by Tessa Afshar
Rahab lifted her head. “I don’t know about this whole proposal. I think you should take time and practice some more.” She felt the rumble of a chuckle against her cheek. The thought that this man had chosen to bind his life to hers was almost overwhelming.
“You are not impressed by my proposal?” he asked. “I suppose I should have held my tongue and gone to your father first, as is proper. But the sight of you loosened my resolve and I blurted my feelings.”
“You did not. You blurted my feelings, I thank you.”
He gave a shout of laughter and pulled her closer to him. “Pardon. What else did I do wrong?”
“Just now you hinted at an uncertain future. You should know that I do not cherish the thought of being a widow before I’m a bride. So take this as warning, Salmone Ben Nahshon. Don’t you even consider death and dying.”
“I will do my best to comply.”
“See that you do, my lord.”
“You’re not going to turn into a bossy wife, are you?”
“I said my lord, didn’t I?”
Rahab spent the rest of the day in a haze of shock. She would wonder in sudden bursts of disbelief if she had dreamed Salmone’s proposal. Then she would remember his kisses. She could never have imagined those feelings. She knew Salmone would come to her father that very night, come to arrange for the bride price and the betrothal contract. And then it would become official and known to everyone that Rahab the Canaanite was going to marry a leader of the tribe of Judah.
No one else knew her secret yet, and her family gave her strange looks as she walked about as though dazed from a head injury, not hearing their comments, not responding to their requests.
“Are you sick, Rahab?” Izzie inquired in the early afternoon.
“Thank you.” Through an opaque cloud, Rahab registered after she had given her response that her words were an ill match for Izzie’s question. No wonder Izzie, nonplussed, gazed at her in astonishment.
Astonishment, Rahab understood. As the unreality of Salmone’s morning proposal began to settle like fine dust after the pounding of hooves has long passed, Rahab wondered how she could have been so mistaken in his feelings toward her. How had she missed his affection? It had never occurred to her that the man felt deeply for her. Once or twice she had wondered if he desired her. The thought gave her no satisfaction, knowing his strict sense of honor and the resulting resentment he would have both toward himself and her for such unwanted and unwelcome passion. But love? Where had that been hiding?
She knew she had little confidence in herself where Salmone was concerned. In the presence of his clean, blameless past, she felt the sins of her own more keenly. The interiors of her imagination could not stretch enough to allow such a man to love such a woman. She didn’t feel good enough for him.
Surely she would learn to be secure in him once they married. Surely his love expressed in such a public and binding commitment would sink in and she would learn that she was, indeed, lovable in his eyes? Surely they would make each other happy in marriage, bringing reassurance into the uncertainties of past and present?
Moonlight brightened Salmone’s path when he came to visit his future father-in-law. With him came his sister Miriam, grinning from one ear to the next, and his mother’s oldest niece, Esther, who appeared pale and jarred. Everyone from his father’s line had produced polite excuses for not accompanying him. Joshua strode near Salmone, discussing the details of the coming betrothal. He had not only reiterated his blessing on Salmone’s choice of wife, but had offered to stand in for the father of the groom. His presence soothed Salmone’s hurt at the absence of other kin representing Nahshon’s line.
Imri saw them first as they stepped into his campsite. From his blank face Salmone deduced that Rahab had said nothing to prepare her family for the coming proposal. A wave of amusement washed through him. This ought to prove interesting. The family, drawn by the loftiness of their unexpected guests, gathered round and made their respectful bows. Salmone stretched his neck for a glimpse of Rahab and experienced a stab of disappointment when he found her absent.
With his customary air of authority, Joshua asked to see Imri and his wife alone. In the modest family tent the Jewish delegation was treated with gratifying hospitality. Joshua, sipping from a cup of barley water said, “Imri, we are here for a purpose. I stand in the place of Salmone’s father this night, and I am here to ask for your daughter’s hand.”
Imri looked like he was about to topple over. “Hand, my lord? As in marriage? That kind of hand?”
“Precisely.”
