by Mesu Andrews
Widow Orma had regaled them with touching stories of Job’s family, and with disgust she had confirmed the wretched news: “After all the good things Master Job has done, not a single person in Uz is willing to help him.”
Glancing at the eight bread loaves stacked in a neat row on the table, Dinah tipped Nogahla’s chin to meet her gaze. “You will not give up a single bite of your portion, my friend. Perhaps the aroma of this warm brown bread will warm Nada’s heart.”
Nogahla’s eyes sparked with mischief. “No, mistress. I think Nada will be mad, but I’m glad we gave the bread to Widow Orma anyway.”
Chuckling, Dinah nodded her agreement and again studied every nook and cranny of the kitchen, hoping for some inspiration that might busy their hands and minds. “At least we’ve unloaded my herbs and ointments from the caravan. I can dress Mistress Sitis’s blistered hands if she ever summons me, as she promised.”
“So what do we do until then?” Nogahla sat on the low wooden stool, resting her elbow in her lap, chin in hand again.
Dinah peered into the kitchen courtyard. There were no goats to milk, no vegetables to clean, no meat to prepare. She glanced at the pile of ashes with a mingling of sorrow and praise. In the corner, beyond the waste heap, she noticed a broken spindle. “Nogahla!” she said, clapping her hands and startling the girl. “Let’s go exploring! We’ll go through every room until we find the servants’ stores of wool and spindles.” Her wide-eyed enthusiasm was met with Nogahla’s eager nod.
The evening light cast orange-tinged shadows against the courtyard walls. “Come, Nogahla, it’s getting dark. Master Job, Elihu, and the other two men will be hungry when they return from inspecting the fields. We’ll set out the fruit and some cheese and olives in the dining hall for them.” She handed the tray to Nogahla and gathered a pitcher of honeyed wine with four glazed clay cups. “After that, we’ll find something to keep us busy.”
The dusk breeze stirred the linen sea in Sitis’s bedchamber. Nada’s embrace felt as warm and safe as when Sitis was a child. “I haven’t had nightmares like this since Ima died, when I was five years old.” Sitis shut her eyes against the memory.
“It was just a dream, mistress.” Nada stroked her hair, quieting her. “Just a dream.”
“Will we ever wake up from this dream, Nada? Will Al-Lat restore Job’s wealth? Will Al-Uzza open my womb? Will my husband and I ever be happy again?”
“You will awaken, my Sitis.” Nada stopped rocking and laid her chubby hand against Sitis’s cheek, tilting her head and searching her expression. “What else is troubling you?”
A fresh wave of tears overtook her. “Oh, Nada. I thought Sayyid would do anything for me,” she moaned. “He has always been so kind and generous, but I didn’t even recognize the man who visited me today.” Sniffing loudly, she used her maid’s apron as a handkerchief. “He actually said that if I forced him to marry Dinah, and then Job didn’t regain his wealth, he would make me his second wife.” Sitis’s sorrow turned to fury at the thought. “Ohh! Can you imagine, Nada? Me, a second wife?” She drove balled fists into the soft woolen mattress and sat upright, daring Nada to disagree.
“No, my Sitis, I cannot imagine you as a second wife.”
Sitis thought she glimpsed a smile before Nada ducked her head. “Don’t you dare laugh, old woman!” Hurt and angry tears erupted. How could Nada laugh when her whole world had crumbled in a day’s time?
“No, no, no, my girl,” Nada said, reaching up with her apron to wipe the new tears from Sitis’s cheeks. “You misunderstand. You know I love you more than life itself.” The maidservant hugged her tightly. “Listen, if Master Job does not regain his wealth, Sayyid’s proposal of marriage is a kind and generous offer. He would be saving you from a life of shame, Sitis-girl.”
“How can you still feel that way after how he acted today? I’ve never seen that wicked, selfish side of Sayyid’s character.”
Nada released Sitis and challenged her with a stern gaze. “You hurt our Sayyid today. He came here in hopes of winning your heart and making you his wife.”
“What?” Sitis couldn’t breathe. “Did he actually tell you this when you relayed my message earlier?” The blood rushed from her face, and her heart felt as though it would pound out of her chest. “Nada, why didn’t you warn me? Why didn’t you tell him I love Job?”
