Return to Me

by Lynn Austin

  She pulled another garlic clove from the head to peel it. Iddo said he forgave her. He still loved her. He would take her home to Babylon. She was afraid to believe it, afraid it was a dream or that he would change his mind. For the past two days she had gone about her usual chores barely knowing what she was doing, her mind a confused mixture of thoughts and feelings. Even now she burned the vegetables and scorched the pot and had to begin all over again.

  “What about Zaki?” she whispered to Iddo when he returned with Zechariah from the sacrifice that evening. “Does he know we’re going home? Did you tell him?”

  “Not yet. I thought we would tell him together. It was his decision to come here, so he must decide whether or not to return.”

  Of course Zechariah would return with them. Why would he stay here? “What about Yael?” Dinah asked.

  “She’ll do whatever her father says. I doubt if Mattaniah will want to return with us. Where is he, by the way?” Iddo asked, looking around. “He wasn’t at the sacrifice.”

  “When Mattaniah came this morning to bring us some goats’ milk, Yael talked him into letting her visit Leyla for the day. They should be home soon. Before dark, he said.” Dinah had waited all day for a chance to ask Yael to consult the stars for her, to learn the best time to leave.

  She and Iddo went through the motions of washing their hands, sitting down to eat together, and praying the blessing, but the others could surely see the strain between them. Their house was too small, the family too close not to notice the emotional upheaval. Halfway through the meal, Yael burst into the courtyard, upset and breathless, with Mattaniah trailing behind her. She went straight to Dinah and knelt in front of her.

  “Safta, please! We need your help! Please, please come to Leyla’s village with me. Please!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Raisa is having trouble giving birth. I told Leyla’s grandmother that you were a midwife and would know how to help her. Won’t you please come, Safta?”

  Dinah pulled her hands free from Yael’s. “Why should we help them? These might be the same women who killed Shoshanna.”

  “Besides,” Iddo added, “I’m not convinced that it’s safe for either one of you to go down there after what happened.”

  “But maybe this is what we all need,” Mattaniah said. “We could demonstrate our goodwill to them.”

  “But what if this woman or her baby dies?” Iddo asked. “Then what? They’ll blame Dinah and say she did it for revenge.”

  “No, they won’t,” Yael insisted. “Leyla and her grandmother aren’t like that. Please let Safta come. She knows what to do.”

  Dinah listened as the men continued to argue, her own thoughts turning one way and then the other. She pictured Shoshanna, bravely stepping forward to say, “Somebody has to be a peacemaker,” and knew that if she were alive, she wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to go and help this mother. And Dinah also knew that if Iddo could forgive her, then she needed to forgive these village women, as well.

  “Don’t I have anything to say about this decision?” Dinah asked at last.

  “Of course,” Iddo said. “But for the good of our community we need to consider this carefully. I think I should consult Prince Sheshbazzar and see what he says.”

  “No. This mother needs me now. Delivering babies is what I do. I think I should help her.”

  Iddo stood and paced a few steps, crossing his arms then uncrossing them again, his turmoil apparent as he struggled to decide. “I’ll come with you,” he finally said.

  “And do what, Iddo? Haven’t I been a midwife for more than thirty years without your help? Mattaniah will take me there. He knows these people.”

  “May I come?” Yael asked. Dinah hesitated. There was an unspoken rule that girls Yael’s age shouldn’t witness childbirth or fear would overwhelm them when their own time came. But nothing seemed to frighten Yael.

  “Yes, you may come if you’d like.”

  Dinah left the remains of her dinner and gathered up the things she would need. A few minutes later she was hurrying down to the village with Yael and Mattaniah. Dinah hadn’t left Jerusalem in more than a month—since the disastrous day when Shoshanna had been killed. In all their years together as midwives, she and Shoshanna had rarely delivered a baby without each other, and Dinah mourned for her friend all over again as she walked. But remembering Shoshanna also brought a stab of guilt for the way she and Joel had behaved. Maybe going to this village and helping the people responsible for Shoshanna’s death could help her earn forgiveness. Shoshanna would have forgiven everyone, even the person who threw the stone.

