remained empty.
 
           "What will happen to all this food?" Lena asked when they had finished eating. 
 
           "If will keep until tomorrow. If no one arrives by midday, I will invite the beggars of the town for a feast."
 
           Martha seemed calmer than Lena felt. Didn't Lazarus and Mary realize how irresponsible they were? Just like Mother and Annie. More than once she had kept dinner warm for them, only to discover that they had already eaten. "The head judge invited us to his dinner party -- we just had to go. Networking is vital to Annie's career, you know. Now darling -- if you keep scolding like that all the time, no one will want to marry you."
 
           "How did you meet the Teacher?" Lena asked, to distract herself.
 
           "Lazarus brought him home from the marketplace one day. He stayed for ten days."
 
           "Is that when he healed Mary?"
 
           "Yes. She was huddled in the corner as usual, ignoring everything around her. Jesus went straight to her and put his hands on her shoulders.
'Gedalya is a very unhappy man,' he said. 'Can you forgive him?'
 
           "She looked up and started to cry. She had flinched away from her new husband's touch, she told him -- if only she had been more alluring, her family would not have been disgraced, and her parents would still be alive. The Teacher held her in his arms. I don't know what he whispered in her ear, but she got up, changed her clothes, and sat at his feet for the rest of the evening. The next morning she went to the market place and told everyone of the great rabbi who was staying at her house. Almost everyone in the village came to see him."
 
           "Were they healed?"
           
           "Oh yes. And not just on the outside. On the inside as well. I try to remember that when I feel tired. Even if the Teacher takes no notice of me, I am still part of his work."
 
           "Did you ever ask him to heal you?"
 
           Martha turned her head away. "Why should I? I am perfectly healthy."
 
           Lena felt a warmth at the back of her neck, washing into her throat. She felt an overwhelming love for this woman, as if she had known her always. "Martha," she said, "people don't think you need anything because you are so strong and capable. You have to learn to ask."
 
           Martha glared at Lena, eyes full of furious tears. "I did ask!" she shouted. "Just one time -- I was exhausted, and all I wanted was a little help -- and he told me Mary had chosen the better part, whatever that means!"
 
            Lena nodded her head. She had always wondered about that story in the Bible.  How could Jesus be so callous and judgemental? Couldn't he, of all people, see how much Martha needed his compassion?
 
           The next words that came from her mouth were not her own, and yet they were from the very depths of her heart. "Jesus loves you every bit as much as he loves Mary or anyone else. But you asked him to change the choices that Mary made, and he couldn't do that and still be who he is."
 
           Martha started to sob. 
 
           "You have to ask for yourself," Lena said, her voice cracking as her own tears broke through. "Ask him to change you, not other people." Ignoring her protesting muscles, she crawled over to Martha and enfolded her in her arms.
 
           "Heal us, Lord!" Lena cried from her deepest heart. "Please heal us." It was the first time she had ever prayed out loud without Theo's dictation.
 
           She gasped as love rolled over her like a tidal wave. It's all true, she thought. It's not a mind game after all. Then there were no more thoughts, only joy and peace.
 
           "Listen to me," she said to Martha when she could speak again. "Your faith will be tested soon, and if you act on it, you will find that it can move mountains or raise the dead. Don't hide in your pain -- confront the Teacher and ask for what you need. Remember this when Lazarus falls sick -- "
  "Lazarus?" Martha asked. "He's never been sick a day of his life."
 

*   *   *

April 14, 2034.

           " -- and then I was back in my own time, at the orientation center," Lena told Janine. "Theo was already there, giving them what-for. He never even made it to Tziyona. He couldn't keep up with Mary and Lazarus, and they went on without him. He was sitting at the side of the road by himself when -- pouf! -- he was zapped back, just like me. We spent over three hours being interviewed and tested. Apparently spontaneous returns are extremely rare."
 
           "So neither of you met Jesus?" Janine asked.
 
           "No. Not in the flesh, anyway. If I ever go again, I'm going to take some aerobics classes first. A lot of aerobics classes. I didn't realize how much people walked in those days -- no wonder they were worn out by the time they were forty."
 
           "I'm sorry you missed out," Janine said. "I had such a wonderful experience."
 
           Lena smiled, remembering. "I don't feel that I missed anything. For once in my life, I got exactly what I needed. But poor Martha -- what would she think when I suddenly disappeared?"
 
           "She probably thought you were an angel from God with a message of encouragement."
 
           Lena laughed. "An angel? That's some promotion!"
 
           "Don't knock it," Janine said. "An angel is just a messenger. It's not written anywhere that God's messengers always have to be spiritual beings."
 
           "You're right," Lena said. "I think of you as my personal angel."  She squeezed Janine's hand. "Do you suppose those angels in the Bible who looked like ordinary people were just ordinary people? Time travelers, like me?"
 
           "What does your husband think?"
 
           "Theo?  He would classify that as an inappropriate question."
                                   

*     *     *

April 18, 2034

 
           "I'm so glad you called me," Annie said for the fourth time. "I never understood why you left home, but I always felt guilty about it."
 
           Lena signaled the waitress to re-fill her coffee cup, reluctant to say good-bye. Next time, she would invite Annie to her home, where they could talk all night if they wanted.
 
           "It's so ironic," Annie said. "I was convinced that you were the favourite. Mother was always comparing me to you. 'Why can't you be reliable like Lena?' she'd ask over and over. Her favourite line was 'You'd better work hard on your career and make lots of money -- you'll never cope without a staff to do everything for you!'" 
 
           "Are you still in touch with her?" Lena asked.
 
           "Oh yes." Annie smiled ambiguously. 
 
           "Will you take me to see her?"
 
           "Are you sure? She hasn't changed much."
 
           "That's okay," Lena said. "I have."