“We will be safe,” she said, her words muffled by the folds of her skirt. She attempted to say more, but a howl whipped through the dark area, accompanied by a wild wind.
Eliab’s grip tightened around her waist. “Do not fear. God is with us.”
God was with them. A few feet away. She began to chuckle at the thought of how her journey had ended. Eliab must have thought her scared, for he caressed her arm. She turned her head to speak, but dust clouded the cave, and she began to cough.
The threat of the storm waned while the ground stilled its shaking. She and Eliab stood. His protective grasp still lingered on her skin.
“Son of Berek?” The summons echoed in the enclosed space.
Eliab jumped backward and steadied himself with a hand upon the wall. She straightened and wrapped her arms about her body, willing her nerves to withstand a few more hours of daylight.
“Come forth.” The messenger’s voice was loud but kind.
Scrambling out of the cave, they climbed the stone steps of the pit as if in a race. Naomi halted, slack-jawed. Her husband stopped at her side.
“He performed a miracle.” Naomi scanned the thatched roofs, the unblemished stones, the clean walls, and the clay jars lining the cooking courtyard.
“Praise be to God,” Eliab shouted, slumping to his knees.
The messenger mounted his porcelain-hued horse.
She ran to catch him. “I do not know how to thank you.”
Casting a glance at Eliab before fixing his fiery-eyed stare upon her, he said, “This place is too quiet. Be fruitful. Fill this land for the Lord.” And as if God had need of him, in that very moment, he vanished.
Holding a large rock, Eliab hurried toward her. “We shall mark where he stood with stones so we will remember God’s goodness.”
“I am in need of a tower to keep me on my feet.” She stilled and turned in the direction of Isa’s dwelling and touched Eliab’s shoulder. “Do you hear something?”
The meh-meh-meh grew louder.
Could it be?
She ran toward the bleating. Eliab followed close behind.
Isa’s house stood anew, as did the sheep’s pen.
Eliab opened the front door. A ewe brushed by him, protesting her confinement. The sheep trotted Naomi’s direction.
She knew those eyes.
Naomi could barely breathe. Her heart swelled like an overfilled waterskin threatening to burst. She knelt and petted the ewe. Her ewe. The mother’s muzzle preened upward as if she wanted her throat scratched.
“My gift. He restored my wedding gift.” She rubbed her hands up and down each leg. “There is not a blemish on her.”
“Wait until Isa sees your sheep.” Eliab grinned so wide his smirk reminded her of Hamul’s mask.
“The ewe is ours. You gave her to me.”
“Only after much protest.” He knelt. “How could I carry you and the livestock to the top of the ravine?”
Reaching up, Naomi stroked her husband’s beard. With each caress a petal-soft flutter twirled inside her body. “Will the mother be safe in the sheep’s pen?”
His hand settled on her hip. “The trough is full and there is fodder.”
“And our friends? Will they return soon?” She gazed into Eliab’s eyes, her reflection overshadowing the brown pools so deep she could dive into them. She did not want him to think her wanton, but she was ready to become his wife in every way and fulfill her promise to be fruitful.
“Our family does not know there is anything to return to.” Eliab stroked the contour of her face. “And I believe they will join the elders for a meal.”
The ewe nibbled at her garment, grazing her knees. She giggled at the tickle. “I am not hungry, husband.”
He tipped her chin so all she could see was him. “But I am.”
29
Naomi climbed the ladder to Eliab’s bedroom. Her bedroom. Their bedroom. With every rung she touched, her palms dampened, and her heartbeat pulsed at her throat where Eliab had kissed her in the cave. When she reached the threshold, she halted and scanned the room. Everything had stayed the same—the washbasin, the bed, and her loom. Gratitude flooded her soul. She practically leapt across the floor when she spied the wooden frame.
Eliab stationed the ladder against the wall. “We do not need any guests to share in this moment.”
She strummed her fingers over the woven pattern and envisioned the delight on Jael’s face. “Not one thread of my design is different.”
God had restored her ewe and her loom, but they had first been gifts from her husband, from her Eliab. The more she thought of him, of their bond, the bloom in her belly blossomed. A powerful desire unfolded within her.
