Zebedee and his wife were making room for our blanket to be put down, and then Little Salome tried to hold Little Esther. And Little Zoker got loose and tried to run. Little Mary was also wailing—and all in all so much happening around me—that it was hard to pay much attention to any one thing.

Before anyone knew it, I had grabbed Little Salome’s hand and tugged her away, slipping under this person and that, and stepping over this person and that, and we were at the edge of the roof.

There was a little wall there, just high enough so we couldn’t fall—.

I could see the Temple again! The crowded roofs of the city lay all in front of it, rising and dipping on the hills and coming up to the Temple’s mighty walls.

There was music coming from the streets below, and I could hear people singing, and the smoke of cooking fires smelled good, and everywhere people chattered, below and on the roofs and it became like a holy chant.

“Our Temple,” said Little Salome proudly to me, and I nodded. “The Lord who made Heaven and Earth dwells in the Temple,” she said.

“The Lord is everywhere,” I answered.

She looked at me.

“But He’s in the Temple!” she said. “I know that the Lord is everywhere. But for now we should talk of his being in the Temple. We are here to go to the Temple.”

“Yes,” I said. I looked at the Temple.

“To dwell with his people, He’s in the Temple,” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “And …everywhere.” I looked only at the Temple.

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “You know that it’s true. The Lord is with us, you and me, right now. The Lord is always with us.”

She laughed and so did I.

The cooking fires made a mist in front of us, and all the noise was like a mist of another kind. It made my thoughts clearer. God is everywhere and God is in the Temple.

Tomorrow we would go to it. Tomorrow we would stand in the court inside its walls. Tomorrow, and then the men would go for the first sprinkling of the purification of the blood of the red heifer in preparation for the Feast of Passover which we would all eat together in Jerusalem to celebrate our coming out of Egypt long, long ago. I would be with the children and the women. But James would be with the men. We would watch from our place, but we would all be within the walls of the Temple. Nearer to the altar where the lambs of Passover would be sacrificed. Closer to the Sanctuary into which only the High Priest would go.

We had known about the Temple ever since we had known about anything. We had known about the Law ever since we had known anything. We had been taught at home by Joseph, and Alphaeus and Cleopas and then in school by the Teacher. We knew the Law by heart.

I felt a quiet inside myself in all the noise of Jerusalem. Little Salome seemed to feel that way too. We stood close to each other without talking or moving, and all the talking and laughter and crying babies, and even the music didn’t touch us for a little while.

Joseph came up to us, and guided us back to the family.

The women were just coming back with food they’d bought. It was time for everyone to gather and time for prayer.

For the first time I saw worry in Joseph’s face as he watched Cleopas.

Cleopas still fought with his wife over the water, not wanting to take it.

I turned and looked at him, and I knew right away he didn’t know what he was doing. He wasn’t right in the head.

“You come sit by me!” he said to me.

I did it, sitting at his right hand, crossing my legs. We were all very close together. Little Salome sat on his left, watching everything he did.

He was angry but not at anybody there. Suddenly he asked when we would get to Jerusalem? Did anybody remember we were going to Jerusalem? It frightened everyone.

My aunt suddenly was very tired of it and threw up her hands. Little Salome went quiet also, just looking at her father.

Cleopas looked around himself and he knew he had said something wrong. Then he seemed himself again, just like that. He picked up the cup of clean water and he drank it. He took a deep breath and looked at his wife. My aunt came nearer again. My mother moved beside her, and put her arm around her. My aunt needed to sleep, I could see it, but she couldn’t do that now.

The sauce was hot from the brazier. I was very hungry. The bread was warm too.

It was time for the blessing. The first prayer we all said together in Jerusalem. I bowed my head. Zebedee, being the eldest, led us in the prayer in our family tongue, and the words were a little different to me. But it was still very good.

Afterwards, my cousin John bar Zechariah stared at me as though he had something very important on his mind but he didn’t say anything.

At last we began dipping our bread. It was so good—not just a sauce but a thick pottage of lentils and soft cooked beans and pepper and spices. And there were plenty of dried figs to chew after the hot flavor of the pottage, and I loved it. I didn’t think about anything except the food. And Cleopas was eating a little which made everyone happy.

It was the first really good supper since we’d left Alexandria. And there was plenty of it. I ate until I almost couldn’t eat anymore.

Afterwards, Cleopas wanted to talk to me and made everyone leave us alone. Aunt Mary just made a quitting gesture again and moved away to rest for a moment, and then went to other chores with the clearing away, and Aunt Salome was tending to Little James and the other children. Little Salome was helping with Baby Esther and Little Zoker whom she loved so much.

My mother came near to Cleopas.

“Why, what are you going to say?” my mother asked him. She sat down on his left, not very close but close enough. “Why should we go away?” She said this in a kind way but she had something on her mind.

“You go away,” he told her. He sounded like he had drunk himself drunk but he hadn’t. He had drunk less wine than anybody else. “Jesus, come in so you can hear me if I whisper in your ear.”

My mother refused to leave. “Don’t you tempt him,” my mother said.

“And what do you mean by that?” Cleopas asked. “You think I’ve come to the Holy City of Jerusalem to tempt him?”

Then he clutched at my arm. His fingers were burning.

“I’m going to tell you something,” he said to me. “You remember it. This goes in your heart with the Law, you hear me? When she told me the angel had come, I believed her. The angel had come to her! I believed.”

The angel—the angel who’d come in Nazareth. He’d come to her. That was what he’d said on the boat, wasn’t it? But what did this mean?

My mother stared at him. His face was wet and his eyes very big. I could feel the fever in him. I could see it.

He went on.

“I believed her,” he said. “I am her brother, am I not? She was thirteen, betrothed to Joseph, and I tell you, she was never out of the sight of us outside of our house, never could there have been any chance of anyone being with her, you know what I’m saying to you, I mean a man. There was no chance, and I am her brother. Remember, I told you. I believed her.” He lay back a little on the clothes bundled behind him. “A virgin child, a child in the service of the Temple of Jerusalem, to weave the great veil, with the other chosen ones, and then home under our eyes.”

He shivered. He looked at her. His eyes stayed on her. She turned away, and then moved away. But not very far. She stayed there with her back to us, close to our cousin Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was watching Cleopas, and watching me. I didn’t know whether she heard him or not.

I didn’t move. I looked down at Cleopas. His chest rose and fell with each rattling breath and again he shivered.

My mind was working, collecting every bit of knowledge I had ever learned that could help me make sense of what he had said. It was the mind of a child who had grown up sleeping in a room with men and women in that same room and in other rooms open to it, and sleeping in the open courtyard with the men and women in the heat of summer, and living always close with them, and hearing and seeing many things. My mind was working and working. But I couldn’t make sense of all he’d said.