“I want to go!” She bounced up and down, her unruly dark curls—so like mine—springing to life. “Ayal said I could come see the baby lambs!”
Ah. That must be what had brightened her mood that night when Ayal whispered into her ear. A distraction brought about by a promise to see a lamb. The mischief in Ayal’s eyes confirmed my guess.
Eben winced as Zayna jostled his injured hand. “You will only be in the way. And I cannot watch you.”
She pressed out her bottom lip and widened her brown eyes into moon-sized pleas.
“No, Zayna, I cannot supervise you during shearing. It is a big job.”
“I’ll come and watch the girls, Eben, so they won’t be under your feet,” I offered, eager for a diversion.
A heavy pall of mourning had hung over the camp for days. The metallic bitterness of Mosheh’s rebuke had finally run its course, and fresh water flowed in abundance again, but the remembrance of its sickening smell and acerbic taste would linger long in my memory. Perhaps the excursion would also distract me from the nagging desire to beg my mother for permission to accept Reva’s offer, if only for a while.
“Yes! Please! Oh, please, brother! We will be good! We promise!” Shoshana joined the chant, and both girls plied Eben with giggles and kisses. Of course he would give in. Our brother was no match for little-girl persuasion.
“You must stay near Shira.” He gave his best fatherly glare.
They nodded solemnly.
Lifting her eyes from the black and brown fabric she was weaving on a ground loom, my mother gave me a pointed look. “You may go for a while. But we must finish that last tent wall today, and I need your help.”
Another reason to join the excursion. My wool-worn palms were parched, and my shoulders ached from hunching over the ground loom, fashioned from acacia poles hammered into the rocky soil. A delay, even a small one, was welcome.
Hand in hand, the girls and I followed Eben and Ayal southward through the camp to where the flock was penned in a wide wadi. An offshoot of the stream from the mountain murmured through the thirsty canyon, sustaining plenty of green for the small flock that Ayal and his brothers maintained. Although the animals enjoyed the manna on the ground each morning, just as we did, they seemed to have a compulsion to nibble at the abundant desert grasses and thorny acacia bushes to bide their time.
These sheep were in desperate need of shearing. Their woolly brown coats hung heavy, tangling in the prickly vegetation that populated the wadis. Ayal’s brothers were already at work, the three men laboring in tandem, each holding down a sheep with one arm and using the other to clip the wool. I watched, fascinated at the quick work they made of the task as one fleece after another was tossed into the wagons.
At the sight of a ewe with spotted twin lambs tottering behind, Shoshana wrenched her hand from my grip and surged toward them. Startled, the ewe bounded away, her babies scurrying behind her. Defeated, Shoshana returned with a pout. “I only wanted to pet one.” She crossed her arms with a huff.
Eben and I exchanged amused glances. Our ten-year-old sister was notorious for rushing into situations without considering consequences.
“Sheep can be very skittish around people they aren’t familiar with,” said Eben. “It’s how they protect themselves from predators. Why don’t we let Ayal find you a lamb to touch instead?”
With a quick wink at Shoshana, Ayal obliged and, after only a few large strides, snatched up a lamb. Kneeling down, he held the lamb in his arms and invited the girls to come closer. Having learned her lesson, Shoshana approached more slowly this time, her hand outstretched. The little animal responded with a pathetic bleat and struggled before submitting to her ministrations.
“These two were born in the last week,” said Ayal. “Most came earlier in the season. It’s always frustrating when new ones arrive during shearing.”
“So very sweet.” I scratched the lamb between his ears. “Do you want to pet the lamb, Zayna?” My youngest sister was curled around Eben’s leg, her earlier excitement having melted into trepidation.
After some encouragement from Eben, she reached toward the lamb but jerked back her hand as soon as its ear flicked forward, sliding behind our brother again.
“It’s all right, Zayna. The lamb won’t hurt you,” he said.
She curved her face away, expression shuttered.
“It’s all right. You don’t have to touch him now.” He bent down to slip an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll just watch the lambs for a while, all right?” He offered his hand, and they walked off toward the herd, Shoshana trotting ahead of them, attempting to corral the other twin lamb against the canyon wall with her outstretched arms as the ewe looked on warily. The baby skittered off to its mother with a pitiful bleat.
