“Your secret for my secret,” she whispered.
Finally, I nodded, embracing her, not wanting to let her go. When I stepped back onto the path, I watched with envy as the girls linked hands and ran back to camp.
My feet sank into the soft grasses while the implications of the promise I’d made to keep Leila’s secret sank into my mind. Dancing in the groves was just one more step closer to my sister leaving our family forever.
As much as I hated the confidence I was being forced to keep, I also hated being thrust out from these girls—and banished to the torture of my looming marriage with Horeb.
I raced through the grove toward home, my head swimming with the images of the dancing girls, and how much I yearned to be a part of them. My loneliness was childish. All I needed was my cousins, my aunt, my father, and our camels. But I was lying to myself. There was something else I wanted. Someone else. And I couldn’t have him. Every other girl was living the life she wanted, dreaming her dreams, marrying the person she adored.
I now carried a terrible secret, and if anyone discovered my dreams of Kadesh, I’d be ridiculed and shunned from my family. My family had always been the most important part of my life, and I could not disappoint my father.
As I ran, the image of the sculpted female carving floated before my eyes. Leila’s statue of the goddess, arms raised in prayer, her figure sensuous and unearthly as she silently danced. An image of the beautiful woman every girl wanted to become.
“I need you, Mother, oh, how I need you!” I whispered into the grim darkness. “I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do! Tell me! Please help me!”
My face was burning as I pressed my hands against my cheeks. I wondered how far my sister would go to worship the goddess idol.
13
It was a week later, and the tent of Abimelech was crowded with friends and relatives for the bridal dressing of Hakak. Her wedding day had finally arrived, and seven embroidered dresses and veils were waiting for Hakak’s dances, the seven dances she would perform for the guests and Laham tonight, just before midnight. The dresses that told a girl’s life story, and ending with the final dance to show her love and devotion for her new husband right before he carried her off to the marriage tent.
Leila and I gathered with the other women. I swept a hand across the silks and linens that made up the beautiful wedding trousseau and shivered at the silken indulgent splendor of it all. Last summer, Aunt Judith and Hakak had shopped the markets of Tadmur for the silks and beading and jewels they would need when my cousin became engaged to Laham.
And now, Hakak couldn’t stop smiling, and I realized with a pain in my chest that my cousin was in love with Laham and looked forward to her life with him.
My mind went to Kadesh. I didn’t even have to be within sight of him for this inexplicable desire to rush over me. My stomach ached. This hunger for him was wrong, and yet the fever in my heart told me it was right. Marriage to Horeb would be filled with riches and misery. A life with Kadesh would make me smile every day, just like the joy on my cousin Hakak’s face whenever she mentioned Laham’s name.
Aunt Judith brought out several bowls of henna dye that she’d already mixed for decorating Hakak’s body with images of flowers and symbols of the desert.
My older cousin Timnath served tea and the traditional sugared dumplings. Symbols of the sweets of marriage. “May your life with Laham be sweet with love and pleasure, and may you always be blessed with bread and the bounties of life,” she said.
“I’m too nervous to eat,” Hakak declared, giving everyone another hug before plopping down in the middle to be pampered and dressed.
“Laham will get his fill of sweet Hakak tonight,” someone teased, and I watched my cousin blush furiously. The tent filled with gentle laughter as my grandmother beckoned Hakak to come toward her. Seraiah stooped over as she spread out a rug for the bride.
“Lie down,” Grandmother Seraiah told her. “And we’ll begin the washing.”
Aunt Judith returned through the rear door, holding a bowl of sweet-smelling liquid. “We are blessed with the scent of flowers here in the summer lands.”
Hakak leaned back while our grandmother Seraiah dipped my cousin’s long hair into the bowl to wash it.
“But,” Falail, her younger sister, teased, “getting married in the summer lands meant Hakak had to wait so many extra months to lie in Laham’s arms.”
Hakak tried to suppress a blushing smile, but she wasn’t successful. “I’m glad the time has finally come. Whether I smell good or not.”
Aunt Judith combed and dried her daughter’s hair, then oiled it with perfume.
