Her mother and Governor Aali expected her to wed Te’oma—soon. Her mother had continually worn Ruth down with her insistent comments about the young man since before Naomi and her family had come to town. “He would give you more than you could ever want, my daughter. Why would you consider anyone else when Te’oma will inherit all that his father owns? Aali is the wealthiest man in Dibon.”
But the governor’s son did not compare in manners or good looks with this Israelite, and Ruth had grown weary of Te’oma long ago. Was Mahlon an answer to her prayers—the repeated mantras she had spoken each night? Would Chemosh answer such a prayer when Ruth wanted no part of the ceremonies that accompanied his worship?
“Have I said something to offend you?” Mahlon’s voice brought her up short, and she realized she had been staring at him, mouth hanging slightly open. Words failed her. She clamped her mouth shut and forced her gaze from his, glancing behind her at the sound of her mother’s footsteps.
“No. Yes. That is . . . here is my mother.” Heat crept up her neck as she turned and waved a hand toward her mother, who was walking toward them, wiping the dirt from her hands onto a piece of scrap linen. “She is the one you should ask.”
In truth, Ruth would be the one to make the decision. If her mother could force her, Ruth would have been sent from the house long ago.
“Orpah has agreed to wed Chilion,” Mahlon said before her mother reached them, as if for Ruth’s ears only.
Her eyes widened. She glanced at Chilion, whose smile confirmed Mahlon’s words.
“My dear girl—entertaining men without my approval?” Sarcasm tipped the edges of her mother’s tone as the woman placed a hand on Ruth’s shoulder.
“We were merely talking, Mother. Nothing more. This man”—she pointed at Mahlon—“wishes to speak with you.” She moved back several paces and allowed her mother to take her place.
Her mother held the towel like a shield in her hands and narrowed her catlike eyes at Mahlon. “You are that young man whose father came from Bethlehem. Such a tragic loss.” She shook her head. “Do give my regards to your mother.”
Mahlon shifted from foot to foot and barely met Shiphrah’s gaze. “Thank you. I will tell her.” His voice held its own trace of grief, but a moment later he lifted his head again and sought her mother’s gaze. “I have come not to grieve my father, my lady, but to seek your daughter’s hand in marriage. The three months of mourning have passed, and I wish to wed Ruth.”
Hearing the words said like that caused a flutter in Ruth’s middle. Had Orpah truly agreed to marry Chilion? She glanced at the man again, his gaze more sober now, though he still carried that self-assured stance. His brother seemed not quite so confident. But perhaps it was because Chilion already had his answer.
Mahlon and her mother continued to speak, but Ruth barely heard the words. She had already heard the question, already knew how her mother would haggle and put him off, and the arguments over Te’oma that would ensue this night. Arguments she wanted no part of.
She stepped closer to her mother, who said, “I’m afraid my daughter is already spoken for. The governor’s son has long had his eye on my Ruth. Can you pay such a price for her as he is able to pay?”
Mahlon nodded without hesitation. “My father left me a goodly inheritance. Name the price and I will pay it.”
Her mother glanced her way. Ruth caught the calculating look in her eyes. “Ten pieces of gold,” Shiphrah said, her smile beguiling.
Ruth’s breath caught. So much. Te’oma could pay it, of course, but could Mahlon?
Mahlon reached into the pouch at his waist. He counted out ten golden nuggets, each large and weighty. Ruth swallowed. To ask so much was unreasonable.
“I see you are not a poor Israelite as some have claimed,” her mother said. No doubt Aali had been the one to say it of Mahlon’s father. And suddenly, Ruth wondered how long Aali would tolerate the Israelites in their midst. Might this be her chance to leave Moab, to find rescue from the miserable ways of her people?
“I will marry him,” Ruth said before her mother could bargain further. She extended her hand to accept the gold and placed half of it in her mother’s hand. “The rest is mine,” she said, knowing full well that she was entitled to part of the bride-price, and also knowing that Aali would try to take it from her. She looked at Mahlon. “Come for me at week’s end.”
