He bent closer. His lips skimmed hers ever so slightly as his arms came around her, pulling her close until she felt the beat of his heart against her chest. His kiss deepened, slowly at first, as if uncertain. Did he think of his first wife while he held her? But she shoved the thought aside as his kiss captured her with such hunger it took her breath.
She wrapped both arms about his neck, pulled the turban from his head, and returned the kiss, running her fingers through his hair. He laughed as she fumbled with his robe, his hands resting on hers, causing her to still.
“Let me.”
She blushed at the way he held her with a look, but a moment later he swooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed that seemed to occupy one whole side of the room.
“Now you are truly my bride,” he whispered, his kiss trailing her ear, her cheeks, her lips.
“And you are my kinsman redeemer.” She smiled as she spoke, but the look he gave her made her pause, as though he had forgotten the initial reason they had come to this place. “And beloved husband,” she added to reassure him. “I have always wanted it so.” She drew closer, kissing him.
His joyous chuckle filled the room, and his love carried her on eagle’s wings.
Five Months Later
Naomi sat in a corner of Boaz’s plush sitting room, sorting threads of various colors for Ruth to weave into a new robe for Boaz. They were working in secret as best they could when he left the house for the fields. But more than once he had returned home to surprise them, and they had either scrambled to hide the work or acted as though Ruth was planning to sell her weaving to the merchants. Boaz had merely nodded as though he was only half listening.
“Do you think he suspects?” Ruth asked, looking up from the loom. “I need the black thread next,” she added, smiling. “This will be the finest robe I’ve ever made.” She glanced at Naomi, her cheeks coloring as though she thought she had spoken out of turn. “That is, it is the best I can do.”
“There is no reason not to be proud of your work, my daughter. I have never seen Boaz wear anything finer than what you are weaving now.” Naomi leaned into the cushion and watched Ruth work for a moment. Boaz and Ruth had been wed for five months now, and still Ruth said nothing about a babe. Was it possible her daughter-in-law was barren after all?
Oh Adonai, have mercy.
How often she had prayed the prayer, and yet she could not deny that God was good. Had He not seen her through sorrow upon sorrow? Surely He would bless Boaz and Ruth’s union.
“Is something wrong, Mother?” Ruth glanced up again from the work.
Naomi shook herself and returned to sorting the threads. “No, no. Nothing is wrong.”
Ruth paused until Naomi looked at her. “Something is wrong or you would not look at me so.” She smiled. “Tell me, please.”
“It is just an old woman feeling foolish, that is all.” How could Naomi ask the girl such a question? If Ruth was pregnant, she would have told her.
“Feeling foolish about what?” Ruth had a way of prodding her that could sometimes be rather annoying. But Naomi smiled at her just the same.
“I had hoped . . . that is . . . it has been five months, and I wondered . . .” She stopped, feeling like the words were coming out all wrong. How was it possible that sometimes she could speak well and other times she twisted everything upside down?
Ruth laughed. “You are wondering if God has yet blessed us with a child.”
Naomi nodded and looked away, embarrassed at her own nosiness. “Forgive me. I know you will tell me when the time is right.”
“You will be the first to know . . . even before Boaz.”
Naomi lifted her head and met Ruth’s suddenly sober gaze. They studied each other in silence.
“I do not know for sure,” Ruth said softly. “It has only been a month and I will need another to confirm, so you must not tell him. He will only worry.” A smile touched the corners of her mouth with the secret of knowing, and Naomi did not miss the added glow in her dark eyes.
“I will tell no one,” she said, returning to her threads. “But as soon as you finish that robe for Boaz, you must start making more cloths and coverings for the babe.” She glanced up and gave Ruth a conspiratorial wink. Both of them looked about the room, and Naomi breathed a relieved sigh to find it empty of servants. She must take more care when to speak of these things.
Ruth was right. Boaz would worry. He had lost too many children. He would fear the same with Ruth no matter how much the circumstances differed, no matter how often others reassured him. For who but God knew the outcome of such things?
Please, have mercy, Adonai.