“Zayna was bitten a few weeks ago,” I told Ayal, “by a neighbor’s dog. Since then, she shies away from all animals.”
“Ah. Understandable.” He scratched the lamb beneath the chin, and the little one closed its eyes to relish the attention.
“The bite didn’t break skin, but I fear it may leave a scar just the same. The animal knocked her down and clamped onto her arm so quickly none of us could react. I hate to think what would have happened had she been alone.” I scrubbed the shiver from my arms, surprised at the sudden chill that flashed through me. Not all animals walked on four legs.
Looking up at me, Ayal’s gaze roamed my face, as if somehow he’d sensed the shadows behind my words.
I lifted sunshine into my smile to avoid the scrutiny of the stranger who had whisked me from danger and then had brushed through my thoughts too many times since. “I must thank you, though, for what you did for Zayna and me. How did you know that I was Eben’s—?”
A sharp cry interrupted my question, and Ayal’s chin jerked toward the sound. He freed the lamb and, with a quick apology and a beckoning gesture to Eben, strode away, disappearing behind a boulder. Had some wild animal gotten ahold of a sheep?
Eben followed Ayal, and curiosity caused my feet to do the same. The path behind the boulder curved up into the hill. I could hear Eben and Ayal talking nearby, voices overlapped by the sounds of a sheep in distress.
Telling the girls to stay close, I followed the narrow ditch that served as a footpath, keeping watch for snakes as we stepped around prickly bushes and desert primroses.
The men were tending a ewe that lay tangled in the brush, her sides heaving as she panted and thrashed, much like Hadassah had during labor. I’d seen enough animals giving birth to know that the ewe’s huffing bleats and the saliva spilling from her mouth indicated a complication.
Ayal cleared the brush and helped her to her feet, then guided her toward a clear patch of ground. A shofar blew back toward camp, its notes bouncing off the granite boulders around us. Eben shielded his eyes against the glare of the morning sun, standing very still, as if straining to discern the echoed patterns against the hills. When the ram’s horn sounded again, his frown deepened. A Levite signal, one calling all heads of households to meet.
“There must be something wrong. I should go. Ayal, I am sorry.”
“Of course. Go find out what is happening. You can return later.” Ayal clapped Eben on his good shoulder. “Such is the burden of a firstborn. Glad I am not the eldest.”
“I’ll walk you girls back home on my way,” Eben said, waving a hand to Zayna and Shoshana. “Shira will stay and help you with the ewe, Ayal.”
My stomach clenched, and I stepped back, stammering, “Me? But I—”
“She may look little, but she is surprisingly strong,” Eben said with a grin. “Almost beat me at arm-wrestling once. Besides, she’ll be more help than me anyhow.” He lifted his bandaged hand. I tossed him an anxious glance that I hoped Ayal would not notice.
“I would appreciate your help, Shira. This ewe needs assistance.” Ayal scrubbed at his beard. “I’d rather not interrupt my brothers during shearing, especially since Yonah will have to go to the meeting as well. She’s fairl
y small, though, so all you’d have to do is hold her still.”
With silent acknowledgment of the reason for my hesitation, Eben reassured me with a look that communicated sincerity. “I know Ayal well, sister. He is a fellow Levite. I would trust him with my life. And yours.” He squeezed my shoulder.
My gaze flicked from my brother to Ayal, and confusion reigned in Ayal’s light brown eyes. Guilt for my quick judgments warred with my fear, and curiosity conflicted with my instincts to run. Somehow, the fervent desire to experience another birth conquered them all.
I clasped my hands together to hide their trembling and mustered a smile to mask the panic swimming in my chest. “I would be glad to help.”
“Good. Ayal will see you safely to camp when you are finished,” he said, his tone again promising complete faith in his friend. “I’ll see you in a while.” He turned and walked away, Shoshana and Zayna hand in hand behind him, leaving me staring at my brother’s back, alone with a strange man for the first time since Egypt.