Hakak closed her eyes while the rest of the girls painted her hands and feet and face with the henna dye.
“I’ll decorate your ankles,” I volunteered, picking up one of the thin brushes. I dipped it into the reddish-brown dye and created swirls and flowers and tiny rosebuds on each of Hakak’s toes. With each brushstroke my own marriage to Horeb loomed closer. If I could stop time and never leave this moment I would. What would happen when it was my turn to be dressed in wedding finery and jewels and silks? What if I couldn’t bring myself to dance for Horeb, or ran away from the marriage tent?
“Jayden!” someone cried out as my shaky hands tipped over the bowl of henna.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, quickly mopping up the liquid from the corner of the rug. “I’m sorry, Aunt Judith. Let me clean this up.”
“A little henna stain will only remind us of this joyful night for years to come,” Aunt Judith said.
I stepped away from the tent and poured the remains of the liquid into the sand, watching it fade into the earth. It was already early evening and the smell of roasting lamb spiced the air. Heat glistened far on the horizon, marking the boundary between the fertile oasis and the dry desert.
The last of the second full moon at the oasis rose with a ghostly glow, and I finally realized the source of my melancholy. Forevermore, I would mark my mother’s death and the beginning of womanhood as one event.
Aunt Judith silently approached and slipped her arm through mine, giving me a squeeze. “You’re quiet today, my little Jayden. Missing your mother, yes?”
My aunt’s words threatened to bring on my emotions, but I merely nodded and smiled. I didn’t want to spoil Hakak’s day of happiness.
Judith squeezed my waist. “We all miss your mother terribly, especially on special days such as these. Do you have any word on Shem’s family and Sahmril?”
I shook my head. “I pray they are still alive. And eating milk and honey in the land of the Chaldeans. Dinah even took—”
Judith put a finger to her lips. “I know,” she whispered. “Don’t speak of it. Miracles still happen.”
When I thought of Dinah, it was revenge I deliberated, not miracles.
Dusk fell as the wedding guests gathered. Dressed in her finery, Hakak’s dark hair shone in the light of the torches as Laham placed his gifts of jewelry on her arms and neck and wrists. She was truly stunning now, dripping with the robes of a perfect bride and the fidelity of a devoted husband. I bit back bitter tears, wishing that my future could hold one single moment of pure joy like this.
Laham clasped a band of gold coins around his bride’s ankle as Hakak lifted her dress, her bare foot resting on his knee. The watching women trilled provocatively. Laham took Hakak’s hand and led her to the raised chairs on the dais while everyone clapped and cheered. Both fathers had taken care of the marriage contract earlier that day, and now it was time for celebration.
Along the grassy area, long rugs and a mountain of pillows had been placed for comfortable eating. Women had been baking for days. There were sugared cakes and dumplings, dates and bread, mounds of steaming rice, and huge platters of spiced and roasted meat.
The eating and talking went on for hours. I ate slowly, trying to avoid both Horeb and Kadesh. I could sense their eyes following me, watching me from afar.
I was startled to glim
pse Esther, the girl from the temple, mingling on the outskirts of the crowd. I wondered if Falail or Leila had invited her. It seemed inappropriate when this was a private tribal affair.
Across the crowd, I watched Horeb stop to speak with her, and they chatted and laughed for several minutes. What were they talking so avidly about? Seeing them together was beyond irritating, and a flush creeped up my face. Was I annoyed because she looked as regal and beautiful as a princess in her exquisite linen dress and hair adornments, or because Horeb was ignoring me?
A few minutes later, he was talking with another girl, and then another. I was humiliated to have my betrothed pay such eager attention to other girls, even if I did hate him. The rest of the wedding guests were sure to notice. In fact, it appeared as though he flirted on purpose, just to provoke me.
All at once, Horeb’s face lifted, staring intently at me from across the wedding crowd. The pulse in my neck jumped. My feet were stuck to the ground like I’d grown roots as Horeb smiled and raised his cup of wine. He mouthed the words, “To Jayden, my betrothed.”
