By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan)

by Carole Towriss

  What little composure she had left, she lost as she fell against him, trembling.

  He buried his face in her neck. “I’m here. I love you,” he whispered.

  She could only cry as she looped her arms around his neck.

  Everything else faded from consciousness as he held her—nothing else mattered. He was home, in her arms. He raised his face and held hers, studying it. He’d forgotten how beautiful she was. All he could remember was her kindness, her laughter, her touch. Her touch was what he craved right now. He bent to kiss her. She’d said his kisses melted her, but he was the one who nearly came undone when his lips touched hers. After four and a half weeks of hunger, thirst, and brutality, the tender kiss of his wife was a healing balm, and he didn’t ever want to let go.

  Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he pulled away and rested his forehead on hers. “I love you. I dreamed of you every night.”

  “I can’t believe you’re here. We all thought … even Caleb and Joshua …” She raised her hand and caressed his cheek.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. Bezalel and Nahshon took care of you? The girls are all right? Ahmose?”

  “We are fine. Everyone was wonderful to us.” She stared at him, and tears began to fall again. “I’m just so glad you’re home.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Was she standing before him? Was he really here? Or would he awaken once again on the cold floor of Keret’s prison?

  She drew her fingers over his face, touching the swollen eye the cook’s assistant had pounded and setting off a shooting pain. The escape was real. He was home.

  “We should go to the camp. There are many who will want to know you are safe.”

  He kissed her once more, then laced his fingers with hers and they started for the camp.

  After a step or two, she stopped and pulled on his hand. “What happened? Why were you gone so long?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell everyone at once. Let’s just go. Maybe there’s some manna left.”

  Bezalel and Meri, Nahshon and Sheerah, Rebekah and Ahmose were around the fire when they reached their tents.

  “Uncle Kamose!” Ahmose ran to greet him first when they were a couple of tents away, wrapping his arms around Kamose’s hips, low enough to miss his stripes.

  Kamose grunted as he picked him up. “Ahmose, I missed you so much.”

  Ahmose squeezed him tightly. “I love you, Uncle.” His tears wet Kamose’s cheek. He leaned back, his face lit up in delight. He laid his hands on Kamose’s cheeks. “Yahweh sent you back.” He turned to Tirzah, beaming. “He gave him back to you.” The boy embraced him again, then kissed Kamose’s cheek and hopped down.

  The others gathered around the couple. There were a number of frowns and furrowed brows at his appearance. Only then did Kamose realize how bad he must look. His hair was down and tangled, his arms and legs were cut and bruised from the rocky climbs, he’d lost weight, and he was filthy, not to mention his injuries from the palace. Rebekah stepped behind him and gasped.

  Tirzah never let go of his arm and never stopped smiling.

  “Come sit down, Captain.” Rebekah gestured to their fire pit. “Ahmose, get your uncle some manna. There was some left tonight. There never has been before, but there was tonight. Yahweh provided. Tirzah, we need water. Can you go fill all the skins?”

  Tirzah furrowed her brow, glancing at Kamose. “But …”

  Rebekah touched her arm. “Tirzah, your husband needs water,” she said gently. “It will take only a few moments.”

  Tirzah frowned, but left.

  “I’ll go with you.” Meri gathered her own skins and headed to the spring with her.

  Kamose turned to watch her go.

  Tirzah looked over her shoulder as she walked away. Her smile sent a rush of warmth through him.

  Rebekah pointed to a chair, of sorts. It was smooth and flat on top, the bottom made of tree roots sticking out at all angles. “Bezalel made this for me, since it’s getting harder for me to sit on the ground. He made it from a piece of fallen tree he brought from the river. Sit.”

  “But it’s for you—”

  “You need it more than I. Besides, I need to reach your back.” Kamose sat and Rebekah continued issuing orders. “Nahshon, go to Judith and get some honey. As much as possible. Sheerah, we need olive oil.”

  Everyone scattered at her commands.

  Ahmose sat at Kamose’s feet with a plate of manna cakes, a dish of dates, and a skin of fresh sheep’s milk.

  Rebekah stood before him, hands on her hips. “Now, Captain, what happened to your back?”

  “I was beaten.” He reached for some manna.

  “More than once, I’d say.” She shook her head. “I’ll tend to it, but disease may already have set in.” She laid her hand gently on his wounds.

  He stiffened.

  “There is no heat. It seems Yahweh has been watching over you.”

  “I’ve had honey put on it a couple of times. The rain helped.”

  Nahshon and Sheerah returned with the honey and oil. Sheerah also brought a large bowl, and immediately began mixing the soothing ointment.

  Rebekah smoothed honey on the stripes on his back, and though the wounds were tender, the sting began to disappear, and he relaxed.

  A loud cry from behind him drew his attention. He turned to see Tirzah collapse, Meri wrapping her arm around Tirzah’s waist, skins scattered on the sand at their feet. He started to go to her, but Rebekah placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

  “Bezalel.” Rebekah pointed her chin to Tirzah.

  Bezalel left to attend to Tirzah.

  Kamose turned to Rebekah, his thumb over his shoulder. His heart ached—he wanted to tend to his wife. “But what’s wrong with her?”