  Night had fallen by the time they reached the village. For the last half mile, Dinah barely had been able to see where she was going in the dark. But oil lamps blazed in Leyla’s courtyard and in several of the inner rooms when they arrived. Leyla and her grandmother led them to a room off the main courtyard where two women sat vigil beside a young girl, lying on a bed of cushions. Dinah stared at the white-faced girl, who was weak with exhaustion. She looked younger than Yael! “Is she Leyla’s sister?” Dinah whispered to Yael.

  “No, she’s Leyla’s stepmother.”

  “Stepmother . . . ?”

  “Zabad has three wives. He married Raisa a year ago.”

  Dinah struggled to disguise her shock. How could any man marry a child who was young enough to be his daughter? But she couldn’t think about that now. Raisa began writhing in pain, screaming as another strong contraction overwhelmed her. “How long has she been in labor?” Dinah asked.

  “Since this time yesterday,” Leyla’s grandmother replied. She carried a cup of steaming liquid to the bedside.

  Since yesterday. “You probably know that it’s very bad for the baby as well as the mother when a birth takes this long,” Dinah said. “I can’t promise a good outcome, but I’ll do everything I can.”

  “No one will blame you,” the older woman said. “The stars foresee death for both mother and child.”

  Her words startled Dinah. The stars? Was everyone giving up because of the stars? Yet Dinah recalled consulting them when Shoshanna lay dying. They hadn’t foretold anything that Dinah hadn’t seen with her own eyes, but now her heart told her that as long as Raisa breathed, there was hope. Dinah would do everything in her power to save this mother and her baby, to prove that the indifferent stars were wrong.

  “May I examine her?” Dinah didn’t wait for a reply but knelt by Raisa’s side and lifted the sheet that covered her. The contraction had subsided and she lay limp against the cushions again. Her pelvis was very narrow, and although Raisa was ready to give birth, the baby was positioned with its buttocks first instead of its head. There simply wasn’t enough room for the child to be born.

  “Am I going to die?” Raisa moaned. “I don’t want to die. . . .”

  The old woman knelt on the other side of her with the warm red liquid. “Help me lift her head so she can drink this,” she told Dinah.

  “What is it?” When the old woman didn’t reply, Dinah rose to her feet and beckoned for Yael. “What is she giving her?” she whispered. “Raisa is in no condition to swallow anything. She could choke. And what’s that burning smell?” Someone had lit a brass burner of incense and the acrid odor slowly filled the room. “They need to get that smoke out of here, Yael.” Another woman draped two more amulets around Raisa’s neck after helping Leyla’s grandmother feed her the potion. Dinah recalled Yael’s mother, and how all of the Babylonian rituals had been worthless. Her anger seethed. “Can’t we chase everyone out of the room?”

  “We’d better let them do these things,” Yael whispered. “If Raisa dies, they’ll say it was our fault.”

  She was right. And Dinah knew what she needed to do. “I’ll need your help, Yael. I know a procedure that may or may not work, but it’s our best chance of saving Raisa and her baby.” She waited for the old woman to move away, then knelt beside the bed again. “Your baby is facing the wrong way, Raisa, and we’re going
to try to turn it around. I know you’re tired and I’m sorry for causing you more discomfort, but if it works, your baby will be born soon. Will you let me try?”

  “I don’t want to die. . . .”

  “And I don’t want you to die. Yael and I are going to help you change positions, rolling you over and turning you. We’ll take it step by step, and maybe the baby will turn as well.”

  Raisa screamed through each of the maneuvers as her contractions continued. Each time Dinah moved the girl, she checked the baby, feeling hopeful each time there was a small change. Dinah had never done this without Shoshanna’s help, and she missed having a second pair of eyes and hands. “We’re almost there, Raisa . . . almost there . . .” Suddenly Raisa gave a blood-curdling scream that made Yael leap backward in fright. “She’s all right, Yael. Just a hard contraction.” It took more than an hour of maneuvering, but at last Dinah saw the baby’s head starting to crown. “Everything’s good, Raisa. Now, push . . . push!”

