by Mesu Andrews
A long silence stretched between them, though not uncomfortable, for they had always been like one soul in two bodies. “I’m glad you came,” he said, his warm brown eyes searching deeper than words could express. “But for six moons, I’ve watched your heart ache for this man named Job. Why couldn’t you go back to Dinhabah with Aban and Nogahla? Even now, I hear Aban prepares to return within the next three moons. Why don’t you plan to go back with them?”
Dinah wiped her cheeks and sat up, shrugging away his embrace. “Job wants nothing more than a nursemaid, Joseph.” The bitterness rang in her ears like cymbals. She turned away, ashamed at the lingering pain. “At least in your household, no one expects me to be their nursemaid.”
A mischievous grin played on Joseph’s lips. “So, you didn’t come to Egypt for me.” He tilted her chin up with his finger. “You ran to Egypt to escape Job.”
Dinah’s heart squeezed a little. “I left Uz because Uncle Esau lied, and then I discovered my brother’s resurrection.” She lifted her hand to brush his cleanly shaven cheek. “When Abba Jacob’s caravan arrived at Goshen and I saw you adorned in all the splendor of Egypt, I thought our brothers had made a terrible blunder. I couldn’t see Joseph in the kohl-rimmed eyes and white linen kilt. I couldn’t believe the man wearing that golden neck band and headpiece was my little milk brother!”
Joseph’s laughter filled the air like the aroma of lotus blossoms, and Dinah’s heart fluttered as if a bird had taken flight.
A bird. She glanced again at the wall, gazing at the hoopoe. Casually, she pointed to the mural. “Joseph, does that scene on your wall represent you and me when we were younger, with a hoopoe bird watching over us? Did you ask your artist to paint it that way, or did he add the bird through his own creativity?”
Joseph turned on the couch, resting an elbow on his knee as he’d done when he was a boy. Sadness shadowed his expression. “You’re perceptive as usual, and yes, that’s you and me. I asked the artist to paint the day as I remembered it, and the hoopoe has always been a symbol of my sister’s strength and the good fortune I knew Yahweh would bring—after the sorrow.”
Dinah’s breath caught. “What do you mean? What day was that, and how can you think me strong?”
“It was the day before Shechem took you.”
Dinah’s heart stopped.
“You’ve never been more beautiful than you were that day, Sister. Innocent. Unsuspecting of what the world—and men—were capable of.”
Her throat constricted, but her silence was blessed by the most beautiful words she’d ever heard.
Tears welled in Joseph’s eyes as he continued. “We played in the meadow that day, and I remember seeing a hoopoe. Its flight was awkward and undulating like a butterfly, just as you were beautiful yet uncertain in your youth. A falcon swooped in, threatening the little bird, but suddenly the hoopoe soared to heights that put the falcon to shame. Through the years, I’ve thought of you often, wondering what became of my lovely hoopoe sister after her falcon attack at Shechem. I’ve always believed Yahweh would give you unexpected strength through which you would soar.”
“Oh, Joseph.” Tears streamed down Dinah’s cheeks. She had no idea the hoopoe had been a symbol to him so many years ago. And Joseph could not have guessed that a simple bird held such meaning in her days with Job. How could Yahweh use a simple creature to weave a golden thread throughout her life?
“Dinah, I was only fourteen, but I remember what Levi and Simeon did to the Shechemites.” Joseph gazed intently at her, and she was overwhelmed by his love. “My sister, I could not deliver you when our abba and brothers used your pain to satisfy their own ambition. But I can protect you now. No one will ever harm you again.”
Dinah hugged him tightly, whispering through her emotions, “You cannot save me from everything, dear brother. Job thought he would save me from wicked men, but he broke my heart more than any other.” Laying her head on Joseph’s shoulder, she asked, “Why did El Shaddai waste two years of my life, letting me fall in love so another man could hurt me?”
Leaning back, Joseph held her shoulders. “It’s like I told our brothers, Dinah. Yahweh’s plans are greater than ours. What our brothers intended for evil by selling me into slavery, God worked for good by allowing me to interpret Pharaoh’s dreams and prepare the world for this drought. I believe El Shaddai sent you to Uz much like He sent me to Egypt. You have suffered much at the hands of men, but in the process, much good has come. You sustained Job in his illness and restored Sitis with your testimony of forgiveness. Your friend Aban and I have established Egyptian trade routes through Dinhabah.” Joseph scowled. “What a ridiculous name for a city. I’m thankful Aban has some influence with the Ishmaelite prince Bildad, and will work to restore that city’s name to Uz.”
