“Have you spoken with Baruch lately?”
Jeremiah walked around the room to stretch his legs as he answered. “He dropped by a few weeks ago. I slipped him some of my notes.”
“How does he look?” Ben asked.
“All things considered, not bad. The tooth is bothering him, but he hasn’t lost any more weight.”
“The blessings of youth.”
“He’s fifty-two,” Jeremiah said.
“Compared to us, he’s a young pup. Face it, Jer. We’re old.”
“I haven’t turned sixty yet,” Jeremiah complained. “I won’t be old for another two months. Time, on the other hand, has had its way with you.”
Ben didn’t argue. “I have aches and pains with more wisdom than most people working here. And my back,” he said, arching his spine. “I wonder when was the last time I sat down without letting out a grunt.”
“Football injury?”
“Football. Military. Twenty years of sitting in meetings. Take your pick.”
The red numbers on the clock flipped over to the top of the hour. Outside, the occasional thud of a muted explosion carried through the thick concrete and layers of earth which covered the shelter. On one of the screens, a machine gun mounted on the city wall fired at an unseen foe. Smoke and silence followed short bursts of white flashes. The sound reminded Jeremiah of a fast nail gun tapping shingles into place on a wooden roof.
“Listen to me complain,” Ben said. “It’s not like I had to go through what you did.”
“I’ve never been shot at,” Jeremiah said. “That I know of anyway. Or had shrapnel lodge in my abdomen.”
“We’ll call it a draw.”
Jeremiah smiled at his friend. “How long have we known each other?” he asked. He knew the answer.
“Forty years give or take. The best forty years of my life.”
Jeremiah didn’t detect sarcasm. “Would you do it again if you could?” he asked.
“All this?” Ben surveyed the room. His hollow eyes had sunk deeper into his face than Jeremiah remembered. “Some things, yes. Others, not so much. How about you?”
“This was the path laid out for me.”
“You sound fatalistic.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I’d just say a lot of things were out of my control. I guess I had the choice to step off the path if I really wanted to.”
“Did you ever want to?”
“More times than I can count,” Jeremiah said.
“What kept you going?” Ben asked. He twisted his torso back and forth a couple times.
“Faith. Stubbornness. The knowledge that as bad as things are, disobeying God would have been worse. It took me a long time to reach that point.”
Ben let out a ‘hmm’ and kept twisting. “You want to hear something funny?” he asked without waiting for a response. “I still think of you as that skinny, little runt I met in college. I know you’ve matured – to a certain extent – but there’s also a part of you that hasn’t changed. I say that in a good way.”
“What did you see in me back then? You and I were so different, but we became good friends. Best friends by my account. What made you want to hang out with me?”
The motion stopped. Worry, guilt, relief all touched the corner of Ben’s eyes. “Confession time,” he said. “The only reason I hung out with you, at first, was because you knew Victoria.” He let out a deep sigh. “You don’t know how long I’ve held that in. I’m sorry, buddy. I should have told you many years ago.”
Jeremiah shrugged. “I’ve known that all along. I should’ve said why did you continue to hang out with me?”
“You knew?”
“Yeah. You didn’t disguise it well.”
“Then why … you and Victoria were a thing. I thought you two would get together. Married, that is. When you broke up, I felt responsible. Terrible, actually. Even though, I couldn’t understand why you were together in the first place. She was so beautiful and you … well, you know. I’m not saying you’re not a good-looking guy.” The stammering grew worse. Jeremiah listened impassively. “And I … I realize I never apologized … you know, for it. Of course, I’d do it again. But, really, I’m sorry.”
“That ranks as one of the worst apologies ever,” Jeremiah said. “You want to try again?”
“You’re not going to make this easy on me,” Ben said.
“Not if I can help it.”
“Look, Jer. If I could make it up to you ….”
A wry smile crossed Jeremiah’s lips. “I forgive you,” he said. “Truth be told, there’s nothing to forgive. I broke up with Victoria.”
“You did? Why would you do that? That has to be one of the stupidest things a person could do. Did you not know how incredible she was? Admittedly, she was way out of your league, but she loved you. There’s no way I would’ve let her go, if I were you. Man, sometimes you can be such a knucklehead.”
“Forgiveness retracted.”
Ben glanced at his friend. “Seriously. Why did you break up with her?”
“The Lord told me to.”
“Really?” For the second time, Ben checked for sarcasm. This time, he found none. “You’re not joking, are you?”
Jeremiah shook his head. He pursed his lips and let out a soft snort.
“What did he say? Did he use those exact words?”
“The word of the Lord came to me. ‘You shall not take a wife, nor shall you have sons or daughters in this place. For thus says the Lord concerning the sons and daughters who are born in this place and concerning the mothers who bore them and the fathers who fathered them in this land: They shall die of deadly diseases. They shall not be lamented, nor shall they be buried. They shall be as dung on the surface of the ground. They shall perish by the sword and by famine, and their dead bodies shall be food for the birds of the air and for the beasts of the earth.”
Ben’s discomfort remained visible but unspoken.
“I told Victoria,” Jeremiah said.
“She knew?”
Jeremiah nodded. “When you two couldn’t have children, secretly, it brought me joy. Although, I’m not sure that’s the right word.”
“She never told me.”
“The prophecy was for me, not you.”
“It sounds like it was for everyone,” Ben said.
“God preserves a remnant out of the people who love him.”
“Still, why didn’t she tell me?”
“She didn’t exactly believe me when I told her. It certainly would not have rung true so long ago. I suspect she didn’t even remember that I said it.”
“I suppose.” The worry returned to his face. A question formed but couldn’t quite manifest itself. “Gedaliah. Will he …?” Ben let the doubt hang in the air.
“I don’t know,” Jeremiah said. “I’d like to think not. Your son is a fine young man. Strong like his father, in many ways. A man after God’s heart. I believe God has great things in store for him. But … I don’t know.”
Ben stared at the wall.
“Look,” Jeremiah said. “Don’t be angry with Victoria. If God didn’t want you to have children, he wouldn’t have let you.”
“I’m not angry. Just … I wish I would have known.”
“Would you have done anything differently if you had known?” Jeremiah asked.
“No. I wouldn’t trade Gedaliah for the world.”
An explosion shook the top of the bunker. The fixtures rattled as the lights fluttered on and off. Jeremiah recoiled, not out of fear but reflex, and waited for the shaking to stop.
“That hit close,” Jeremiah said.
“Right on top of us,” Ben replied. “The artillery must’ve found their distance.”
“How far away are they?”
“A little more than ten miles if they’re at the closest part of the wall. Maybe as much as fifteen miles.” Ben glanced at a television screen. “I’m surprised they haven’t breached the walls yet.”
“How long?”
Ben shrugged. “Soon.”
“It won’t be pretty,” Jeremiah said.
“Unless you can somehow convince Zedekiah to surrender.”
“I’d have an easier time convincing President Jehoiakim.”
“So, you’re saying it’s impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible with God,” Jeremiah said. “On the other hand, he doesn’t force us to obey him, generally speaking. Unlike what Jehoiakim tried to do.”
“Speaking of Jehoiakim, is he still in prison?”
“Last I heard,” Jeremiah answered.
“If only he had listened,” Ben said. “He had ample warning.”
“So did the rest of the nation.”
“But he had you in his ear,” Ben said.
“And a bunch of other advisors telling him the opposite.”
“I can’t understand why he listened to them. Well, I guess I sort of do. Still, it surprises me that he continued to follow their advice. He saw what happened with his own eyes! How can you not see the truth when it stares you in the face?”