by Tessa Afshar
She was soft in his arms. Yielding. Everything about her fit him so right. It required a prayer, a silent desperate cry to the Lord, to stop him. O God, give me the strength to wait, he cried in mute anguish before withdrawing.
It took awhile to calm his harsh breathing. “A foretaste of things to come,” he murmured with a lopsided smile.
She gazed at him large-eyed. “You … you really know how to do that well,” she said, her voice breathless.
It dawned on him that she was deeply affected by his touch, that she had felt a portion of his own churning need. His impatience quieted at the knowledge. Unable to stop himself from grinning, he whispered, “You can count on it.” He kissed her again, this time taming his need and basking in the joy of her awakening wonder. His body’s satisfaction might have to wait, but his soul was well pleased.
“I forgot to tell you!” Rahab burst out, sitting up straight.
“What? What did you forget?”
“My father is giving a feast in honor of Izzie and Gerazim tomorrow evening. We are to go to their tent after sunset.”
“Ah. I’m afraid I’ll be late. No doubt you’ll want to go early and help them prepare?”
“If it’s all right with you.”
“Of course. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
Salmone found visiting his in-laws a chore. He had a hard time letting go of his anger against Rahab’s parents. Because he knew better than anybody the price their choices had exacted from their daughter, he found it torturous to sit around and pretend everything was well. Sometimes he ached to scream at the man and woman who had sold their daughter for the sake of gold. He wanted to ask if they had any idea what their full bellies had cost her. Years of leadership had taught him to control his temper. The frustration, however, would only be ruled and not banished. He chafed at the necessity of holding his silence, knowing that to be the best course for his wife.
Clamping down on a sigh, he drew Rahab closer and settled for sleep. One evening of suppressed resentment would not kill him.
Rahab spent half the night going over the inconceivable discovery that God truly valued her. Not the course of her whole life would be sufficient to wipe the memory of that moment of comprehension from her mind. It was as if a shaft of love pierced her walled-in soul, and she felt for the first time that she was loved beyond reason, and esteemed far beyond what she deserved. Seeing this glimpse of God’s heart opened a doorway for understanding that even a man like Salmone might love a woman like her. She was worth being cherished by such a man. It had been years since she’d nurtured such a hope. Worth being cherished.
In those moments of dizzy revelation, of feeling immersed in love and acceptance, she had heard the unmistakable whisper of the Spirit of God in her soul. “You are My gift to Salmone. You are the treasure I wanted him to have.” Though he was doubtless a gift to her, she realized God had blessed Salmone by giving her to him, because in God’s sight, she—Rahab—was a treasure.
And so when Salmone held her with such indescribable tenderness and whispered that he loved her … she believed him. For the first time ever, she believed him in the depths of her heart. She felt secure in his love.
Rahab was mature enough to realize that she would have to take more steps in this journey of wholeness. She knew that other circumstances might shake her assurance or diminish her confidence. But having come through the darkest valley, she now understood that God would see her through other battles. He would shatter other lies that lingered in her soul and, bit by bit, set her free.
In Jericho, when she had first placed her faith in the Lord, she had known Him to be mighty. Great. But last night she had tasted of His goodness. She had learned to place her faith in His mercy. He bestowed His love where undeserved, and His great worth on His children who could not earn it.
Izzie had learned this lesson with her pregnancy. She would appreciate Rahab’s sense of wonder and gratitude in a way that no one else could. The thought of spending a whole day in her sister’s company made Rahab hurry through her morning chores with a smile. Even the grueling task of preparing for a large feast under her mother’s direction could not diminish Rahab’s joy. This was a day of celebration—for Izzie and Gerazim, and in the secret places of her mind, for her and Salmone.
