their craft. They passed several families of carpenters, the man seated outside the home, sawing, hammering, building objects from bed frames, to dressers, to wooden axles for plows. Before one house a man was building a huge cross, several feet thick, and ten feet long. Caitlin realized it was a cross meant for someone to be crucified on. She shivered and looked away.
As they turned down another street, the entire block was filled with blacksmiths. Everywhere flew anvils and hammers, and the ping of metal rang throughout the street, each blacksmith seeming to echo the other. There were also clay pits with large flames, on which they laid slabs of metal, turning red-hot, forging horseshoes, swords, and all sorts of metal work. Caitlin noticed the faces of children, black with soot, sitting by their father’s sides, watching their work. She felt badly that the children worked at such a young age.
Caitlin looked everywhere for a sign of Scarlet, of her Dad, of any clue of why they were here—but she found none.
They turned down yet another street, and this one was filled with masons. Here, men chipped away at huge blocks of white limestone, crafting statues, pottery, and huge, flat presses. At first, Caitlin didn’t realize what they were for.
Caleb reached over and pointed.
“They’re wine presses,” he said, reading her mind as always. “And olive presses. They use them to crush the grapes and olives, to extract the wine and oil. See those cranks?”
Caitlin looked closely and admired the craftsmanship, the long slabs of granite, the intricate metal work of the gears. She was startled to see what sophisticated machinery they had, even for this time and place. She was also startled to realize what an ancient craft winemaking was. Here she was, thousands of years in the past, and people were still making bottles of wine, bottles of olive oil, just like they were in the 21st century. And as she looked at the glass bottles, slowly being filled with wine and oil, she realized they looked just like the olive and wine bottles she’d used.
A group of children ran past her, chasing each other, laughing, and as they did, clouds of dust rose up and covered Caitlin’s feet. She looked down and realized the roads were not paved in this village—it was probably, she figured, too small, too humble, to be able to afford paved roads.
And yet she knew that Nazareth had been famous for something, and it was bothering her that she could not remember what. Once again, she was kicking herself for not paying more attention in history class.
“It is the town where Jesus lived,” Caleb said, reading her mind.
Caitlin felt herself redden once again, as he plucked the thoughts so easily from her mind. Once again, she cautioned herself to be more vigilant. She withheld nothing from Caleb, but still, she didn’t want him to read her thoughts when it came to how much she loved him. She might be embarrassed.
“He lives here?” she asked.
Caleb nodded.
“We’ve arrived in his time,” Caleb said. “Or close to it. Clearly, we are in the first century. I can see by their dress, by the architecture. I was here once before. It’s a hard time and place to forget.”
Caitlin’s eyes opened wide at the thought.
“Do you really think he could be here now? Jesus? Walking around? In this time and place? In this town?”
Caitlin could hardly comprehend it. She tried to imagine herself turning the corner and running into Jesus in the street, casually. The thought seemed inconceivable.
Caleb furrowed his brow.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not sensing he’s here now. Maybe we missed him.”
Caitlin was flabbergasted at the thought. She looked around her with a new sense of awe.
Could he be here? she wondered.
She was speechless, and felt an even greater sense of importance to their mission.
“He might be here, in this time period,” Caleb said. “But not necessarily in Nazareth. He traveled a lot. Bethlehem. Nazareth. Capernaum—and Jerusalem, of course. I don’t even know for sure if we are in his exact time or not. But if we are, he could be anywhere. Israel is a big place. If he were here, in this town, we would sense it.”
“What do you mean?” Caitlin asked, curious. “What would it feel like?”
“I can’t explain it. But you would know. It’s his energy. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.”
Suddenly, a thought occurred to Caitlin.
“Have you actually met him?” she asked.
Caleb slowly shook his head.
“No, not up close. Once, I