“Why aren’t you watching your child?”
Startled by the harsh voice, Jochebed looked up to see that the censorship in Lili’s voice matched her pursed lips. Lili was beginning to sound like Sarah.
“I am.”
“With your eyes closed?”
Jochebed took a deep breath. “Lili, he’s fine. I just closed my eyes for a minute.” She patted the ground beside her. “Can you sit down with me?”
Indecision flickered on Lili’s face and Jochebed coaxed, “You know Aaron would like it.”
Lili sat as far away as she could sit and still share the fringe of shade. Silently, they watched Aaron. Jochebed searched her mind for something to say, but before she thought of a safe subject, Aaron flopped his grimy little self into Lili’s lap. Lili laughed, and briefly Jochebed saw the shadows leave Lili’s face. How happy she seemed with a child in her lap.
Lili’s barrenness saddened Jochebed. Lili had cared for her brother Benjamin with so much patience and tenderness. She would have been a good mother, mused Jochebed as Aaron pushed himself free to wobble away.
Jochebed felt so helpless when Lili was excluded by the village women. She didn’t believe it was intentional; there was simply less to talk about, less to share. Lili had never known the telltale early sickness, the delicate fluttering of life, or the interminable heaviness of being with child.
As months of barrenness bled into years, Lili’s behavior isolated her more. If she heard someone speak crossly to a child, her lips would tighten into a straight line and her eyebrows lift.
Lili didn’t understand the weariness of mothering. She had never walked the nights in dull stupor with a teething baby before going to work the fields all day and then returning home to cook and care for family and flocks. She had not lived the joy of birth mixed with the strain of a little person to clothe and feed and comfort.
High-pitched giggles interrupted Jochebed’s thoughts. Aaron had thrown himself backward and landed squarely in Lili’s lap. Lili counted his toes, tickling the bottoms of his feet. Jochebed smiled, enjoying the look on Lili’s face as much as she did her son’s laughter. If only it could stay this way, like it had been in the beginning.
Aaron rolled off Lili’s lap and began to examine his toes.
“Bedde…”
Surprised, Jochebed turned from watching Aaron. It had been a long time since Lili had called her that.
“I know we have not been close, but I’ve wanted to tell you, or maybe ask … but if this is not a good time…” Lili twisted her hands.
Jochebed waited patiently, glad they were actually talking.
“I’m not sure and I … It’s probably nothing—a foolish question—but in the mornings I’m…” Lili stuck out her tongue and made a face. “And I’m so tired, and when you were … Did you sleep a lot?”
It took only a few seconds for Jochebed to repeat Lili’s words to herself before understanding lit a smile inside of her and burst forth in happy tears. Jochebed reached out as Lili scooted forward, and the two women clasped hands, laughing through their tears.
Miriam held the basket close to her eyes as she studied the weave pattern. “Grandmother, does the last finish strand go over or under?” she asked.
“Slip it over, around, and then under. The pattern is easier to see if you hold it away from your face, child.”
Jochebed bustled into the room with Aaron. Settling him near her mother, she tapped Miriam’s shoulder.
“I want you to take something over to Lili for me. She’s expecting you.”
Miriam hesitated. “I don’t think she likes me, Mama. She frowns and pinches her lips together when she looks at me. Are you sure she wants to see me?”
“I’m sure. She’ll be different this time. I promise.”
Pulling a handful of dried flowers from the rafters where they hung upside down, Jochebed wrapped them in a scrap of cloth and handed them to her daughter.
“Scoot.”
Miriam dragged her feet as she left.
“Did I hear you right?” her mother asked. “Lili is expecting something from you? Does that mean…?”
Jochebed picked up Aaron and twirled around the room until Aaron chortled and she was too dizzy to stand. She knelt, and Aaron reached for his grandmother.
“Mama, you’ll never believe what’s happened!” she said breathlessly. “Yes, Lili and I talked, really talked for the first time in years.”
“Thank God.”
“It’s better than that, Mama.” Jochebed threw her arms into the air. “She’s pregnant!”
Tears glistened in her mother’s eyes. “Lili … pregnant, after all this time! My, my!”