The sun seemed to move with perverse sluggishness that day. Even Izzie’s precious company could not distract Rahab from her sense of impatience to be with her husband. She missed him. Following the overwhelming closeness of the previous evening, his absence left a hole. She told herself that she was behaving like a young virgin, mooning after a man she had seen just that morning. Her best cynical lecture fell on deaf ears. She didn’t care if she was acting with the impetuous longing of the young. She wanted her husband, and he would be late on this night of all nights.
The grounds surrounding the family tent overflowed with guests by early evening, testimony to the new acquaintances the men had formed as they helped the tribes of Israel with the challenges of farming. An herb-stuffed lamb roasted on a pit, sending mouthwatering aromas into the air. Rahab milled about, offering fresh pan bread. The bread would be used in place of plates when the lamb was served. Rahab felt her stomach rumble and remembered that she had not eaten since morning when she had broken her fast with Salmone. She stretched her neck this way and that, hoping to catch sight of him as he arrived.
Joa carved the lamb, and Rahab began circulating a heavy platter loaded with pieces of choice meat. A man who seemed vaguely familiar cut her off as she walked by him.
“How about giving me some attention,” he said in a nasal voice, his lips glistening wet through a stringy mustache.
She turned in a half circle, a spontaneous smile on her lips, the platter stretched forward. To her surprise, she found the man staring at her with unbecoming boldness, his gaze lingering openly on the curves of her figure. Her blue wool dress was modest, appropriate for a matron of Israel. Nothing in her behavior or apparel signaled an invitation for such unpleasant scrutiny. Nothing except that she was Rahab of Jericho. She blushed, feeling the old shame claw at her insides. Then Salmone’s words rose up in her memory: you are this earring … you are His precious gold.
He wasn’t ogling her because of her wrongdoing. His sin was the culprit, not hers. With calculated coldness she withdrew the platter and turned away from the man, not bothering with an answer. To her dismay, he grabbed her wrist, almost spilling the lamb. “I said, how about some attention,” he drawled.
“If you’re so desperate for attention, I’ll be happy to give you some,” a dagger-sharp voice growled from behind Rahab. Salmone. “Care to let go of my wife? Or can I help you with that as well?” His thin smile was no disguise for the meaning of his words.
The man released Rahab’s wrist as if it were on fire.
“Just looking for some lamb,” he managed, failing to look innocent despite significant effort.
“I think you’ve had enough. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Ah, sure,” said the man who hadn’t tasted the tantalizing roast yet.
“No reason to hang about anymore then, is there?”
“No, I don’t suppose so.” He took a longing look at the platter, taking care to leave Rahab out of his gaze, and left.
“Ill-mannered man.” Rahab sniffed. “I would have put him in his place if you hadn’t.”
“I know you would have, but it gave me pleasure to do it. You don’t mind?”
“No. I quite enjoyed it, to tell you the truth.”
Salmone smiled into her eyes. “I’ll need to get used to beating off your admirers. Serves me right for marrying such a beautiful woman.”
Rahab’s heart skipped a beat. He had managed to coax a compliment from a stranger’s unpleasantness. In his eyes, she did not deserve the man’s disrespectful treatment. Although she had already reached the same conclusion and renounced the shame that stood at the door of her thoughts, Salmone’s additional defense confirmed the truth of her own p
erceptions. He thought it was her worth that drew the man’s attention, not her uncleanness. This added confirmation bolstered Rahab’s fragile new confidence. She gave him a dazzling smile. “Yes, it does,” she teased.
Before Salmone could respond, Imri came over, wiping perspiration from his high forehead. “Good evening, Salmone. Rahab, will you come and dance?”
Rahab almost choked on her own saliva. “Dance? I think not, Father.”
Imri ignored her emphatic response and turned to his son-in-law. “Salmone, have you ever seen your wife dance?”
“No.”
“Well, you should. She was famed for her dancing in Jericho. There were few to compare with her grace.”
