"Where is my boy?" Mary fretted. It was long past time for him to be home. His father Joseph would have kept him focused, if he were still alive. Being a single mother with a teenaged son and no husband meant that Mary had to handle burdens on her own.

Standing by the stone gate, looking out from the entrance to her father's property, she knew Jesus would soon appear. Now a boy of 15, Jesus was so much like Mary that she often laughed to herself when she got upset with him. "He's so much like me," she thought.

It was time for them to be home for dinner. After that, it was time for their lessons. Uncle Eran, who was less patient than Mary, would be eager to get on with their instruction. He spent part of each day teaching Jesus and John the lessons required in the world of men.

Jesus was learning carpentry at his grandfather's workshop. There were long days of hard physical work for him. Just because he was family, he was not given special treatment. He was there to learn the trade. Each day he woke with the sun and hustled off to the factory with his half-brother John. The two of them were expected at the plant soon after the cock crowed. Jesus and John often quarreled over the smallest things and were easily distracted. Getting to work on time was their first challenge of the day.

Mary sat on the bench next to the gate and waited. A small cricket crawled onto her hand and crawled up her arm. She followed its path with her eyes. The cricket did not bother Mary. She found insects fascinating, their small bodies both delicate and powerful.

She looked up at the sound of the boys approaching. They ran toward her. John was in the lead, holding a small bird in his hands. The bird was bloody and its head hung at an odd angle. Jesus, followed behind scowling.

"Look what I caught," John called out. "I snuck up on it from behind. I grabbed it and wrung its neck!" a look of impish glee on his face.

"Why did you do that?" Jesus spoke up. "It was just minding his own business! It didn't do anything to you." His voice was forlorn and disapproving.

Mary saw only the blood. The sight of blood reminded her of giving birth to Jesus when she was so young. Blood was always accompanied by pain.

"Wash yourself before you come inside." Mary pointed to the fountain in the corner. John heaved the dead bird into the bushes and wiped his hands on his tunic.

"John, that's disgusting!" Mary admonished. "Be sure to rinse out your clothes, too!

"And how was your day, son?" she asked, taking him in her arms. She knew that he disapproved of John's callous cruelty. "My son has love and feelings for the suffering of others," she thought. Although Mary did her best to shield Jesus from the more painful aspects of life; now that he was becoming a young man he would have to protect himself. It would be a challenge.

"What did you learn today?" she asked.

"I am still learning to measure and mark for the first cut. The wood is heavy and hard to move by myself. I have to ask for help. I don't think the foreman likes me. He calls me 'soft boy'."

Mary heard John at the fountain washing up and laughing. She glanced sternly at him and turned back to Jesus. "He's just jealous! Try not to let his shortcomings bother you, my son." Men can be so unkind, she thought to herself. How like a man, even a boy like John, to kill a bird for no reason.

Jesus was different from other boys. He was unique. Mary hoped that Jesus's uniqueness would remain secret for as long as possible. As far as she knew, no one except her dead husband knew what made him different. She worried how long it would remain a secret. She hoped Jesus would be careful to keep his clothes on around other boys, and keep silent about his deformity.

Mary was not sure that Jesus felt his secret was something to keep hidden. As he gets older, who knows, she thought. It made her nervous to think about how his body might change as he grew older.

"Hurry up, your dinner is waiting, and you're late for your lessons with your uncle. He won't be pleased."

Mary watched the two boys as they stood side by side at the fountain. John, taller than Jesus, took advantage of his size and pushed his cousin around whenever it suited him. She could see him splashing Jesus as they stood there. "Why are boys like that?" she thought.

Her uncle Zack and aunt Liz had both died from food poisoning five years ago. Mary had dutifully taken John in and raised him. She did not feel the same attachment to him that she felt for her own son, in part because he could be so moody and cruel at times. Still, she felt sorry for him. Losing his parents at a young age had clearly affected him. He was hard to control and unpredictable, so different from her boy.

Thankfully, Eran was there to help with the boys. Despite being a slave, and not related by blood, he seemed to have a special affinity for John, and treated him as if he was his own. There was even a resemblance, though she could see her aunt in him as well. She missed her uncle and aunt. They had always been so kind to her, and more available than her own parents who were often away on business or distracted by their social lives.

With the boys now cleaned up, the three of them walked into the house for the evening meal.

(End of Chapter 17)