Chapter 24: Healing

Ammon was exhausted. It had been nearly four weeks since the massacre. He had slept very little since that day. His feelings were still torn about the role he’d been given to play. A part of him believed he should have died next to Lamoni and his sons that morning, yet he was grateful he had been able to help put these people, his people, back together. It had been a very difficult time for the women of Ishmael.

He also had to admit to himself that his exhaustion was not just physical. His spirit was tired down to the very core. He had given more blessings in the past four weeks than probably the past four years put together. Every home he walked into had a tragic story, but each woman or orphan he met looked at him with such faith that his heart ached. Abish had been right—if anybody could have influenced Lamoni to follow another course, it was himself; but he hadn’t. The Lord hadn’t whispered any other way, and so he followed the man he had pledged to serve for life.

But Abish had been wrong about one thing. He did care. He cared deeply. He loved the women and children left behind as if they were his own. That is why he didn’t sleep any more often than exhaustion took him. If only for an hour or two, he could help each one as a husband, a father, a brother, a sweetheart. Except for Abish. He could be none of these things to her. He had watched her from afar for the last month. He knew that the slaughter had cut her faith down to the root. He had seen the flame of the Spirit die in her eyes and only slowly rekindle as she rallied her friends around her and served wherever she could.

Enduring her anger for the past several weeks had been unexpectedly difficult. Though he would often go months without seeing her, he realized just how much he had come to depend on her steady faith and constant friendship. He knew that he didn’t feel for her as Omner felt for his wife, but lately he had wondered if he should marry Abish. She was old, but not so old there wouldn’t be children. And while she wasn’t as beautiful as many of the Lamanite women he had met, there was something remarkable about her countenance when the light of Christ shone in her. There were times when he caught a look in her eyes that told him she would not refuse if he asked. Besides, she would be the perfect companion for his chosen work.

He sighed as he walked through the courtyard, reminding himself that he was not all that young himself and that is was probably foolish to expect deep, soul-stirring love. He skipped rocks in the nearly dry pond. It hadn’t rained since before that terrible day and even in the night air, the heat was as oppressive as the air of tragedy hanging over everyone. His rocks wouldn’t skip, and it only frustrated him further. He glanced to the back of the palace. The queen’s doors were spread wide to catch the hint of breeze that blew through the courtyard. Even from the distance, he could see Abish there, walking baby Lamoni up and down. And though no feeling stirred his heart or body, there was something very peaceful about the picture before him. It would be a good life with her.

He also knew that he would be her only chance for marriage. There was never any suggestion that she loved someone else or that someone loved her. Besides, even if there was such a person, he was surely dead. Hadn’t nearly every eligible—and ineligible—man in her city been killed? Killed because Ammon had kept his mouth closed? Many of the soldiers were unmarried and would probably become suitable husbands for the younger women; Abish’s own brother was among those who was soon to marry, but it was unlikely that too many of the older widows with children would remarry. There were just too few men.

While he was heavy with his thoughts he was startled to hear a noise behind him. He whirled quickly to see Lamoni’s oldest daughter, Selah, standing before him. The moonlight played carefully off her delicate features and it struck him suddenly that she was no longer a child. He wasn’t sure exactly how old she was, but he had been in this land nearly ten years; she must be in her late teens, at least. He was so struck by her loveliness that he forgot his manners and just stared for a moment.

“Ammon?” She said, almost timidly.

“Yes, Selah?” Even her name sounded pretty as it came from his lips. Had he ever spoken to her personally?

She continued, her voice soft in the moonlight and everything seemed perfect for a moment, though her words were nothing special, “My mother saw you walking out here and wondered if everything was all right—if there was something she might do for you.”

Ammon remembered his manners and his charm. He smiled broadly, feeling for the first time in a long time that he really wanted to. “I am doing well, thank you. I was just thinking I might like a little company. Would you walk around the garden with me?”

She smiled too, revealing impossibly white and even teeth. Her eyes lit up and she said, “Of course,” as she peered from behind her long dark lashes. She took Ammon’s offered arm as naturally as if she had come for no other purpose.

After several turns around the garden, Selah said she needed to get back to her mother. Ammon watched her walk away, her brilliant green, filmy gown catching in the slight breeze and flowing so slightly behind her. Although he’d only really seen her for the first time less than an hour ago, he knew in a flash that he would never marry Abish. The last request he would fulfill for Lamoni would be the first he had made—he would take one of Lamoni’s daughters to wife.


