A Passionate Hope--Hannah's Story

by Jill Eileen Smith

  The news was met with wide-eyed silence. At last Tahath spoke. “You let her keep the vow.”

  “Yes. It was a promise if God would give her a son.”

  “Maybe she will have a daughter.”

  “You know that is not likely.”

  Tahath looked beyond him for a brief moment, then met his gaze. “I know. Then I guess your worries of firstborn rights don’t really exist, do they? Hannah’s son will belong to God, not to you. So Eitan keeps his place. As he should.”

  “Yes. As he should.” The thought should not grate as it did. He loved Eitan, after all, and the boy showed signs of becoming a good worker. Perhaps with the right encouragement, he would care for both his mother and Hannah if the day came when Elkanah was no longer there for them.

  He nodded to Tahath. “You are right as usual, brother.”

  “The vow will not be easily accepted by our parents,” Tahath said.

  “I am very aware of that. Why else do you think I have said nothing until now?” He raked a hand over his beard.

  Tahath rested a hand on his shoulder. “I do not envy you.” His eyes held sympathy, but a moment later he simply smiled and moved on toward his home.

  33

  Hannah woke with a start. The pains that had been a dull ache for the past few days suddenly caused her whole middle to cramp. She cried out, unable to stop herself, and was relieved when Nava rushed into the room.

  “Is it time?” Nava’s sleep-mussed hair was the only evidence that she had not been awake the entire night, for her eyes were wide with fright now.

  “I think so,” Hannah managed through clenched teeth. “Yes.”

  “I’ll get your mother.” Nava hurried from the room before she could respond. Elkanah had stayed away from her bed for weeks, ever since the days for giving birth had drawn near. But now, oh how she wished he were here! To grasp his strong hands against the strangling pain.

  She stifled a cry as another contraction overtook her, and she breathed slowly, then panted until she could sit up in bed. Her mother rushed into the room and Galia soon followed. Lamps were lit, and the room glowed like daylight as the women helped her walk about until at last, hours later, it came time to sit upon the birthing stool.

  “I see his head, Hannah,” her mother said, her voice soothing. “A few more good pushes.”

  “That’s right, my dear. He’s almost here. You can do this.” Galia had never sounded more excited or encouraging to Hannah until this moment.

  But she did not dwell on the thought as every part of her energy focused on bearing down to deliver the child. Another contraction. Then another. At last a scream escaped her lips, along with a gush of blood and water—and her son.

  “Oh Hannah, he’s here! He’s beautiful!” Her mother’s exuberance caused Hannah to exhale a long-held sigh of relief. She knew he would be fine, but she wasn’t as young as she once was, and though she had faith, doubt had crept in now and then.

  “Let me hold him,” she said a moment later.

  “I should clean him up first,” her mother said, though her tone held hesitance.

  “I want to hold him now.” She didn’t care that he was covered in the messiness of birth. She held out her arms and her mother handed him to her. She opened her robe and placed his tiny body against her skin, letting him feel the beat of her heart. “I want you to always remember me, little one,” she whispered against his ear. “Always remember that I love you with all of my heart. No one will ever love you more than I do.”

  The room grew silent and Hannah knew they had heard, but she did not care. The boy’s mouth moved, and she directed him to her breast and nearly laughed at the contented sound he made.

  “Now can I take him?” her mother asked after she had held him not nearly long enough. “Elkanah will want to bless him, and he should be clean for that.”

  “And don’t forget to salt and bind his limbs,” Galia said, bustling about the room.

  Dana helped Nava clean her up, while the mothers attended to the sheets and clothing and dressing the babe.

  How empty Hannah’s arms felt in those few moments that her mother had taken her son to clean him and swaddle him. Oh Adonai, how will I ever let him go?

  “I’ll bring him right back to you,” her mother said as she and Galia left the room to bring the boy to Elkanah. She paused a moment at the threshold. “What will you name him, my daughter?”

  Hannah looked at her son, now swaddled and hard to see but for his head. “Samuel,” she said without hesitation. “Because I asked the Lord for him.”