“Isn’t that the most marvelous thing you have ever heard in your life?”
“Mmm, no, but it is one of the most wonderful things that could happen. I’m so happy for her. The Lord has answered my prayer with a yes. Has she told Shiphrah yet?”
“I didn’t think to ask.” Jochebed hugged herself. “Mama, after all these years of tension between us, finally everything is going to be perfect. I know Shiphrah will be thrilled for her and the three of us will be friends again. And Shiphrah will marry and then we can all raise our children together and maybe someday they’ll marry each other and then we can be grandparents together and everything will be perfect. I’m so excited I can hardly stand it.” She giggled. “I sound like a little girl, don’t I?”
“Exactly,” her mother agreed.
“Oh, I wish I could see Shiphrah’s face when she finds out. Do you remember how excited she was for me, and I was pregnant within a few months of marriage? Lili has been married … how many years?”
“Does it matter now that she is with child?”
“Shiphrah will be so happy, she’ll probably move in with Lili to make sure nothing goes wrong.” Jochebed wiped Aaron’s nose with the hem of her dress. “Mama,” she said in a calmer voice, “have you noticed how serious Shiphrah has been lately? She hasn’t talked to me much, and I can’t figure out what’s bothering her. Could she be sick?”
“Bedde, she hasn’t been here to see me in a while. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Maybe this news will cheer her up. It’s so good to see Lili happy, really and truly happy. You know how she’s always wanted children, and she’s so good with them.”
“Does she still have that lamb in her house?”
Bedde nodded.
“Do you think her husband will be able to persuade her to return the lamb to its mother now?”
Jochebed laughed. “Yes, and I think she’ll make a better ‘person’ mother than a sheep mother.”
The knocking startled Jochebed. She started to nudge Amram awake and then recognized the voice calling her name.
“Bedde, it’s Shiphrah. Do you hear me?”
“I’m coming.” Jochebed pulled open the door, and moonlight spilled into the room. “Shiphrah, what’s wrong?”
“Bedde, is it true? Is Lili with child?”
“You woke me up in the middle of the night to ask if Lili is pregnant?”
“Is she?”
Jochebed peered through the darkness, concerned by the strain in Shiphrah’s voice and trying to see her eyes. What had upset her? “Yes, Lili is finally going to be a mother. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Shiphrah covered her mouth with both hands and backed away without answering. Bewildered, Jochebed followed her outside, trying to understand her reaction to Lili’s news.
“Shiphrah, aren’t you glad she’s pregnant? You know how much she wanted a baby.” Jochebed tilted her head, trying to understand. What had upset Shiphrah? “What is the matter with you? I thought you would be thrilled for Lili.”
Shiphrah backed away.
“Why are … What is upsetting you? Are you angry she didn’t tell you first?”
Taking another step backward, Shiphrah shook her head.
“Have I done something to hurt you? Are you angry with me?”
A noise sounding l
ike a sob escaped Shiphrah. “Am I angry with y…? No, Bedde.”
Jochebed wanted to put her arms around Shiphrah to comfort her as she had when they were children. Did she dare? Placing a hand on Shiphrah’s shoulder, she waited for a tensing away and, feeling none, slowly pulled her friend’s small frame close. Rubbing the thin back, Bedde felt Shiphrah quiver.
“Can you tell me about it?” At first she thought Shiphrah might share what troubled her, but when she stiffened, Jochebed knew to release her.
“Would you tell Mama Elisheba something for me?”
“Come tell her yourself, Shiphrah. You know she thinks of you as her other daughter, sometimes her favorite daughter,” Bedde teased.
“Tell her I’m sorry, Bedde.”
“Sorry? Sorry for … what?”
Shiphrah shook her head. “Just tell her I’m sorry. She should not have befriended me. I never meant…” Shiphrah jerked back and began to stumble away.
“Shiphrah, wait! What are you talking about? I thought we were friends. Can’t you tell me?”
“Leave me alone, Jochebed!”
Puzzled, she watched as Shiphrah limped slowly toward the river.
Hurt dipped into anger, and Jochebed battled an urge to throw something and watch it break into a multitude of tiny pieces. Just when things were righting between her and Lili, she was being shut out of Shiphrah’s life.