It rained that night. Hard. As always when the air pressure changed, Abish was very busy delivering babies in the days that followed. All boys. In the weeks that followed, many of the widows also gave birth to healthy baby boys. The boys were mostly named after fathers or brothers who had been killed, but there was a generous sprinkling of Lamonis, Aarons, Ammons, Omners, and even a Himni or two. But hardly any girls. For every girl born there were probably seven or eight boys. In all her years of midwifing, she had never seen anything like it. Besides the births, families picked up men in other ways—many of the orphaned daughters married soldiers who had stayed in Ishmael. Abish’s brother married Sasha and she wept for joy when she was able to add sisterhood to their friendship. Until she sat with them often at their simple table, she hadn’t realized just how much she had been without when she had no family.

Although it was different in the city, Abish was the first to admit that much of the joy and peace their lives had held just a year or two before was returning. Zaria was still sad and distant at times, but Aaron was very attentive. Abish believed it was only a matter of an appropriate amount of time passing before he proposed to the queen. In fact, all four brothers had spent most of their time in the city since that horrible day. With so few men and recent converts, the church was weak in Ishmael and needed their strength.

After a particularly exhausting night with young Lamoni, Zaria fed the baby and handed him off to Abish who rocked him back and forth until his cries soothed and he fell asleep. The steady rocking and cuddly baby on her chest rocked Abish to sleep too. She awoke early in the morning to his fussing and rooting and laughed as she held him slightly away from her. “Sorry kiddo, we need to find mommy for that.”

He responded by chewing on Abish’s arm. She laughed again and walked to the inner chamber to find Zaria. The queen had just arisen and was putting on her dressing gown. “I thought I heard someone wake up.” She said brightly as she took the baby from Abish. “Thank you so much; I really needed the sleep last night.”

Abish smiled, “My pleasure. I think he is getting a tooth on the bottom—that may be the problem.”

The queen sighed, “They grow up so fast.” Abish agreed and was about to leave when the queen asked her to sit. Abish settled herself on the edge of the bed and looked at her friend expectantly. Zaria said. “You and I have been friends a long time.”

“Yes.”

“So I am telling you something first, but only because I know you won’t tell anyone else. Ammon came to see me last night.”

“Oh?”

“He has asked for Selah’s hand in marriage.”

It took a moment for the words to register and Abish was glad to be sitting down. Though she hadn’t consciously thought about Ammon with thoughts of marriage for a long, long time, Zaria’s announcement reminded Abish she had never really given up hope that his feelings might one day deepen. As long as he remained single there had still been a chance, but now . . . now Abish would really be alone. She swallowed and gathered her thoughts quickly trying not to feel jealous of the beautiful Selah. She nodded slowly, “It is a good thing.”

Zaria nodded too. “Yes. A very good thing. For Selah.”

“And Ammon too.”

“You don’t think Ammon is doing this out of obligation to my husband, do you? She is young enough to be his daughter.”

Abish paused a moment to carefully word her response. “I think Ammon has held out a long time to find a woman he truly loves. While there may be a sense of obligation, Selah has become a beautiful young woman with many attributes that would draw a man to her. It will be a great match.”

“Yes.”

Abish said quietly, “You married Lamoni out of obligation, and you grew to love him.”

The queen was nodding now, “Yes. I wish it had been my choice, though.”

“What does Selah want?”

“She is so happy she can hardly contain herself.”

Abish smiled, knowing that Selah could be very emotional. Her zest for life would match Ammon’s. “So we must then trust that Ammon is a grown man, and by asking for Selah’s hand in marriage he has made the right choice.”

“You are right. I will give my permission. We must spread this news very soon. I think this will bring much happiness to our people.”

“I think our people are ready for a little joy.” But as she said the words she felt very little of it herself.