We stared at each other and then Horeb threw his head back and gulped down his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His grin mocked me as he led Esther and two other temple girls to one of the tables loaded with food, urging them to eat and stay for the entertainment.
I slowly turned away, my face hot. Suspicions rushed through my head. How did Horeb know these girls? Did he secretly go to the temple for their rites and ceremonies—after he had spent nights in Tadmur at the drinking houses? Sick to my stomach, I moved away, trying to find a place to hide.
Unmarried girls had to be careful with whom they spent time, but as our tribe’s future ruler and prince, Horeb was free to do as he pleased. If questioned Horeb would merely say that he was being a polite host at his sister’s wedding, which only added to my infuriation. He didn’t care that he was demeaning me.
After the guests had been dished a plate of food, everyone settled on rugs and carpets to eat and chat. I kept wandering, forcing myself to smile at friends and acquaintances, the excitement of the party surrounding me, the din of conversation rising in the air.
I wasn’t hungry, my stomach a bundle of nerves. Instead, I ran errands for the cooks, fetched a blanket for an elderly woman who was chilled, played with some of the babies and toddlers so their mothers could enjoy their meals in peace.
When the drumming began, the crowd moved back to find a place as spectators and make room for the entertainment. My grandmother Seraiah was the first to rise. I sank to an empty rug on the grass, grateful to focus on something new. As my grandmother’s hips rose and fell she winked at me with her trademark sly grin.
Aunt Judith and Laham’s mother were the next to get up and join Seraiah in the ancient womanly dance. Judith’s hip scarf of coins and beads jangled as she circled the perimeter of watchers. Timnath followed, picking up where her mother left off; then Falail and Leila came next.
Hugging my knees to my chest, my attention was caught up in their beautiful hip and arm movements, the intoxicating thump of the drums, the swaying of the musicians, and the crooning of the singer. I was safe in my corner of the crowd, alone on my rug, and that’s how I wanted the rest of the evening to continue until I could leave and crawl into bed.
Not moments later, my sister and cousins pulled me to my feet to dance with them. “Come, Jayden, you’re next.” I shook my head, mortified to dance before such a huge crowd of spectators.
“Oh, no, I can’t,” I said, pulling my hands back.
“You’re part of us now,” Timnath told me. “And you can’t say no to blessing your own cousin on her wedding day.”
“Being timid won’t get you a husband either,” Leila said, grabbing my other arm.
“But I don’t need a husband!”
Falail gave me a stern look. “Even though you aren’t looking for a husband, you and Horeb are betrothed. He’ll be shamed if you don’t dance for his sister. Everyone will notice.”
But I want to dance for someone else, I thought, and felt my face heat up.
The drumbeats throbbed through the soles of my bare feet. My ears filled with the high-pitched trilling of the women in the crowd as the girls pushed me to my feet and brought me into the wedding circle with them.
Leila slipped her arms around me, quickly fastening her own silver-and-green beaded earrings into my ears. “For tonight. You shouldn’t have to dance naked of any adornment.”
A tear sparked at the corner of my eye as I embraced her. “Leila, thank you.”
As the drums and dancing surged, the night became a blur of sparkling jewelry and fiery torches under a huge, bone-white moon. Once I forgot about myself, I became lost in the swirling figures of the women of my family, laughing with them, loving the chance to be a part of the women’s world.
Every time I caught Hakak’s eyes, I saw pure happiness in her face, even though she spent most of the evening keeping her eyes demurely fastened to the ground as she tried not to show how pleased she was.
The drums slowed and began a new beat. It was time for Hakak to dance for her husband.
Laham’s eyes lit up as his bride moved down the steps of the dais. She slipped off her outer robe, revealing one of the beautiful flowing embroidered gowns she’d painstakingly sewn. Her hips began a series of slow, smooth circles. Hakak’s hands fluttered like dancing butterflies and the jewelry she wore sang a melody of its own against her neck and arms. It was magical, and I felt my own body yearning to move again.