Nada was suddenly immovable, her expression firm, her gaze steady. “Do you truly love Job?” She lifted one dark eyebrow as if knowing the answer and daring Sitis to tell the truth.
“Nada! Of course I love Job. He’s my husband!” The lingering silence drained the power from her statement, and Nada’s unwavering gaze unnerved Sitis.
Do I love Job? She knew she was incapable of Job’s standard of love, but no one was as selfless as her husband. But have I ever truly loved someone sacrificially? She loved her children, of course. But it had been Nada who cared for their sicknesses, and Job’s wise and kind discipline that had guided them through life. When she quarreled with her loved ones, Sitis withdrew her affection until they complied, or she ignored the dispute, pretending all was well. Had she ever truly loved someone through difficult times without turning away?
She could feel tears welling again, and no matter how hard she tried, Sitis couldn’t outstare Nada. “I don’t know if I’m capable of love,” she cried, melting into her maid’s embrace once more. “My heart feels like an old grain sack with too many holes to be of any use. What if I can’t love, Nada?”
The old woman held her tightly. “You will learn to love again, my Sitis. Every child is born with the ability.” Sitis could feel Nada’s tears now dampening her hair. “Sometimes our hearts forget as we grow older, and we must relearn the lessons of love we knew as a child.”
“But how do I relearn, Nada? What if Al-Uzza, the mighty goddess, doesn’t open my womb? What if Al-Lat never restores Job’s fortune? What if Manat has already decided my fate and refuses to relent?”
“Enough. Enough of this ‘what if’ talk, my Sitis-girl.” Nada sat up and grasped Sitis’s cheeks, her hands warm and scratchy like a woolen scarf. “You listen to me. We are going to pray right now to our goddesses.” Scooting off the bed, she hurried toward the curtain-draped closet carved into the stone wall. “You know our prayers are most powerful if we glimpse the evening star of Al-Lat before the last shadows of sunset dim.” Reaching into the closet, she retrieved the precious basket containing the sacred cube and idols and placed it on the bed.
The two women began their familiar ritual. Nada carefully unwrapped each of the images and filled a shallow copper brazier with incense and sweet-smelling herbs. Sitis gathered a small pitcher of oil and a jar of grain kept hidden under her bed. Collecting the offerings and goddesses, Sitis and Nada marched to the balcony, where the pleasing aroma of incense would ascend with their prayers. With a final glance across the inlet to ensure Job’s absence, the women began their secret ceremony.
“Mistress?” Nada motioned for Sitis to kneel on the customary cushion. The nursemaid knelt beside her on a small fleece and led the chanting. “Al-Uzza, goddess of life and wealth and power, we offer to you—”
Suddenly there was a knock on the door, followed immediately by a young woman’s voice in the bedchamber behind them. “Hello? Is anyone in here?”
Sitis was on her feet, arms stretched wide like the feathers on an arrow shot from a bow. “What are you doing in my private chamb—”
It was too late to hide. Dinah and Nogahla stood wide-eyed and open-mouthed, staring at the ritual components before them. Job’s face flashed in Sitis’s mind. The shock and horror on these women’s faces was a dim reflection of what her husband’s reaction would be.
“I’m sorry,” Dinah said. “We thought it was just another empty chamber.”
Sitis’s arms fell to her sides, and her head lolled forward in shame.
Nada labored to her feet and flailed her arms like an angry hen. “Get out! Get out of Mistress Sitis’s chamber! How
dare you!”
Sitis lifted her head and saw them walking out through her linen dream. “No, wait.” She hadn’t the strength to match Nada’s zeal, but the pair somehow heard her. “Come back, Dinah. I want to explain.”
The beautiful blonde turned, and her expression surprised Sitis. Instead of judgment and hatred, she saw compassion, even pity, in Dinah’s eyes.
“As was true this morning in the courtyard, mistress, you owe me no explanation.” Dinah bowed gracefully. “Please forgive us. We had no idea this was your chamber. Nogahla and I were looking for something to busy our idle hands.”
“You were spying!” Nada’s voice was shrill and accusing. “How dare you. Master Job opens his home to you, and the minute he leaves, you rummage through his house.”