  “I can’t . . . I’m so tired. . . .”

  “You can do it, honey. You’re almost there.” Dinah lost track of time as she worked to help Raisa, coaxing her, encouraging her, pleading with her. She wanted this mother to live, her baby to live.

  At last she saw the baby’s head emerging. But something was wrong—the umbilical cord was wrapped around the child’s neck, choking it. “Wait, Raisa . . . Stop pushing, honey . . . wait . . . wait . . .” Dinah gently eased the cord out of the way and after one final push, Raisa’s daughter was born into Dinah’s waiting hands. The infant was a sickly, grayish-blue color—and she wasn’t breathing. Dinah cleaned the mucus from her mouth. Slapped the baby’s back. Slapped her again, harder. This child was not going to die now!

  “Come on, little one. Breathe . . . breathe!” The baby finally gave a weak cry, and Dinah could breathe again, too. She laid the baby down for a moment and waited for the umbilical cord to stop pulsing, then tied it off and severed it. It was time to turn her attention back to the mother. Raisa couldn’t afford to lose too much blood. The newborn gave another weak cry, and as Dinah picked her up to give her to the other women to care for, she saw that the baby’s left leg was twisted at an odd angle, her foot pointing inward. Before Dinah could react, Leyla’s grandmother grabbed the child from her.

  “I’ll take care of her now.”

  Dinah turned to concentrate on Raisa again. She was still moaning and writhing in pain, her last reserves of strength nearly gone. “Just a little more, Raisa. Can you push one last time for me?”

  “It she having twins?” Yael whispered.

  Dinah managed a smile. “No, she has to deliver the afterbirth. Then you can rest, Raisa. I promise. Did you hear your baby crying? It’s a little girl.” Dinah watched to make sure Raisa’s blood clotted, then waited until her color slowly returned and she stopped trembling. Raisa would live, God willing, but she was about to faint with exhaustion. She needed to sleep.

  “Where’s my baby?” she asked. “Can I hold her?”

  “Of course. I’ll bring her to you.” Every mother deserved the reward of holding her new child after hours of hard labor. But when Dinah turned around, the old woman and the baby were gone. “Where is she?” she asked Yael. “Where did they go?” Yael shrugged.

  Dinah felt a chill, remembering the deformed foot. She hurried from the room and found Leyla’s grandmother in the courtyard. She no longer carried the child. “Where’s the baby? Raisa is asking to see her.”

  “The child died.”

  “No. I don’t believe you. She was breathing fine. Where is she? Let me see her.”

  “It’s too late to do anything for her. Besides, the father has rejected her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Zabad saw his child, saw that she was a girl and that she was crippled, and he refused her. Even if he hadn’t refused her, the baby was too weak to survive.”

  A cold fury rushed through Dinah. She grabbed the old woman’s shoulders, shaking her. “What did you do with that baby? Give her to me!”

  “The child will never be worthy of a dowry because she will never walk. It’s better to let her die now. Better that Raisa grieves now than for her entire life.”

  “Raisa’s baby is alive! She wants to see her child!”

  “No. If she does, she will face an impossible choice. Her husband will divorce her if she keeps her child. Then neither one of them will survive.”

  “You cannot let that child die! Where is she?”

  “We’re grateful that Raisa will live, but now you need to leave us alone. This is our way. Our village. You have no right to tell us what to do.” The old woman struggled to free herself, but Dinah wouldn’t let go.

  “Never! Give her to me!” Dinah was still wrestling with the old woman when she heard a faint cry. She released her and ran toward the sound. Dinah found the baby outside in the cold, stuffed in a basket and covered with a wet, suffocating blanket. She lifted the tiny, naked girl out of the basket and pulled off her own head covering to wrap her in. She held the child close, warming her, soothing her. “Don’t cry, little one . . . don’t cry.”

  There were many things that Dinah didn’t understand about God, but she knew from her years of experience as a midwife that each life was precious to Him. Shoshanna had told her so repeatedly. If a child was born with a defect, Shoshanna would insist that the Almighty One had a reason for it—that a wonderful blessing would come from loving that child. She had often said that we became better people when we defended the weakest ones among us, the ones God entrusted to our care. Dinah remembered seeing tears in Shoshanna’s eyes each time they saved a child’s or a mother’s life, as Dinah had done tonight. “When we save one life, it’s as if we’ve saved the entire world.”