Over the course of the next hour, Hakak changed one by one into the seven gold-threaded dresses. At times the moves were slow and sensuous, then fast and frivolous, playful and flirting. One day I hoped I could dance like this, and I wondered if my cousin’s superb dancing came merely from practice—or were the moves inspired by love?
This was one night when the men were not chased off. I caught glimpses of my father and Uncle Abimelech behind the wall of hanging drapes where the men stood to watch their women dance. I saw Chezib, Aunt Judith’s youngest boy, peeking through a crack in the tapestry rugs, his mouth open as the twirling colors and flying hair of his older sister flew past him. I reached out to tickle his toes poking out from under the bottom of the rug, and he giggled.
“Come on,” Leila said a moment later. “It’s time for the candles.”
At the foot of the dais Aunt Judith was lighting dozens of tall, milky-white candles.
“Here, Jayden,” she said, handing me two flaming candles. The creamy, white candles twinkled in the darkness, the tallow melting in rivulets.
Holding a candle in each hand, I followed the women as we circled Hakak for the last time. One by one each woman briefly danced with the bride, escorting her a few steps closer to her groom waiting at the top of the dais.
When it was my turn to dance with the bride, I kissed Hakak on the cheek. “May your life be long and forever joyous.”
“When you marry Horeb,” Hakak whispered in my ear, “we will truly be sisters.”
I nearly dropped my candles, and I couldn’t even begin to form a reply. The soft, leering face of Horeb caught my eye as he peered over one of the partitions, and I stumbled on the hem of my dress. Hakak’s words froze my heart. I could not imagine myself dancing for Horeb. I couldn’t imagine my wanting him as she clearly wanted Laham. I felt a lurch of bile rise from my stomach. I couldn’t do this, didn’t want this. I realized truly for the first time how completely wrong this betrothal was.
“Careful, Jayden,” my grandmother said behind me. “Or you’ll light yourself on fire with that flame.”
A sob thickened my throat, and my eyes were swimming with emotion. At that moment I would rather have died than marry Horeb.
Seraiah’s hooded eyes gazed at me. “Are those tears, Jayden?” she asked softly.
“Tears of happiness for Hakak,” I quickly answered, dropping my head.
My grandmother frowned, and I suspected that she didn’t believe me. H
ow foolish I was to show my emotions!
When I glanced up again, Kadesh was standing in my line of vision across the grassy pavilion. Hidden behind the folds of his foreign, rich cloak, his dark eyes followed me as I danced and whirled and moved my hips. My limbs trembled as I understood that Kadesh had placed the hood purposely over his face so that he could gaze at me unnoticed by the rest of the guests. I was unable to wrench my eyes away from him, too. I wanted to sink into his soul, melt into his heart, dance just for him for the rest of the night. The heat of the candles made me dizzy. The mysterious connection between us left me breathless.
Envy filled my throat as Laham took Hakak’s hand. Together they circled the dancers and guests as the tapestry partitions opened to let them through. The women trilled when Laham lifted Hakak into his arms and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as the high-pitched clamor, the joyful shouts from the crowd, filled the air with a tremendous, happy noise. The uproar continued as Laham carried his bride into the wedding tent where they would spend their first week together, just the two of them.
I snuffed out the flame of my candles with shaking hands. My insane longing was almost a tangible, palpable sensation. I needed to get away. I glanced quickly at Kadesh, and then caught Horeb staring at me through the crowd of guests. My gut tightened.
I ran, darting through the rugs and empty platters of food and children playing games. Laughter and music roared about me. I was light-headed from the dancing and the heat.
“Jayden,” I heard Seraiah call after me, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t run fast enough, my legs shaking, my face dribbling hopeless tears.
I finally staggered into the safety of my own camp, catching my breath, horrified at being caught watching Kadesh by Horeb.
Squatting at the hearth fire, I stirred the cold ashes, melancholy sweeping over me. “There are times when a woman’s emotions are higher and fuller than any other,” I whispered, repeating my mother’s long-ago sentiment. Knowing I could never talk to my mother about Horeb made my eyes burn with grief. I missed her smile and her comforting arms more than ever. Most of all, I missed her wisdom and ability to make my world right and safe.
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