Naomi sensed she would be repeating the prayer for many months to come.
Heshvan (October)
A week passed with a heightened awareness between Naomi and Ruth, and Ruth sensed a closeness with her mother-in-law she had not known before. They walked about Boaz’s estate shortly after he left for the fields.
“A few more weeks and we should know,” Ruth said when they had passed the gardens and walked beneath the trees lining the walls that protected Bethlehem from invaders. “Do you think two months is enough time? Should I wait three or four before I tell him?”
She reached for Naomi’s arm and tucked it beneath hers. The uneven roots protruding from the ground could make a person unsteady, though she would never suggest to Naomi that she could not handle such terrain. She stopped when they reached the end of Boaz’s estate and met Naomi’s gaze.
“It is a good question, my daughter. I do not know a good answer for you, though. The man has lost so much . . .” She looked beyond her, and Ruth sensed memories had taken her back to all that she had also lost. At last Naomi looked her way again. “I think you should tell him early. He will want to know, and if he fears, we will encourage him. Is not God in this? We will trust Him that all will be well.”
A noise coming from the front of the house, a servant calling Naomi’s name, stopped Ruth’s reply. The servant traveled the length of the house.
“I’m here,” Naomi called as the two of them walked toward the inner courtyard.
The servant hurried to a stop and caught his breath. “Melek’s wife Neta begs that you come. His grandchild is even now about to be born.”
Ruth and Naomi exchanged a glance. “Hava?”
The servant nodded. “Melek has sent a donkey. Neta said for you to hurry.”
“I will go with you,” Ruth said, following quickly behind.
Naomi shook her head. “You must not run, my daughter. Ride or walk, but if you come, come slowly.”
Ruth met her gaze and nodded, knowing. Naomi accepted Ruth’s nod, climbed onto the donkey, and let Melek’s servant lead her away.
43
Boaz stood at the edge of his fields, wondering where the year had gone. How was it possible that only a few months ago Ruth had gleaned among the harvesters, and now his men walked among the plowed ground, bags tied to their waists, tossing grain among the furrows all over again to await another harvest? He glanced heavenward. The skies spoke heavily of coming rain, and Boaz could smell it on the wind. The winter rains would feed the seed, and the barley and wheat would grow and flourish, another fulfillment of God’s provision, His promise.
He walked on, examining each row, catching Ezra’s eye across the field. The man nodded his acknowledgment that all was well. Good. The barley would soon be in and the wheat would follow. He smiled. Perhaps by the time the next harvest came around, Ruth might have an announcement of firstfruits of her own.
Would she? The thought both stirred and troubled him. They had been together for five months and she had said nothing. Perhaps she would be as Adi had been and wait years. Hadn’t she been wed to Mahlon for ten with no child? What if she were unable to bear?
He walked on, half frustrated with himself for actually thinking such a thing might be good. For if the truth were known, if he could admit it to her, he feared losing her, had come to love her,
truly love her. If he lost her . . .
He let the thought die away, vaguely aware of someone shouting in the distance. He turned and saw a man running toward him. His heart jumped in his chest. Had something happened to her? To Naomi?
He hurried to meet the runner and told his breathing to slow as he recognized Hamul. But at the look of terror in his eyes, Boaz’s heart picked up its pace again.
“Hamul. What is it?” He reached the young man’s side and placed one arm about him. “Tell me.”
“Hava.” Hamul bent, placed both hands on his knees. “She is in labor with our child.” He looked up at Boaz, his eyes showing stark terror. “What if something happens to her?”
Boaz squeezed Hamul’s shoulder, and together they began walking the length of his fields. “This is not a time for a man to go anywhere near the birthing chamber, my son.” Though Hamul was his cousin, their age difference made the familiar endearment seem right. “You don’t need to hear Hava’s cries, for you do not know what she is truly feeling. It will only strike fear in you, as I can see it already has.”
“But Father is there. He thinks me a coward to flee.”