Abish moved away from the bright crowd to the courtyard. The festivities had not spilled outside because there was a new moon that night and it threatened rain. The night was unusually cool and very dark. She shivered slightly in her light wrap, and began walking to warm up. Despite the darkness, she knew her way around the courtyard, and although it took her eyes a few minutes to adjust, she was able to easily stay on the path.
Ammon and Selah’s wedding earlier that day had been beautiful. Selah was gloriously happy and the tired, aged look in Ammon’s eyes had faded until he seemed much as he had when she first saw him ten years ago: the night he had mistaken her for one of Lamoni’s daughters. She drew her breath in sharply, willing such thoughts away.

At the party, she had tried to focus on enjoying herself, but the lack of men in the dances and pretending happiness she didn’t really feel had finally taken its toll. She slipped away into the quiet garden, grateful to be alone in the dark.

Then, suddenly she wasn’t alone. She recognized Himni in the garden. He almost seemed to be waiting for her as she circled the garden on her walk. Still, he didn’t approach, as if he was waiting for something. She paused for just a moment before walking toward him. Though she had left the party to be alone, his solid and dependable presence was oddly comforting. “Good evening, Himni.”

He nodded toward her, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your solitary ramble. I just wanted to know that you were all right.”

Unshed tears prickled just behind her eyes. “I didn’t know anybody was aware that I left.”

He looked at her sideways, and she could barely make out his features from the lighted palace. “I knew. And . . .” then he looked down and paused for some time. “I know this day was difficult for you.”

In the weeks since she’d had her conversation with Zaria, she had not spoken of her difficulty to anyone, even the queen. But she and Himni had come to know each other over many hours spent in quiet conversation during her late night vigils and he had a way of seeing right into the heart of things. Suddenly the tears would not stay unshed, but she would still not admit to her foolishness, “And why would you think that?” Her voice sounded thick in her ears.

He gave a wry smile that reminded her so much of Ammon that the tears began flowing in earnest. “I have known you many years, friend. I know you have loved my brother a long time, though I would doubt you’ve ever spoken to anyone about it.”

Abish nodded, tired of the subterfuge. “I’m a fool.”

His expression immediately changed and he shook his head, “Love is not foolish.”

“What about holding on to something for ten years without even an inkling that your feeling is returned?” Her voice broke and she turned away to begin walking again; he followed though he stayed silent for a long time while she got control of her emotions.

He then said so quietly that she almost had to lean into him to hear. “Hope is what keeps us going. Hope gets us out of bed in the morning even when there are few assurances for getting our hearts’ desires.” His intense words gave her heart unexpected warmth and she had the distinct impression that he understood exactly what she was feeling. Impulsively, she took his arm and almost regretted it when she felt him tense underneath her touch, but then he relaxed and they walked for some time in silence.

After several minutes she shivered involuntarily. He observed, “You’re cold. We should go back.”

Abish stopped, but shook her head, “No; I feel peaceful. Right now in this moment I feel more at peace than I have felt for many months. I’m not quite ready to rejoin the others yet.”

Himni looked at her very directly for the first time all evening, and though it was dark, she somehow knew the expression on his face. He said quietly, “I feel it too.”

And then, in the moment it took for her heart to beat so loud she was sure he would hear it, she knew that she had spent years looking toward the wrong brother. Even in the dark she knew the expression of love and tenderness in Himni’s eyes. She knew it because she had seen it countless times before, though she never knew what it really was until exactly this moment. One eye slightly green and the other slightly brown. She opened her mouth to speak, but what could be said?

So she closed it and kept walking, suddenly so conscious of his touch she feared she would tremble. Her thoughts were jumbled with her newfound awareness and she replayed scenes from the time she’d known him. His backward glance at their first meeting. His ever-ready presence when she left the palace in the middle of the night whether Ammon came or not. His capable hands blessing babies and mothers and children. The way Ammon deferred to Himni’s judgment whenever it was expressed. His quiet manner of preaching that could touch hearts even Ammon failed to reach. His convincing Lamoni to leave them behind to defend the women if it came to that. She suddenly knew it had been Himni that carried her away screaming from Lamoni’s body and that scene of death the first day, and probably to her own bed the night Zaria gave birth. He had been with her so much the last several weeks, attentive, reassuring, helpful, supporting her and loving her even as her faith faltered and her world crumbled. In her reverie she was clumsy, but as she tripped on a rock and nearly fell, Himni caught her elbow.

She looked up at him as she straightened. “Oh, Himni! I am a fool . . .”

“No, Abish, you mustn’t . . .” He started to contradict her, but she held her trembling hand to his lips and shook her head.

