“Making a new tunic?”
“Yes. This is the last of last year’s wool.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll have more in a few days.”
She flashed a bright smile. “You just missed Arisha. She took the children to the river with Zivah. But there are manna cakes and dates by the fire there. She pointed with her chin to the plate hidden under a cloth.
Zadok lifted the cloth, removed a cake. “Zivah feeling better?”
“Much. She’s in her own tent, resting.
“Good. I never thought it possible, but I miss her teasing.”
Adi laughed. “I’ve been teaching Arisha to sew. She’s getting quite good. Better than Zivah, but don’t tell your sister I said that.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“How are things with Arisha? She seems … uneasy.”
“I’m afraid that’s my fault.”
“Your fault?”
He nodded.
Adi took a few more stitches. “How is it your fault?”
“I think I make her unhappy.”
“Why do you think that?”
“We’ve been married a little over two weeks. I tell her I love her every morning.” He tore apart a date, removed the stone. He continued to rip apart the flesh and toss tiny pieces into the fire. “She has yet to say it to me. I’m afraid I have trapped her in a marriage without love. At least on her part.”
Adi set aside the tunic and reached for his hands, stilling them and gently removing the decimated fruit. “Oh, habibi. She loves you. She loves you very much.”
“How can you know? How can you say that?”
“I know because I am a woman, and a woman knows these things. And I talked to her.”
“And did she say she loves me?” Zadok searched her eyes, hoping for a positive answer.
“She did not have to. I told you, I can tell.”
His heart sank. “Then she didn’t say it.”
“I don’t think she can.”
“What do you mean she can’t? She can’t form the words? Doesn't know how?”
“I believe she is afraid.”
Air left his chest as if Imma had punched him. What could he have done to frighten her? His memory searched every day they’d spent together, searching for the offending action. “Of what? Me?”
She smiled and squeezed his hands. “No, of course not, habibi. I think she is afraid that if she loves you, you will leave.”
Relief warred with confusion. “But I have promised her I won’t.”
She released his hands and retrieved her sewing. “That’s not always up to you, is it? Miriam would not have chosen to leave her. The others, maybe. But one way or another, she’s always been left, or sent away. I believe she thinks if she does not love you, you won’t leave. Or at least,”—she caught his gaze—“it will not hurt so much when you do.”
“But you think she does love me.”
Adi laughed. “I know she does. I can see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice.” She dropped the cloth again, studied his face. “Are you saying you see nothing in her behavior that says she cares for you? Does she not return your kiss, your embrace?”
Zadok’s cheeks heated, and he looked away. “Imma …”
“Well, there are ways you can tell. Look for her love in ways other than her words. Besides those exact words. Does she try to encourage you? Say kind things? Tell you about her day? Ask about yours? Listen when you talk?”
Zadok recalled the long nights they spent talking about their life here, their life in Canaan … how much she’d told him of her life before she met Miriam. She’d trusted him with more and more of her feelings and fears almost every day.
“And there are things she can do. Does she do things to try to please you? Make you comfortable? Make you feel important? Does she like to spend time with you?” Adi placed her hand on his cheek. “My son, I know you know all this.”
Zadok thought of the times Arisha had come to him in the pasture. Brought him a special snack for no reason whatsoever, just to see him…. His neck heated as he thought of their nights together. She definitely did not shrink from his touch. Many times she kissed him first.
“Zadok?” Imma’s voice drew him back to the present.
“I’m sorry. My mind was … elsewhere.” Hopefully his skin had lost its pink.
Adi grinned. “I see that.” She touched his arm. “You need to give up on hearing those words. They will come when she’s ready. For now, take the rest as a gift. Accept that as her love. If you can’t, you may destroy what you have. You have to make her feel secure, and if you are waiting for something that may not come anytime soon, she will feel it and will be even more uneasy. Someone has to give first, and I think it must be you.”
Sixteen
“JOSIAH, CLIMB DOWN OFF THAT rock. I don’t want you to fall.” Arisha shuddered at the thought of her nephew’s injured body.
“Imma lets me climb it.”
“Then when your imma is here, you can climb it, but not when I am. Come down, please. It makes me nervous.”
Josiah made a face. “Aunt Arisha…”
For a moment, Arisha thought about backing down. She changed her mind, straightened her back. “Josiah, if you can’t follow my instructions, I will have to leave you behind next time.”
Josiah groaned. “All right. I’ll come down.”
“Thank you.”
Adira, clutching a handful of flowers, laughed.
Josiah halted his descent. “Tell her to stop laughing.”
“Adira, don’t laugh at your brother.”
Adira rolled her eyes.
Arisha needed a distraction, or this would escalate into a quarrel, quickly. “Why don’t you see who can find the most dotted bugs?”
“I will!” Josiah jumped the rest of the way down.
“No, you won’t! You stomp around and make too much noise!” Adira dropped her flowers and rushed for a patch of tall weeds.
Josiah followed her. “This is my spot!”
“Too late! I got here first.”