“You are right, husband. We do not need any company for a while.”
Removing his robe, Eliab stepped toward the loom, wearing only his loincloth and a look so precious and passionate she could hardly remain upright.
“Stay where you are.” She hid behind her unfinished weave. “Wash yourself in the basin.”
Hurt flashed across his features. He dipped a cloth in the water. “I do not want to rush you. I want you to be comfortable with me.”
She stripped off her head covering and cast it to the ground, welcoming the weight of her hair upon her shoulders. “I want to be with you.” Her cloak slipped from her arms and fell to the floor. She shimmied out of her robe. Only the weave of her hands restored on the loom obstructed his view of her nakedness. “I want you washed so you can wash me.”
Water sloshed from the washbasin. “As you wish.”
Her heart pounded in a crazed rhythm with expectation of what waited in the marriage bed.
“You’re beautiful. I’ve felt your form beside me, but for this vision, I have no words.”
“Your vision is not complete.” God, I need the courage to step away from this loom. She didn’t think too long. The boom of her heart deafened deep thought. With a quick sidestep, she revealed herself, fully, and strolled toward the man she loved.
Eliab held out his hand. He stroked her cheek and brushed her hair behind her ear, his gaze never faltering or dipping below her face. Wherever he touched, her chin, her cheekbone, her lips, the sensation lingered long after he had moved on.
Her pulse raced like a chariot as he swept a sponge below the nape of her neck and dared to plunge lower. His hand paused above her breast. She willed him to hurry, but he leaned down and kissed her, not deep and desperate, but with a gentleness and a promise of what was to come.
She broke their kiss. “Please hurry, my husband.” Taking his hand, she tried to move it across her belly, but his hand did not budge.
“Oh no, wife.” His denial rumbled deep in his chest. “There is no feast or festival outside, but this is a celebration, and I have only begun to watch you dance.”
Epilogue
Three years later
Naomi sat cross-legged in the shade in front of her home, spinning the wool she had carded. Her daughter twirled a piece of yarn round and round until she plopped to the ground, her eyes wide and wild. Young boys chased one another outside the cooking courtyard, whipping empty slings in the air, waging a play battle.
“Enough,” Cuzbi chastised. “With all this commotion I have scorched the bread.”
Again. Naomi smiled at her friend’s excuse and watched her son, Micah, halt his mock slinging and squint into the flatlands. His hand cupped his brow and he stood as still as a scout while his cousin claimed victory.
“Mother.” Micah raced toward her, his sling dragging in the dirt. “People coming.”
She deposited her spinner in a basket and struggled to rise. Her unborn child rounded her belly, making where her feet landed a mystery. Lifting Miriam onto her hip, she waddled past the courtyard.
Three mules approached. Two with riders and one without.
Turning to Micah, she said, “We have visitors. Run to your uncle Isa’s and call your father.”
Micah raced toward Isa’s home, arms pumping faster
than his feet could carry him. Cuzbi’s son pursued his cousin like this was a new game.
Cuzbi leaned on the stone wall surrounding the cooking fire. “Isa will not leave Jael. Her birthing time is near.”
“These strangers are probably in need of shelter.” Naomi repositioned Miriam, who snuggled into her side.
“I hope they are not hungry.” Cuzbi swiped her hands together to remove the traces of ash.
Naomi lumbered out to greet the travelers. As they grew closer, she stilled.
She knew those stripes, those seams, the stitching on those robes.
Her breathing stuttered as if all the dust the animals had kicked up had settled in her chest. Her heart pounded against her ribs as tingling pressure built behind her eyes.
“Mother.” The word caught in her throat. She had not uttered it in years. But she had not forgotten her family. How many times had she spoken the wisdom of her mother to Micah and Miriam, made the food her mother taught her, and hummed the choruses her mother had cherished?
Awkward as it was with Miriam’s face buried in her shoulder, she ran.
“Abba. Father.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, seeping into her mouth, and leaving salt to sizzle on her tongue.
