by Mesu Andrews
When Sitis turned toward the ash pile and gazed up at Job, something had changed in her countenance. Job cast a questioning glance at Dinah, who stood at the base of the heap with glistening eyes and a glorious smile. Her hands were pressed together at her lips as though in grateful prayer. And Job knew. Sitis was indeed healed—from the inside out.
He began to cry. Silent weeping shook his whole frame.
Nogahla panicked and stood, motioning wildly. “Mistress, mistress! Something is terribly wrong with Master Job! Come quickly!”
He smiled and shushed Nogahla, trying to assuage his adorable Cushite daughter. Then he held out his arms to his wife, who began to weep and smile and then to laugh. How long had it been since he’d seen Sitis laugh?
She pumped her legs, trying to run up the dung pile, but the faster she churned, the deeper her feet dug into the mire. Sitis stumbled again and again, making the moments linger. The dawning realization changed Nogahla’s cries into a happy jig atop the heap. Dinah was suddenly beside Sitis, lending a hand to aid her ascent, but Sitis stopped short of falling into Job’s arms.
“I want to cling to you, my husband,” she said through tears. “I want to hold you close and whisper in your ear.” She looked at Dinah and then reached out to take Nogahla’s hand, touching the Cushite for the first time in Job’s memory. “Or perhaps I feel more like shouting it from the mountaintop altar.” She searched her husband’s face, her voice quivering. “Dinah said if I ask El Shaddai to forgive me, He will do it.”
Job ached to caress her cheek, but he dare not move lest he wake from the dream. His dream reached out to touch his cheek instead.
“Job,” she said, “will your Yahweh forgive me?”
“Yes!” came the confident squeak from Nogahla’s lips, quickly reined in by both hands tightly clasped over her lips. Her penitent glance darted from one face to another, while Job reveled in her true and simple faith.
“Our friend is correct as usual,” Job agreed with a twinkle in his eye. Tentatively he covered his wife’s hand on his cheek and marveled at two miracles. First, the pain did not overwhelm him, and second, Sitis did not recoil. “Normally I would sacrifice a lamb on the altar for your sins, but El Shaddai knows the intentions of our hearts, my love.”
Just then a terrible wailing stole their attention, and everyone turned to see Elihu fall to his knees at the edge of the dung pile. “Nooo! This cannot be you, Abba.” He began pulling out patches of his hair and beard. “My ima, you’re starving to death!” He buried his face in his hands and wept as Sitis hurried down to comfort him. When she embraced him, her headpiece fell away, and he became inconsolable. “God of my fathers, God of Abraham, may El Shaddai repay one hundredfold the evil done to you!” He threw ashes into the air, bathing his hair and beard in the fine gray mist of mourning.
“Go to him, Dinah,” Job whispered, new tears wetting the furrows where happy tears had been. “Perhaps your lovely face will cheer him.”
“I don’t think anything I can say will comfort him,” Dinah said, hinting again at her answer to Elihu’s possible proposal. Job had talked with Dinah often about the possibility, and she stubbornly held to her conviction that Elihu deserved a devout and kind young woman.
“Are you firm in your decision then? You’ve decided to decline Elihu’s marriage proposal?”
Dinah nodded and whispered, “This moment is for you and Sitis to share with Elihu. But when the time is right, and if he should ask me to be his wife, I will insist he marry a pure and deserving bride.” She lowered her eyes, and Job accepted her decision, though he believed Elihu would be blessed with such a woman as Dinah.
“Oh, Abba, I’m sorry I took so long.” Elihu finally started his climb, ash and dung clinging to his tear-dampened beard and hands. Sitis followed closely behind, head bowed. Her motherly instincts seemed to respect Elihu’s need to mourn, and she set aside her own good news for now.
“You needn’t be sorry for lingering, Elihu,” Job said. “I know the sight of us must have been a shock.” Job exchanged a strengthening glance with Dinah while Elihu made his silent ascent. He could only hope Elihu gracefully accepted Dinah’s decision.
“Abba Job, they wanted to meet together before coming to Uz,” the young man began, breathless as he reached the peak. “And I couldn’t find Bildad. He’d gone to pasture his flocks in the far Eastern Desert because of the drought. We also had to wait on Zophar’s caravan to return from Gaza. The Sabeans stole his horses in Elath, but thanks be to El Shaddai, his caravan traveled on to Gaza unharmed.”
