Ralph DeVito

Nothing Good Happens In Nazareth Ralph DeVito

They never tell you how much Yousef loved Myriam. Why else would he stay with a woman who bore a child that wasn't his. Yousef was no old man. He was a tough stonecutter who crawled out of the slums of Nazareth and served under the Roman Standards. With his legionnaires, he patrolled Sepphoris, a sprawling city with more brothels than fountains, and more gangs than temples. Yousef was no saint. He was a fighter and a drinker you dared not cross. He was also a man whose heart was torn apart by tragedy. Whose soul wounded by revenge. Myriam was no saint either. Daughter of wealthy parents, she was beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful woman in Sepphoris. And headstrong. The kind of woman who tossed men aside when they bored her. A woman men worshipped. Who only thought of herself. Until she saw Yousef and the pain he bore. That these two damaged people found love with each other. Kept love alive through their failures, jealousy and hatreds. That they raised a child whose nature they couldn't understand. It was nothing short of a miracle.