Her mother scrambled from her mule. Naomi embraced her, drawing her mother close.
“You came.” Naomi caressed her mother’s arm, reassuring herself that these travelers were not a vision. “Many times I have looked to the north and wished you to appear from the hills. I never got to say my shalom. You kissed me before the dance and I never kissed you back. My prayer was that we would meet again this side of heaven.”
“My child, I knew we would see each other, for you never left me.” Her mother pressed a hand to Naomi’s belly. “God has blessed you.” And with a caress to Miriam’s cheek, her mother smiled brighter than a gemstone. “I would know this child. She is our granddaughter, for she is the image of you cradled on my hip.”
Miriam clutched Naomi’s tunic and stared, wide-eyed, at the woman who had wailed.
“It is all well, my sweet daughter.” Her mother stroked Miriam’s hair. The lilt in her mother’s voice was welcomed like a treasured song. “Your grandmother is here to comfort you.”
“And her grandfather.” Heriah led the mules closer.
“Your granddaughter’s name is Miriam, for she hid behind her brother, Micah. God blessed me two-fold when I thought to birth but one child.”
“You will have another.” Her mother patted Naomi’s burgeoning belly.
“Yes, and if it is a son, he shall bear the names of my brothers who were lost to us.”
Tears welled in her mother’s eyes.
“How is Nadab?” An ache weighed upon Naomi’s chest. Her brother’s anger and hard heart tormented her at times. But only at the times she let herself remember.
Her mother’s brow furrowed. “He has found a wife and they have a son. But it is not the same as one’s daughter giving birth.” Biting her lip, her mother could not hold back another wave of tears.
“I am glad he has an heir. That we have an heir.” She squeezed her mother’s hands and helped wipe the wetness from her face.
“I could not live with a woman whose grief did not end.” Her father came to console his wife. The familiar scent of soil and hyssop filled the air. “We waited for you to come to us. We received your gifts from the messenger and prayed you would one day come back to Shiloh. I see now it would not have been easy with the size of your flocks and the size of your family.”
“I wanted to come, but we did not know if it would be safe.” She kissed Miriam as a reminder of her blessing.
“There is wisdom in your thinking. For some, it is still difficult to welcome a Benjamite, especially if that man has received blessings.” Her father glanced off into the distance. “We both know of one.”
Naomi turned to see Eliab and Micah approaching. Her son seemed more interested in a narrow stick he had found than in the two visitors speaking with his mother.
Eliab hurried to her side. He nodded to her father. “Heriah, I am grateful you traveled to our home.”
Her father nodded. “You have a tall son. He will be able to assist you with your herds.”
Her heart budded with joy at her father’s praise.
“And he is strong like his grandfather.” Eliab embraced Heriah. “You are welcome in this place. We have several children afoot.”
Micah reached toward the sky and extended his branch, chastising the clouds.
Her mother and father laughed.
Her father knelt next to Micah. “If you like to dig in the dirt, I have something for you.” Heriah hurried toward the third mule and opened a large sack. He pulled out a handful of dirt with a green shoot embedded in the soil. “I have brought the start of a vineyard to Gibeah.” Heriah let his grandson poke at the plant. Not to be outdone, Miriam fidgeted her way out of Naomi’s arms and into her grandfather’s. “Your mother grew up picking grapes.”
“She is a woman of many talents.” Eliab’s hand dropped to the small of her back. “You have bestowed on me a priceless gift.”
Heriah lifted his grandson. “You and Miriam will help me plant the vines so everyone will know a seed from Ephraim blossoms here.”
“Our seed.” Her mother’s eyes glistened.
She embraced her mother again and pulled Eliab into their sweet reunion.
“God bestows the best fruit,” she whispered.
Eliab caressed her belly. “We have been blessed with a bountiful harvest.”
“You have,” her mother added. “And now I want to hold my granddaughter.”
As her mother bent to speak with Miriam, Eliab enfolded Naomi into his arms.
Gazing into her husband’s eyes so rich and deep with a reassuring love, Naomi reached up and sneaked one of their celebratory kisses.
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Building Benjamin Page 18