“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“No, not hurt. Shaken and skinned a bit, but nothing serious.” He found Taleh’s hand, grasped it, and pulled himself to his feet. He was not much taller than she. The top of his balding head was dotted with small brown spots. What hair he had left was liberally blended with gray. He turned toward her, and she found herself strangely at ease. His face was full of character, cheerful, as though waiting for his smile. Taleh expected his eyes to twinkle, but they were blank and sightless.
“I seem to have gotten myself lost,” he said. “Could you direct me? I was going to the street of the tradesmen.”
Taleh braced herself. It was only a matter of time, now. He must have heard of her. He would figure out who she was, and he would reject her like all the others had. “I do not know where they are. I am new to the village.”
He laughed. Not a mocking laugh, but a delighted laugh, as though he had been waiting for someone to say something funny.
“So you are one of them.” His words were pleasant, and surprisingly free of venom. “I could not place your voice, and now I know why. Which one do you belong to, Obed or Javan?”
“I . . . Javan,” Taleh answered, still waiting for him to turn away in disgust.
“And what is your name?”
“Taleh.”
“And mine is Saul. So, Taleh, how are you finding life among us? Hard?”
Startled, Taleh blurted out, “Yes.”
“Ah, I thought so. Well, if you will lead me to where I need to go, I would be happy for your company.” He tucked his hand into the crook of Taleh’s elbow, and started walking. “I believe, between the two of us, we will manage to find our way. Have you made no friends at all?”
“Leah. I was on my way to her house.”
“Ah, yes, Leah. I am not surprised. Javan has not taken you through the village yet.” He made it a statement, not a question.
“No. I have not asked him to.”
“Why not?”
She hesitated to answer. There was too much between Javan and herself that she did not understand.
“Has it been that bad?”
Taleh blinked, and then realized he was referring to the villagers, not to Javan. “Yes. I have gone with Sarah to the marketplace and to the well each day, of course. No one will talk to me. I feel them staring at me, but when I turn around, they all look away. The marketplace is worse than the well. At least at the well I know they are looking, even if I cannot prove it. In the marketplace, I might as well not exist, for all the notice they give me.”
“You know many have suffered much at the hands of your people.”
“Yes, I know. Javan told me about his family. But I lost my own family, too! No one wants to know that. No one asks me how I got here, or if I had a choice.”
“Did you have a choice?”
Taleh thought for a moment. It seemed so long ago. How had she made her decision?
Saul interrupted her thoughts to ask, “Is that the carpenter’s shop?”
“Yes, it is.” Taleh had not even been aware of the rich wood scent, or the sounds of chopping, sawing, and pounding.
“We must turn toward a group of trees. I am told they are scarred by fire. Ah, I feel the shade. So Javan gave you no choice.”
“My choices were marriage or slavery. I did not think I would survive slavery.”
Saul nodded. “Javan is a good man. You made the right decision.”
“He was kind to me on the journey.” Taleh could not stop her next words. “But since we got here, things have been so different.”
“He is not kind to you now?”
“He is not there now.”
“What do you mean?”
Something inside Taleh warned her not to say more, but loneliness and need overruled caution. “He works all the time. He comes in late to the evening meal, when he is there at all. He is either too tired to talk, or he talks to Obed. I never see him in the morning. He leaves before I am even awake.” The ache that had been building inside choked her voice. She whispered, “He is ashamed of me, and it is too late now to change his mind.”
They stood in silence for a moment. Saul said softly, “I do not usually give advice, but I will this time. You are young. Men are not often good at saying what they feel. It is a mistake to make assumptions.”
Taleh said nothing, for how could he know the true extent of her alienation? She realized suddenly that they had been standing in place for some time.
Saul chuckled. “We should be outside a potter’s shop. Am I right?”
A wooden sign hung above Taleh’s head. The writing on it meant nothing to her, but the pot painted in vivid colors did. “Yes, we are,” she answered.
