Love Amid the Ashes (16 page)

“I’ve come to introduce Mistress Dinah to Master Sayyid,” the old maid said, tugging the tall, elegant woman toward the stone bench.

The stunning blonde was as red as a pomegranate. Sayyid stood and bowed, inspecting the woman as she walked stiffly behind Nada. She must have seen or overheard some of his interchange with Sitis.

Sitis also rose from the bench and stepped toward the young woman, extending her hand. “Dinah, I’d like you to meet my friend Sayyid. The last time you saw Sayyid in this house, it was under similar misleading circumstances.” The mistress coaxed the beauty to sit on the bench beside her, but Dinah looked as if she’d rather kiss a camel than meet Sayyid. “Please, Dinah,” Sitis nearly begged. “Look at me.”

The woman hesitated, as if not bound by the dictates of the lady of the house.

Hmm
, Sayyid mused.
She does not obey like a servant.

Dinah boldly met Sitis’s gaze. Another clear indicator that this woman was not a handmaid. “I will meet your friend, mistress, but you have no obligation to explain your actions to me.”

Sayyid raised an eyebrow, studying this suddenly interesting creature as the woman turned her azure eyes on him.
Dinah
, he thought,
where have I heard your name? You are exquisite.
Perhaps he would take her as a concubine when he claimed the rest of Job’s possessions. He paused at the thought. Why was Sitis so anxious that he marry Dinah? Why would the marriage curry Job’s favor?
Does this Dinah hold a special place in Job’s heart, or is my Sitis-girl simply trying to get rid of her?
The flush of Dinah’s face dimmed, but her cheeks still budded like roses.

“Dinah, Sayyid is a childhood friend,” Sitis said. “He is like a brother to me.”

A brother
, Sayyid fumed inwardly, casting a chastising glance at Sitis. He returned his gaze to Dinah, noting her sneer.
You’re reading my thoughts, Mistress Dinah.
She was perceptive, this one. He chuckled inadvertently as Sitis chattered on.

“Sayyid, this is Dinah. She is the daughter of Jacob, Great-Abba Esau’s brother. Job brought her to Uz to marry—”

“Well,
Dinah
!” Sayyid heard nothing beyond “daughter of Jacob.” He was too mesmerized by the presence of the infamous Dinah, the poor raped girl of Jacob’s clan, the murderess of Shechem—whichever story one chose to believe. No wonder merchants had wagged their tongues for twenty years about her. She was extraordinary.

Sayyid bowed with exaggerated formality. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly to his newest challenge.

“As I was saying, Sayyid . . .” Sitis enunciated as though interpreting for a slow student. “Job brought Dinah to Uz to marry our Ennon as the patriarch Isaac commanded.”

This time Sayyid heard clearly, and the information sweetened Dinah’s mystery. Sayyid casually returned his gaze to Sitis, but her fresh tears startled him. Suddenly his wolfish game lost its luster. “Sitis-gi—” Coughing, he tried to recover before finishing the familiar name. His heart broke as he watched a single tear slide down Sitis’s face and sadness seize her lips. “Mistress Sitis,” he said, working to portray a formality that might please her, “I can’t imagine your pain at the loss of your children. I’m sorry.” And he meant it with every fiber of his being.

Sayyid’s breath caught when Sitis reached out and tenderly touched his cheek. “Thank you, my friend,” she said. “I know you will do all you can to help us.”

~Job 2:1, 3–7~

On another day . . . the
Lord
said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? . . . He still maintains his integrity, though you incited me against him to ruin him without any reason.” “Skin for skin!” Satan replied. “. . . Stretch out your hand and strike his flesh and bones, and he will surely curse you to your face.” The
Lord
said to Satan, “Very well, then, he is in your hands; but you must spare his life.” So Satan went out from the presence of the
Lord
and afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

Afternoon stretched into evening, and Dinah’s patience wore thin. Surveying the kitchen, she wondered again what she and Nogahla might find to occupy their time. After Dinah’s disturbing encounter with Sayyid, she’d fled to the kitchen and found Nogahla kneading mounds of bread dough. Remembering Sitis’s mention of the public ovens, the two escaped the house with baskets of dough to explore Uz. When they returned with their warm brown bread, the house was as quiet as a tomb. They’d baked as much bread as was prudent and had ground all the wheat and barley. Without further direction, they were at the end of their usefulness.