Dinah laughed and pulled at his earlobe.
“Without you,” he continued, “your friends Aban and Nogahla would never have met and married, nor would they have come to Egypt and found Nogahla’s father, Potiphar, my old master.”
He gazed into her eyes as if searching for hidden treasure. Suddenly he stood and took Dinah’s hand, lifting her to her feet. “The Dinah I see before me is meek yet strong. She is compassionate and loving, yet bold and fiery.” Holding her face tenderly between his hands, he said, “The sister I left when I was seventeen could not have grown into this woman without the experiences of Uz.”
Dinah coiled her hands around Joseph’s forearms, and they leaned their foreheads together as they had done a thousand times when Joseph’s brothers had teased or tormented him. The bubbling water in the garden pond washed away Dinah’s weary thoughts, and it must have masked the clatter of Manasseh’s sandals on the tiled walkway.
“Auntie Dinah, a wealthy cripple has asked to see you!” he said.
She looked up but held tightly to Joseph’s arms. There was Job under the acacia tree, supported by only one cane, dressed in a fine striped robe. But his expression looked as though he’d lost his best friend.
25
~Genesis 36:33~
When Bela died, Jobab son of Zerah from Bozrah succeeded him as king.
Job stared, dumbstruck, at the sum of all his fears. Dinah stood in the arms of a wealthy, handsome husband who obviously adored her. Job was too late. Elihu nudged him from behind, but he couldn’t take another step. They’d come at midday, hoping to avoid the enigmatic cousin Joseph. Instead, they’d interrupted a couple’s intimate moments.
Job and Elihu had arrived in Goshen to discover that Egypt’s legendary vizier was Jacob’s long-lost son. They’d left in haste, knowing only that Dinah lived in the vizier’s palace. Now it was abundantly clear that Dinah and her beloved shared Joseph’s home.
“Manasseh! You mustn’t say such things.” Dinah gathered the little boy in her arms. “This is not a cripple. He’s my friend Job.”
The muscular, bronzed man wrapped a possessive arm around her shoulder. Awkward silence lingered while Job took in every detail of Dinah’s loveliness—one last glance. The mandrakes and narcissus paled in comparison, and the heady scent of lotus blossoms awakened Job’s reality. I cannot give her all she deserves.
Job cleared his throat and turned to go. “I’m sorry I interrupted. It was wrong of me to come—”
“Job, wait!” Dinah wrenched away from the man’s arm. “Don’t go. I want you to meet my brother Joseph.”
Job’s legs nearly buckled with relief, but he was still bothered by the dashing young man’s impudent smile. “Your brother? I thought your brother was Pharaoh’s vizier.” This man-child was no older than Job’s sons had been. And where were his Egyptian face paints, his kilt and royal jewelry? How could he be the lauded “father of Pharaoh,” the provision of Egypt, who had saved the world from famine?
“Elihu!” Dinah rushed past Job, seeming to have just realized her young friend lingered behind him. Job awkwardly hobbled aside, making room for their reunion. “When did you arrive?” she asked, nervous excitement in her voice.
“Have you been to Potiphar’s villa to visit Aban and Nogahla?”
Elihu glanced from Job to Dinah and back again, measuring his response. “We arrived at your abba Jacob’s camp yesterday and have traveled all night to find you.”
Job bowed his head under the weight of his fear. There it was. Elihu had revealed the singular purpose of their journey. To find you . . . to find you . . . He felt like a shy boy, too embarrassed to meet her gaze. Silence settled on the garden, the fountains pattering like spring rain.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” Dinah stepped toward Job, and when her hand rested on his arm, his eyes rested on her sweet face. “Joseph,” she said, “please come and meet my friend Job.”
Job sensed the vizier’s movement, though he could not take his eyes off Dinah. “I think I’ll talk with Job another time, sister,” Joseph said, moving past them with little Manasseh reluctantly trailing behind him. “I believe I’ll get acquainted with your friend Elihu here.” Joseph slapped his guest on the back and ushered Elihu into the pink granite halls of his palace.
