A Light on the Hill

by Connilyn Cossette

  Pekah nodded at me, his expression kind. “Shalom. I am glad to meet you. Your father speaks so highly of you. And I, for one, am anxious to sample one of these meals he brags about every day. I am told you are the best cook in Shiloh.”

  Still flustered by Darek’s altered personality, I forced a tight smile and nodded.

  With a grin, Pekah gestured to the man standing next to him. “And here is my son, Raviv. He has been anxious to meet his bride. Next to him are Zeev and Yared, his twin sons, and that . . .” He pointed. “That is Darek, my youngest.”

  A cloud of confusion descended as Pekah continued speaking. I heard very few distinct words other than “betrothal ceremony next week” and “marriage before the family sets off for their land in the north.”

  Not Darek? I was to marry his older brother, a man with sons only a few years younger than me? The twins’ matching suspicious looks chilled me more than the icy drizzle now lifting gooseflesh on my skin.

  I cast another surreptitious glance at Darek just as he pushed off the wall. Stone-faced, he caught my eye for a moment, then turned and strode away. Disappearing into the misty vineyard as if he’d never existed at all, he took with him all the pleasant thoughts of marriage I’d conjured during my restless imaginings last night.

  Ora squeezed my arm, and instinctively I shifted toward her, wishing I could hide behind her instead. She knew Darek’s name. She knew the seed that had been planted.

  Raviv approached me, a seemingly genuine smile on his face. He was taller than Darek and his father, with features that echoed them in many ways. All of their coloring was similar, but the deep set of his dark eyes and the cut of his cheekbones must come from his mother’s side. His brown hair was much shorter than Darek’s, and his beard was trimmed neatly along his jaw.

  “I am glad to meet you,” Raviv said. “Now that the business with the division of land has been resolved, we can move forward with the betrothal. The land Darek and I selected for our father’s portion is a good, fertile land. We’ll build a comfortable home for our family there.”

  With great effort I managed to respond. “I am pleased to meet you as well, Raviv.”

  “Perhaps I can accompany you and your friend back to her home?” He lifted his brows. “It will give us a chance to get to know one another.”

  “That would be lovely,” Ora answered for me, as if she knew my throat was glutted with hot tears.

  Raviv stretched out a hand, gesturing for me to lead the way down the path that would take me in the opposite direction of my home, my father, and the man I’d briefly expected to marry.

  With a seemingly pasted-on smile, Raviv offered to take Ora’s arm as we walked through the vineyard. Perhaps my sway toward his brother affected my objectivity, but something about the tone he used with Ora grated against my senses, as if he were speaking to a young girl instead of a woman with a son who’d recently entered a betrothal himself.

  Seeming not to notice that he spoke to her as if she were feeble-minded, she asked about his family. Ora had a way of rooting out information with subtle questions, and soon Raviv’s story was laid out before me with little effort.

  His wife had died when Zeev and Yared were born. The boys were now thirteen and, as Raviv put it, “in need of motherly guidance.” If the furious looks they’d directed at me were any indication, I doubted either one would be open to any sort of nurturing.

  Raviv had fought alongside his father in the forces of Israel until Pekah had been grievously injured at Ai, and then had been joined by Darek five years ago when he came of military age at twenty.

  When Ora asked about his travels throughout the new land, Raviv listed a few cities they’d seen and spoke of run-ins with local Canaanites, none of whom lived to bear witness to the team of Hebrews surveying their newly acquired territory.

  I could not help but contrast his brusque answers with Darek’s vivid descriptions of this land’s beauty, but then chided myself for comparing the two men. I had no right to do so. Raviv was the man my father had chosen, and I had no valid reason to refuse the match.

  At the door to Ora’s home, she graciously offered Raviv a “shalom,” and then in the guise of needing to return a stew pot, asked me to come inside for a moment.

