“She recalled tender family scenes from her own childhood and imagined them taking place in homes throughout the city. Families would gather for the evening meal, and their faces would glow in the lamplight as they shared the day’s events with each other. Then the children, scrubbed and sleepy, would be tucked into their beds for the night. If her baby had lived he would be nearly three years old, and perhaps she would be rocking him to sleep, singing him a lullaby. But her baby was dead, an...d Hephzibah’s arms remained empty. “My lady, that cool evening air isn’t good for you,” Merab said. “You’ll catch a chill. Here—let me light a fire for you.” Hephzibah closed the shutters and turned away from the window. She watched her handmaiden fuss with the charcoal brazier, blowing noisily on the coals until they caught fire. “There. Maybe it’ll warm up in here before the king arrives.” Merab bustled around the room, plumping pillows and straightening rugs, then stopped when she glanced at Hephzibah.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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