Joseph’s departure stirred the air with the faint scent of almond oil, and Job wondered if Dinah could be content with a man whose skin didn’t gleam with the extract. She was so beautiful, and as vizier, Joseph could introduce her to the most handsome and powerful men in Egypt. Dinah seemed happy here. El Shaddai, should I even tell her of my love?
“What are you thinking?” she asked, her eyes as blue as the lotus blossoms floating in the pond.
“I . . . I’m thinking . . .” How could he tell her the thousand thoughts that raged against each other? Like opposing breezes, they swirled into a whirlwind of confusion. On the dung pile, he and Dinah had talked for hours. In the ashes, words had come easily.
“Why did you come?” The softness in her voice was drying up like week-old cheese.
“I came because . . . because . . .” Job studied his hands, the three fingers on his right, the single finger on his left. And then he heard her sob. Startled, he looked up into the great droplets of diamonds falling from her eyes.
She swiped the gems away with the back of her hand. “Do you still seek a nursemaid?”
The words pierced him. “Is that what you think?” He dropped his cane and grabbed her shoulders. “I am a cripple, begging a beauty to love me!” Tears rolled down his own cheeks. “But I have no right to tell you I love you with all my heart, when my arms cannot carry you to a bridal chamber and my wealth cannot promise you a kingdom.” The outburst left him feeling almost as startled as Dinah looked. Breathing hard, he didn’t know whether to kiss her or grab his cane and join the next caravan to Dinhabah.
They stood silently, weeping, searching each other’s gaze.
“Did I hear you say you love me?” Dinah finally whispered.
“Is that all you heard?” Job replied softly. He longed to catch a tear that dangled at the corner of her jaw. But he released her shoulders, staring at his contemptible hands and then trying to hide them behind the folds of his robe.
“I have loved you, Job,” she said, “since the day I met you.” She must have glimpsed his uncertainty because she quickly explained, “I didn’t fall in love with you until after Sitis died, but I loved the ideal of you, the man of God you are.” Her cheeks flushed a shade that would have put a sunset to shame. She reached for his left hand, lifted it to her cheek, and then turned and kissed his palm. “But I love you now as a woman loves a man, as a wife should love a husband.”
She bowed her head, turning her eyes away for the first time. He cupped her face, beckoning her gaze, and felt like he could drown in those blue pools. “How could you know those were the words I needed to hear?” He kissed away her tears, so sweet, mingling with his own as their lips met for the first time.
The days following Job’s declaration of love felt like a dream to Dinah. Joseph assumed the role of abba and determined to pay Job a handsome bride-price and provide an abundant dowry. Dinah chose linen and gauze cloth for her robes in every color of the rainbow, some with gold threads woven throughout, others having gems sewn into the fabric. A jewel merchant fitted Dinah’s bridal crown, creating it out of gold from Ophir with precious onyx, sapphires, jasper, rubies, and topaz from Cush.
“I feel like a queen,” she whispered to Nogahla on the morning of her wedding.
Dinah, Job, Elihu, Aban, and Nogahla had sailed with Joseph’s family and guards away from the docks at Thebes two days before. Pharaoh’s musicians serenaded their departure, and dancers moved along the banks, whirling streamers and turning in place like a child’s spinning top. Dinah grew dizzy just watching.
More musicians accompanied the wedding party on the ship, trilling flutes and lyres, strumming harps. The longboat sloshed through the dwindling Nile, draped with great spans of white Gaza linen, a new type of cloth woven by the Edomites near Zophar’s home.
“Wouldn’t Master Zophar turn as red as mean old Esau if he knew his gauze decorated your wedding felucca?” Mischief danced in Nogahla’s dark eyes, and Dinah enjoyed a moment of naughty delight.
After two days and nights on the Nile, they had reached Avaris this morning, where the wedding party disembarked and now traveled by land to Abba Jacob’s camp in Goshen. The black soil and green plains of Goshen resembled a jewel amid the world’s dusty brown drought. Pairs of men rode in Pharaoh’s fine chariots, and the women rode in ox-drawn carts. Dinah jostled beside Nogahla and three handmaids in the ornate bridal cart with golden wheels, its team of oxen draped in purple, their horns polished to a brilliant sheen.
