Marah thought of the strange family that Shimei’s bill of divorcement had released her from. Zibeon with his temper; poor Shimei and his sad face; Athaliah and her madness . . . then there had been Athaliah’s sister and brother-in-law. How they had tried everyone’s patience.
Adah complained to anyone who would listen. The neighbors, who dutifully brought in food for the week of mourning when the law forbade cooking, ignored her remarks.
There was no other relative to step forward and buy the property, Shimei would not return, Marah no longer held any claim, and Zerah had no wish to remain in Shechem. They disposed of what they could and sold the house to a man in the village. Simon witnessed the signing of the deed and the exchange of money, which was carefully counted out in the presence of the witnesses. He came home shaking his head. It was always a sad day when property that had been held in a family for generations passed into the hands of others.
Marah knew she should marry again, but whom? Marah laughed to herself when she thought of the two unacceptable suitors who had courted her. The son of the shammash accosted her one day when she was leading the sheep to the shepherd. She had noticed Shelah eyeing her furtively as she went about her tasks. He appeared wherever she went and twice she found him hanging around the courtyard gate. He finally asked for her in marriage, and was turned down by Simon with Marah’s prompting. Crestfallen and lovesick, Shelah followed her around the village. The more she ignored him, the more determined he became. Then, one day when she came by with the sheep, he suddenly jumped from behind a rock where he had been watching for her. As he grabbed her, they struggled. The heavy staff fell to the ground. Shelah tried to kiss her and press her to the ground. She pulled herself free and instead of running away, she snatched up the staff that she had dropped and in a fury began to beat him with it. He was so surprised he covered his head from the blows with his arms and ran back to the village. When word got back to the shammash, Shelah was quickly sent to relatives in another village to avoid the shame and gossip. Marah felt sorry for him, and for a time feared the shammash. Yet when he passed her in the marketplace he did not look at her and she lowered her eyes respectfully.
Hannah was outraged by the incident. “Simon, what is a young woman to do if she cannot walk near our village without fear for her own safety? If the son of the shammash tries to accost her, then who else will it be?”
Simon listened quietly and then turned to Marah. “From now on Dibri must come for the sheep each day.”
Marah felt she would be all right, but there was a note of authority in Simon’s voice and Marah nodded respectfully. Secretly she was thankful for their concern and protection.
One evening when Simon returned from his field, there was a knock at the door.
Peninnah the matchmaker stood smiling on their doorstep.
“I would like to speak with Simon,” she said, brushing by Hannah when she held the door open. “Oh, and peace be with this household,” she added hastily.
“Peace to you, Peninnah.”
Peninnah hurried over to Simon. “There you are,” she gushed, as though just discovering him, “I have a proposition for you.”
“You have a proposition for me?” Simon looked at her patiently as Hannah pursed her lips and waited.
“It concerns the young woman you have so generously taken into your home, out of the kindness of your heart. Poor girl, with all she has been through, but now I have the solution to your problem.” She beamed at them all.
Simon cleared his throat. “Our problem?” He turned to Hannah. “She has a solution to our, ah, problem.”
“An offer of,” and Peninnah paused for effect, “marriage!”
Simon turned solemnly to Marah. “She has an offer of marriage for you.” He turned back to Peninnah. “Do you wish to speak to Marah? She can speak for herself in this matter.”
Peninnah seemed uncomfortable. “Well, it is just that I am used to, well, to speaking with the parents of the bride-to-be. Of course, yes, there have been some occasions when I have been most helpful in bringing others, in Marah’s position, into a very suitable marriage.”
Marah nodded and waited.
“Very well, I present an offer of marriage and a home from a most eligible man, a widower. A fine man, in need of a wife most urgently. He has chosen Marah.” The last was stated with a flourish of her hand.
“Does he have a family?” Marah inquired. “A mother, father, children?”
“No parents to care for, God be praised, but less for you to do. Children? Yes, lovely children who need a woman of compassion to care for the home.”
