“You can’t live your life for them. Do you even remember what they look like?”

“You don’t understand,” I said, my voice flat.

“Maybe I don’t.” Zim placed a hand on my shoulder. “But you need to hear this. Didn’t you learn anything last night?”

I shook off Zim’s hand. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at those couples down there. Every one of them would have preferred to get married in the usual way, but it didn’t work out for them. They could have stayed at home and cried about being alone—but they didn’t. They decided not to let a rotten past force them into an empty future.”

I gazed at the men and women holding hands under the trees.

“They went into that vineyard with all they had, and they left everything they didn’t need behind. Now look at them, most of them aren’t alone anymore. How do you think they feel?”

“I don’t know…Happy?”

Zim shook his head. “Scared. They’re starting a new life with someone they hardly know. But they know one thing: It’s better to jump into an unknown future than hold onto a dead past.”

I cocked my head. “What are you saying?”

“You were one of the best musicians here last night.”

I snorted at the flattery.

“No, really. But if I hadn’t come along, you would have walked away and never played a note. Emanuel took one look at you and decided you were too young. What did you say back to him?”

“Nothing. I left.”

“Exactly! Emanuel tells you to leave, and you go, even though you’re better than his musicians. Your aunt tells you to leave, and you go, even though you don’t really know why. Did you ever stop to think about what you want?”

Zim stood up. “Learn from the girls of Shiloh. Go into that vineyard and leave the past where it belongs. Come out ready to decide your own future, and let nothing stand in your way.”

I picked up a piece of cheese. “I hear what you’re saying.”

“Clearly you don’t, because you’re still sitting here.” Zim grabbed my arm and drew me to my feet. “Go on. Don’t come out until you’re ready to claim your life.”

Zim pushed me downhill. I continued on my own, then turned back to Zim. “Don’t eat all my food while I’m gone.”

“Don’t worry.” Zim broke off another hunk of cheese. “There’s plenty to eat in Shomron. Go!”

I ducked under the trellised vines, and the smell of warm earth rose up to greet me. Rays of sun peeked between broad, green leaves, painting the thick, twisted vines with swaths of light and shadow. Rows of grapevines stretched out in every direction, leaving the outer world far behind.

What Zim said made sense—I was on my own now. I didn’t choose to leave, but now every choice was mine. Hadn’t I come to Shiloh rather than going right to Mitzpah as my aunt wanted? I could just as easily go to Shomron—or anywhere else for that matter. Leaves trembled around me as a breeze swept off the hills above. I followed one path into the vineyard, but there were countless ways out. I settled myself at the base of a solid, olivewood post around which two vines were entwined. The young grapes, maroon and growing heavy with juice, hung above my head.

What do I really want? And what path will get me there?

A grasshopper landed at my feet. The wind died, and its rhythmic chirps rang loud on the still air. I closed my eyes and other sounds emerged, the rustling of leaves, a distant dove’s cry. I laid my head back against the knotty wood, the notes of the vineyard clear in my mind, and descended into their song.

Though I had walked far into the vineyard, it was easy to find my way back out; I just followed the bass notes of the drum. The sun was high, and my sack of provisions lay empty on the ground by Zim’s side. Zim beat out one last flourish and got to his feet. “If we want to get back tonight, we’ll need to go now,” he said.

I nodded, picked up my belongings, and followed Zim toward the road.

“Put out your hand.” Zim dropped three pieces of copper into my palm. “Emanuel paid us while you were gone. It’s nothing compared to the wedding, but not bad for a night of music. Are you still going to Judah?”

I inhaled more deeply than I could ever remember. “No. You were right. That’s what my aunt wanted—not what I want.”

“Excellent. Yambalya lent me a donkey for the trip. If we both ride, we should be able to make it back before they close the gates.”

I stopped Zim with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to Shomron either.”

Zim cocked his head. “No?”

“No. You go on your own.”

“Where will you go?”

“On my own path.”

Zim’s face glowed. “Good. Then for the second time in a week, we part as friends.” Zim embraced me with both arms. “Until our paths cross again.”

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel said: All my days I was raised among the Sages, and I never found anything better for a person than silence.

Pirkei Avot 1:17

12

The Rains