“Father!” Annoyance colored her tone. Her father’s claim was true enough; Rahab danced with impressive expertise. Her dances exhibited more emotion than sensuality, more winsome fluidity than overt gyrations. Rahab had not bothered with learning to perform the provocative dances customary among other zonah in Jericho. She never needed to. Her style of dance, though decorous, drew admirers in plenty from both sexes. So her hesitation in dancing was not rooted in a fear of offense so much as a desire to avoid attention. She longed for a discreet, quiet existence. What she wanted was to blend in, not to stand out by showcasing her talent before strangers. “I am not dancing,” she insisted
“I would like to see you,” Salmone interjected, his voice soft.
Her mouth fell open. She could not believe it. Her father and Salmone on the same side! She had enough feminine vanity to want to satisfy Salmone’s curiosity. Being the object of his admiration offered a temptation she could not resist lightly. “I will dance … but only for you,” she said, looking straight into his eyes. He drew in his breath and his skin took on a ruddy shade.
“Bah!” Imri exclaimed and walked off.
Rahab giggled. “I better serve this lamb before it gets cold.”
“Lamb? What about my dance?”
“In good time.”
“My beard is turning white as I wait.”
“You’ll look more distinguished,” Rahab exclaimed without the least sympathy as she walked off. The guests clamored for the delicious meat, and the platter emptied rapidly. Salmone claimed her before her family could give her a new chore.
“Come and bide with me for a while,” he insisted, drawing her to a less crowded corner. He managed to find an unoccupied stump for Rahab to sit on and settled on the ground next to her. “Did you notice the pride on your father’s face when he bragged about your dancing?”
Rahab threw her husband a doubtful look. “No.”
“He lit up as he talked about you.
He is genuinely fond of you.” She mulled over his words in silence. “In some ways that makes it worse.”
“How do you mean?”
“Because he loved me, I trusted him with my whole heart. And I believed his words about me, the good and the bad, the right and the wrong. I believed the underlying message of his actions too. To this day I fight with the notion that he was right about me. His words ring truer than my own. If he had been an evil man, I might have been able to ignore his pronouncements. I might have learned to discredit his opinions. As it was, I have believed him my whole life. Except for the Lord, and your love, I would not have been able to escape the false convictions he unwittingly caused me to have.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. I admit I struggle with anger against him myself. So much of our lives has been impacted by Imri’s actions. I find it hard to let go of my resentment.”
Rahab nodded, understanding his feelings. “That’s the problem with bad choices. They spill into other people’s lives. Here you are, a man of Israel, impacted by a decision my father made eleven years ago in Jericho. My consolation is that the Lord can overcome our failures.”
“It makes me happy to hear you say that, Rahab. Do you think Izzie and Gerazim would be offended if we left? I have news I must share with you.”
Rahab felt a stab of worry. “Is it bad news?”
His face became inscrutable. “Not necessarily. Just private.”
A knot squeezed her stomach at his noncommittal response. Whatever he wished to share with her must be serious. Marriage to a leader in Israel presented its painful challenges. “I’ll tell Izzie. She’ll understand.”
Salmone held her hand as they walked back. She sensed that he wished to wait for the confines of their tent before speaking, and though anxiety harangued her insides, she respected his wish. Pressing her lips shut, she just held on to his hand. She couldn’t wait another moment when they arrived at the tent. Before Salmone had the chance to light a lamp, she turned to him.
“Tell me.”
He finished lighting the lamp and set it down. “I’m uneasy about the visitors who made a treaty of peace with us yesterday. I want to follow them and find out if they told us the truth.”
“The ones with the moldy bread and worn shoes?”
“Yes. Something about their story troubles me. It’s a precaution, nothing more. I aim to follow them for a couple of days to verify their claim.”
Rahab thought through the implications of his errand. Spying missions were not safe for any Israelite on Canaan’s highways. Every step deeper into unconquered Canaanite territory represented a multitude of threats. If the visitors were what they claimed, travel would be his gravest source of danger. If not, they probably would not take to discovery with munificence.