“But your servant only has one unmarried daughter—Rahab.”
“That would be the one.”
Imri’s jowls shook as he turned his head with bewilderment, looking from Joshua to Salmone to his wife. “My lord Salmone wishes to marry Rahab?”
“That’s what I said. So if you are willing, we would like to draw the betrothal contract.”
Imri’s dazed acquiescence at first amused Salmone. But the alacrity with which he agreed to every one of Joshua’s stipulations, and the ridiculous eagerness he displayed to satisfy Salmone’s requests soon began to grate on him. The man practically gave his daughter away for free. The bride price he almost waived, unmindful of the affront it showed to his daughter. Not once did he address Salmone and take him to account as a protective father would have done. Not once did he insist on having his daughter treated well. It was as if he could not believe his good fortune in finding anyone to want Rahab at all. Did Imri not see the value of his own flesh and blood? Why did he not stand up for her? Salmone began mentally to withdraw from the proceedings, trying to calm his increasing anger. By the time Joshua finished the details of the contract, the prospective bridegroom barely knew what he was agreeing upon.
It was time to call for Rahab, and Miriam volunteered to fetch her. Salmone began to unclench his jaw; the thought of seeing Rahab washed away some of his bristling affront. When Rahab walked in, he almost caught his breath. She had dressed in a simple robe the color of cream. About her narrow waist she had tied a woven sash, emphasizing the deep curves of her figure. He stood up and as was customary, took her hand in his and led her to sit next to him. Though her face appeared calm, her fingers were ice-cold and trembling.
“Rahab.” He waited until she lifted her head. “Your father has given his consent that we should be married. Do you also give your consent?” This was, of course, a formality. She had already given her agreement in the dawn hours, and he intended to hold her to it.
“I do.” Her voice came soft and unwavering. Salmone’s heart contracted.
“Your father and Joshua have agreed on a betrothal settlement. Here is your bride price.” He poured a handful of gold coins into her palms. With an instinctive gesture she caught them before they spilled on the floor. The gold, in fact, belonged to her father as long as he lived. But Salmone wanted her to know by this tangible means that her value in his eyes was great.
“I have another gift. This belonged to my mother.” He placed the delicate gold, lapis lazuli, and pearl earrings on top of the mound of coins. “When we left Egypt, the Egyptians gave us articles of silver and gold on our way out. We gave most of it for use in the tabernacle. But many of us still have token pieces left from that season of our history. I remember my mother wearing these. It would please me to see them on you.”
With an almost careless flick of her wrist, Rahab dropped the gold coins Salmone had poured into her hands in order to examine the earrings with minute care. “You’re giving me your mother’s jewels?”
“They will look beautiful on you.”
Rahab caressed the fragile gold and lapis beads that dangled from the frame. Her fingers lingered on the single pearl in the center of each earring. He could tell she was pleased. In comparison to the value of the coins, the earrings were a trifle. Yet somehow they meant more to her. You’re giving me your mother’s jewels? she had asked. She was moved by the emotional weight of the gift.
Because it meant something to him beyond its material value, she treasured it.
Salmone found himself staring at her with open delight. His overt interest was observed, and there were several suppressed grins and meaningful looks directed his way.
He cleared his throat and rose. “It’s growing late.” He was glad that he had insisted on a short betrothal. This was going to be a tortured three months. Turning to Rahab, he gave the traditional promise. “I go to prepare a place for you. I will return again unto you.”
Chapter
Nineteen
Miriam, Izzie, and Abigail accompanied Rahab as she went for her mikvah bath on the morning of her wedding. The Jordan had calmed its swells, and though cold, presented several safe bathing spots. The women picked a secluded location and spread their things on the banks of the river.
No sooner did Rahab wade in than her teeth began to chatter. She took a deep breath before dipping her head under water. She was certain her lips were blue by the time she emerged. “It’s like ice in here!”