Boaz clenched his jaw. Melek had a thing or two to learn in dealing with his son. But how did he know whether he would do any better as a father? Melek had been doting at first, then he grew so strict the boy could do little. It was no wonder Hamul had turned to making his own decisions where Hava was concerned.
“I can assure you, your father did not attend the births of you or your sisters. And you can be sure he is at the city gate or somewhere far enough from Hava’s chambers to drown out her screams.” He patted Hamul’s back. “When did they send you from her side?”
He laughed at the chagrined look in Hamul’s eyes. “How did you know they sent me away?” He gnawed his lower lip.
Boaz smiled. “Because they did the same to me. Women don’t like men hovering.” He led them along the rest of the rows where the workers had already tossed the grain into the furrows and covered the ground with the tap of a foot. “Now come. Let’s both get our minds on the new crop and we’ll check on the women later.”
Hamul nodded, though by the look he gave Boaz he wasn’t convinced that Boaz knew what he was talking about.
“One more push, Hava. I can see the full head of hair, and the shoulders are almost through.” Naomi bent her knees before Hava while Neta rubbed the girl’s shoulders where she sat on the birthing stool.
Ruth stood to the side, waiting with heated water, while Melek’s other wives busied themselves with the bloodied sheets and keeping the room warm. Too warm for Ruth’s sake. She wiped sweat from her brow, feeling almost faint. And sick. The scents of sweat and blood and too many women in the same room nearly overwhelmed her.
Hava groaned and pushed, and at last the baby’s cry filled the room. Women laughed and cried, “It’s a girl!” And Hava wept. But Ruth clung to the table where the bowl of water stood warming and felt the room spinning.
“I don’t feel so good.” She wondered if her words could be heard above the din, and she struggled to keep herself standing.
Moments later she faintly heard someone shout, “She’s going down!” And the blackness beckoned as her knees crumpled beneath her.
“Ruth!” Naomi turned and saw her daughter-in-law fall into a heap behind her. “Someone hurry and help us.” She handed the infant to Neta to tend while she raced to Ruth’s side. “My daughter.” She felt her forehead. “She is too warm. Chana, come and help me lift her out of here.”
Chana and Elke both joined her, and together the three of them lifted Ruth up and carried her into the cooler courtyard. Elke ran to get cushions and gave orders to the servants for help.
Naomi placed a cool cloth on Ruth’s face and undid the warm robe she wore. “You should have shed this before entering the birthing room.” She tsked, angry with herself for not thinking to tell Ruth what to do. The girl had never been in such a situation before except for Orpah’s son’s birth, and there were fewer women then. And of course, Ruth had not been pregnant. But now . . .
“Send for Boaz,” Naomi ordered Chana as if she were a servant, but Melek’s first wife did not seem put off by her concern. “And Hamul,” she added, remembering that the babe, though a girl, would need her father’s blessing. But would Melek bless the child of a man who was not his son? He could sell her or send her away when she was old enough. As patriarch of his family, he held that power over Hamul, despite what Hamul had done to protect Hava.
The thoughts troubled her as she heard Chana hurry off, sending servants to find all of the men, Melek included.
“My daughter, please wake up.” She undid the belt at Ruth’s waist and placed another cool cloth over her brow. Her hair was damp, her veil left in one of the rooms in the house when they had entered.
Please, Adonai, I can’t lose her too.
Ruth stirred slowly, her eyes blinking open. “What happened?” She tried to sit up, but Naomi placed a hand to her chest. “Don’t get up too fast. You fainted, and we dare not let that happen again.”
Ruth’s brow knit in puzzlement. “I remember feeling sick.” She pressed a hand to her middle. “And did Hava have a girl?”
Naomi nodded. “Yes, yes. She did.” Her smile grew wide as she looked on this beautiful woman she called daughter. “And you, my dear girl, are most definitely with child.”
“But . . .”
“All the signs point to it, Ruth. I should never have allowed you into the birthing room. The first few months tend to bring on the sickness of morn.”
“But it is nearly evening.”
Naomi shrugged. “Sometimes the sickness comes on in the evenings. Trust me, I know of what I speak.”