Appearing dumbfounded, Mahlon looked from Ruth to her mother. When neither woman said anything more, he nodded and smiled.
“At week’s end then.” He turned with his brother and left the house.
“What did you do?” Shiphrah waited until Mahlon and Chilion were out of sight before she turned on her daughter and poked a finger at her chest. “You can’t just tell a man to come for you in a week! A wedding takes time to plan, months of waiting and preparing.”
“It will cost you less to just let me go with him.” Ruth glanced at her mother’s hand that still held the gold nuggets. “And it will keep you from trying to dissuade me.” She lifted her chin, her determination rising with it. “I have never had any intention of marrying Te’oma, Mother. Yet you could speak of no one else. Now we have a choice, and I choose the Israelite.” She brushed past her mother and returned to the loom. She should grab the water jug, beg Orpah to join her, and hurry to the Arnon, but the tunic needed a few more rows completed.
“How dare you speak to me like that.” Her mother moved closer, her voice low, almost menacing. “You know I have only had your best interest at heart. You should have listened to me and married Te’oma long ago.” She fingered the five nuggets. “He would have paid far more than this.”
Ruth glanced beyond her mother toward the gate that needed to be latched. And suddenly, the need to leave, to escape this discussion, overpowered her. She picked up the loom and moved it into the house, the rows unfinished.
“Have you nothing to say to me? Ungrateful child!” Her mother tromped after her and flung the gold to the floor. But a moment later she realized the mistake of her outburst and scrambled on hands and knees to recover the valuable pieces before one rolled into a crevice between the stones, out of sight.
Ruth set the loom in its corner near the window and bent to help her mother find her gold. When the last piece was firmly in the pouch of her mother’s robe, Ruth stood and grabbed the jar near the door.
“I’ve made my decision, Mother. Do not hold it against me or think me ungrateful. I am merely choosing one man over another. I believe I will be happier in the home of the Israelite than I would be as second or third wife to Te’oma.” She lifted the jar and strode to the door.
“Te’oma has not wed. You would be his first.” Her mother stood, arms akimbo.
“There are two or three other young women whose fathers are in negotiations with Aali. Did he not tell you this?” Surely her mother knew more than Ruth had heard from the gossips at the marketplace.
“You would have been first,” her mother insisted. “Aali gave his word.”
His word is of little value. But she only said, “I’ll be back,” then hurried from the house in search of Orpah.
Naomi placed platters of goat cheese, greens from the small garden that had begun to ripen, dilled cucumbers, and a mixture of almonds and pistachios on the low table set before Mahlon and Chilion. They could not afford to kill a goat, there had been no fish from the Arnon in days now, and she would not shop for meat in the markets of Dibon—meat that was surely sacrificed to the gods of the Moabites before it was sold to the common people.
The thought troubled her, yet again bringing to mind the desire to leave this place. The time of mourning had passed, but the grief lingered. She would never remarry, but her boys needed wives. She must make them see that they should return home now.
“We went into Dibon today, Ima,” Mahlon said, interrupting her longings. “We have news for you.”
She looked up from the flask of goat’s milk she had just finished pouring into a clay cup for Chilion.
She capped the flask before pouring her own to listen. “What sort of news?”
Chilion’s smile caused a lump to form in her middle. She knew that calculated look, the overconfident tilt of his chin. “We went to seek our brides, Ima,” he said, speaking for Mahlon too. He glanced his brother’s way and shrugged as if to say, “You continue.”
Mahlon cleared his throat. “Chilion has secured Orpah to be his bride, and I have paid the price to gain Ruth as my wife. She said to come for her at week’s end.”
Naomi swayed and nearly dropped the flask. She stared at Mahlon, then slowly aimed her gaze at Chilion. “Week’s end? No bride marries so quickly.”
“It was Ruth’s idea, Ima. I fully expected to wait a year, though I had hoped it could be shortened to a few months.” She heard the awe in Mahlon’s voice, as though it surprised him that the girl should want him at all. Ruth did not know her son or his temper when things did not go his way. Why would the woman agree to hastily wed a foreigner . . . unless she was seeking to escape a situation she considered worse?
