by Tessa Afshar
Salmone leaned forward until his face drew even with Rahab’s. She took a deep breath, unsettled by his closeness. His eyes, large and deep brown, were speckled with black flecks. She felt as though her heart could be captured by those eyes, tethered like a wild horse in the hands of an expert trainer. He smiled faintly, as though sensing her thoughts, and Rahab turned away. Salmone stretched his fingers to the side of her face and inexorably turned her toward him. “Don’t turn away. I want to tell you something.”
“My lord?” she croaked.
“I like the way you see God in everything. It’s a rare quality. I really like … that.”
Chapter
Eighteen
Sleepless, Salmone stretched against the mountain of cushions at his back. It was the middle of the night and he lay in his own bedding, a luxury he still savored after two weeks of being home. Joshua refused to allow him to return to his heaviest duties yet, goaded by Zuph’s conservative precautions. So Salmone avoided military training and heavy lifting and long treks. In every other aspect, his life had returned to normal. And to his dismay, he chafed under a routine that had seemed perfectly satisfactory in the past. A nagging longing gnawed at his bones, until the shadow of discontentment dogged his every step. Nothing satisfied.
He punched a pillow behind him, trying to make himself more comfortable. The luxury of painlessness, of health, of freedom from the tent of the wounded ought to have been enough to give him peaceful nights of sleep and days filled with gratification. Instead he grew more restless by the hour. His garrulous thoughts led him in circles without resolution.
All this brooding, this mental rambling that robbed him of rest, centered on the same topic: his feelings for Rahab. He had spent more than a month in her company. He had grown accustomed to her presence, her uncomplaining care, her quick-witted deductions, her charitable humor, her soft tenderness, her iron-hard faith. Salmone covered his eyes with his hand. Since he had returned home, he had avoided her. He had sent his manservant over with a small fortune in sheep as an appreciation gift for her help. Politely, she had kept one and returned the rest. The one, she had said, she would give to God as a thanks offering for his safety. Salmone had been too embarrassed to insist she keep his gift. He knew there was an offense at the root of his offering, as though he wanted to buy himself out of her debt. As though he wanted to pay her off and owe her nothing in emotion and friendship. He kept his sheep and his company to himself. He hadn’t seen the sight of her, heard that softly accented voice, felt the cool touch of her long fingers in fourteen days. And it made him sleepless not because he was in her debt, but because … he loved her.
There. He had said it. He had admitted it to himself. He had confessed it in the caverns of his own squirming mind. He loved her and he wanted her and he missed her. And this separation was driving him to distraction. Oh God, what am I supposed to do?
Had she been another woman, a daughter of Israel, pure, unsullied, uncontaminated, he would have rejoiced in his feelings. He had begun to fear that he would never feel this way for a woman—that he was not made for it. He had desperately wanted to experience that soul-consuming passion. To fall in love was once his dearest personal desire. Now his wish had come true and he could not be more miserable. How was he to reconcile himself to having a Canaanite harlot for a wife? How were his children to get along in Israel with such heritage? What could become of his line? Would God not reduce it? Diminish it? Destroy it down through the coils of time?
Another punch to another unfortunate pillow made the feathers cringe in one lumpy corner.
And yet Joshua said that he would approve of his marriage to Rahab. Would Joshua ever sanction what God would not? Was this really God’s problem or Salmone’s? His jealousy, his prodigious pride, his vanity, were these the true monsters that lay at the root of his struggles? Was it just that Salmone wanted a wife of whom everyone could approve—an admirable wife who would be the envy of his friends and the desire of his enemies? Was he afraid that somehow he would be reduced by her past?
A hard kick shifted the sheet off his naked torso and Salmone shoved the rest away and rose up. In the unrelieved darkness of a moonless night he found his way to the entrance of the tent and tried to calm his bursting head by breathing in fresh air.
His pride and Rahab’s past made impossible bedfellows. Her past could not be magically undone, and his pride seemed as unmovable an obstacle as her past. He was the son of Nahshon, the leader of the people of Judah who had ruled over seventy thousand people! His father’s sister had married Aaron, Moses’ own brother. He was cousin to some of the most prominent people in Israel. How could he bind himself to a Canaanite harlot?
What were his choices, then? To tear her from his heart and move on. Could he do that? The memory of her beloved face filled his mind. She was so beautiful to him; the way she moved, the way she smiled, the way her eyelashes swept down when she wanted to hold her secrets. He loved being with her. Her companionship was at once comfortable and exciting to him. He loved her keenness for the Lord. Joshua had once said that she followed hard after God. Her passion for the Lord matched his own, and was perhaps even more faithful than his in some ways. Could he give up so much for the sake of his pride?
In turmoil, he took a few steps out, unmindful that he was covered only in a loincloth. The goats in a nearby paddock looked balefully at the naked form disturbing their sleep and turned away with disinterest. Their disdain made Salmone smile. He wished he could be as disdainful of his own struggles.