7
My stomach lurched. In spite of my brother’s assurances, a tight fist of fear gripped my throat. I retreated a step, muscles tense and ready to flee.
I must have gone pale because Ayal put out a hand to steady me. “Shira?” Confusion swept across his face, followed by concern.
Surely Ayal would not hurt me. My overprotective brother trusted him enough to leave me with him, and Ayal had cared enough about Eben to drag him away from his moping around the campsite. So why would my heart not slow its erratic rhythm?
“Perhaps I should get one of my brothers . . .” Ayal’s tone was gentle as he ran his fingers through his fine, dark hair.
I inhaled, hoping he would attribute my trepidation to anxiety about helping with the ewe, instead of being alone with him. “No, I am fine. Let’s help this ima with her baby.”
The ewe was straining heavily against the contractions, her nose in the air. Circling again and again, she bleated, tossing her brown head back and forth.
Arms spread wide, Ayal and I corralled the ewe in the shade of an acacia. She made no move to escape, as if she understood our desire to ease her suffering. With a slow approach, Ayal rubbed the ewe’s back and breathed soft assurances. She quieted, but her eyes still wheeled about.
He glanced up at me. “Can you hold her steady? I must see if the lamb is breech.”
I wound my arms tightly about the woolly neck, echoing Ayal’s gentle words to calm the agonized sheep as she labored. The pleading in her luminous eyes cut into me.
Remembering how my voice had calmed Hadassah, I leaned close to the ewe’s ear, rubbed the bridge of her brown nose, and sang a quiet tune. After a few moments, she huffed and stilled. I grazed the back of my fingers against her smooth cheek, and she leaned into the caress.
“Has she not lambed before?” I looked back to find Ayal watching me, a little smirk tugging at his lips. A flush warmed my cheeks.
He smothered his amusement. “No, she is so small, we had hoped she would avoid the ram for another few months. But nature had its way.” Ayal’s face contorted with concentration as he examined the ewe. “Hmm. The lamb is not breech, but the front legs are bent down. Coming nose first.”
“Oh. Poor thing. No wonder she is hurting.” I bent to speak into her ear. “Don’t worry. Ayal will help you.”
He grunted as he pulled. Then he shook his head. “I cannot get the leg to turn. It’s twisted at a strange angle.” Frustration darkened his face. “I’m not sure I will be able to help her.”
“Is there something I can do?”
He kneaded the back of his neck. “Not unless you can get that leg turned around.”
Fluttery nerves unfurled inside my stomach, but I assured him I would try.
“Your hands are very small.” Apprehension colored his tone.
“They are.” I lifted my palms. “But that may be an advantage.”
He shifted his stance and scratched at his arm. “I suppose it could not hurt. But prepare yourself, it’s gruesome work.”
“I’ll be fine. I am . . . I will soon be training to become a midwife.”
Reva’s offer to learn the secrets of midwifery had taken a fierce hold on my imagination. I had considered the idea, tossed it out, picked it up again to examine each facet, hidden it under my pillow at night, and a few times, when alone with Kiya, nearly let it spill out of my mouth. The desire to accept was nearly unbearable. But I knew what my mother’s arguments would be.
Too young. Inexperienced. Unmarried.
All true.
All valid.
Ayal arched his brows, but with a shrug of his shoulders, he moved aside.
Eager to show him—and myself—that I was made of heartier material than he assumed, I took up my place behind the ewe as Ayal held her in an iron grip.
Summoning a blank expression to mask any internal reactions, I reached inside to feel for the lamb’s nose, then trailed my fingers down to its shoulders. The ewe bucked against me suddenly, and I lost my grip.
“It’s all right if you cannot get it,” said Ayal. “The leg is very twisted.”
I blew stray hair out of my face. “No. I can do this.” I closed my eyes as Ayal had done, imagining the position of the shoulders and the legs as I moved my hand deeper. There! A little hoof! Gently, I tugged, then put more pressure against it, wincing at the thought of hurting the lamb, or the ewe.
“They are more flexible than you think. Do what you need to do to turn that leg. Even if you must break it. Otherwise, they both will die.”