Naomi regained a bit of her poise, the shock slowly wearing off. “I suppose Orpah has agreed to an equally quick marriage?”
Chilion frowned at that, his normally cheerful countenance losing some of its joy. “I am afraid we did not discuss the timing. That is, her mother suggested six months, and Orpah did not disagree.”
Naomi released a breath. “Good. That will give your brother’s wife time to settle with us before we add another.”
“Unless Orpah could be persuaded to come sooner.” Chilion sounded so hopeful.
Naomi looked at her youngest. She had found it difficult to ever deny him anything. Perhaps she had failed him because of it. He wouldn’t be so anxious to get his way now if she had more often told him no.
“I’m told Ruth and Orpah are friends. It would seem right to bring them home together.”
Mahlon held up a hand. “One at a time, my brother. As I’m the firstborn, give me the right to wed before you.” He smiled as he spoke, but his words were firm.
Chilion laughed, and Naomi knew it was to dispel the tension just beginning to arise. “Never fear, brother. You can keep your right of firstborn. I am no Jacob.” He winked as he smiled. “I’ll bring Orpah home after your wedding week is completed.”
Naomi looked from one to the other. Two new women in two weeks? The house was too small. Up until this moment Mahlon and Chilion had shared a bedchamber.
“I suggest you two get busy and add a room to your father’s house, unless you want to squeeze four people into one small space.” She set the flask into a crevice in the stone floor, ignoring her thirst. She was not looking forward to such change so quickly. She did not want her sons to marry foreign women. But without Elimelech here to guide them, there was nothing she could do to stop them.
9
Are we really going to be sisters?” Orpah laughed, a delightful sound, as she dipped her jar into the waters of the Arnon. “I knew Mahlon favored you, but I wasn’t sure he had the courage to ask.”
Ruth dipped her own jar into the river and hefted it to the grassy knoll above the rushing current. She sank onto the bank beside Orpah. “I can’t believe he asked or that I accepted. And so quickly!” She offered Orpah a tentative smile. “The idea seemed like my perfect way out.”
“From marrying Te’oma.” Orpah’s look held sympathy. “I hope we don’t regret these choices.” Uncertainty flickered in her dark eyes.
“Naomi’s household has to be better than my mother’s.” Ruth said it to make it so. But what did she really know of these Israelites? Of any Israelites?
“I know things have been hard for you lately.” Orpah placed a comforting hand on Ruth’s arm. “Perhaps Mahlon’s home will offer us more peace.”
Ruth nodded. “Our home has not known peace since my father was killed in the war.”
Silence settled between them. At last Orpah spoke. “Why are we marrying Israelites when it is the Israelites who killed our fathers?” Her brow furrowed as though the thought had just now occurred to her.
“If King Eglon had not oppressed them for so many years, Israel would not have gone to war with us,” Ruth said, trying to justify the past. “We can hardly blame them for wanting out from under Eglon’s thumb.”
Orpah looked into the distance, the water from the river a steady lap against the rocks along the shore. “It is still going to be strange, I think. I know Chilion is good to look upon, and he is one I cannot stop thinking about.” She laughed. “But their ways are so different from ours. Our people have been fearful of Israel one moment and oppressors of them the next.”
“We are not considered clean in their eyes. Foreigners,” Ruth admitted. “But why would Elimelech have come to our land if he was not trying to bring about change, seek peace? I think our peoples could get along if we but put forth the effort. Why can’t we live as one?” The idea had been growing in her since she had accepted Mahlon’s request. Surely their god was not so selective as to call only those born of Jacob’s blood his own. Abraham shared Lot’s blood, so the peoples were kin.
“I doubt very much that your wishful thinking will bring peace between our nations for any lasting time. But perhaps we can at least attain peace under Naomi’s roof.” Orpah stood and grabbed her water jar. Ruth did the same. “I best get home. I have much to do if Chilion is going to come for me soon.”