“How many children?” Marah was prompted by Hannah’s mouthed urging behind Peninnah.
“Praise God, it is so wonderful. He has four, a family already, for a poor woman who has none of her own.”
“Four?” Marah kept her voice even and rolled her eyes at Hannah when Peninnah turned for a moment. “How old are they?”
“The oldest is eleven, a fine boy, then a girl, eight, another little girl, five, and a dear baby boy, just a year old. Just think, with no children of your own, praise God, a lovely family.”
“Could this be the family of Korah the potter?” Hannah had opened her eyes wide at the description of the children.
“You know him?” Peninnah had whirled around. “The very same. What could be better? Korah needs a wife, and Marah needs a husband.” She beamed at them again. “Now,” she began briskly, “shall we settle the arrangements?”
Marah thought quickly. She did not wish to offend the matchmaker who carried tales all over the village. Marah knew of Korah, as did everyone in the village. His children were dirty and whined a great deal. He did not rule his own house as the Book of the Law commanded. He did not take the laws of cleanliness as seriously as he should and was sometimes avoided by the other men on the Sabbath. She shuddered inwardly.
“You are most kind to come with such an offer, Peninnah,” Marah said, choosing her words carefully. “I will consider this matter carefully.”
Peninnah sniffed. “Beggars cannot be choosers. You need a husband. He needs a wife. You cannot expect to burden yourself on others forever.”
Simon gently but firmly took the matchmaker’s arm and guided her outside the doorway.
“We will discuss your most generous offer. If Marah agrees to accept, we will let you know at once. May God bless and keep you.”
As he was closing the door, Peninnah called over his shoulder, “Don’t wait too long. Another woman may take this opportunity and it will be too late. This may be your last chance.” Peninnah took herself off down the street like a ship in full sail.
Marah stood quietly, feeling wretched. “Perhaps she is right, Hannah. I cannot stay here forever. Sooner or later I must marry again. There aren’t that many eligible men left in Shechem.”
Hannah took her by the shoulders. “You have spent too much time today in the sun. Simon, tell her she is welcome. Tell her she can wait to make a right choice. Tell her she doesn’t have to marry a man like Korah, with those four horrible children!”
Simon waited patiently through his wife’s tirade. He shrugged. “So I am telling you, Marah, wait.”
“Tell her she is like family.”
“You are like—” Simon stopped and looked at Hannah. “You have already told her. She is not deaf. She knows this.” He turned to Marah, putting a fatherly hand on her arm. “You know this?”
Marah nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. They would not press her or urge her to leave. She was not a burden to them. In time, she knew she would marry, but it would be in her own time. With a grateful heart, Marah turned to help Hannah with the evening meal.
17
Word came that Dibri was ill and could not come for the sheep. Hannah was busy with the washing and Simon was repairing a sickle. The harvest would begin tomorrow. There was no one else to take their few sheep to the shepherd, so Marah put on her shawl and reached for the heavy staff she had used before.
“I don’t feel right about you taking the sheep alone.”
Marah laughed. “I’ll be all right, Hannah, it’s a fair day and I’ll take a stout staff to drive off any animals.” The emphasis on the last word was not missed by Hannah.
Hannah was still anxious. “Should I send Simon to walk back with you when he returns?”
“Oh Hannah, if I am not back within a reasonable time, send Simon, but really, I shall enjoy the walk this morning.” Marah smiled and began to speak softly to the sheep. They knew her voice and willingly followed her down the path.
The warm sun felt good on her back as she led the small flock toward the hills where the shepherd would oversee them for the day. What could happen to me on such a day? she mused as she walked.
The sheep were suddenly restless, milling around and bleating. Looking around for some sign of danger, Marah saw a young child sitting in the dirt in the road in front of her. He held a small stick and great tears rolled down his cheeks. He looked up at her hopefully, but as she approached, his face fell. Obviously she was not the one he had hoped to see.