“Mistress, why did those women at the ovens run away when they discovered we lived in Master Job’s household?” Nogahla’s eyes were distant, her thoughts obviously reliving the scene of their afternoon.

“Well, my friend, the Ishmaelites believe Master Job is cursed by their goddesses, and the Edomites believe he is cursed by Yahweh or their mountain god, Kaus. And they all believe that whichever god is punishing Job will attack anyone who associates with him or his household.”

Nogahla seemed to absorb the words like a soft woolen cloth. She bent over one of the stone tables, her elbow balancing on a pomegranate, chin resting on her hand. Plucking a grape from a platter of fruit with her free hand, she placed it between her lips and sucked it into her mouth. Dinah chuckled at the entertaining way Nogahla chewed on the little fruit, much like she must have been chewing on the afternoon’s events.

“Why do you think Widow Orma didn’t run away? Doesn’t she believe in the gods?”

Dinah too took a grape from the fruit tray and considered her answer. She and Nogahla had approached the serving women who encircled the cone-shaped clay ovens, each heated cylinder as high as a ram’s head. Heat waves rose from the top and side openings, while idle gossip and busy hands bound the women in a common bond. When they discovered Dinah and Nogahla belonged to Job’s household, however, the docile scene erupted.

Amid shrieking and confusion, Widow Orma remained rooted to her reed mat, a look of consternation on her face. “What foolishness!” she had said, and then motioned Nogahla and Dinah to move closer so she didn’t have to shout her welcome. “Master Job has always made room for me at his widows’ tables. I can at least help his guests learn to bake bread.” She spent the remainder of the afternoon demonstrating the art of plastering bread circlets against the sides of the ovens and retrieving the golden brown loaves with a stick and clay platter.

Dinah sighed deeply at the memory and was brought back to the moment by Nogahla’s slurping noise. Another grape met its destruction as she spoke. “So, what do you think, mistress? Why did the widow help us today?”

Eyeing her friend, Dinah saw a spark of challenge in those ebony pools. “Why do you think Widow Orma helped us, Nogahla?” This little Cushite had proved to be a deep well of wisdom.

“I think it’s easier to know why people do bad things than to understand the true meaning of kind acts.” Before Dinah could comment on Nogahla’s newest insight, the girl asked, “Do you think Nada will be angry that we gave some of Master Job’s bread to Widow Orma? I could sacrifice my portion if you think that old crow will be mad.” Nogahla’s furrowed brow indicated she’d given the matter special consideration. While waiting for Dinah’s answer, she rearranged the grapes to hide the bare spots.

Dinah tried to restrain her laughter by pressing her lips into a stern line. She felt the same animosity toward Nada but mustn’t show it. “Nogahla, we must be respectful to Sitis’s nursemaid.” But after spending such a lovely afternoon with the kindhearted widow, she didn’t care if Nada begrudged a few loaves of bread either.

Widow Orma had regaled them with touching stories of Job’s family, and with disgust she had confirmed the wretched news: “After all the good things Master Job has done, not a single person in Uz is willing to help him.”

Glancing at the eight bread loaves stacked in a neat row on the table, Dinah tipped Nogahla’s chin to meet her gaze. “You will not give up a single bite of your portion, my friend. Perhaps the aroma of this warm brown bread will warm Nada’s heart.”

Nogahla’s eyes sparked with mischief. “No, mistress. I think Nada will be mad, but I’m glad we gave the bread to Widow Orma anyway.”