Izzie sat down on the bank and dipped her toes in the water. “Don’t worry. Your bridegroom will warm you up tonight.” Everyone giggled except for Rahab who threw her sister a quelling glance. There was no one with whom she could share her increasing sense of tension about the upcoming evening. Who would comprehend a Canaanite zonah being nervous on her wedding night? She barely understood it herself. She only knew that Izzie’s silly jokes fingered a fear that went too deep to examine.
The women did not linger at the ritual immersion of mikvah since the water was too frigid. As soon as they had washed and spoken the words of blessing, they scrambled out of the waters and put on clean clothes. Then they accompanied Rahab to her parents’ tent in order to prepare her for the wedding feast.
For her wedding, Rahab had decided to borrow an exquisite robe belonging to Izzie, woven from pale blue linen. Back in their tent, Izzie drew out the dress, and Rahab gasped. Sometime in the past few weeks, Izzie had managed secretly to embroider the hem and neckline with tiny white blossoms.
“This is yours to keep,” Izzie said with a warm smile.
Miriam, who had apparently been party to the conspiracy, presented Rahab with a belt made of a long row of silver blossoms.
“I set this belt aside for your wedding present the day Salmone told me he had decided to marry you. When Izzie saw it, she conspired to decorate your wedding dress to match.”
In spite of her years of wearing ornate silks and gold baubles, Rahab had never felt so beautifully attired. Hugging Miriam and Izzie, she whispered, “I could not imagine lovelier wedding garments. I shall never forget your generosity.”
“We did it because we love you,” Miriam said. “You know, it is a pity to hide such a beautiful bride under this badecken. But in Israel, brides must be covered by an opaque veil.”
“I welcome it. The thought of hundreds of people staring at me for hours makes me want to run away. But before you put it on, I need one last thing.” She fetched the earrings Salmone had given her and put them on. Shaking her head to make the pearls dangle she said, “Now I’m ready.”
Imri, Joa, Karem, and Gerazim supported the poles of Rahab’s bridal canopy as she made her way toward Salmone’s tent. Hanani and Ezra who had come to fetch her with a shout of “Behold, the bridegroom comes” led the way. Halfway, Salmone met them and stepped inside the canopy beside Rahab.
He squeezed her hand. Rahab whose nerves were growing closer to the shattering point with every step, let her hand lie in his, but did not squeeze back.
“I would say you look beautiful. But I can’t see anything. I’m surprised you haven’t tripped and fallen on your face. How can you see your way under there?”
Rahab realized that Salmone was doing his best to distract and soothe her. He wasn’t succeeding. His very closeness made her more nervous. She did not want him to notice her tension, however. More than anyone on earth, she loved this man. And she wanted to make him happy. She forced herself to sound normal as she responded. “I’m following the smell of Hanani’s washing oil. I think he used all he had in honor of our wedding.”
Salmone pressed her hand again. “Do you see those lights twinkling ahead?”
“Yes.”
“That’s an aisle lined with torches on either side. At the end of that aisle, Joshua and Caleb are waiting to pronounce the marriage blessings over us.”
“Good.”
“I shall remove your veil then.”
“Perfect.”
“You’re not speaking very much tonight. I’m starting to wonder if your father is pulling a switch on me the way Laban did to Jacob. You’re not Izzie under there, are you?”
“No. Gerazim had a few objections to that plan. You’re definitely stuck with Rahab.”
“She’s the one I want.”
Perspiration covered Rahab’s forehead under the badecken. Her nerves were stretched thin. What am I doing? This is crazy. It can never work. Was it too late to start running the other way? She thought of what it would do to Salmone, Salmone whom she loved with her whole strength. How could she humiliate him like that? And yet what if she married him and let him down?
Her thoughts were such a jumble that she barely noticed they had arrived in front of Caleb and Joshua. Wedding guests filled every nook and cranny of available space. Joshua began the seven blessings, and Caleb followed. Rahab heard snatches here and there. To honor, support, and maintain her in truth …I bless their union … That they may be fruitful …
A faintness began to cloy at Rahab’s senses. The blessings ended and hands led her in a circle around Salmone three times. She moved, feeling disconnected from the proceedings, from Salmone, from herself. Panic covered her like congealed oil. Then she came to a halt, and Salmone lifted the opaque badecken from her head and dropped it to the floor. She blinked at him, and he bent to take her mouth in a kiss, at once chaste and full of promise. A small quiver of reassurance passed through her and, leaning into him, she told herself everything would be well.