Job suddenly realized Elihu’s apology had nothing to do with lingering at the bottom of the ash pile. He’d apologized for lingering a year on his journey, and it sounded as if . . .
Sitis stopped her climb and shouted, “Bildad? Did you say Bildad? My brother is coming? And Eliphaz and Zophar?”
Like winnowing grain from chaff, Job’s mind discarded everything but the names—Eliphaz, Bildad, Zophar. Elihu turned, glancing back and forth between Job and Sitis.
The height and depth of their surprise must have registered completely then. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away!” In the muck he dropped to his knees at Job’s feet. “Eliphaz and Bildad bring a great army to defend you, and Zophar’s caravan bears herbs for your wounds. They’ll arrive before sunset.”
Sitis shrieked for joy, and Elihu reached for Job’s hands. It was then that he noticed the disease-rotted gaps. “Abba, where are your fingers?” The horror on his face turned to rage aimed at Dinah. “You! You’ve done this to him.”
Before Job could come to her defense, Nogahla stood beside Dinah and shouted, “Master Elihu, don’t talk to my mistress that way!”
“Stay away from Abba Job.” Elihu turned on Dinah, who stood by Job like a wilted flower. “You’re barely a trained midwife, and you’ve nearly killed him with your herbs and potions.”
“Elihu, that’s enough.” Job’s heart was in his throat, making his voice even weaker. “Sayyid has made certain no physician in Uz will touch me. If it weren’t for Dinah, I would be dead by now.”
Elihu turned, and Job was startled at the blazing hatred in his expression. “If it weren’t for Dinah, none of these tragedies would have assailed your household in the first place.”
Stunned silence settled over the ashen hill as Dinah’s face crumpled like a stone wall under siege. After regaining some control, she stepped forward. “Come, Nogahla—”
“No, I said stay away from him!” Elihu moved between Dinah and Job, causing her to stumble backward and topple headlong down the ash heap. Her lovely form settled motionless at the bottom.
Job was aware only of a swift black blur, and suddenly a gasp, a pop, another tumble—and Elihu lay at the base of the pile beside Dinah, rubbing his jaw and cursing loudly.
Aban stood by Job, his hand extended in compassion. “Master Job, are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“No, of course not.” Job was flustered, befuddled. Sayyid’s captain had been kind during the past months—even apologetic. But why would he protect Dinah—and why is he concerned about me?
Nogahla was at the base of the hill by Dinah, crying and cradling her mistress. Sitis had slid down the ashes to tend to Elihu’s quickly swelling jaw.
“What has come over you, Aban?” Job’s voice was merely a whisper, but it didn’t matter. The big man was already retreating to the bottom of the ash heap.
Elihu recoiled and Sitis shielded him in her arms like a child. Aban stood menacingly over them, issuing his promise with a warning. “I won’t hit him again, Mistress Sitis, as long as he treats Mistress Dinah with respect.”
“Aban, help Dinah,” Nogahla gasped between sobs. “I need to take her home, to Widow Orma’s cave.”
Job watched as the big man tenderly placed his giant hand on Nogahla’s cheek. “She’ll be all right, little Cushite. You see, she’s coming around.” Aban knelt and scooped Dinah into his arms as though she weighed no more than a sack
of barley. Job’s heart squeezed at the captain’s tenderness. The big man’s heart had softened considerably during their lonely midnight discussions on the ash heap.
“Show me this cave you call home.” Aban took his first steps away.
Elihu aimed venomous words at his back. “Oh, so you’ve fallen under the spell of both Dinah and her Cushite. Have they both shared your bed as well?”
The captain’s backward glance promised future retribution, and Job feared for his brilliant student who had spoken so impudently.
“Elihu!” Job’s reprimand was no more than a whispered peep.
Sitis’s slap found its mark, silencing the young man. She pushed him out of her arms and stood over him. “You have lost all good sense in your absence, my son. I pray that by the time I return, you will realize that Dinah deserves both your respect and your gratitude.” Sitis hurried to catch up with Aban, who carried Dinah in his arms and tenderly reassured Nogahla.