  Her mother nodded and smiled, and the two women hurried to the waiting men in the courtyard. As Hannah watched her son being carried away, she knew her vow was going to cost her far more than she could have ever imagined.

  Elkanah held Samuel on his knee, his heart surging with love for this child. Oh Adonai, thank You! How was it possible he had ever doubted? If only he had waited for God’s timing. If only he had not listened to the voices of those who thought another wife was the only way.

  “Are you going to bless him, Abba?” Eitan stood near him, trying to peer into the child’s bundled face.

  Elkanah looked at his oldest son, recalling the moment the boy had sat in this very place on his lap, near his heart. “Yes, my son. As I also blessed you.”

  The boy smiled, and Elkanah stood as the crowd of family and friends looked on. “In eight days we will circumcise this child according to the covenant God made with Abraham, and he will then officially be called Samuel, ‘asked of God.’ But right now I lift him up to Adonai”—he held the boy aloft—“and bless him in God’s holy name. May Adonai Tzva’ot make His name great through this child all the days of his life, and no razor shall ever touch his head, for this child is dedicated to the Lord.”

  Elkanah sat again and held Samuel close.

  “He is a Nazarite then,” Jeroham said, his brows knit in concern. “That is a weighty vow to put on a child, my son.”

  “It is a vow Hannah and I made before he was conceived, Father.” Elkanah avoided meeting his father’s gaze. The Nazarite part of the vow did not trouble him, though in time Samuel’s hair would grow well past that of a man’s normal length. No, it was the other part—of leaving him at the tabernacle with Eli and his corrupt sons. Was this God’s answer to his constant prayer for a deliverer? But why choose one so young? Why did Hannah vow such a thing, to give the boy back at such a young age?

  Suddenly he had the urge to hold his son close and never release him. But pulling him closer caused the boy to fuss, and Elkanah knew from experience the mewling sounds meant Samuel wanted Hannah. No doubt he would always want Hannah, but one day too soon he would have to live apart from her.

  Oh God! How can I bear it? How can she? Emotion clogged his throat, and he swallowed back the bitter taste of bile.

  “Are you all right, Abba?” Eitan still stood at his side, apparently watching him closely. No doubt to have something to report to his mother, who conveniently stayed away.

  Can you blame her? Hannah did the same at every one of her births.

  “I’m all right, my son,” he said, rising and handing Samuel back to Hannah’s mother. “The blessing is past until the circumcision, so if you wish, you may go home and tell your mother.”

  Eitan’s thin brows drew together. “I don’t want to go home, Abba. Ima is always crabby when I’m there. I want to stay with you.” He gave Elkanah a toothy grin.

  Elkanah smiled. “Then you may come with me to check on the sheep. But first I am going to step into the house for a moment to see your Aunt Hannah.”

  Eitan nodded. “I’ll wait here.”

  Elkanah looked at him, surprised at his insight, realizing that his children were growing up like olive plants around him, faster than he could keep up and faster than he would like. What would happen when Peninnah could no longer bear children? What if Hannah could and Peninnah could not? Would God turn things around on them like that?

  He s
tepped over the threshold and walked to Hannah’s room. He wouldn’t go in, but he would thank her from the doorway and gaze on his wife and son.

  Peninnah stood in the courtyard, rocking her newest son’s basket with one foot, trying to keep him calm. She was weary. So weary. And the sounds of joy coming from Hannah’s home did not help.

  She glanced around at her cluttered house, listening to the younger children chase each other in the adjoining field. Her mother had chosen to lie down in one of the sleeping rooms with Yemima, who had grown impatient and fussier ever since Nadav’s birth.

  She blew out a frustrated breath. Yemima was spoiled. Everyone coddled her and gave her what she wanted because she had been so tiny at birth. And even though she was the youngest of five at the time, she had grown into a small tyrant by the time Nadav was born.