  As soon as the door closed behind us, Ora spun and dragged me into a fierce hug. “Come back here,” Ora whispered into my ear. “As soon as he leaves.” She pulled back, her sightless eyes seeming to survey the devastation on my face. “I am so sorry, my girl.”

  After handing me a spare pot to carry back, Ora ushered me back out the door, where my future bridegroom waited, undisguised annoyance on his face.

  I offered a nod of apology and we headed back up the vineyard, side by side. He said little, other than to ask about Ora and how she came to be blind. Although his tone was polite, I sensed an undercurrent to the question, as if my friendship with her displeased him.

  Abruptly, Raviv stopped in the middle of the row, where the vines were so overgrown that all I could see was leaves all around and the tall stone watchtower in the center of the fields obstructed my sight of the house.

  He put his hands on his hips. “I need to see.”

  Dread crashed over me like a vicious wave, and my knees wobbled from the force of it. “My face?”

  “Yes. I’ve already been told what happened to you. But I think it only fair that I see for myself what kind of damage they did.”

  “Yes—” My throat pinched closed, so I cleared it twice before speaking again. “Yes, you have every right.” Hands trembling, I waited a few moments, gathering my courage. No one outside of my father and sisters had seen my face in many years, although Ora had once asked to trace the scar with curious fingers.

  Although his demand had been delivered respectfully, the purse of his lips suggested impatience at my hesitation, so with a deep breath that I hoped would dredge up a measure of courage, I placed the empty pot on the ground. Then with quivering fingers, I unwound the linen from around my head and removed the veil, hoping a quick reveal would stave off the instinct to run for my house.

  It did not.

  I stood before my future husband feeling entirely naked, gripping the scarf in my sweat-slick hands, as if it alone were keeping me upright. Shame and nausea flamed in my chest as he studied my face with obvious disdain.

  He reached out, gripped my chin in his palm, and turned my face to the side. Mortification and icy surprise locked my limbs, and my eyelids fluttered.

  The corners of his mouth turned down. “You are still attractive, even with that thing on your cheek. Just as your father insisted you were.” He released me, and I barely restrained the instinct to slump to the wet ground from embarrassment and acute relief.

  He tilted his head, eyes narrowed in thought. “I’ve heard rumors over the past few days, so you understand why this is necessary.”

  “Of course.” If the rumors were anything like the ones I’d heard over the years, I was sure he’d been anxious to ensure I was not missing half my face or burned beyond recognition.

  “You can cover back up,” he said, flipping a hand at my veil.

  I complied, breathing easier when the linen was attached firmly across my shame.

  “Your father swore it was not true. Am I to believe him?”

  “True?”

  “That you were a zonah in that temple.”

  “No. I was rescued before anything . . . like that happened to me.”

  “I hope, for your sake, that is true.”

  A current of fear seized my limbs. Although I did not worry that my innocence would be obvious on my wedding night, the threat hovered in the air between us.

  “Regardless,” he said. “I expect you will continue to wear the veil after we are married. We will be moving far to the north where no one should know you, but I don’t want any more rumors getting started. We will make it known that you are shy and prefer to keep your beauty for your husband alone. If I need to come back here when your father
dies to manage the vineyard, I’ll leave you there to keep the boys in hand.” He lifted his eyes to scan the rich fields around us, his gaze appreciative. “Your father said this year’s crop was abundant and the wine is second to none. By the looks of these vines, I am sure that will continue.”

  I said nothing as he outlined his plans to expand upon my father’s work and form alliances with traders to export the wine to the coastlands, but my chest throbbed with agony.

  He had spoken of my father’s death with such detachment, as if he were merely one of the fences that held up the vines, and as easily replaced. And his abrupt pronouncement guaranteed that once we married, I would never again see my father, Ora, or Eitan. A rumble far off echoed the thundering pulse in my head.

  “Shall we return?” Raviv said, as if he had not just stripped me bare and upended my world. “The sky is getting dark. Looks as though another storm is approaching.”