Chuckling, Dinah nodded her agreement and again studied every nook and cranny of the kitchen, hoping for some inspiration that might busy their hands and minds. “At least we’ve unloaded my herbs and ointments from the caravan. I can dress Mistress Sitis’s blistered hands if she ever summons me, as she promised.”

“So what do we do until then?” Nogahla sat on the low wooden stool, resting her elbow in her lap, chin in hand again.

Dinah peered into the kitchen courtyard. There were no goats to milk, no vegetables to clean, no meat to prepare. She glanced at the pile of ashes with a mingling of sorrow and praise. In the corner, beyond the waste heap, she noticed a broken spindle. “Nogahla!” she said, clapping her hands and startling the girl. “Let’s go exploring! We’ll go through every room until we find the servants’ stores of wool and spindles.” Her wide-eyed enthusiasm was met with Nogahla’s eager nod.

The evening light cast orange-tinged shadows against the courtyard walls. “Come, Nogahla, it’s getting dark. Master Job, Elihu, and the other two men will be hungry when they return from inspecting the fields. We’ll set out the fruit and some cheese and olives in the dining hall for them.” She handed the tray to Nogahla and gathered a pitcher of honeyed wine with four glazed clay cups. “After that, we’ll find something to keep us busy.”

The dusk breeze stirred the linen sea in Sitis’s bedchamber. Nada’s embrace felt as warm and safe as when Sitis was a child. “I haven’t had nightmares like this since Ima died, when I was five years old.” Sitis shut her eyes against the memory.

“It was just a dream, mistress.” Nada stroked her hair, quieting her. “Just a dream.”

“Will we ever wake up from 
this
 dream, Nada? Will Al-Lat restore Job’s wealth? Will Al-Uzza open my womb? Will my husband and I ever be happy again?”

“You will awaken, my Sitis.” Nada stopped rocking and laid her chubby hand against Sitis’s cheek, tilting her head and searching her expression. “What else is troubling you?”

A fresh wave of tears overtook her. “Oh, Nada. I thought Sayyid would do anything for me,” she moaned. “He has always been so kind and generous, but I didn’t even recognize the man who visited me today.” Sniffing loudly, she used her maid’s apron as a handkerchief. “He actually said that if I forced him to marry Dinah, and then Job didn’t regain his wealth, he would make me his 
second
 wife.” Sitis’s sorrow turned to fury at the thought. “Ohh! Can you imagine, Nada? Me, a second wife?” She drove balled fists into the soft woolen mattress and sat upright, daring Nada to disagree.

“No, my Sitis, I cannot imagine you as a second wife.”

Sitis thought she glimpsed a smile before Nada ducked her head. “Don’t you dare laugh, old woman!” Hurt and angry tears erupted. How could Nada laugh when her whole world had crumbled in a day’s time?

“No, no, no, my girl,” Nada said, reaching up with her apron to wipe the new tears from Sitis’s cheeks. “You misunderstand. You know I love you more than life itself.” The maidservant hugged her tightly. “Listen, if Master Job does not regain his wealth, Sayyid’s proposal of marriage 
is
 a kind and generous offer. He would be saving you from a life of shame, Sitis-girl.”

“How can you still feel that way after how he acted today? I’ve never seen that wicked, selfish side of Sayyid’s character.”

Nada released Sitis and challenged her with a stern gaze. “You hurt our Sayyid today. He came here in hopes of winning your heart and making you his wife.”

“What?” Sitis couldn’t breathe. “Did he actually tell you this when you relayed my message earlier?” The blood rushed from her face, and her heart felt as though it would pound out of her chest. “Nada, why didn’t you warn me? Why didn’t you tell him I love Job?”

Nada was suddenly immovable, her expression firm, her gaze steady. “Do you truly 
love
 Job?” She lifted one dark eyebrow as if knowing the answer and daring Sitis to tell the truth.