There was a low growl and she looked on the hillside to her right. A fierce-looking wild dog was eyeing the boy and the sheep. When he saw her, he bared his teeth. Though her heart pounded with fear, Marah quickly picked up a good rock and bravely hurled it at the dog, striking its soft muzzle. She shook her staff menacingly at him and shouted loudly. The dog hesitated a moment and then, with another growl, loped away. Marah let her breath out slowly. When she was sure the dog was gone, she turned to the little boy.
“Are you lost?” she inquired, gathering the small child in her strong arms to comfort him.
“I want my papa,” he cried between large sobs. “I don’t like the bad dog.”
“Hush, little one,” Marah crooned, “the bad dog is gone. You are safe now.”
The little boy lifted his head.
“Papa!” he cried joyously over her shoulder.
She turned and stopped, staring at the familiar figure walking quickly toward her.
“Caleb. I have looked everywhere for you.” He walked anxiously, his eyes on the child. “Are you all right?” Stooping down, he hugged him in relief. “I saw what you did, thank you for caring for my son.” In his concern for the boy, he had not looked up at her.
“He is your son, Jesse?” Marah felt her heart begin to beat erratically. She stood staring down at the top of his head in astonishment.
At the sound of her voice, Jesse suddenly looked up at her. “Marah?” He stood up and looked from his son to her face. “It is you that saved him?” He stared back at her for a moment. “It is good to see you again.” A slow smile spread across his face.
“It is also good to see you, Jesse.” The silence was an eternity.
Then Jesse recovered himself. “Ah, thank you again. I will trouble you no longer.” The warmth that radiated from his eyes disappeared and his face became an unreadable mask. He picked up his son, turned away, and headed back toward the village with long strides.
Marah stared after him dumbly. What was Jesse doing in the village? The bleating of the sheep interrupted her thoughts, and she hurried them on to the shepherd. When they were safely delivered into his care, she walked quickly back toward the village. She thought of Tirzah. How fortunate she was. She had a son and Jesse. Considering all that she had been through, Marah felt sad, uneasy, and jealous.
She sought Hannah as soon as she returned to their house.
“Hannah, the strangest thing happened.” She related the events of the morning to her and Hannah listened in alarm.
“You were brave to drive off the dog. He could have killed the child or a sheep. I knew I should not have let you take them alone to the shepherd.”
“Hannah, the sheep are fine. The child is fine. Did you hear what I said? He is Jesse’s son. Jesse and Tirzah have returned to Shechem.” Marah spread her hands and searched Hannah’s face, waiting impatiently for a response.
Hannah stopped fussing and stared at her, puzzled. “It was Jesse, you say? I wonder what he is doing in Shechem?” She looked toward the village and pursed her lips.
Marah looked up at the sky and rolled her eyes in exasperation. “That is what I want to know. There must be a reason for their return. Do you know of any way I—”
Hannah was reaching for her basket. “I have some things to get in the marketplace. Perhaps you can take care of the washing?” She raised her eyebrows and gave Marah a conspiring wink.
Marah laughed. “Hannah, you are just as curious as I am. So, go.” She pushed on her friend’s ample shoulders. “Go quickly and tell me everything you find out.”
She stood pensively and watched Hannah hurry off. Events of the past crowded into her mind . . . she and Jesse cutting wild mustard on the hillside, the little flute . . . She felt a sudden lump in her throat. Perhaps she did not want to hear the news of Jesse and Tirzah after all.
She took the wet clothes up to the roof and carefully spread them out to dry. Trying to occupy her thoughts with other things, she checked their herb supply. There was plenty of dried dill and coriander, but she noted that the jar of mustard oil was only half full. They had a small bag of salt left and a small clay jar of cumin. She went to the vegetable garden and looked at what remained that could be used for their supper. She picked a cucumber and a leek and a few beans. The onions and garlic had already been pulled and now hung from the rafters in the house, giving it a pungent aroma. Noting that the plants seemed to droop a little, she took a small container and dipped water from the water jar. Carrying it carefully to the garden, she poured the precious water around the remaining plants. Turning to get more water, she was startled to find Hannah standing in the middle of the courtyard with a smug look on her face.