Ruth looked at her, eyes wide. Moments later the sound of running, pounding feet drew near. She glanced beyond Naomi as Boaz burst into the courtyard ahead of Hamul and Melek. While the other men rushed into the house, Boaz knelt at Ruth’s side.
“They said you were hurt.” His breath came fast as he took her hand. Naomi backed away, leaving them space.
“No, not hurt,” Ruth said, her gaze meeting his. Such love was evident in that one look it made Naomi’s heart ache. This was a good thing. A blessing. Despite all of the heartache, Ruth’s marriage to Boaz was good.
“Then what?” His brows rose, and he glanced from Ruth to Naomi and back again. “Tell me what is wrong, for they did not tell me to hurry for no reason.”
“She fainted,” Naomi said. “But not to worry, my son. She was simply feeling a little sick in a room that was too warm.”
His puzzled look did not leave when he searched Ruth’s face. “Beloved?”
“I believe I am with child,” she said softly. “Mother Naomi says I have all the signs. I became sick and fainted because of the babe.” She touched the place under her heart where the child grew in secret.
Boaz sat back, wonder in his gaze. “But . . .” A frown creased his brow. “But you fell. Is the babe . . . ?”
“The babe is fine, and your wife is fine, my lord,” Naomi said, coming behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Now take your wife home and make sure she rests. In a few days she will be as normal as she has always been.”
Boaz looked at Naomi but a moment. His attention was for Ruth alone. Gently, as though he carried a vessel that could easily break, he lifted her into his arms and began the walk toward home.
Naomi watched them leave, her heart full. In her mind’s eye she looked back, saw the day Mahlon was born, almost sensed the first small flutter of his body growing within her. What love she had known! But in the ensuing years, the wasted years in Moab, she was certain nothing good or lovely would ever enter her life again. Not after so much loss.
The noise from the household drifted to her, drawing her back to the present. She turned and moved toward the birthing chamber, but stopped at the sight of Melek standing at a window in the sitting room. Hamul was nowhere to be seen. She walked to him, this brother o
f Elimelech, the one who could have claimed Ruth if he had chosen to do so. How glad she was that he had refused. She had never gotten along well with Melek, always thought his greed had carried too much influence on Elimelech. But that didn’t mean she should be unkind to him now.
She approached cautiously, gauging his mood. “A blessed day it is, my brother,” she said when she was within arm’s length. “You have a granddaughter.” Would he agree?
He turned, looked into Naomi’s eyes. “Hava has a daughter, yes.”
“And your son has chosen to accept the child as his own.” Naomi’s gaze softened as she glimpsed the hint of pain in Melek’s eyes.
“I’m grateful it wasn’t a boy. At least that is one thing that will not ruin Hamul’s inheritance.” He looked beyond her, and she stared at him. The comment shouldn’t surprise her. He had always cared more about the land and passing it on to a son, though even Moses had allowed for daughters to inherit where no sons were present.
Naomi sighed, suddenly weary of this brother-in-law who could not see past another’s faults. “Will you accept her as your granddaughter then? Will you bless her as the daughter your son loves?”
Melek moved away from Naomi to the other window that overlooked the courtyard. Voices from the birthing room drifted to them down the hall, and the cry of an infant suddenly pierced the air.
An urgent need to run to them, to help somehow, washed over Naomi, but she waited, saw the way Melek winced at the sound of the child’s cries. She stepped closer to him, placed an arm on his shoulder.
“She sounds like every daughter my wives have ever born to me.” He looked at her. “Though I suppose all infants cry the same.”
Naomi smiled. “Our mothers would probably agree that even we wailed pitifully when we were hungry or wet or in need of our mother’s love.”
He glanced at her, then looked toward the hall from where the sounds still came. She saw the Adam’s apple move in his thick neck, saw his brows knit, and could imagine the anguish going on in his heart and mind. The child had not been conceived in love but in hate. An act of violence against Hava, and yet Hamul had protected her, even going against his father’s wishes, which could have caused more problems than it did.
Redeeming Grace: Ruth's Story Page 26