She had married a soldier. Soldiers walked into danger. As his wife, her responsibility was to make his job as easy as possible. Adding her worries to his burdens would be of no help to him. She presented calm acceptance. “Will you go alone?”
“Ezra and Hanani have volunteered to accompany me.”
Rahab’s smile was haunted. “They do have experience as spies.”
Salmone’s laugh seemed forced. “Three is a good number. We can move fast and hide easily if need be. We are behind by a whole day, so we’ll ride.”
“What do you plan to do when you find them?”
“Return and inform Joshua. We can’t attack them because we’ve made a treaty with them, and that remains binding. But we need to know the truth.”
“Shall I pack food for the three of you? How many days’ worth, do you reckon?”
“Hanani and Ezra will bring their own food. Four days ought to suffice. I’ll show you how to put together a light pack. Speed is our greatest concern, so we can’t be weighed down by supplies.”
Rahab nodded and on impulse gave him a hard hug. “I’ll miss you.”
He cupped her face in his hand. “You’re wonderful, you know. I dreaded telling you, to be honest. I hate the thought of tears or a fuss. It happens to some of my friends every time they go away. I should have known better than to expect that reaction from you.
“On the other hand, no man wants to leave a wife who doesn’t seem to care, either. Or who turns cold. Somehow, you expressed the perfect measure of tenderness and composure. Thank you for that. It makes going away easier.”
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Rahab prepared for bed, wrapped in a cloud of preoccupation. Salmone would leave in the morning on a dangerous mission that could lead to his demise. She might never see him again, never hold him, never hear his beautiful voice speaking to her. She could not bear to linger long over that possibility. Even being apart for a few hours that day had felt wrenching. The idea of being apart for days seemed unbearable.
She crawled into bed next to him. Though motionless, the rigidity of his body belied sleep. He had once shared with her that he often could not sleep well the night before a mission.
They lay next to one another for some moments, neither speaking, neither touching. With a sudden motion, Salmone twisted on his side and gathered her in his arms. “Rahab,” he whispered, and pressed his lips against hers. He lingered over that kiss, lingered with excruciating patience and tenderness until she clung to him. With a deliberate movement he shifted her body
until she lay half under him. His hands touched her and his breathing grew ragged as he kissed the curve of her neck.
Rahab was caught between an overwhelming desire, utterly new in her experience, and a terror that was all too familiar. Old fears crowded her mind. Fear that here in his arms, in his bed, she came closest to the Rahab of Jericho. Half of her felt that she would shrivel up if he stopped his exquisite caresses and the other half dreaded that she would shatter if he went on.
Sensing her hesitation, he drew in a ragged breath and lifted himself on an elbow. “I’m sorry. You aren’t ready.”
She took his dear face in her hands. “It’s not that. You give me more pleasure than I ever thought possible to find.”
He bent down and kissed her on the mouth. His voice was hoarse when he lifted his head. “Tell me why you’re struggling. Help me understand.”
She felt close to tears. “It’s so hard to talk about this.”
“I realize. But I’m asking you to plow through that pain. Trust me.”
“Will you hold me?” Her voice sounded brittle and young.
With a swift motion, he enclosed her in his arms. “You’re safe with me. Just talk to me.” He studied her face in the dim light of the lamp, his eyes intent. She recognized that look, the one that dissected your insides and read your mind in the hiding places you thought no one could find. She gave herself up to that scrutiny, wanting to hide nothing from him.
Her breath as she drew it into her burning lungs was agitated. Tomorrow her husband would leave on a mission that threatened his life. She wanted to send him on his way with no walls between them. For that, she would risk anything, even his rejection. “Salmone, you’re the only man I have ever loved.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand that took in their bed. “Before you, all this was about pretense for me. Pretense, performance, work. If there was any pleasure, it was rare and mixed with such shame. I am terrified every time you touch me that the old me is going to leak out, and that you’ll know. I don’t know how to be, how to act with you, here in your bed. I don’t know how to be a wife.”