Dinah’s anger flared. “We were looking for something to occupy our time since Mistress Sitis hadn’t summoned me to her chamber, nor did her maid offer any instructions for managing this household!”
“Well, let me instruct you now, you ungrateful—”
“Nada! That’s enough!” Sitis had never seen her nursemaid act so disrespectfully, but come to think of it, she’d never seen anyone challenge Nada as Dinah did. “Job would not approve of your disrespect to a guest in his home.” Turning once again to Dinah, she said, “However, it seems your position in this household is a bit of an enigma. You are neither guest nor servant, so . . .” Her voice broke and her mind reeled. How could she explain to this beauty that Nada was simply protecting her?
Just then she noticed a welcome diversion, a small basket hanging on Dinah’s arm. “May I ask what you have in your basket?” She would try hard to offer peace, though she wasn’t sure why or if she truly desired it.
Dinah took a tentative step forward, her expression hopeful. “I’ve brought some of my supplies from the caravan to bandage your hands.” Casting an uneasy glance at Nada, she confessed, “We had hoped to find your chamber at some point in our search.”
So you weren’t spying, but you were looking for me. Sitis vacillated between being offended and being pleased. Stepping outside her world of grief and tragedy for a moment, she tried to imagine Dinah’s predicament. She realized this young woman was nearly the same age as her son Ennon—alone in a strange land, her future uncertain, surrounded by unfriendly people. For the first time, Sitis’s heart was moved by the girl, and she wondered if her kind and loving friend Sayyid might truly be happy with this beautiful young wife. Dinah needed a home, and Sayyid needed a good woman. Sitis was suddenly more determined than ever to see Sayyid marry Dinah, not because it fit her plan, but because it was best for Dinah and Sayyid.
“Come, sit with me on the bed, dear.” Sitis patted the soft mattress, and Nada stepped aside, frowning as Dinah passed. The Cushite maid looked like a frightened fawn, and Sitis chuckled, wondering if the girl would bolt from the room. “You can have your maid go back to her chamber or wait in my anteroom if she’d be more comfortable there.”
Before Dinah could voice her preference, Nada issued the command. “The girl should wait outside, mistress.” Nada grunted and sniffed, folding her arms across her chest like a sentry.
“Why don’t you go back to our chamber, Nogahla,” Dinah said. “You’ll be more comfortable there.” Dinah grinned victoriously when the Cushite scampered past Nada.
Sitis watched, fascinated, at the interchange between her lifelong friend and Jacob’s daughter. The two seemed locked in a competition of sorts, and Sitis realized she must expose it in order to gain any lasting peace in their household. Gently touching Dinah’s arm, she said, “You really love your little maid, don’t you?”
The young woman met her gaze, smiling easily. “I suppose it’s similar to how you feel about Nada. She’s more than just my maid. She’s my friend.” Taking a roll of bandages out of the basket, Dinah paused and glanced at Nada. “And I expect Nogahla to be treated with respect.”
Nada raised her chin, and Sitis leveled a chastising glance at her. “As I want Nada to be treated with respect.” Sitis offered her hand to Dinah, waiting for the spirited young woman to meet her gaze again. She did, and Sitis let her eyes communicate a silent reprimand.
“Agreed,” Dinah said, a penitent smile stretching across her perfect red lips. She grasped Sitis’s blistered hand, and Nada stepped forward, her wagging finger poised to command. Sitis issued a warning glare, deflating the maid’s bluster, and the young beauty continued her ministrations.
“Now, mistress, place your hand on my lap, palm up, like this,” Dinah said, “and I’ll apply a little gum-yamin before wrapping it—”
Nogahla burst through the door. “I heard Master Job in the dining hall! He’s coming up the stairs.”
Sitis’s heart leapt to her throat as she exchanged a panicked glance with Nada. “Gather the goddesses.” She paused. “No, wait! It’s too late.” They’d never be able to hide them if he came directly to her chamber.
Dinah grabbed Sitis’s shoulders. “Have Nada take Nogahla to the anteroom and tell Job he can’t come in until I’m finished bandaging your hands.” Turning to Nada, Dinah barked instructions. “Tell him Sitis’s hands are blistered from grinding grain, and I need privacy to concentrate on tending her wounds.”
Nada hesitated, looking to Sitis for approval.