  “She saw your back.”

  “She already saw it.”

  She offered a sad smile. “No, she didn’t.”

  “Yes, she did. She saw it as she left for the spring. I saw her.” He tried to rise again but she pushed him down.

  “No, Captain, she only saw you.”

  “I don’t understand.” He grunted as Bezalel helped Tirzah stand. It should be his job.

  Rebekah grasped his chin with her hand and pulled his face to her.

  For a moment Kamose felt like a child, being chastised by a teacher.

  Then Rebekah’s face softened. “She only saw you, home, safe, and with her. She did not see your bruised body, your black eye, and certainly not your bloody back.”

  Kamose munched on manna as Rebekah finished working on his wounds. He answered questions, but he was too tired to say much. Besides, he’d have to tell everything all over again to Moses tomorrow.

  “Bezalel, take the captain to the river and help him clean up. But watch his back.”

  Treated like a child again. He didn’t need to be led to the river. He was perfectly capable of washing himself. Until he tried to stand and nearly toppled over. Bezalel caught him and righted him without making it obvious. They ambled to the river, every movement agony. The cool water restored his energy and soothed his sore feet.

  Rebekah had given Bezalel a number of cloths. Kamose reached for one and bent to dip it in the river. He’d lowered himself only a few handbreadths when shooting pain screamed up and down his back. He gasped and balled his hands into fists. Slowly he stood up.

  Bezalel dipped some cloths in the river and handed them to Kamose. He washed his arms, chest, and face. Bezalel cleaned his legs.

  “Your shenti is ruined. Do you have another?”

  Kamose remembered having the exact same conversation with Bezalel when he met him coming down from the mountain next to Sinai, after Bezalel had spent the night arguing with Yahweh. Except that time, Bezalel was the one bloody and bruised. “In my tent.”

  “I’ll get it.” Bezalel started to jog back to the tent, but Ahmose met him, carrying the clean garment, a brush, and a strip of leather.

  Kamose rem
oved the bloody shenti and handed it to Ahmose.

  “Toss it in the fire when we get back.”

  Ahmose made a face and nodded as he traded the clean shenti for the dirty one.

  Kamose began to brush his tangled hair. His shoulders ached as he lifted them, but he refused to let Bezalel do it. “Perhaps you should have returned the favor and met me and cleaned me before Tirzah saw me.”

  Bezalel laughed. “Friend, had I known you were coming, I would have gladly done so.” He stepped back and looked Kamose over. “I hate to say it, but you look worse than I did.”

  “At least I didn’t do most of it to myself.”

  “At least you’ve still got a sense of humor.”

  Kamose chuckled lightly. It was the first time he’d laughed in weeks. He pulled his hair back and tied it. Then he grasped the length of it, pulled it up, and stuffed it back behind the tie again without pulling it through, to keep it off his sticky, injured back.

  Back at the fire, Kamose said final good nights. Nahshon and Sheerah left first, and Bezalel and Meri soon followed, dragging Ahmose behind them.

  While Tirzah wouldn’t let go of him before, now she wouldn’t come near him.

  “Let’s go inside. I could sleep for a month.” He reached for her hand, but she turned and entered the tent without him.

  He peeked in on the girls behind the curtain in the back of the tent, their sleeping faces full of innocence. He prayed they would never experience the evil he had known, both here and in Egypt.

  Resisting waking them up, he turned to face Tirzah.

  She stood hugging herself in the corner.

  Pain gripped his heart. “Tirzah, are you afraid of me?”

  She brought her hand to her mouth and shook her head. “No, I am afraid to hurt you,” she whispered.

  “Any pain you would cause me would be worth it, habibti. Please don’t stay away from me.” He drew near to her. “I need you tonight.”

  She drew in a shaky breath.

  “Please.”

  She came to him and placed her cheek on his chest. She kept her hands balled by her shoulders.

  She felt so good next to him. He enfolded her in his arms, and kissed the top of her head, sighing. He wanted to melt into her.

  She relaxed against him, and her arms found their way around his neck. She lifted her face to meet his, and kissed him.

  Her kiss was delicious, and heated his blood. He pulled her closer. He definitely wanted more, but a kiss was all he could handle right now. He groaned, and pulled away. “I have to lie down,” he whispered.

  Only one mat lay in their half of the tent.

  The reality hit him like an enemy’s arrow. “You really thought I wasn’t coming back, didn’t you?”

  She shrugged. “There was nothing else to think. You were gone over a month.”

  He ran his knuckles down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I promised I would never leave you.”

  She touched his split lip. “That’s not really yours to promise, is it? I know that now.” She walked to the corner and unrolled his mat.

  As he had for the last twenty-four nights, he lay down on his stomach. Exhaustion filled him. “Come lie next to me.”

  Tirzah lay next to his elbow.

  He opened one eye. “Closer.”

  She snuggled next to him, her head on his bare bicep. Her hair spilled over his arm onto the mat. Her fresh scent enveloped him, releasing the last of the tension in his body.

  “Mmmm. Thank you,” he whispered. A deep sigh escaped him.

  For the first time in weeks, contentment settled over him. Within moments he fell into a peaceful sleep.