Arisha rose to separate the pair, but Josiah left his sister for another area. Sometimes these two were more than she could handle. At least they were laughing again. Despite the occasional spat, she’d come to love her afternoons with the children at the river. Maybe one day, perhaps next spring, she’d have her own baby with her.…
“You must be Arisha.”
Arisha looked over her shoulder to see a young woman. Arisha's gaze skimmed her form, sandals to light brown hair. She was everything Arisha wasn’t: tall, beautiful, confident. Her tunic accented her perfect curves, as did the deep red sash she wore low on her hips. And how long did it take to create the elaborate braids piled on top of her head? She couldn’t have done it by herself.
Her throat too dry too speak, Arisha merely nodded.
The woman scoffed as she studied Arisha. “I would have thought he could do so much better. He did have me, after all. Almost.”
Marah? She’d noticed her when Jacob left, but didn’t know the woman clinging to Eliel was Marah.
Arisha swallowed, licked her lips. “Do you need something from me?”
“No, I just wanted to see who he finally settled for. I’d heard about you, but I couldn’t quite believe it. I had to see for myself.”
Settled for?
“Of course you know whom I will marry, don’t you? Someone far better than Zadok. As I deserve.”
Arisha nodded again. “Eliel.” She wasn’t sure exactly what it was Marah deserved, but Zadok certainly didn’t deserve this sarcastic, insulting woman.
Marah neared her. “And why are you frowning? You have no right to look down on me. You must know he is only with you because my abba realized Zadok could never be the man I need. I found someone better. And all he was left was … someone like you.” Marah scowled. “A Canaanite.” She spat out the word.
Adira padded up to Arisha, placing her hand on Arisha's shoulder. “Why is she here?” she w
hispered.
Arisha stood slowly. “Yes, I am a Canaanite, but I am a worshipper of Yahweh.” Arisha's breath came faster and faster. She tried to slow it, to no avail. “And I at least know how to treat all people with respect. I have done nothing to you, and yet you come here and insult me, in front of children who also have done nothing to you. So I want you to turn around and leave us alone.”
Marah opened her mouth as if to offer a retort, but instead huffed and stormed off.
Arisha dropped to the sand. The little girl wrapped her little arms around Arisha and held tight. She shushed Arisha and started to rock gently. Like Zivah must do when Adira was upset.
Arisha squeezed her eyes tight. She mustn’t let the children see her cry. Gathering her composure, she pulled back from Adira and forced a smile. “Thank you, habibti. I needed a hug. I’m all right, now.”
Adira eyed her, but seemed satisfied enough to return to her bug hunt.
Arisha pulled her knees up to her chest and crossed her arms over them, then laid her head down. “A Canaanite.” Marah’s words echoed in her heart. She shoved them down, but the thoughts threatened to push their way back into her mind. She needed something to take her mind off them. “Who has the most dotted bugs? Bring them here, and let’s see who won.”
Josiah and Adira scrambled toward Arisha, then fell to their knees at her feet, laughing.
“Who’s first?”
“Me, me!” Adira slowly opened her hands.
“One, two, three, four …” Arisha pointed to each bug as she counted, until she reached twelve.
“Now me.”
She repeated the process with Josiah and counted sixteen insects.
Adira’s lips quivered, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Wait, Adira. Here.” Josiah placed three bugs on her thumb. “Now you have fifteen. That means you won. See?”
Her face brightened, and she kissed Josiah’s cheek. “Thank you!”
“Let’s let them fly again, all right?” Josiah opened his hands, and chuckled as the insects flew away.
Adira followed his lead, giggling as she watched the little bugs spread their wings and disappear. “Let’s find some more!” She grabbed his hands and they ran back to the weeds.
Arisha chuckled as she shook her head. Arguing one moment, laughing the next.
“Having fun?” Zadok sat beside her, slipping his arm around her shoulder.
Arisha looked at the man beside her.
Did she want to know if he saw her the same way Marah did, or should she just forget about it all?
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, traced the edge of her jaw with his finger, sending bolts of heats down her spine.
Oh yes, she did want to know. Had to know. Did he mean what he said every morning?
Or was she just … someone he settled for?
Zadok's stomach growled as he jogged toward their tent. If Benaiah took better care of his animals, came to the pasture more than once every ten days or so instead of letting his goats fend for themselves, maybe they wouldn’t always be wandering into Zadok’s flock, picking fights with his rams, annoying the lambs. And maybe one of them wouldn’t have stolen the food Arisha had packed for him while he was tending to a cut yet another had given one of the younger sheep.
Now on top of missing the midday meal, he was late for the evening meal. He needed food and his belly was letting him know it. The smell of manna cooking over thousands of campfires wasn't helping, either, making his mouth water.
He slowed as he reached home, but Arisha wasn't outside. The dishes were washed and stacked by the tent. A plate of manna, a cloth tossed over it, was set beside them. He picked it up and stepped inside.
Arisha sat on a cushion staring at the wall and rubbing the scar on her palm. She'd been doing that a lot the last couple days. His heart hurt just watching her. Something was bothering her, but he had no idea what. It was time he found out.
He stepped closer. "Arisha?"
She looked up, quickly placing a sweet smile on her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come in. Please sit. I'll get your food." She rose onto her knees and reached for the plate.