  She sank onto a bench but still rocked the basket, glancing at the child. No wonder her children had run off and Yemima was always cranky. Nadav was the worst of her children, never happy, always fussing. And her mother was getting too old for this. She needed a maid, like Hannah had in Nava.

  Nava was leaving to marry soon. But Hannah had only one child to care for, and by the sound of it she would have plenty of help from Elkanah’s family. The realization stung. Not once had Galia offered to come and help with Nadav. Or take Yemima or Moriah to stay overnight with their grandparents. And Eitan and Hevel and Aniah kept running off with Elkanah, so they were no help to her whatsoever.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, tasting the salt of tears. She brushed them away, but they would not stop coming. What was wrong with her? She was not one to weep like Hannah. She was strong. Capable. She did not cry.

  She sniffed and quickly gathered herself at the sound of someone approaching. One glance up and her heart fluttered for the briefest moment, then grew hard as Elkanah and Eitan came into view.

  “We are going to check on the sheep, Ima,” Eitan announced. “We just came to get Hevel. He’ll want to come too.”

  Peninnah nodded. “That’s good. He is out in the field with Aniah and Moriah.” She glanced up at Elkanah. “So the child is born.”

  Elkanah shifted from foot to foot as though he could not wait to be away from her presence. “Yes. A boy.” He met her gaze. “He will be Samuel, ‘asked of God,’ and a Nazarite all the days of his life.”

  Peninnah lifted a brow. “A Nazarite? That seems rather extreme to place on an infant.”

  “It is part of a vow we made.”

  We. He and Hannah, of course. “I see.”

  “Will you visit her?” He asked it as though he expected her to say yes.

  “Hannah did not visit me, if you recall.”

  “Eventually she did.” Was he pleading with her? But no. He was simply asking.

  “Did Hannah ask after me?” She searched his face for any hint of a lie.

  He held her gaze but then shook his head. “She was too tired and caught up in the birth.” He paused. “You have not spoken to her since my announcement of her pregnancy. I simply wondered if we could get past that. You are never around my family, and it seems like at some point my two wives ought to be able to be kind to one another.”

  Was he kidding? “What you are really saying is that you think it’s time I be kind to Hannah and the rest of your family, but when have they been kind to me? When have they invited me to spin with them or offered to watch my children? You won’t even purchase a maid for me, when I am the one who has needed the help, not Hannah!”

  He stared at her, and she knew her outburst was foolish and futile. Nadav must have agreed, as the rocking no longer soothed him. Loud wails came from his basket, and Peninnah bent to lift him out, silently cursing herself for not keeping her voice lower. She put him to her breast, not caring what Elkanah thought of her.

  She looked up just as Eitan and Hevel came racing into the courtyard. “We’re ready, Abba!” Hevel said.

  “Hush!” Peninnah whisper-shouted.

  “Go wait for me by the rock at the edge of the field, where I can see you,” Elkanah said, pointing in that direction.

  The boys looked from one parent to the other and ran off. Peninnah released a deep sigh as the tears started again. What was wrong with her? She must not weep in front of him!

  “I will seek a maid to help you,” Elkanah said softly. “I did not realize that you needed help beyond your mother.”

  “My mother does not admit that she is getting older, and the care of children is not easy.”

  “No, I imagine it is not.” He raked a hand along the back of his neck. “And I can see that it is wearing you down. When is the last time you slept?”

  She shrugged. “I never sleep like I used to. Nadav wakes to eat nearly every hour.”

  His look grew thoughtful. “Do you want me to find someone to nurse him for you?”

  “Like who? Hannah?”

  “No. I would not put you through more struggles with her. Someone from town, perhaps.”

  Peninnah felt the tug of Nadav’s little mouth and the sweet pull of her milk letting down. It was the one thing about infancy that she loved, though not quite as often as this child wanted it.

  “No,” she said at last. “I will manage.”

  “Then just a maid to help with the others, to clean and cook or whatever you need.”

  “That would be helpful, yes.”

  He released a deep sigh. “Well then, I better be off. I will bring the boys home soon.” He paused as if he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure how. “If you do not think it a bother, I will dine here with you and the children tonight.”