Hot tears welled up, and Jochebed flicked them away, annoyed that anger made her cry. These two people whom she dearly loved caused her more heartache than everyone else put together—Egyptians included.
Jochebed sensed more than heard her mother join her. The women stood silently, their hands linked in silent support.
“Mama, something isn’t right. Shiphrah is acting so strangely. I thought she would be happy Lili is expecting, but instead she acted upset and then she said the strangest thing. She said, ‘Tell Mama Elisheba I’m sorry.’”
Her mother sighed. “I’ve wondered what was troubling her. She hasn’t been to see me in quite a while. That’s not like our Shiphrah.”
“Ever since I lost the baby, she’s been different—distant—as if it were her fault I miscarried. Does she think I blame her because she didn’t come in time to help?”
“Bedde, I’m not sure it had anything to do with you or even you and the baby. Puah has seemed distraught, too. Could it be something happened between the two of them?”
Jochebed scraped her thumb against the plaster on the doorway, peeling away flakes of mud and rolling them between her fingers. “I don’t know. Mama, I thought Lili and Shiphrah and I would be friends forever and raise our children together. It’s just not going the way I planned.”
“You always did like a plan, dear.”
Jochebed heard the smile in her mother’s voice before the coughing hid it.
“And plans are good, Bedde, but life seldom follows them, at least not ones we make. Remember, we are the Lord’s chosen people and part of His plan.”
Jochebed grimaced. She’d heard all that before. “Mama, is it the Lord’s plan that Shiphrah and Puah don’t have husbands to care for them, or that Lili is just now having a baby after all those years of barrenness, or that we are Pharaoh’s slaves? What happened to our ‘promised land’ your Lord said we would have?”
“I don’t pretend to know the mind of our Lord.” Mama spoke softly. “But I do know of His promises, and I know He keeps them.”
Listening to the rustle of night sounds, Jochebed did not respond. How could her mother be so certain the Lord kept His promises?
Chapter 16
Water as tall as the great house of Ramses roared toward her. In its path Shiphrah could see Bedde and Lili, Puah and Mama Elisheba—everyone dear to her. Choking on fear, she could not force a single scream of warning from her throat. She watched helplessly, horrified as they vanished, swept away in the wall of water. The only sound remaining was the pounding of her heart.
Shiphrah jolted awake, shaken by the finality of her dream, the pounding of her heart becoming the pounding on her door. Scrambling to her feet, she wobbled to the door. “Miriam, what are you doing here this late?”
“Grandmother sent me to get you, Shiphrah. Deborah’s baby is coming.”
“I … I can’t come, Miriam. I’ll wake Puah for you.” Then Shiphrah remembered. Puah was away helping a mother with her firstborn. “I don’t think Deborah needs me. She’s had several births.”
Miriam shook her head. “Grandmother said I was to bring you back.”
“But…”
“Grandmother said.”
Shiphrah sighed in resignation. Once Mama Elisheba “said,” there was no arguing. If only it were not Deborah. If only the newborn would not be a male.
The flame from the bowl of fish oil danced shadows across Shiphrah’s face as she knelt before the woman crouched on the birthing stones. Jochebed and Mama Elisheba stood on each side of the laboring woman, allowing her to grip their hands as she pushed and strained. Shiphrah placed one hand on the woman’s distended belly, pressing down firmly through each contraction.
Deborah had miscarried two boys and birthed three girls in six years. Although she and her husband hoped this child would be a boy, Shiphrah hoped equally as hard they would have another girl.
The woman’s face convulsed as the tiny head appeared. Shiphrah held the baby’s head in one hand and guided the slippery little shoulders as they emerged. Each time the wonder of birth amazed her, awing her with its mystery, humbling her to have a part in it.
She had tied and cut the cord uniting mother and child before she realized the time had arrived. The infant was male.
As the other women cleaned and cared for Deborah, Shiphrah turned her back to them, placing her hand over the tiny face. Their rejoicing would become sorrow when she faced them again, the infant no longer breathing.