“Mistress—” Nogahla began, but Dinah placed two gentle fingers on her lips.
“You are now the mistress of your own estate, Nogahla, with serving maids to tend you. You are married to a wealthy man who loves you and worships El Shaddai. It’s time you called me Dinah.”
Nogahla reached for Dinah’s hand and entwined their fingers. “All right, Dinah, but don’t forget. You are also about to marry a wealthy man who loves you and worships El Shaddai.”
Dinah lowered her gaze. Perhaps a former Cushite servant considered the gifts Job received from his Edomite clan an abundant estate, but Dinah knew they would have to live carefully in order to sustain Job’s large home and raise a family. “Nogahla, I am happy with the riches of my husband’s love and the modest gifts from family and friends.”
Her friend gasped and covered her mouth as if she’d swallowed one of the flies swarming the ox’s tail. “You don’t know!”
Dinah waited, but Nogahla didn’t elaborate. “Know what?”
“No, I’m not going to spoil the surprise.” She began shaking her head and pressed her lips together, forming an adorable pink ribbon.
“Well, now you have to tell me!” Dinah was suddenly quite interested in the meetings Job and Joseph had enjoyed while in Thebes, their growing camaraderie and easy banter. In fact, now that Nogahla was acting so coyly, she remembered Aban and Elihu had joined some of those secretive sessions. “Tell me, or I’ll bribe Nada to live with me half the time when we return to Dinhabah!”
Nogahla chuckled. “All right, all right, I’ll tell you,” she said. “But I think Nada will want to share us anyway. Don’t you?” Dinah brushed Nogahla’s cheek before she divulged the truth. “Aban said that in the time we’ve been away, Yahweh has increased Master Job’s wealth considerably. Uz—I mean Dinhabah—has become a major trading stop, and both Aban’s wealth and Master Job’s have been more than blessed.” Nogahla’s eyes twinkled. “See? I told you we would both be married to wealthy men.”
Dinah stared in disbelief. How could this be true? She remembered Joseph’s words, “Yahweh’s plans are greater than ours,” and moments later, Job had walked through the door.
She focused on the chariots in the wedding processional ahead of them and realized each of the men had his own amazing story of Yahweh’s personal involvement and blessing. “Nogahla, could you ever have dreamed you’d see your father again?” The gruff soldier rode in the firs
t chariot with Joseph, holding the reins for the vizier who had once been his slave.
The Cushite’s tears brimmed on her lashes. “Though he told me the sad news of my mother’s death, at least I’ve come to know the father I met only briefly as a child.” She raised her slender fingers to her throat, her features that of a woman, not a girl. “And El Shaddai answered a prayer I never dared pray. Yahweh granted me a husband who can speak with my abba as an equal—a soldier and a man of property, a man who has shown the great Potiphar that El Shaddai is not just for the Hebrews.” Tears spilled onto her mahogany cheeks, and Dinah hugged her close.
“Your husband is a good man, my friend.” Dinah watched Aban’s mastery of the twin-stallioned chariot, in which Job steadied himself against a special prop that Joseph had ordered built within the groom’s chariot. “We are blessed women indeed.” She marveled at Sayyid’s righteous son and praised God for Job’s miraculous testing, faith, and healing.
In the third chariot, Elihu wandered in zigzag patterns across the emerald green pastures of Goshen. He’d spent hours studying the horsemanship techniques but used little time for practice. Dinah couldn’t hold back a giggle at the sight of Job’s exemplary student regally balanced with one hand on the reins and one on the chariot gate, while the vizier’s guards made every effort to dodge Elihu’s meandering stallions. El Shaddai, bless my friend with a pure and lovely bride. He deserves a woman who will love him as I love Job.
Abba Jacob’s camp came into view, and Dinah’s heart skipped a beat. Goat’s-hair tents dotted the land while flocks and herds roamed the pastures and gleaned the fallow fields. It smelled like home—sweaty shepherds and sheep dung, lentil stew and roasting lamb. Children squealed, pointing and waving at the vizier’s chariot guards, only to be greeted by unflinching kohl-lined eyes.