“This is my shop. Please come in. I will have to direct you to Leah’s house from here. I am certain you will not find your way alone.”
“Thank you.” Taleh smiled in relief.
Saul stepped over to the door with remarkable ease, and swung it open. “Follow me,” he said, as though he was the one who knew his way. And Taleh realized he did. How long had he known where he was, but permitted her to be the guide? She propped her hands on her hips and shook her head at him. A little smile tilted her lips up. Her first lesson in finding her way around the town had come to her from a blind man who saw with his heart.
Did she now have two friends? she wondered. What a treasure if that was so.
His shop was dark. A small oil lamp sputtered on a shelf, a concession to those who could see.
“Please light another lamp if it is too dark. People often tell me they cannot see in here.”
“Thank you.” Taleh saw several lamps that had been set about, wicks waiting to be lit, their dark ends announcing their use. She carefully lit two from the burning lamp, and in their glow saw the remarkable beauty of Saul’s work. She caught her breath, delighting in the graceful simplicity. Vases, bowls, water jars, and lamps of all sizes seemed caught in one timeless moment. None were painted, but his gift was undeniable.
Saul’s voice startled her, caught away as she was in the soaring heights of his work. “I wish to give you a gift. Please, take whatever you want, with my thanks,”
Taleh gaped at him. “But I did nothing. You were the one who helped me. I complained and you listened. I am in your debt.”
“Nonsense!” Saul sounded angry. “I was pleased to have your company. I was turned around, it would have taken me some time to figure out where I was. You must allow me to do this thing. Unless, of course, you find nothing to your taste. If you do not like what you see, I will not force it on you. It must be your choice.” His face drew down in an expression of deep injury.
Taleh looked at him with a frown. He must know how very remarkable his work was. He was teasing her, was he not? It had been so long, so terribly long, since anyone had treated her in a lighthearted, playful way.
She looked closer in the poor light. A corner of his mouth twitched. He was trying not to laugh.
Some bereft place, deep inside her, opened up and soaked it in.
“Very well,” she said with a smile. “If you are so anxious to get rid of some of your work, I can see I will have to take one.”
He laughed happily and sat down, still smiling, at his bench. Clay lay mounded in front of him, its rich earthy smell clean and fresh. “You take whatever you wish. Pay no attention to me. I have to get to work.”
She watched, fascinated, as he stepped on a pedal and the clay began to spin. He pounded the clay, turning it this way and that, adding water from a small bowl at his side. His hands were sure and confident, his actions without wasted motion.
“Have you found something you want?” he asked. Taleh was surprised that she had been staring. She had never had a chance to just watch someone without being reproved before. She turned quickly to the shelves. A small oil lamp caught her attention, and she picked it up. It perched in her hand like a bird, its edges folded over the top like wings.
“I like this.”
“Bring it here. I would like to see what you have chosen.”
She did, and he held out his hand. Carefully setting her discovery in his clay-covered palm, she watched him touch it with confident fingers.
He smiled. “I am not surprised. You chose well. I am pleased you picked this one.”
The door opened suddenly, letting in brilliant sunshine. Shadowed against the light, a big man stood. She could not see his face, but she knew.
“Someone told me they saw you heading this way. Leah awaits you.”
“Javan,” Taleh said stupidly. He had never come into town in the middle of the day before, at least not to see her. “How long have I been here?”
“Not that long,” Saul said. He turned toward the doorway, immune to the glare. “Good day to you, Javan. I have met your wife, at last. She knows good pottery when she sees it. I had expected to meet her long before this. You have been remiss in your obligations to old friends.” His voice took on a censorious note. “You have been remiss on a lot of duties. So tell me, how does the rebuilding go? That certainly has been taking up your time.”
“I have been busy. It goes well, Saul. I am pleased with the progress. I have my orchards pruned, and the walls up for the house. There is still much more to do, though, and time is running out. The rainy season will soon be here.”