He held it out of her reach.
"Not until you tell me what going on."
She sat back. “What do you mean?"
"Why have you been so quiet the last few days? You've hardly said two words. Have I done something to hurt you? Upset you?"
“Of course not!"
"Then what?
"It's nothing." She looked down, studying her scar again.
"Arisha," he whispered. "I know you better than that."
Her head shot up, eyes widened.
He knelt before her and set the food down, then reached for her hand. "I know you better than you think. Now what happened?"
“Marah came to see me the other day.”
Cold fingers wrapped around his heart and squeezed. “What?”
“Marah came to visit me.”
He clenched his jaw. “Where? When?”
“At the river.”
“At the river?” He thought a moment. “Were the children with you?”
“Yes.”
“Did they see her?”
“Yes. I think Adira recognized her.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She asked me why she was there.”
“What did she say to you?”
“Nothing really. It doesn’t matter.” She rubbed her scar again.
He pulled her hands apart. “It does. It’s obviously upset you. What did she say?”
“She said she wanted to see who you ended up with … after she left you.”
“Anything else?” He fought to concentrate on her words over the blood pounding in his ears.
“She wanted to see who you … settled for. That all you were left with was someone like me … a Canaanite.”
Zadok took several deep breaths to calm himself before he spoke. Right now he wanted to find Marah and choke her. She could say whatever she wanted to about him, but saying anything about Arisha was going much too far.
“Arisha, I am so sorry. She had no right to come to you, and no right to say any of those things.” He took her face in his hands. “And if you have any doubt whatsoever, I did not settle for you. You are worth more than she could ever hope to be. She is nothing but an illusion, outward false beauty, while you are true beauty that goes beyond the surface. And no matter how we came to know each other, or to be married, I thank Yahweh for you every day, and I love you more than I could possibly explain to you. First thing tomorrow I’ll go to her and tell her to leave you alone.”
“No!” She grabbed his tunic.
“No?”
“No. If she is as shallow as you say, she won’t understand, or believe you. It will only make her angry and cause her to say even more hurtful things.”
Zadok laughed softly. “And you are as wise as you are lovely. Come here.” He sat up, then reached for her and pulled her to his chest. “You know I love you, don’t you?”
She nodded. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she kissed him. She tasted of mint and honey, and she kissed him slowly, her hands roaming his back.
His stomach was empty, but right now a far deeper hunger was being satisfied. He longed to be assured she loved him, and as her kisses became more intense, as her embrace became tighter, as she gently laid him down on the sleeping mat, he knew. At least for tonight.
Manna could wait.
13th day of Tammuz
Summer Solstice
Another feast, another night of obligation. The full moon shined her blessing on the city, lighting the streets and the temple’s courtyards. The Feast of the Gracious Gods—the twins Shahar and Shalim—was in full swing. Twin sons of Il, one long ago became the morning star and the other the evening star. At least that’s what the Canaanites thought. Danel knew Yahweh created everything, but he couldn’t let anyone know that.
He wandered through the area around the courtyar
d long enough to be seen by the priests. Unlike last time, the food was available to everyone and not just the gods. Perhaps if he stayed away from the consort houses, he could keep something down. His stomach rumbled, his mouth watered … he passed a table full of fruit and reached for a fat, ripe peach. With the first bite the sweet juice filled his mouth. He quickly finished the whole fruit, and grabbed a couple apricots to eat on the way home. He hadn’t gone very far when he noticed Lukii just ahead. He quickened his step to catch up with him.
Determined not to make the same mistake as last time, he grasped Lukii’s shoulder. “Lukii, talking a break from guard duty?”
Lukii halted and quickly glanced around. “Uh, y- yes. I- I just left Aqhat, as a matter of fact.”
“There are quite a few more people here this time, no? Of course this is the most important feast of the summer.”
Lukii nodded, but said nothing. He continued to look around as they walked. Maybe a habit left over from guard duty, since his shift had just ended.
“How is your wife?” Danel offered Lukii an apricot.
His face darkened. “She’s still very discouraged about not having a baby.” Lukii twisted the stem of the orangey-pink fruit. “I don’t know what else to do for her.”
Danel touched his arm. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know either. I can only pray for you both. I know that’s a hard thing to bear. We waited a long time for Shiba. And then she was our only child. Our trust in Yahweh was our only solace.”
Lukii nodded, but said nothing.
They passed a hastily erected stall roasting meat. Vendors set up all over town during the feast, selling everything from food to jewelry to idols, hoping to attract worshippers. Danel breathed deeply. “That smells delicious. Have you eaten? I haven’t, except for this peach. Would you like some?” He turned abruptly toward the vendor.
“No, that’s—” Lukii shook his head, but Danel ignored him.
“Nonsense. I won’t hear of it. Please let me buy your meal, as an apology for the way I treated you last time.”
“I really should get back….”
He held up a hand, as if to stop him. “No. You must eat with me. I usually don’t eat at these feasts, but for some reason I am now exceptionally hungry. Perhaps because I have someone to eat with.”
The Walls of Arad Page 16