  She looked at him, her heart softening ever so slightly. “And shall I set a bed for you as well?” He couldn’t sleep with Hannah, but everyone knew he’d been sleeping in the sitting room there.

  “Yes, you can set a bed for me. Perhaps I can help you with Nadav.”

  His offer brought tears again, and she could not speak. He did not come to her as he had to Hannah at the feast the year before and offer his sympathies. Instead her tears seemed to make him uncomfortable.

  He hurried off and left her alone as always.

  34

  Six Months Later

  Hannah bundled a wiggly Samuel into a small tunic and undergarments and lifted him to her shoulder. “What a fine boy you are growing to be,” she whispered in his ear. “Are you ready to go visit Aunt Nava?”

  The boy made some happy gurgling sounds and squealed with delight, but Hannah wondered if he understood a word she’d said. He did seem to enjoy Nava’s company.

  Hannah had been thrilled the day Elkanah came home and announced that he had found a merchant in town who was willing to sell some of his land to Ezer and Nava in exchange for help working his fields. Elkanah’s brothers had helped Ezer build a small house, and two months after Samuel’s circumcision, Ezer had come for Nava in a beautiful wedding ceremony.

  The memory of that day, the joy in Nava’s gaze, and the tears neither of them could contain lingered in Hannah’s heart. She missed her friend, for she had thought of her as such soon after she had reached womanhood. And now with Samuel to care for, she missed the adult companionship—someone to talk to who could do more than squeal with delight or cry when he had a need.

  “Well, little man,” she said, shaking the thoughts aside, “I think we have everything, so why don’t we go ahead and take a walk?” She wrapped him in her scarf and tied him securely to her chest to help lighten the load of carrying him. How fast he was growing!

  How she wished she could slow the time.

  She checked the basket with extra clothes and some food she planned to take to Nava—a round of cheese and a flask of new wine—and headed to the door, then stopped cold. Peninnah was coming toward her with Nadav in her arms. What could she possibly want? They hadn’t spoken since before Samuel’s birth, and Hannah did not want to start now. Not when she had plans for a pleasant day. But she forced herself to step out of the house into the courtyard to meet Peninn
ah before she could cross the threshold.

  “Peninnah. This is a surprise.” Hannah took the woman’s measure, looking her up and down. “What can I do for you?”

  Peninnah seemed to cling tighter to Nadav, until the child fussed in an obvious attempt to be free to toddle about the yard. Was the woman nervous? By the way she would not meet Hannah’s gaze, she wondered.

  “Has something happened?” The hair on the back of Hannah’s neck stood up. “Is Elkanah hurt?”

  “I left the children with my maid and sent Aniah to get Elkanah,” Peninnah said, looking at her feet, her voice catching. “I found Ima . . .” She looked at Hannah, tears in her eyes. “I found my mother dead on the floor next to her bed shortly after we broke the fast this morning.” She drew in a breath as though straining for composure.

  “Oh Peninnah, I’m sorry!” Hannah dropped her basket and simply held Samuel close. “What can I do?”

  Peninnah swallowed, and her expression seemed to change between hurt and anger, as though she could not decide which way to turn. “I don’t even know why I am here. I should have sent my maid.”

  “You need help and I want to help you.” Hannah was not sure in that moment that she spoke truth, but Elkanah would want his wives to pull together at such a time as this. “I can go and get Galia and our sisters-in-law to help. They will call the women to come and mourn, and the men will get busy building a bier. Do you have food? Perhaps we can send the children to stay with Galia?” She slowed, trying to read Peninnah’s expression. “Tell me what I can do.”

  Peninnah looked beyond Hannah a moment, her eyes misting with unshed tears. “I’ve lost them both now. I have no one else.”

  Hannah studied this woman, this usurper of her time alone with Elkanah, and could not stop the many questions from surging through her thoughts. Why had she come here instead of going straight to Galia’s? What made her so cruel at times and so normal, even friendly, now? What would Galia do without Yafa?