“Go! Do as she says,” Sitis said.
The two maids scurried from the room, closing the heavy door behind them. Sitis once again tried to rush to the balcony to retrieve the goddesses, but Dinah’s grip held her firmly to the bed.
“Mistress,” Dinah said, “isn’t it time to stop deceiving your husband?”
Sitis started to pull away, but the girl’s eyes, brimming with tears, beseeched her to do the right thing. Sitis looked away, breaking the honorable spell cast by Dinah’s pleading. “I can’t. He will disown me.” She pulled her head covering off, dragging her fingers through her hair. “What do I do, Dinah?”
“Job will never disown you, mistress. We both know that.”
She looked up, startled that this beautiful woman would speak with such intimate certainty about her life. “How can you be sure? You don’t know us. You don’t know our lives.” She wanted to be angry at the girl’s presumption, but the kindness in Dinah’s eyes cut her to the heart.
“I know that your husband believes in a God who forgives everyone for everything if they simply ask it of Him.”
Sitis turned away. Why would I believe in any god at all? None of them have saved me from this pain. “Dinah, don’t ask me to trust El Shaddai. You don’t know what I’ve suffered at His hands.”
Sitis felt a trembling hand on her cheek and met Dinah’s tender gaze. “I don’t know what you’ve suffered at His hands, but I know what you’ve endured without His comfort. And I’m sorry for you, mistress.” Both women straightened at the sound of Job’s voice just outside the door.
“I want to see my wife, Nada.” He sounded weary but resolute.
“I won’t help you deceive Job,” Dinah whispered to Sitis. “If you want to hide the idols, you must do the work yourself. But I won’t tell him what I’ve seen either.”
Relief washed over Sitis as she scooted off the bed and ran to the balcony to retrieve the goddesses. She hastily covered them and cast them into the stone cube and basket, shuffling it under the bed. Out of breath and short on time, she leapt onto the cushioned mattress and held up her hands for Dinah to bandage. “Hurry, please. He’s becoming impatient.”
“Hold still,” Dinah commanded, beads of sweat forming on her brow. Sitis grimaced but decided to allow the woman’s impertinence after all her other kindnesses this evening.
“I said I’m going to see my wife, Nada!” Job barged in, slapping the linen scarves aside just as Dinah finished tying the last bandage. Looking as shocked as the rest of those in the room, Job stammered, “Oh, Dinah. You’re bandaging my wife’s hands.”
“Just as I said.” Nada, hands on hips, didn’t have to feign her frustration.
“
Job! You smell like death!” Sitis said as she and Dinah instinctively covered their noses. The moment she said it, his face looked stricken, and a stab of regret pierced Sitis’s heart. I should have considered what he’s seen today, the death he encountered in the fields, instead of criticizing him the moment he entered the room. And just as suddenly, Sitis realized she wouldn’t normally have considered her husband’s feelings. Shocked and inspired by her own burgeoning sensitivity, she addressed the other women. “Will you excuse us? My husband and I need some time alone to talk about his difficult day.”
“Of course.” Dinah bowed and guided Nogahla out of the room. Nada closed the door behind her with an authoritative sneer at Job. Their epic battle would no doubt continue.
Job stood at Sitis’s bedside, gazing down at her. He was dirty, smelly, and forlorn. Everything within her wanted to banish him until he bathed. She’d never endured odors well. Even when she was a child, Atif and Nada had filled her tent with frankincense on the days the wind carried the stable stench in her direction. Perhaps her sacrificial love began with a smelly husband who honored the edict of no bathing during the seven days of mourning.
She swallowed the extra saliva gathering in her mouth. “Tell me, husband, were the fields as awful as you feared?” She patted the bed, indicating a nice fluffy spot beside her.
Job lifted an eyebrow. “Though I didn’t touch the bodies, Sitis, my clothes are saturated with the smell of death. Are you sure you will allow me on your bed?” He leaned over, placing a tentative hand on her beautifully woven covering.
“No,” she said, watching his smile fade. She patted the bed again. “I’m inviting you onto my bed.” The relief in his features made the odor tolerable. He fell onto the bed beside her, exhausted. Her ensuing nausea made her thankful she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Swallowing again, she concentrated on his eyes. “Tell me what you found in the fields.”