“I understand. I remember how I felt when I first wed my wife. How hard I worked to make everything just so. And do you know what I discovered, Javan? I discovered she did not want the perfect house. She wanted me, a little of my time. Remember that, while you have the opportunity.” A shadow passed over Saul’s face, and Taleh knew his wife was dead. Did anyone die of anything in this place other than being murdered by Ammonites?
The wonder was not that so many hated her, the wonder was that any of them did not.
“I hear what you are saying, Saul. You always did speak your mind. Come, Taleh. Leah is waiting for you, and has prepared quite a meal. It would not do to have her go to all that work and have no one to appreciate it.”
“Thank you for your help, Taleh.” Saul reached for her hand, and put the oil lamp back into it. “I hope you will come again and visit me.”
“I will.” Taleh smiled at him, and turned back to Javan. They walked into the sunlight, blinking at its brightness.
Javan was covered with sawdust. He looked sad, and tired. His beard was unkempt, his hair shaggy and untended. His robe, in addition to the layer of sawdust, was torn in several places and he bled from a long cut on his leg.
“What happened?” Taleh burst out, shocked at the change in him. Had he really been away from her that long? When was the last night they had eaten together?
She could not remember.
“It is nothing, merely a scratch. Pay it no mind. Show me this gift Saul gave to you.”
Taleh held up the lamp, smiling again at its perfection. “Is it not beautiful, Javan? I did not want to take it, but I could not let him think I did not like his work. I could not take anything larger, I have nothing to give him in exchange, and I think he would have refused, but this was so beautiful.” She needed his reassurance, his approval, enough to ask for it. “Did I do the right thing? Should I have accepted this gift?”
“He would not have offered it to you if he did not want you to have it. You did well in not rejecting his hospitality. What was this service you did for him?”
Did she hear censure in Javan’s voice? “Some boys were running and they knocked him down. He said he got his direction confused. At first I believed him, but now I am not so sure. He seems so very . . . competent. Anyway, I helped him up, and he told me how to get to his shop. We . . . . talked along the way.” Please, she thought quickly, do not let him ask me what was said. “He was very kind to me.”
Javan just looked at her. She felt uncomfortable under his unwavering stare. “I am surprised to see you,” she finally said, to end the awkward silence.
“Yes, I suppose you are.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“That was not hard at all,” Javan answered. “I had to come to the carpenter’s shop. The workers had seen you go past with Saul. It was very easy to trace your steps after that. Everyone was only too pleased to tell me which way you had gone.”
“Oh.” Had she broken some law? Saul would not have done that to her, would he? She dropped her gaze to the ground, only to see his hand held out for her own. She looked up at him. Did he mean to walk with her through the village hand in hand? She glanced around, surprised to see people in easy view. He would do this in public?
“I am sorry, Taleh.” Javan spoke softly, for her ears only. “I did not realize how you must be feeling. I have had so much to think about, and I thought Sarah would be able to keep you busy. It is a poor excuse, I know. Sarah might be abrupt, but she is not cruel. I did not think the others would be. Clearly, I was wrong.”
Javan gazed down at her lovely face, so sad, so starved for the simplest sign of friendship. What had he done to her in leaving her to herself? What had she heard, what had she endured, while he was off building their house and avoiding her scent, her smile?
A shadow raced across the ground at their feet, cast by an early cloud. A harbinger of the rainy season to come, it was one more sign to Javan of his need to hurry. There were seeds to get in ground that had not even been tilled, a roof to make. Wood had to be cut for a door, lattices made to fit the windows. The fences were down in so many places, and his sheep needed to be moved to the better food in his fields. The pasturage outside the village walls had been overgrazed, and his flocks were not getting fat. When winter came, they would need shelters that had not been built. . The work yet to be done pressed in on him.