  Dinah looked up through her tears and saw the old woman standing in the doorway. “I’m leaving now,” she said. “And I’m taking this baby with me.”

  “She will only die.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  Yael and Mattaniah met Dinah outside in the street. She refused to go back inside the house. No one spoke as they followed the road up through the valley, up to Jerusalem, the baby whimpering softly in Dinah’s arms. The sun was just dawning and the light reflected off the buildings, gilding the stones and making the destroyed city shine like gold.

  “Were they really going to let the baby die?” Yael asked when they finally reached the top of the hill. Dinah could only nod. “How are we going to feed her without Raisa?”

  “Hanan’s wife is still nursing her son. I’m sure she’ll be happy to be the baby’s wet nurse.”

  “I can’t believe they would have let her die,” Yael murmured.

  “I know.” And Dinah realized in that moment that Shoshanna’s death wasn’t Iddo’s fault, nor had God taken her life. The Samaritans had killed her, just as they would have killed this child. There was a difference between her people and the Samaritans and Babylonians, between their gods and her God—the God of Abraham. Iddo had been trying to tell her this all along, even when they’d lived in Babylon. She looked down at the tiny baby and understood for the first time why they had to leave Babylon and return to the Promised Land.

  “We’ll name her Hodaya,” Dinah said. God be praised.

  Iddo looked relieved when they all returned home safely—and shocked when he saw Dinah carrying a baby. “They were going to let her die,” she told him. “I couldn’t let her die.” Tikvah offered to feed Hodaya, as Dinah hoped she would. She laid the baby in Tikvah’s arms, then looked around for Yael. She found her standing all alone on the eastern side of their courtyard, gazing out at the sunrise above the Mount of Olives. Dinah had rarely seen Yael so quiet and subdued, as if she had been the mother who’d labored all those long hours instead of Raisa. Was she tired from being awake all night? Shocked after witnessing a birth for the first time? Dinah moved up beside her and slid her arm around Yael’s waist.

  “Thank you for helping me tonight. I’m not sure I
could have saved either one of them without your help.” Yael nodded but didn’t reply. “What’s wrong, Yael? Why so quiet?”

  “I don’t understand it,” she said. “According to the stars, Raisa and her baby were both supposed to die. I read them myself.”

  Dinah saw the damage she had done by asking Yael to consult the stars for her. She never should have encouraged her belief in astrology. “God is more powerful than the stars, Yael. He’s the one who gets to decide such things.”

  “What about Shoshanna? Did God want her to die?”

  “No. God didn’t decide to kill her, the Samaritans did. Just like they decided to kill this baby. They don’t see the preciousness of life the way we do, or the way our God does. Maybe it’s because they believe that their fate is in the hands of capricious gods and indifferent stars, and so they’ve become indifferent, too.” She paused, wondering how to say what she was thinking. “Yael . . . I’m not going to ask you to consult the stars for me ever again. I don’t believe in their power. I hope . . . I hope you’ll see the truth one day, too.” Dinah waited, wondering if she would respond. When she finally did, her words surprised Dinah.

  “May I help you deliver babies again the next time? It was so . . . amazing.”

  “I hope it didn’t frighten you. Most deliveries aren’t as difficult as Raisa’s was.”

  “I was afraid she was going to die—and I like Raisa. But I liked helping you, too. I think I’d like to be a midwife someday.”

  Dinah gave Yael a squeeze before letting go. “I would be happy to train you. You were a great help to me tonight. And now, maybe you should sleep for a few hours. We’ve both been up all night.”

  “May I hold Hodaya for a few minutes, first?”

  Dinah watched Yael take the baby from Tikvah, surprised by how gentle she was. Iddo came to stand beside Dinah, watching Yael, too. “Did they reject the child because of her foot?” he asked.

  “Yes. Her father rejected her, and so the women left her to die.”