Marah hurried over to her friend. “You are back so soon.”
Hannah took her time setting the basket down and Marah thought she would die of impatience. Settling herself, Hannah took a deep breath and then, with an air of conspiracy, poured out her news, watching Marah’s face as she did so.
“Jesse is a widower. His wife died in childbirth. He has returned to Shechem because his parents are old and not well, and need his help. He will be setting up a carpenter shop here in Shechem to take care of them.” Hannah took another breath and paused to see what effect her words had.
“You found all that out in such a short time?” Marah paused to consider the information. Then she had a terrible thought. “You didn’t go to Jesse and ask him, did you?”
Hannah snorted. “Do you take me for a foolish woman? When I appeared at the marketplace, the gossips were only too anxious to share their news. I didn’t even have to ask a single question. So now, what will you do, eh?” She looked slyly at Marah, her eyes dancing.
Marah had been thinking of Jesse, losing his wife in childbirth. Remembering her own pain and the midwife’s hushed tones, she knew she had almost died in childbirth herself. Her heart went out to Jesse.
“Well?”
“What do you mean, ‘What will I do?’”
Hannah feigned surprise. “Oh that I should have such a thick-headed friend. What can you do with my news? Has it been so long since a shepherd and a young girl were friends, talked—”
Marah blushed. “Oh Hannah, that seems like so long ago. So much has happened. I don’t know how I feel anymore. I am dead inside. Perhaps Jesse feels the same way I do. It has been too long and too much has happened to us.”
“You are so dead inside you blush? He is a man. You are a woman. You like each other. Can anything be plainer? Of course much has happened, but don’t you see? You are both free now to marry. He is no longer a boy, he is a man, a widower, and you . . . you are free to choose the man you wish at last. What could be so bad, hmm?” Hannah spread her hands and shrugged.
Marah felt tears come to her eyes as she looked away. “I am not sure about anything anymore. I don’t know how Jesse feels now. He turned away so abruptly as if he didn’t wa
nt anything to do with me.”
“So . . . how could he know you were a widow? That Zibeon was dead? Had he not just arrived in the village and then had to spend his time searching for his lost son? Did he not care enough to protect you? God be merciful. He was not going to give Zibeon any reason to trouble you.”
She considered Hannah’s words. “Yes, perhaps you are right. Maybe that is why Jesse turned away like he did.”
She hesitated, biting her lip. “What should I do?”
Hannah laughed. “I don’t think you will have to do anything. When he finds out what has happened and that you are free, he will not rest until he has done something. You can be sure of that.” She gave a sharp nod of her head to emphasize her words.
“I wish I could be as sure of that as you are, Hannah.”
“God be patient that I have such a stubborn friend.” Hannah rolled her eyes and headed for the house. “Come, there is supper to prepare. Busy yourself and you will have less time for thinking!”
Marah smiled then, and the two women, out of long practice, began to work companionably together.
18
In a steady rhythm the reapers grabbed and swung, grabbed and swung, as the harvest finally began. Every available man and woman in the village helped in some way. They gathered the cut grain and bound the loose bundles into sheaves. When the gatherers had left a portion of the field, gleaners were called in to gather the remains. These were the poor of the village, widows and those who did not own land. The gleaners were not allowed to touch the sheaves that were loaded onto donkeys or wagons and taken to the community threshing floor. Here, by beating the stalks, the edible grains would be loosened.
The women of the village called out greetings to one another and gossiped as they worked. They started in the fields at sunup and many times did not head homeward until after dark. The women poured the barley into large pottery jars. Some of the jars were set aside for the tax collector who watched the proceedings with sharp eyes, lest he miss any profit. Simon’s portion was loaded on a donkey and taken to their house to be stored.
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