“I have five days left,” Ruth said, the realization making her suddenly think through the many things she had yet to accomplish. “I have a tunic I need to finish weaving.”
They hurried their steps toward Dibon, urgency overtaking them. Ruth was not sure if she was rushing to Dibon or away from all it represented.
The sound of the hammer and chisel grew to be a constant thudding in Naomi’s ear as she worked the grindstone for the evening meal. Her boys would be ravenous after working so hard to add two extra rooms onto the house. They had spent days dragging stones from the river to build the walls that would extend the house. The room her boys used to share would become a place for the girls to set their looms and mats during the time of their uncleanness. The two new rooms would give each couple the privacy they needed.
Naomi almost smiled at that thought, remembering the hope and joy she had experienced as a young bride. Elimelech had been older than she, but from a young age she had expected to marry him, this cousin who had always treated her with such kindness. And when the boys came along . . . This time a smile did curve her lips. Elimelech would not hold a grandson on his knees, but perhaps these two Moabite women would bring the joy and laughter of children into her home once more.
She stopped the turn of the stone as she caught sight of Mahlon approaching. He wiped sweat from his brow, his face flushed with the exertion of the past few days.
“You are working too hard, my son.” She tsked. “This is why parents usually negotiate a year for a marriage to take place.” She lifted her hands and shook her head. “Ach! But do you listen to me? You will wear yourself out and have nothing left to give your bride.” She stood and brushed the flour from her skirt and went to retrieve water from the jar.
She carried a clay cup to him. “Sit,” she ordered, motioning to the stone bench. “Rest a moment.”
Mahlon obeyed. “It seemed much easier when Father was with us.”
His comment caused Naomi’s eyes to brim, but she would not cry. She could not bring herself to cloud this hopeful moment with sorrow, even if she was not getting the daughters-in-law she wanted.
“We are nearly finished,” Mahlon went on as Naomi poured him another cup. “Chilion is working to build the stairs to the roof.”
“Tell me you put in the parapet.” The law required a border on house roofs so that no one accidentally fell to their deaths.
“Yes, Ima, we added the parapet before we started on the stairs. Can I ask you to help fix the inside of the rooms once we finish? I will go to market to purchase whatever you think we need, but the floor ne
eds sweeping and there are pieces of debris that must be tossed into the ravine.”
Naomi nodded. “Of course, my son. I would have helped you build if you had but asked.” Though she knew she didn’t have the strength to lift the heavy boulders, she could have filled the spaces with mud.
“We wanted it to be the work of our own hands, Ima.” Mahlon set the cup on the bench and leaned back, taking in a deep, slow breath. He coughed with the action, something he often did when he exerted himself, but whenever Naomi spoke of it, he simply waved her concerns away. He would put her in the grave for sure with his determined foolishness. “Now tell me, what should I purchase to fill the rooms?”
Naomi looked him over. “Give me the coins and I will go to market for you. How can a man pick out things a woman will need? Plus Ruth will bring many things of her own, so you don’t want to fill the room with more than you should. Get your brother and I will do the same for him.”
It was ridiculous to feel almost happy at the prospect of doing this for her sons, especially when the girls were Moabites. But whether they were foreign or familiar, Naomi could not deny the fact that she was glad to see her family expand. Glad to know that she would soon carry a future and the hope of grandchildren. Glad that she had a purpose and girls to teach the laws of their God, to work beside for the good of the family, and to love, because Naomi’s heart desperately needed someone besides herself to lavish love upon.
And glad that though God had taken away, He had also seemingly given—just not in the way she expected.
10
Ruth turned in a circle in front of Shiphrah, her sister Susannah, and Orpah to allow them to examine her wedding garments. They were woven of the finest material her mother could afford, multicolored in red and black and a few gold threads here and there. A headscarf of matching reds and blacks covered her hair, and the veil provided a thin layer just over her nose.
“Do I look exotic?” She laughed at herself for even asking such a question. But a part of her wanted to impress Mahlon. What better way than to dress the part of a nearly royal bride?
Redeeming Grace: Ruth's Story Page 6