Could he give Rahab up? See her marry another man, hold him, be tender to him, care for him, smile for him, give him children? The thought filled him with a rage so sharp he gasped. This was a new consideration to him, the fact that just because he rejected Rahab, it did not follow that other men would. She was a prize. He knew that. Could he give her up? No. No. No. His heart and mind shouted in unison. In this, at least they were united.
God had a bigger plan in mind, one that I could never have conceived, she had said. Could this love, like Rahab’s snake, represent a deeper plan of God’s? Even before Salmone had acknowledged that his feelings for Rahab were love, he had prayed that God would remove them from his deepest soul; he had prayed it with the same fervor that Rahab must have prayed for God to remove that snake. God seemed as uncooperative regarding Salmone’s prayer as He had Rahab’s. Perhaps He had a reason.
Lord, tell me what to do! Give me peace. I cannot bear this turmoil. He shuffled back inside and crawled into bed. I will do what You tell me. Just tell me. Please.
Sharing a tent with thirteen people was proving complicated. After years of independence, Rahab found the lack of privacy hard to bear. Upon occasion, the total absence of quiet punctuated by irritating expectations threatened to suffocate her.
There was one good side effect to the demands of her new life, however. It distracted her from the pain that was gnawing at the marrow of her soul. Somewhere between learning Israel’s laws from Salmone beneath the shades of sparse palm trees and taking care of his wounded body, she had managed to fall desperately in love with the man. She could not point to a moment or an hour. She could not fathom how she had made such an egregious error in judgment. She only knew that when she returned home from the tent of the wounded, she felt as though she had torn off a fragment of herself and left it behind in his keeping.
For his part, Salmone made his feelings clear. He had not even stopped by once since the priests had pronounced him clean and sent him home. With his herd of fat sheep sent courtesy of a servant boy, he expressed his gratitude to Rahab. But he avoided her company now that he was mobile and able to choose whom he pleased for his friends. His rejection hurt more than the knowledge that he could never love her. In the tent of the wounded they had at least been friends. He seemed to enjoy her presence there. To like her companionship. Now with the breadth of his world opened up to him once more, he had jettisoned her the way he had discarded his stained bandages.
Rahab s
neaked out of the family tent and made her way through the winding maze of tents toward the wilderness. It was early hours yet, and her family remained asleep, which meant that she was able to leave without annoying explanations. She picked her way with care, making little noise as she moved through Judah’s enormous campsite, walking south through Zebulun. Apart from a few early risers and goats, no one stirred. Finally Rahab came to the edge of Israel’s camp and found the winding path she sought. She had discovered that this path led to an oasis, which to her astonishment was often invitingly empty. In the bustle of her people-filled life, the seclusion of the spot offered a haven that Rahab sought with increasing frequency.
Here, she could think of Salmone and the tangle of her emotions. How had she allowed herself to become so vulnerable to the man? How had he managed to get past the high walls around her heart and settle himself inside as though he owned everything that was within? Rahab had spent her adult life keeping men at bay. She might have flirted with an outrageous and almost scientific precision. She might have bestowed her selective company on a chosen few and on occasion even offered friendship. She might have entertained men with her body. But she had always guarded her heart. She had never given away her deepest self. Until Salmone.
The thief! The pilfering thief! Without effort, without design, he had taken what he hadn’t wanted, and it wasn’t even in his power to give it back.
What was she to do? How was she to survive such an impossible love? Of all the men on this earth, why had she fallen in love with the one most likely to spurn her? O God! Cure me of this love, I beg. Spare me this added hurt.
Rahab turned the last bend on the path and walked with sluggish steps toward a skinny palm. Her steps faltered. A man rested against its trunk, his back to her, his dark head bent in an attitude of prayer. He must have heard her, for he rose abruptly and turned.
“Salmone!” Rahab almost choked on the name. The object of her fretting thoughts stood before her, looking impossibly handsome in his crisp white tunic.
“Rahab?”
“I beg your pardon. I didn’t realize anyone else was here. Excuse me.” She turned on her heels, wanting to run in the other direction. She hoped he did not think she had followed him.
A hand wrapped around her waist. Salmone pulled her back against him. “Wait,” he whispered into her veil-covered hair. “Wait.”
Rahab came to a dead stop. What was he doing holding her like this? Her heart pounded so hard she felt certain he must feel it. She remained rigid under his touch, unable to turn around. Salmone moved his hands to her shoulders and forced her to face him. “I was just praying about you when you came,” he said cryptically.
Her eyes widened. “About me?”
He gave a twisted smile and stepped away from her. “Yes, about you. Did you know I was here?”
She shook her head with such vehemence, her veil slipped back. “No, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you.” He had been praying about her? He was probably chafing under the debt of gratitude he owed her for taking care of him. If he brought it up, she would cuff him. What she had given, she had given as a gift of friendship. A free gift. His insistence on repayment insulted her.
“Come and sit with me. I want to talk to you.” He pulled on her hand and she stumbled after him, desperate to be near him, and wishing herself on the other side of the earth at the same time. Being with Salmone was as painful as being without him.
What could he have to say to her? Nothing she would like to hear, probably. She sat near him, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around herself until she looked like a knot, drawn in and clinched tight.