There was little time for anything but work, little energy even to dream at night. So how was it that his dreams tormented him? He awoke each morning with the images vivid in his mind. It took all his waning control to leave the room before she opened her eyes. He fled each day hoping to lose his desire in work, trying to exhaust himself so he would not dream.
It did not work. No matter how tired he was, each night he closed his eyes and she was there. He did in his dreams what he ached to do awake, tormenting himself with what he could not have yet, fleeing each morning before he broke faith with the Law.
And Taleh grew lonelier. The walls were still there, between them, and he did not have the time to tear them down. She still saw herself as an Ammonite, as not belonging, and why not? From what he could gather, only two people in the whole village had made any attempt to even be kind to her.
Why should they? Had he given anyone reason to believe he cared for her, even in the slightest?
He could only answer, no.
It was too late to change the past two weeks, but he could do this for her. He took her hand gently, and tugged. She followed his lead.
They walked in silence through the village, neither knowing what to say.
“I see Javan found you,” Leah greeted Taleh. She nodded at him, standing next to Taleh. He let go of her hand, and walked away. Taleh watched him go, then dragged her attention back to Leah.
“Yes. I met the potter, Saul,” Taleh replied. “He was very kind to me. He gave me a gift.” She held it up for inspection.
“He does beautiful work,” Leah said.
They looked at each other awkwardly, each waiting for the other to take charge of the conversation, and then Leah gave a laugh. “Please come in. I have a meal waiting for you. I would like you to meet my son. He is the joy of my life.” She stepped back and motioned Taleh inside.
Leah’s house was very small, so unlike what Taleh was used to at Sarah’s. Taleh was disappointed that the only woman friend she had in this place lived so poorly. Made of wood rather than the more solid limestone, the whole house was scarcely more than a single room. There was one window, facing the sunrise. The only other opening was the door, placed directly opposite.
The lattice over the window had been pulled sh
ut. A half wall formed a barrier, shielding what must be the sleeping area from the rest of the house. A low table took up much of the precious space. Food had been laid out: warm bread looking so delicious, a vegetable soup of what looked like leeks, carrots, celery, parsley and grains, and fresh fruit. Water in a large jar waited to be poured.
Taleh felt guilty about eating when Leah obviously had little to spare, but she could hardly refuse. She had never received such open-handed hospitality before and it warmed her heart. She followed Leah over to the little table and settled herself on the floor.
“Isaac is sleeping,” Leah said, “but it is time for him to get up, or I will never be able to get him down tonight. I do relish the times he sleeps. I never knew how little time I would have to myself with a child.” She smiled at Taleh. “I advise you to enjoy yourself before you have children. After they come, they keep you busy. But he is a joy. He is growing too fast.” A wistful tone crept into her voice. “It seems just yesterday he was a baby, and now I fear he will be weaned soon. I am not ready to give up my baby yet.”
She walked around the half-wall, and Taleh heard her croon, soft reassuring sounds to ease her little one awake. When Leah stood up, she held an exquisite baby in her arms, blinking sleepily and scowling at leaving his bed. He had lots of soft brown curls, big green eyes, healthy round cheeks, and chubby arms and legs, and Taleh lost her heard the moment she saw him.
“Oh, Leah, he is beautiful!”
Leah smiled with all the joy of motherhood. “Yes, he is. And so untouched and new.”
The bitterness in Leah’s voice puzzled Taleh. So did the pain that briefly touched her face. Was this another tragedy to be laid at the door of her people?
“He is part of the reason I wanted you to come, other than the fact that I enjoy your company. Let me feed him something and set him down, and I will tell you the whole story.”
Little Isaac brightened when he saw the table set with food, and let out a demanding call. “Ummy! Ummy!”
“I have tried not to spoil him,” Leah said with a wince, “but it is hard. I think I try to make up for his not having a father by feeding him, and food seems to be the way to his heart. He is too young yet to know our family is different, but one day he will ask where his father is.”
Temper The Wind (Ancient Israel) Page 17