A knock rapped at the door.
“Who would come at this hour?” Joachim grumbled beside me, turning over onto his side, pulling the wool blanket closer to him.
I sat up. “Perhaps Mary has returned.”
“Before dawn?” Joachim pulled his knees toward his chest. “You have been saying that every morning, Anne, for the past three months.”
It was true that I had. Each morning, day, and evening, I hoped that my Mary was back from Judea. She would look young and healthy. And best of all, she would not be pregnant.
The knock sounded again. I listened to one of Joachim’s nephew’s answer the door.
“Joseph?”
“Is Joachim and Anne there?”
“Of course, but it is still night—”
“I must speak to them immediately.”
I tapped Joachim on the shoulder. “Get up, Joachim. Get up. It is Joseph!”
I stood, feeling a typical ache in my tailbone. I shivered in the cold but wrapped my mantle around me. I clumsily grabbed an oil lamp off a niche in the wall and lit it with the nearly diminished burning coals from last night’s fire.
Joachim took his time rising. Part out of sleepiness, and part because his own back burdened him.
By the time we were both on our feet, Joseph was inside our little bedroom.
“Goodness, boy. Are you unwell?” I pushed the light toward him to get a better look. The young man was sweating and panting, attesting to his shiny skin and damp tunic.
“Yes,” he heaved. “No! No! I am not…I…where is Mary?”
“She has not yet returned,” Joachim said, grabbing his shepherds’ staff that leaned against the wall. “But we pray that when she does, she will not be pregnant and this whole affair will be finished.”
“She is pregnant,” Joseph said. “I have no doubt about it.”
My eyes widened as I exchanged a glance with Joachim.
“Why do you look so pleased about it?” I asked. “Why?”
Joseph smiled and then sobered. Then smiled again. “She…I…she speaks the truth. I am certain. I am not afraid. I am not afraid to take her as my wife! That which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit! She will bear a son and we shall call his name Jesus for he will save his people from their sins.” Joseph let out a loud laugh. “He…she bears the Messiah!”
Joachim leaned against his staff. “And how did you reach this conclusion?”
“An angel just came to me. In a dream. He told me to not fear taking Mary as my wife. Anne, you are right. She is a truthful girl. A holy girl. A virgin.”
I cupped the oil lamp in my hands, staring at the exuberant, sweaty Joseph in shock. But my gaping mouth closed and curled into a smile, for he too believed.
***
Mary and Joseph were the talk and shame of Nazareth. When Mary returned from Judea, Joseph took Mary into his father’s house as his wife. After five months of living together, Mary was obviously pregnant, her belly as round as the sun.
There were two things wrong with their marriage—at least to the public eye. First, two vowed virgins were having a baby. Second, that baby was conceived outside of the marriage.
Somehow, Mary remained gentle and passive through it all. Joseph seemed more embarrassed about the situation but that he had at least accepted it.
Joachim refused to speak to anyone about the subject of his daughter’s scandal.
As for me, there were many times when I wanted to rise to Mary’s defense, but fear held me back. Mary did not defend herself. She bore all with gentle silence.
When we gathered at the synagogue on the Sabbath, Mary and I sat next to each other. The men, women, and their children avoided us as if we were a hornet’s nest. It felt more like they were the hornets, stinging us with their pointed stares.
After one of the Sabbath services, one of Joseph’s sisters-in-law looked me hard in the face.
“It looks like Mary and I are at the same stage of our pregnancy.” She glowered, resting a hand over her stomach. Her name was Hannah. But Hannah was several years married and already had other children.
At that moment, I did not look down at my hands. I did not keep silent! Mary would not defend herself, but I would.
“Do not envy the honors of a sinner,” I spoke the words of Ben Sira, “for you do not know what his end will be.” I raised my chin and looked at Mary who stood behind me. Turning back to Hannah, I wondered if the woman was jealous of all the attention Mary was receiving instead of her. “So to you, do not envy Mary,” I said, “for you do not know what her end will be.”
Hannah narrowed her eyes. She did not deny any envy for Mary, but she rolled her shoulders back and turned toward the other women and children who restfully spoke to one another.
***
A month later, a decree came from Caesar Augustus. The Roman emperor issued a census. Every man was to return to his native city.
“You are taking your fully pregnant wife to Bethlehem!” Joachim leaned against his shepherd’s staff, staring at Joseph.
Joseph looked back seriously, his arm protectively around Mary’s shoulders. Mary rested her hands on her round belly.
“She could be due any day now! Anne!” Joachim looked at me. “Did you not say that the babe may come early?”
“I did say so.” My voice echoed in the small bedroom that was now our typical gathering place. “And I trust that El Shaddai will see to all of their needs.”
“But Bethlehem is Joseph’s native city,” Joachim said. “It is a long journey. Can a woman in Mary’s condition take it?”
I looked lovingly at Mary. I could tell that she was determined to travel beside Joseph all the way south to Bethlehem.
“You know, Bethlehem is my father’s native city,” I mused. I then spoke louder, my teeth clapped together in a smile. “But you, Bethlehem, Ephrathah, who are little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel.” I went to a shelf behind me and pulled out a thick mantle. “And he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of Adonai.”
Taking the mantle that I had woven in secret these past months, I wrapped it around Mary’s shoulders. Blue. The color that Palestinian mothers wore.