“Nada! Of course I love Job. He’s my husband!” The lingering silence drained the power from her statement, and Nada’s unwavering gaze unnerved Sitis.

Do I love Job?
 She knew she was incapable of Job’s standard of love, but no one was as selfless as her husband. 
But have I ever truly loved someone sacrificially?
 She loved her children, of course. But it had been Nada who cared for their sicknesses, and Job’s wise and kind discipline that had guided them through life. When she quarreled with her loved ones, Sitis withdrew her affection until they complied, or she ignored the dispute, pretending all was well. Had she ever truly loved someone through difficult times without turning away?

She could feel tears welling again, and no matter how hard she tried, Sitis couldn’t outstare Nada. “I don’t know if I’m capable of love,” she cried, melting into her maid’s embrace once more. “My heart feels like an old grain sack with too many holes to be of any use. What if I can’t love, Nada?”

The old woman held her tightly. “You will learn to love again, my Sitis. Every child is born with the ability.” Sitis could feel Nada’s tears now dampening her hair. “Sometimes our hearts forget as we grow older, and we must relearn the lessons of love we knew as a child.”

“But how do I relearn, Nada? What if Al-Uzza, the mighty goddess, doesn’t open my womb? What if Al-Lat never restores Job’s fortune? What if Manat has already decided my fate and refuses to relent?”

“Enough. Enough of this ‘what if’ talk, my Sitis-girl.” Nada sat up and grasped Sitis’s cheeks, her hands warm and scratchy like a woolen scarf. “You listen to me. We are going to pray right now to our goddesses.” Scooting off the bed, she hurried toward the curtain-draped closet carved into the stone wall. “You know our prayers are most powerful if we glimpse the evening star of Al-Lat before the last shadows of sunset dim.” Reaching into the closet, she retrieved the precious basket containing the sacred cube and idols and placed it on the bed.

The two women began their familiar ritual. Nada carefully unwrapped each of the images and filled a shallow copper brazier with incense and sweet-smelling herbs. Sitis gathered a small pitcher of oil and a jar of grain kept hidden under her bed. Collecting the offerings and goddesses, Sitis and Nada marched to the balcony, where the pleasing aroma of incense would ascend with their prayers. With a final glance across the inlet to ensure Job’s absence, the women began their secret ceremony.

“Mistress?” Nada motioned for Sitis to kneel on the customary cushion. The nursemaid knelt beside her on a small fleece and led the chanting. “Al-Uzza, goddess of life and wealth and power, we offer to you—”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, followed immediately by a young woman’s voice in the bedchamber behind them. “Hello? Is anyone in here?”

Sitis was on her feet, arms stretched wide like the feathers on an arrow shot from a bow. “What are you doing in my private chamb—”

It was too late to hide. Dinah and Nogahla stood wide-eyed and open-mouthed, staring at the ritual components before them. Job’s face flashed in Sitis’s mind. The shock and horror on these women’s faces was a dim reflection of what her husband’s reaction would be.

“I’m sorry,” Dinah said. “We thought it was just another empty chamber.”

Sitis’s arms fell to her sides, and her head lolled forward in shame.

Nada labored to her feet and flailed her arms like an angry hen. “Get out! Get out of Mistress Sitis’s chamber! How dare you!”

Sitis lifted her head and saw them walking out through her linen dream. “No, wait.” She hadn’t the strength to match Nada’s zeal, but the pair somehow heard her. “Come back, Dinah. I want to explain.”

The beautiful blonde turned, and her expression surprised Sitis. Instead of judgment and hatred, she saw compassion, even pity, in Dinah’s eyes.

“As was true this morning in the courtyard, mistress, you owe me no explanation.” Dinah bowed gracefully. “Please forgive us. We had no idea this was your chamber. Nogahla and I were looking for something to busy our idle hands.”

“You were spying!” Nada’s voice was shrill and accusing. “How dare you. Master Job opens his home to you, and the minute he leaves, you rummage through his house.”