Determined not to allow that fate, I twisted the leg with more force and guided it toward the head, blinking away the sweat that trickled into my eyes from such exertion.
The leg released with a jolt. I could not restrain the bubble of relieved laughter that burst from my mouth. “I did it! The hoof is outside now.”
“Wonderful!” The warmth and pride in his light eyes gave me confidence to work at the second leg with renewed vigor.
The other leg was not twisted as much as the first, and soon both tiny hooves were visible. Ayal exchanged positions with me, unwound a rope from his narrow hips, and looped it around the lamb’s ankles. I gripped the ewe with all my strength as he pulled the lamb free.
While I restrained a gleeful shout, he knelt on the ground, brushing aside the sac that covered the baby’s nose. After a moment, his face fell, the slump of his shoulders announcing that the lamb was stillborn.
“No.” I drew an unsteady breath, knees wavering.
“It happens, Shira, all too often.” He gave me a sympathetic smile. “You did so well.”
Keeping my eyes averted from the motionless form on the ground, I focused on the mother, still contracting and heaving heavily against me.
“Why is she still in distress?”
“The afterbirth will come and she will calm.” He patted the ewe on the hindquarters. “I am so sorry, Ziba.”
“Her name is Ziba? You name the sheep?”
He scratched at his bare arm, darting a look back up the trail. “I do. My brothers tease me. But the ewes, especially, become like pets to me. I think I spend more time with them than I do my family.” He turned away, obviously a little embarrassed at revealing such a soft spot for his animals.
“I like Ziba. It’s a good name for such a sweet mama. You will breed again, Ziba.” I stroked her velvety chin with my palm.
The ewe bleated and yanked her head back, twisting to look behind herself.
“Another one is coming!” Ayal said.
“Twins?”
“Yes, hold her still. This one is in a good position. I see both hooves.”
I held my breath, fighting hard against the hope that sprouted. This one may be lifeless as well. Ziba bleated, straining hard. Ayal pulled and groaned, sweat dripping down his face. With a jolt, the lamb came free. Ziba and I both let out a huff of release.
Ayal cleaned the nose of the little one. His triumphant smile sent dizzy relief swirling
through me. One lived! I released Ziba, and she turned to examine her baby. She nuzzled him with her brown nose and then licked his head with a low, comforting nicker. He jostled against the pressure of her rough tongue and bleated a tinny noise as she cleaned him, head to hoof.
Ayal and I stood by in silence as she tended the live baby, then left him for a moment to sniff at the stillborn. I dug my nails into my palms as she gently butted the lifeless form with her forehead, but she returned to her living little one just as he was attempting to stand.
The comical movements of the newborn made Ayal and me laugh. The lamb cried out a few times, ears flopping about as he jerked forward. Finally, he pushed his hindquarters up into the air and then, with a quick upward thrust of his knees, triumphed to a standing position. I could not help but clap. The lamb nudged his way around Ziba, looking for his first meal.
“A miracle,” I whispered. As I spoke, my flippant declaration—that somehow I would become a midwife—took permanent root.
“That it is.” The lift of Ayal’s broad smile created deep grooves on either side of his mouth. The emotion of the last hour heightened my senses, and I returned the smile with an awareness that he and I had shared something remarkable—witness to a new life.
Joy danced in his eyes as he watched the lamb nurse. I chided myself that I had feared Ayal, even for a moment. His rescue of Zayna and me during the stampede, as well as his gentleness with Ziba, spoke volumes about his character. Something sparked deep inside me, a pull to stand closer to him—a sensation that I had not felt in a long time.
“You did well. Eben was right, you are strong. I’ll remember not to challenge you at arm-wrestling.” His lips curved again under his close-cropped beard as he held me in a gaze that curled around me like a warm embrace.
8
Dvorah
3 AV
5TH MONTH OUT FROM EGYPT
It was the empty hole in my gut that pushed me out of the tent after only two weeks, along with the desperate desire to feed my son. At nearly three years old, he would be weaning soon, and although Mosheh had announced that manna would appear every morning on the ground, I didn’t believe it. I needed a skill or I would be dependent on my brother-in-law, Hassam, forever.
Shadow of the Storm Page 4