Job’s heart had been broken into pieces before, but watching Elihu pound the ashes with raging fists shattered his spirit. Elihu’s desire for knowledge was fertile ground, and Zophar was the only gardener who could have yielded such rotten fruit to throw at Dinah. Job wept anew that Jacob’s daughter had once again endured wicked accusations. El Shaddai, will her accusers ever cease?
His prayer was abruptly curtailed by the cold, sharp claws of fear. Two Nameless Ones crept like desert scavengers behind Aban and the women, following the unsuspecting band to the widow’s hidden cave. He tried to shout his warning, but no one could hear over the noise of Elihu’s hatred.
Dinah felt strong arms lifting her, carrying her. A light breeze flowed beneath her head covering, her head and hair dangling over a strong-armed pillow. She didn’t have the strength to move or speak. Opening her eyes, she saw white, puffy clouds in an afternoon sky and heard hoopoe birds in the distance. And Nogahla’s chatter.
“Aban, is she all right? There, her eyes are open. Mistress? Are you all right?”
Sitis’s calming voice soothed the anxious girl. “Nogahla, she’ll be fine. We must get her to Orma’s cave, where we can tend to her head wound. She fell on a pottery shard.”
Dinah became vaguely aware of a wet, sticky warmth at the back of her neck and looked up at her human conveyance. “Aban?” She tried to escape his arms, but he tightened his grip, rolling her toward his chest and whispering, “Be at ease, lovely Dinah. I won’t hurt you.” She could feel her throat tighten with emotion. Who had held her or spoken so kindly since Shechem? Only Job.
Someone removed her head covering and stroked her forehead. “Rest, Dinah. Nogahla and I are with you.” Sitis’s serene face hovered over her, bouncing in step with the big man’s strides.
Dinah could hear Nogahla’s sobs and felt the girl’s hand caressing her feet. “Up this path,” the Cushite directed. “Be careful of your footing. Don’t drop her, Aban!”
Dinah felt the deep rumble of laughter in Aban’s chest and noted the familiarity with which Nogahla spoke his name. The Cushite had recognized goodness in this man long ago, and Aban’s attentions had been drawn to Nogahla for weeks. Oh, her head hurt too much to think of how complicated their relationship would be.
“Here we are.” The Cushite rushed into the cave while Aban and Sitis waited outside with Dinah.
“Mistress Sitis,” Aban began haltingly, “I know my fath—I mean, Master Sayyid has kept—”
“What?” Sitis and Dinah shouted and gasped the word simultaneously, interrupting whatever the captain had planned to say.
After closing his eyes briefly and expelling a long sigh, Aban seemed to search Sitis’s face for approval. “Mistress Sitis, my mother was Sayyid’s concubine for many years. She was his favorite because everything about her resembled—well, you.”
Dinah remembered Sitis telling her about the serving girls in Sayyid’s home, their uniform resemblance to his obsession.
“Where is your mother now, Captain?” Sitis asked flatly.
Dinah felt Aban’s subtle incline toward Sitis as he spoke, his breath choppy, anxious. “Sayyid sold her to Egyptian traders when I was twelve because it was time for my military training to begin. He feared her coddling would interfere with my journey into manhood.” A sigh lifted Dinah up and down in his arms. “Sayyid has been my only guiding force. I have obeyed him unquestioningly—until today. What I saw on his face this afternoon made me regret my role in your pain.”
Dinah watched a battle rage in Sitis’s eyes. Could she forgive her enemy’s most lethal weapon?
After only a moment’s hesitation, Sitis reached up to cup his cheek, her voice full of emotion. “Oh, Aban, I’m sorry you grew up without a mother’s love.”
Dinah felt Aban’s arms tense. “It matters not. I declared my position as Sayyid’s heir today.” He stood taller, a slight grin bending his lips. “Let us say he did not disagree, and we are currently in negotiations.”
Dinah tried to lift her head, but the pain restricted her movement. Still, she had to caution him. “Aban, you cannot negotiate with a snake. It strikes without reason or provocation.” The effort of speaking caused the clouds to spin.
Sitis continued when Dinah’s strength was spent. “If Sayyid has any idea you’ve helped me or Job, he’ll kill you, Aban—son or not. He has no loyalty to anyone but himself.” Sitis removed her own head covering then, revealing her shorn hair, and Dinah felt Aban’s chest swell with his gasp.