Salmone leaned back against the tree, cloaked in silence. Several times, he opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, as if he could not find the right words. Rahab studied him nervously, not able to understand his mood.
“I was making a decision when you came,” he said finally. “About you.” His voice faltered. “Rahab, I would like it if you looked at me while I spoke to you.”
Rahab’s eyes darted up. A sudden cringing fear made her mouth dry. What could he have to decide regarding her? Was he speaking as a leader of Judah? Had she crossed an unknown line? Had she broken a law, offended a neighbor, made a dreadful mistake, failed to please God? What had she done wrong?
Salmone frowned. “And it would help if you didn’t look at me with such dread.”
“I’m … sorry.” Rahab faltered, at a loss.
He grimaced. “This is a wretched beginning. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you walked in here when you did.”
“Truly, I didn’t know you were here. I wouldn’t have dreamed of interrupting you if—”
He leaned forward and put a hand on her mouth, effectively cutting off her words. He let his fingers rest against her lips for a moment, and then shifted, removing his hand with somnolent reluctance. “Why do you so often assume that I’m angry with you? Or that I think you’ve done something wrong? I don’t. I think your timing today was extraordinary. I was glad to see you. It confirmed my decision.”
“It did?” What decision?
“I’ve been thinking of you a lot since I came home.”
Rahab narrowed her gaze. “Indeed?” In spite of her best effort, a hard edge of sarcasm tainted the single word. She closed her hand into a fist.
His responding smile was lazy. “I missed you.”
“Then why did you never come to visit me? You could have come with Miriam if you had wanted. Instead, you avoided me and sent me sheep.”
“I did avoid you. I needed time to sort through my feelings. Seeing you would only have confused matters.”
Rahab grew very still. “You have feelings for me?”
“Surely you must have noticed. Just as I noticed you are not indifferent to me.”
Rahab jerked back. “Pardon?”
“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.” Rahab did not miss the smug satisfaction that colored the dark eyes.
She shot up in a whirl of motion, intent on leaving. Shame began to cover her like a veil of ice. It was one thing to strive with unrequited feelings of love for the man, quite another to have those feelings discovered, named, and thrown in her face. Salmone stood up at the same time, blocking her path.
“Will you listen to me?” He grabbed her arm and pulled her close.
“I’ve heard enough. Let me go! I’m sure you wouldn’t handle a Jewish maiden in such a manner.”
“No I wouldn’t. But then I’m not about to ask any Jewish maiden to marry me.”
“What?”
“This is what I’m trying to tell you. I came here to think this morning. To decide what to do about you. Perhaps I am being presumptuous, but as I prayed, I felt God’s approval. And for the first time in days, the turmoil that has plagued me turned into unwavering peace. I had just made up my mind to go speak with your father when you arrived. I almost fell over when I saw you. I often come to this oasis early in the mornings, and I have never before seen you here. And just at the very moment when I had made up my mind to join my life to yours, you came to me. It felt like a confirmation, seeing you in that moment.”
Rahab’s world began to tilt on its axis. Salmone’s declaration started to sink into her consciousness—the meaning, the implications, the outcome. He was changing her whole future with his words. The impossible had happened. Salmone had fallen in love with her. He had gazed into her past and wanted her anyway. Like a person frozen near to death, the thawing came slow. Her heart was hard to convince.
“You really want to marry me?”
The sound of his laughter, rich and low filled her ears. Instead of answering, he bent his head and kissed her. To Rahab whose mouth was stamped with the memory of a dozen men’s kisses, his caresses came as an utter shock. This simple kiss, this sweet, uncomplicated possessive touching of Salmone’s flesh against hers was a first for her. It was the first time that she kissed a man she loved. It was the first
time that a touch rose out of mutual affection, mutual wanting, mutual commitment. She felt as if this was her first kiss. Nothing in all her experience compared to this. A sense of belonging enveloped her, melted her. Salmone lifted his head and she gasped. She felt dazed and disoriented. He studied her wordlessly, his perceptive eyes half-hooded. “You’re always a surprise,” he said and stepped away.
So many questions swirled about in Rahab’s mind she was rendered speechless. Do you really love me? Do you believe God approves of such a marriage? What will Israel say to our union? Can you forget my past—let it go—live with it? “Joshua,” she suddenly remembered.
“What will he think?”
“Joshua gave me his approval before I knew for certain how I felt about you.”
Rahab felt stunned. She had expected sober objections if not outright hostility. In spite of his goodness to her, having one of his great leaders united in marriage with a former zonah must represent a disastrous precedent, not to mention an unsavory example. How had she managed to win Joshua’s approval? “I don’t know what to say.”
Salmone wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “Say you’ll marry me.”
Flushed and overwhelmed, she repeated, “I will marry you.”
Salmone gave a grunt of satisfaction and kissed her again, a hard and brief kiss that sealed his delight over her trembling flesh. When he drew back, she leaned against him for support, and he laughed softly.
“Rahab, I have one request of you.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to wait long. We are a nation at war. Battles are a certainty. I learned at Ai that I am not invincible. I don’t want to waste the life I have left in the waiting.”