Jochebed looked in disbelief at the still form Shiphrah had thrust into her arms before running out into the dark.
“Shiphrah, what…”
“Is he all right? Is my baby all right?” questioned Deborah. “Give him to me. Let me hold him.”
“Jochebed, you go after her. I’ll take care of this.” Mama took the infant as she nodded toward the door.
Standing in the dark, Jochebed listened for a clue to help her find Shiphrah, but the throaty voices of river frogs and the snap of crickets covered any footsteps she might have heard. Jochebed took a few steps away from Deborah’s house. She shuddered as the darkness isolated her. Where would Shiphrah have gone?
Northern breezes cooled her face, sweeping away some of the rankness that clung around each village. Somewhere in the whispering tree branches, a night bird called to its mate and Jochebed heard the flapping of wings.
The moon’s frail light quivered in the darkness. Jochebed paused uncertainly before daring another step.
As she crept forward, something squished under her foot, and Jochebed squealed, anxious to return to light and people until a wail sounded from inside the house, reminding her of her mission.
She inched forward a single step and stopped before venturing a little farther. At this pace she would never catch up with Shiphrah.
Jochebed slowed her breath and realized she was hearing the muffling of ragged sobs. Shiphrah?
She had never heard Shiphrah cry, or at least she did not remember ever hearing her. Even when Shiphrah’s broken leg had been set, she had cringed and clamped her teeth together, but she had not cried out. Jochebed thought maybe Shiphrah had no tears or perhaps she had wept them all before they met.
Jochebed’s eyes, adjusting to the darkness, saw a huddled form curled up in a tight ball. “Shiphrah?”
Her only answer was a choking sob. Jochebed slipped closer. “Shiphrah?”
Jochebed knelt, lifted her friend’s head onto her lap, and began to comfort her as she did her children. “Shiphrah, it will be all right. You’ll see, you’ll see.” Jochebed hummed tunelessly while fingering the tangles from
Shiphrah’s hair. Gradually the sobbing eased. Jochebed waited quietly, weaving her fingers through Shiphrah’s thick hair.
“I couldn’t do it, Bedde, and now Pharaoh…”
“Couldn’t do what?”
“Kill…” Shiphrah’s voice trembled. “Pharaoh commanded me, Puah and me, to let the girls live, but the boys we were to … but I couldn’t.”
Jochebed did not move, could not move. Her blood ran cold at Shiphrah’s words.
“Mama, I need to talk to you.”
“Not now, Bedde.”
“Now, Mama.”
Her mother looked as if she were about to argue, but after studying Jochebed’s face, she nodded. “Find Miriam to stay with Deborah and the baby. Her husband isn’t home yet. I’ll be there in a bit.”
Jochebed sat outside in the early morning gray waiting for her mother to give Miriam instructions. She and Shiphrah stared somberly at each other, and Jochebed couldn’t help but compare her to a tiny bird, head cocked, her black-black eyes looking trapped and desolate. Shiphrah’s fingers, like little claws, clenched and unclenched the dirt beside her.
Jochebed thought again of how she and her mother found Shiphrah, injured and almost unconscious in the rushes of the Nile. As known as she and Lili were to each other, Shiphrah was equally unknown. What did they really know about Shiphrah? Could she and Lili trust her?
Thinking of Lili, Jochebed’s heart thudded. Shiphrah knew Lili was pregnant.
Her mother joined them, listening without speaking as Shiphrah faltered through the story of the royal command. Mama reached out and patted Shiphrah’s hand.
“Remember the stories of the Lord, Shiphrah?”
Shiphrah nodded, her lip quivering. “That’s what stopped me. I kept thinking maybe I was about to kill the one who would bring deliverance to your … our people like the Lord promised.”
“Mmmm … possibly, but last night you served the Lord, and He used you as a deliverer. You could not obey the pharaoh because you know of a higher God, the Unseen One.”
“That doesn’t make me a deliverer, Mama Elisheba. I just could not take a life. I was afraid, and I knew you would be so disappointed in me. I could not face you if I killed your deliverer. Your god would never use me for anything. I’m only half Hebrew.”
Slender Reeds: Jochebed’s Hope Page 14