“Mistress Sitis, I had no idea.” For the first time in all this misery, Dinah saw Aban’s eyes glisten. “I give you my word,” he said as Nogahla emerged from the cave with Widow Orma, “you will have food and supplies in this cave by sunset.”
“Well, young man,” the widow said, her pink gums beaming a smile, “we won’t refuse a loaf of bread.”
Everyone chuckled at her modest thanks.
“You will see more bread than you’ve eaten in a year, widow.” Aban’s expression softened again as he turned to Sitis. “And you, mistress, will see the nursemaid you haven’t seen in over a year.”
“Oh, Aban!” Sitis threw her arms around the big man’s neck, crushing Dinah between them.
Trying not to squirm, Dinah was just about to protest when another voice came to her rescue. “Enough! Enough! You’re squishing my mistress!” Nogahla squeezed between Aban and Sitis, exchanging a furtive glance with the man who had seemingly captured her heart.
A deep, resonant chuckle erupted from Aban’s chest and vibrated Dinah’s shoulder. “All right, little Cushite. Where shall I put this mistress of yours?”
Nogahla chattered on about Widow Orma’s hospitality and their sleeping arrangements. Dinah glanced over Aban’s shoulder, and there at the bottom of the stony path were two filthy vagabonds crouched behind boulders. When Aban stooped to enter the cave, Dinah looked once more, but the beggars were gone.
Perhaps my eyes are playing tricks on me, she thought. A head wound can do that sometimes. Thinking no more of it, she allowed loving hands to minister to her weakness and praised El Shaddai for Sitis’s safety among them.
16
~Job 2:12~
When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads.
Widow Orma’s cave was cool and dark, every patch of dirt covered by a sleeping mat, a woman, or a basket filled with Nada’s food. Smudge-faced children peeked through the tattered curtain. Some even scooted a finger or toe under the obstacle to snitch a cake or date from the piles. Giggles and gasps erupted from the little residents of Uz’s first sector vying for a glimpse of the widow’s newest guest. Sitis pretended not to notice, but it was hard to ignore in a space only slightly bigger than the sleeping room she had occupied at Bela’s palace.
“Shoo! Get away from there!” Nada patted at the curtain, chasing away prying little eyes. “Mistress, how can I leave you here in this . . . this . . . cave?” Tears brimmed as she embraced Sitis for th
e hundredth time.
Sitis soaked up the love of Nada’s soft arms. “Aban says this is the safest place for me now. Sayyid may still try to kill me if I show myself publicly, and then he’ll shift blame to the Nameless Ones.”
“Are you afraid?” Dinah whispered. The question seemed to capture everyone’s attention. The widow, Nogahla, and Nada leaned in close to hear.
“I suppose I’m a little afraid,” Sitis said, “but I’m so relieved, I can feel little else.”
“Relieved?” Nada laid the back of her hand against Sitis’s forehead and guided her to a mat to sit down. “I think you must be ill, my Sitis. No one can feel relief in your situation.”
Sitis nudged away Nada’s hand, and the others chuckled as they nestled beside her. “I am relieved that Sayyid’s anger has finally turned away from Job—even though I’m now his target. I’m relieved to see my precious Nada again.” She cupped the woman’s cheek and held her gaze. “I’m immeasurably relieved to be at peace with God, and I would be even more relieved . . .” She paused, her fingers now brushing the feathery wrinkles of Nada’s brown face. “If my friend and nursemaid would discover the true God as well.” Nada’s gaze fell to the red dirt floor, and the other women grew uncomfortably silent.
Aban’s large brown hand drew back the curtain. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I must return with Nada before Sayyid realizes we’re gone. Bildad and Eliphaz’s army will arrive soon, and I must accompany Sayyid with our troops.”
Sitis let her hand fall from Nada’s cheek, but the woman clasped it tightly and kissed it. “On my next visit, I’ll bring your favorite fruit gruel, my Sitis-girl.”
“On your next visit,” Sitis said, “we’ll talk more of El Shaddai.”
Nada grinned and labored to her feet. After one last embrace, Sitis pulled the curtain aside and ushered her lifelong friend into the dusky shadows of the day’s end.