  In my estimation, the sky would never be fully blue again.

  CHAPTER

  Seven

  Soaked to the skin and heart bleeding, I knocked on Ora’s door. When Tevel opened it, I pushed past him and went straight to Ora’s arms. Laying my head on her shoulder, I breathed in the smoke and hyssop scent that clung to her, a product of the small home and the soap I’d prepared for her a few weeks ago—a strangely comforting smell.

  “There now,” she said, rubbing my back as I wept. “It’s not as bad as all that. Come over by the fire, you are shivering.”

  With soft assurances that reminded me of my mother’s tender ministrations, she urged me to sit down near the small fire that burned at the center of the room, its smoky offerings lifting to the heavens through a small hole in the roof. The rain had finally stopped, but every so often a drip would slip through the hole to hiss into the flames. Mercifully, Tevel quietly excused himself from the house.

  Before the door had clicked shut I released the hold on my tongue. “He forced me to take my veil off so he could inspect me like a cow he was going to purchase, and then told me I’d never see my father again.” I stared into the flames, the memory of his cold pronouncement melding with the hot embarrassment of his scrutiny.

  “Oh,” Ora scooted closer, her arm slipping about my shoulders. “My darling girl. I am so sorry. Does your father know?”

  “What can I say? He’s been so pleased to have finally found a man willing to marry me. So glad that I will be taken care of in case something happens to him.”

  “But your father loves you. I cannot imagine he would want you to be unhappy.”

  “Ora, you know as well as I do that I have no choice. Raviv is willing and I must honor my father.”

  She stroked my hair. “Well then, if you don’t feel as though you should object, you must do as you always do and make the best of the situation.”

  “How so?”

  “You have experienced something that no one should ever have to, and yet you handled it with dignity. Instead of railing against your lot, you endure it with quiet grace. Although you have watched all three of your younger sisters given away in marriage before you, you have cared for your father faithfully and used your creative mind to provide delicious meals for him, for me, and for many of the workers in this vineyard and their families.”

  “You think I should cook for Raviv?”

  “If that’s what it takes to bring everyone together and smooth this transition.”

  “And Darek?”

  “Darek will be your husband’s brother.” Her pronouncement slammed the door closed on whatever latent desires lingered in the wake of this morning’s discovery.

  “Yes. You are right.” I took a deep breath and rose to my feet. “The best thing I can do is make this easy on my father, so he will not worry any more.”

  “And what of you?” She turned her face to me, brows drawn and a frown across her lips, as if her unseeing eyes could peer at my heart and read the resignation scrawled across its surface.

  I sighed. “As you said. I’ve endured this hardship for all these years. I will continue.”

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that one can either endure hardship or thrive within it.”

  Guilt contracted my chest. “I didn’t mean to compare—”

  “No, Moriyah. I didn’t think you were comparing your unhappy match with my assault. I am simply reminding you that if the most awful moment in my life can result in the joy of giving birth to my precious son, then perhaps there will be some buried gem in this situation as well.”

  She stood and reached her hands out to me. I braided my fingers with hers, wishing I could absorb a measure of the peace she exuded. What would I do when Raviv dragged me away from her? How would I cope without her wise counsel?

  “I think,” she said, “you will find that there is purpose in all of this, that somehow the ashes of all this present grief will become fertile soil for something you cannot yet fathom.”

  Eitan pressed his toes into a patch of mud beside the trail. “Look! You can see the little lines from my skin.”

  I leaned over to examine the imprint of his foot in the mud. “Ah, that you can.”

  “How much farther do we have to go?” He wiped his dirty foot on a tuft of grass. “I’m hungry.”

  “Not much farther. We are looking for wild garlic. It has little white flowers and a very strong smell.”