People cheered and pressed in for noisy congratulations. Perhaps sensing his bride’s crumbling composure, Salmone pulled her into his arms for a reassuring hug. “Let’s inaugurate the feast. Then we can slip away and be alone for a few minutes. I have something to tell you.”
Rahab just followed Salmone. She put her foot where he put his, smiled when he smiled, lifted her cup when he lifted his. She tasted a morsel of food and feared she might be sick. Then Salmone pulled her behind him out of the midst of the conclave of activity and somehow managed to lead them to a secluded spot.
Without preamble he turned to her. “What is it? You are shaking. What’s wrong?”
Rahab didn’t know how to respond since she herself wasn’t quite sure of the root of her reactions. “I think I’m afraid that I will disappoint you and you will regret this,” she confessed.
He pulled her into a tight embrace. “That won’t happen.” He drew back from her, keeping his hands on her arms, like a bridge linking them. “Rahab, I should have said this to you earlier. But it has been so busy the last three months, and we were hardly left alone. I want you to know something. Your past is dead to me. It’s dead between us. Never speak of it. Never allude to it. It is gone and over with. I never want to be reminded of it. I know you for who you are now. That other Rahab doesn’t exist. We will build our lives on today and we’ll bury the past.”
A dusty taste filled Rahab’s mouth. She understood that this speech was intended to make her feel better. More accepted. Her new husband was trying to reassure her. Only his words were having the opposite effect. How was she supposed to kill her past? How was she supposed to shield him from any reminders of it? What if she did or said something that would unintentionally awaken a memory of that time? Instead of making her feel steady and safe, Salmone’s reassurance catapulted her into profound angst.
Unaware that his speech had caused his bride greater misery, he enfolded her in a lighthearted embrace. “We
need to go back to the feast or the people will wonder. We’ll have seven uninterrupted days in the bridal bower to talk about everything. Right now, though, if we don’t go back swiftly, we’ll be the target of every bawdy joke in Judah for a month.”
Rahab nodded, unable to speak.
To the bride, the wedding feast seemed a nightmare. More than anything she wished to retire somewhere quiet and think through the ramifications of Salmone’s declaration. But there was no solitude to be had on this night of all nights. Her every smile was a lie, her every word a misdirection. She acted that which she could not feel. She only felt capable of fear this night—fear of failing her husband’s demands and desires. Fear of being, in the end, discarded by the very person whose acceptance had given her a new hope and future.
As bad as the feast was, going to the bridal bower was worse. Here, her marriage would be consummated. Here, she would be a virtual prisoner for seven days and nights with her bridegroom. Here, she would have to keep the past from entering her marriage bed and defiling it. How was she supposed to contrive that?
Salmone’s own tent had been set up as the bridal chamber. Miriam had decorated it with care for the occasion before leaving to spend two months at her friend Elizabeth’s tent. How desperately Rahab wished for her sister-in-law’s presence. But only the bride and groom were allowed in the bower.
Finally alone, Salmone cupped her face and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her with a passion he had banked in the previous months. “My beautiful Rahab,” he murmured, his voice low. Always, she had felt a melting kind of belonging in his arms. His kisses had been the most exquisite physical experience she had ever known. But on this night his words rang in her head, too well remembered. I never want to be reminded of it, he had said of her past. Well, if she kissed him back passionately, wouldn’t that remind him? If she were responsive, wouldn’t he wonder where she had learned to do this or that? She had harbored a dread from the early days of their engagement that she didn’t deserve him. Eventually, he would wake up to the fact of her inadequacies. He would grow disappointed, disenchanted. His proclamation tonight confirmed every one of these suspicions. In the intimacy of his bed he would see reflected the faces of her past sins, and he would hate her for them.