  The early eastern light peeked in through the tent and tickled Tirzah awake. She’d stayed awake long after Kamose last night, just watching him sleep. Now she sat up and studied his back. The honey had helped calm the angry skin, but it was still a ragged mess. There was no way to count the number of lashes between his shoulder blades and ankles. Many of them wrapped all the way around his sides. His arms and legs were turning black and blue and green.

  She ran her fingers through his hair and pushed it from his back. She bent and kissed his cheek and moved to the back of the tent.

  She kissed the twins awake and led them out the rear entrance and back out between the tents. “Imma, what’s wrong?”

  “Hush. I have a surprise for you. First let’s go get our manna.”

  She led them outside camp. “We have to collect an extra omer today.”

  “Why?” Keren rubbed her eyes. “Why did we go out backwards?”

  “We have to collect an extra portion because Abba came home last night.”

  Keren jumped up and down and squealed. Naomi’s bottom lip quivered. She collapsed on the sand, wrapped her arms around herself, and silently cried.

  Tirzah reached for Keren’s wrist as she started to run back to the tent.

  “Listen first. He came home after you went to bed. He is badly hurt, and he is still sleeping. That’s why we went out the back. You must not go in the tent until he wakes up, and that may be a while.”

  “Not fair!” Keren folded her arms and pouted.

  Tirzah grabbed Keren’s chin and placed her nose a finger’s width from Keren’s. “He needs to sleep. Will you promise you will not wake him?”

  “I promise,” she whispered.

  “Keren?”

  Keren huffed. “I promise.”

  “Who hurt him? Why is he hurt?” Naomi wiped tears from her cheeks, but more replaced them.

  “Some bad men in the city. But he’s home now, and he will get better.” Tirzah beckoned to the girl, then wrapped her arm around her waist. “Now, when he wakes, you must be careful with him. He cannot pick you up and hold you here like he used to.” Tirzah pointed to her hip. “Or carry you on his shoulders. And when you hug him, you must hug only his neck, not his shoulders or back.”

  Both nodded.

  “Then let’s get our manna and make our morning meal. Hug?”

  She gave them both a good squeeze and they set to work.

  Tirzah was opening the pot of manna for the noon meal when Kamose crawled stiffly out of the tent. He placed a lingering kiss on her cheek.

  Bezalel and Ahmose and the girls returned from collecting dates near the river. Keren dropped her bag of fruit and ran for him. He bent to pick her up as she jumped into his arms—one of hers went around his neck and one around his shoulder.

  He grimaced.

  Tirzah closed her eyes. So much for her instructions. When she opened them he was moving Keren’s little arm higher on his body, above the lash marks.

  “I missed you so much, habibti.”

  “I missed you too, Abba.” She kissed his nose, and wiggled out of his embrace.

  He set her down and she bounced off.

  Meri joined Tirzah and rubbed her back for a moment. Then she slipped the jar of manna from Tirzah’s hands and went to the fire.

  Kamose bent and reached for Naomi.

  She kept her arms to her sides. “Are you sure I won’t hurt you?”

  He chuckled. “No, I won’t let you. Come here.” He lifted her to his chest.

  She hugged his neck. “I love you, Abba.”

  “I love you, habibi.”

  After several moments, Naomi sat back on his arm.

  He looked in her eyes. “Did you have any bad dreams while I was gone?”

  “No, Ahmose slept with me at first and he prayed for me every night. Then, after a while, he just had to pray for me and I would sleep all night by myself.” She smiled proudly.

  “Ahmose is a very good cousin, isn’t he?”

  Naomi’s tiny fingers hovered over his swollen eye, then dropped to his lip. “They shouldn’t have been so mean to you.” She pouted.

  “But I’m home now. And I’ll get better.”

  Tirzah’s heart swelled as she watched Kamose with her children—his children. Yahweh had indeed blessed her. He’d given her more than she had ever imagined possi
ble. A loving husband, a family of friends, a father for her children. And the knowledge that she was never alone.

  Canaan could wait. She had everything she needed right here, by the waters of Kadesh.

  Acknowledgments

  My unending thanks to:

  My mother—my first and biggest fan.

  My husband John, and my beautiful, noisy, loving, patient children: Emma, Mira, Dara and Johnny—thank you for letting me do this again.

  My critique partners and writing buddies, who always encourage me, push me, and inspire me to write my best.

  My beta readers—Lynn Rose, Carrol Mercurio, and Dr. Sue Pankratz.

  Sandi Rog.

  Ellen Tarver—for once again refining my manuscript.

  Dan DeGarmo and Nathan Ward—my publishers.

  Reuben Rog—for a beautiful cover.

  And of course you, my readers.

  To learn even more about these characters and their world, as well as the stories to come, visit www.caroletowriss.com.

  For a full listing of DeWard Publishing Company books, visit our website:

  www.deward.com

  DEWARD

  PUBLISHING COMPANY

  About the Author

  Carole Towriss and her husband live just north of Washington, D.C. In between making tacos and telling her four children to pick up their shoes for the third time, she writes, watches chick flicks, and waits for summertime to return to the beach.