  With a grin, Eitan ran farther up the trail, passing over the ridge and stopping every so often to smash his face into a clump of flowers, searching out the garlic. His enthusiasm for learning reminded me of my own excitement as I had pestered Ohel for answers about each type of herb and plant. The face of Rahab’s faithful servant rose in my mind, as did the way he’d given up his life in an attempt to keep me from being taken by the temple guards the night I was branded.

  “What is this one?” Having returned from his excursion farther ahead, Eitan interrupted my sad memories by shoving a pink blossom in front of my face.

  “That’s calamint.” I plucked one of its leaves and squashed it between my fingers. “Here, smell.” I held my hand out for him to breathe in the spicy scent. “This is good for making into a tea to soothe stomach complaints. I also use it to complement roast lamb.”

  “Is that what you are making today?”

  “Yes, my father insisted on purchasing a lamb shank for this dinner. I will be making a stew, as well as preparing stuffed grape leaves.”

  Eitan wrinkled his freckled nose. “You can eat grape leaves?”

  “Oh yes, I plan to wrap spiced meat, barley, and seasonings, along with a bit of garlic and onion, inside the leaves before baking them with a wine sauce.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Of course!” I squeezed his shoulder. “And I will need some help ensuring that the recipe is taste-worthy for my visitors.”

  “You have visitors tonight?” His little face, turned up with expectancy, caused my heart to wobble. I’d hoped to avoid this conversation, but it was only fair that Eitan know how quickly I would be disappearing from his life.

  “My father has promised me in marriage to a man from the tribe of Naftali. We are making this meal for him and his family.”

  Eitan’s dark brows furrowed. “You are getting married?”

  “I am.”

  “When?”

  “Very soon.”

  “You are going away, aren’t you?”

  I swallowed and nodded, unable to force out the words.

  Eitan’s lips pursed. He turned away, walking farther up the trail that snaked around the other side of the hill from our home. I lengthened my stride, ignoring the squish of mud as it seeped into my sandals.

  “Eitan,” I said, catching up to him. “I know this is sudden, but I have little choice in the matter. I must obey my father’s wishes.”

  He did not respond to my argument. Instead, he stopped to snap a short branch from an oleander bush. “What is this one?”

  I grabbed the white blossom from him. “Lea
ve that one alone, it can make you sick.”

  His hazel eyes flooded as he wilted. “Why are you leaving me?”

  I dropped the oleander into my basket and then knelt in front of the boy. “Oh, Eitan, I don’t want to leave you. Believe me, if I could stay here forever, I would do just that. But my father is worried that I will be alone, without anyone to care for me if he is gathered to his fathers before his time.”

  “Why can’t you marry someone here?”

  I put a hand over my cheek. “I know it makes little sense, but there is a reason I hide my face and Raviv is the only man who has agreed to marry me. No one wants a wife with an ugly scar.”

  “That’s not true. You’re the most beautiful lady I know.”

  I dragged him into a fierce hug, hot tears soaking my veil. “Precious boy, you don’t know how much that means to me. And no matter how far away I am, you must remember how much I love you.”

  He pulled away, squaring his narrow shoulders with feigned courage even as his chin wobbled. “You said his family. Who else will be there tonight?”

  “Raviv has twin sons, a few years older than you. They look exactly the same! I cannot tell the difference between them. And I would guess that his father and his brother Darek will attend as well. Perhaps I will even invite Ora and Tevel and, of course, my best helper must be there.” I tousled his hair and he ducked away with a scowl.

  “So . . .” I slapped my thigh, lifting enthusiasm into my voice and hoping some of my false vibrance would encourage him to smile again. “As you see, I have much to do before the men return from the meeting with the elders this afternoon and am desperate for your help. I wouldn’t want Raviv’s family to think my father was lying about my excellent cooking.” I winked. “Let’s find that garlic. I can’t wait to get started on those stuffed grape leaves. Perhaps I will even use some of that new cumin spice. Ora seemed to enjoy it in her chickpea stew.”

  He nodded, his lips still pressed into a tight line.