She moved her hand to his cheek, praying for courage to say the right words, “I see now, now that I fear it is too late, that I have spent years overlooking the thing I already had.”

Himni said nothing as he took Abish’s hand from his face and held it. His voice was low and intense, “These last months have shown that life is fragile—that we don’t know when it will be taken from us. And now I can’t keep myself from telling you that I’ve loved you since the first day I met you. I know that Ammon’s inattention and now his marriage has hurt you, but I would be a good husband to you. I would never take you for granted. I think in time you would see that you could come to love me too . . .”

He trailed off because Abish embraced him. He held her tightly in return and she whispered through fresh tears, “How could I have been so blind?”

Himni’s laugh was shaky as he held her close, “The girls were always a little blind when it came to Ammon.”

Abish’s own laugh was tremulous but felt wonderful. The mood almost immediately lifted between them and Himni pulled his heavy cloak off and wrapped it around her. “You look beautiful, but it’s a ridiculous dress for a night this cold.” Abish flushed and she could hear the shyness in Himni’s voice as he followed with, “I’ve wanted to say that so many times.”

Abish smiled brightly at him, unsure which gave her more warmth—his coat or his sweet words. Her mood was so changed she could hardly believe she was the same girl who had escaped the party less than half and hour ago. Her heart was full, and she could hardly think of a single coherent thing to say; it seemed that Himni was having the same emotion because they wandered for some time through the garden, alternately blurting out random things. It was plain that Himni’s words had been saved up a long time.

The happy couple finally decided to rejoin the party, thinking that they might be missed. Abish hesitated just before they entered the palace and held him back slightly. “Himni . . .” He looked at her, directly again, his fear and shyness gone. He raised his eyebrows quizzically, waiting for her to finish, “I know it seems like my decision is the decision of a moment. That perhaps my words are just my loneliness talking . . .” she struggled to formulate her words, hoping to say just the right thing, “But there is a rightness to this beyond anything I’ve every felt, and I will never look back.”

He smiled broadly, “For many years I have dreaded Ammon’s wedding day, I was so sure that you would be his bride. Now, I must confess that I sought you out tonight trying to offer you some comfort in the hopes that you might begin to transfer your feelings for him . . .” He laughed. “I thought it would take months to convince you, and instead I find that Ammon’s wedding day will always be my almost happiest day.”

“Almost?”

“The best day will be our wedding day.”

Before she could agree, they heard the sound of footsteps running across the courtyard. The runner was looking about frantically in the garden. “Abish?” The person called out when he was closer. He was a servant from the palace. She nodded for him to continue. He said breathlessly, “There is a baby coming.”

Abish fought the urge to sigh. Could there have been one night without an emergency? She had warned Prida to take it easy on the eating and the dancing, but she had avoided Abish’s advice despite her close time. No doubt she’d brought her labor on, but it was Prida’s fourth child and she was a strong woman. Nor was the baby too early; it would be a good birth. Still she was loathe to leave.

“Send word that I am coming, and ask the queen to find a place for the mother in the palace.”

The servant ran off as quickly as he’d come. She turned back to Himni where he stood in the shadows behind her. She pulled his cloak from her shoulders, feeling the loss of warmth immediately. She stepped close to him, the coat between them. He wasn’t a lot taller than she, being the shortest of his four brothers, but he was broad through the shoulders. She had never noticed before. He embraced her and there was concern through his tender expression, “Does she have a husband?”

“He was killed.”

Himni shook his head. “How will this generation of children grow up without fathers?”

“They will look to their leaders, and God will make their mothers stronger than any mothers the world has known. Our poets will sing of them for generations to come.”

He kissed the top of her head, “Indeed you are the most remarkable woman I have ever met.” She smiled up at him one last time. He kissed her again, this time quietly and tenderly on the lips. “Godspeed little Midwife.”

She ran through the darkness toward the house.


The baby came well before dawn and Abish was able to get some sleep as the day began. Instead of falling into a deep sleep as she usually did after a delivery, she dreamed that she was back in her peaceful forest, just as on the night she met Himni. She swam through the pools of amber and green. It was impossible to decide which was better—the calm and serenity of the amber or the way the green infused her with energy and vigor. Both feelings were equally full of possibility.