Love Amid the Ashes (17 page)

Dinah’s anger flared. “We were looking for something to occupy our time since Mistress Sitis hadn’t summoned me to her chamber, nor did her 
maid
 offer any instructions for managing this household!”

“Well, let me instruct you now, you ungrateful—”

“Nada! That’s enough!” Sitis had never seen her nursemaid act so disrespectfully, but come to think of it, she’d never seen anyone challenge Nada as Dinah did. “Job would not approve of your disrespect to a guest in his home.” Turning once again to Dinah, she said, “However, it seems your position in this household is a bit of an enigma. You are neither guest nor servant, so . . .” Her voice broke and her mind reeled. How could she explain to this beauty that Nada was simply protecting her?

Just then she noticed a welcome diversion, a small basket hanging on Dinah’s arm. “May I ask what you have in your basket?” She would try hard to offer peace, though she wasn’t sure why or if she truly desired it.

Dinah took a tentative step forward, her expression hopeful. “I’ve brought some of my supplies from the caravan to bandage your hands.” Casting an uneasy glance at Nada, she confessed, “We had hoped to find your chamber at some point in our search.”

So you weren’t spying, but you were looking for me.
 Sitis vacillated between being offended and being pleased. Stepping outside her world of grief and tragedy for a moment, she tried to imagine Dinah’s predicament. She realized this young woman was nearly the same age as her son Ennon—alone in a strange land, her future uncertain, surrounded by unfriendly people. For the first time, Sitis’s heart was moved by the girl, and she wondered if her kind and loving friend Sayyid might truly be happy with this beautiful young wife. Dinah needed a home, and Sayyid needed a good woman. Sitis was suddenly more determined than ever to see Sayyid marry Dinah, not because it fit her plan, but because it was best for Dinah and Sayyid.

“Come, sit with me on the bed, dear.” Sitis patted the soft mattress, and Nada stepped aside, frowning as Dinah passed. The Cushite maid looked like a frightened fawn, and Sitis chuckled, wondering if the girl would bolt from the room. “You can have your maid go back to her chamber or wait in my anteroom if she’d be more comfortable there.”

Before Dinah could voice her preference, Nada issued the command. “The girl should wait outside, mistress.” Nada grunted and sniffed, folding her arms across her chest like a sentry.

“Why don’t you go back to our chamber, Nogahla,” Dinah said. “You’ll be more comfortable there.” Dinah grinned victoriously when the Cushite scampered past Nada.

Sitis watched, fascinated, at the interchange between her lifelong friend and Jacob’s daughter. The two seemed locked in a competition of sorts, and Sitis realized she must expose it in order to gain any lasting peace in their household. Gently touching Dinah’s arm, she said, “You really love your little maid, don’t you?”

The young woman met her gaze, smiling easily. “I suppose it’s similar to how you feel about Nada. She’s more than just my maid. She’s my friend.” Taking a roll of bandages out of the basket, Dinah paused and glanced at Nada. “And I expect Nogahla to be treated with respect.”

Nada raised her chin, and Sitis leveled a chastising glance at her. “As I want Nada to be treated with respect.” Sitis offered her hand to Dinah, waiting for the spirited young woman to meet her gaze again. She did, and Sitis let her eyes communicate a silent reprimand.

“Agreed,” Dinah said, a penitent smile stretching across her perfect red lips. She grasped Sitis’s blistered hand, and Nada stepped forward, her wagging finger poised to command. Sitis issued a warning glare, deflating the maid’s bluster, and the young beauty continued her ministrations.

“Now, mistress, place your hand on my lap, palm up, like this,” Dinah said, “and I’ll apply a little gum-yamin before wrapping it—”

Nogahla burst through the door. “I heard Master Job in the dining hall! He’s coming up the stairs.”

Sitis’s heart leapt to her throat as she exchanged a panicked glance with Nada. “Gather the goddesses.” She paused. “No, wait! It’s too late.” They’d never be able to hide them if he came directly to her chamber.

Dinah grabbed Sitis’s shoulders. “Have Nada take Nogahla to the anteroom and tell Job he can’t come in until I’m finished bandaging your hands.” Turning to Nada, Dinah barked instructions. “Tell him Sitis’s hands are blistered from grinding grain, and I need privacy to concentrate on tending her wounds.”

Nada hesitated, looking to Sitis for approval.

“Go! Do as she says,” Sitis said.

The two maids scurried from the room, closing the heavy door behind them. Sitis once again tried to rush to the balcony to retrieve the goddesses, but Dinah’s grip held her firmly to the bed.

“Mistress,” Dinah said, “isn’t it time to stop deceiving your husband?”

Sitis started to pull away, but the girl’s eyes, brimming with tears, beseeched her to do the right thing. Sitis looked away, breaking the honorable spell cast by Dinah’s pleading. “I can’t. He will disown me.” She pulled her head covering off, dragging her fingers through her hair. “What do I do, Dinah?”

“Job will never disown you, mistress. We both know that.”

She looked up, startled that this beautiful woman would speak with such intimate certainty about her life. “How can you be sure? You don’t know us. You don’t know our lives.” She wanted to be angry at the girl’s presumption, but the kindness in Dinah’s eyes cut her to the heart.

“I know that your husband believes in a God who forgives everyone for everything if they simply ask it of Him.”

Sitis turned away. 
Why would I believe in any god at all? None of them have saved me from this pain.
 “Dinah, don’t ask me to trust El Shaddai. You don’t know what I’ve suffered at His hands.”

Sitis felt a trembling hand on her cheek and met Dinah’s tender gaze. “I don’t know what you’ve suffered at His hands, but I know what you’ve endured without His comfort. And I’m sorry for you, mistress.” Both women straightened at the sound of Job’s voice just outside the door.

“I want to see my wife, Nada.” He sounded weary but resolute.

“I won’t help you deceive Job,” Dinah whispered to Sitis. “If you want to hide the idols, you must do the work yourself. But I won’t tell him what I’ve seen either.”

Relief washed over Sitis as she scooted off the bed and ran to the balcony to retrieve the goddesses. She hastily covered them and cast them into the stone cube and basket, shuffling it under the bed. Out of breath and short on time, she leapt onto the cushioned mattress and held up her hands for Dinah to bandage. “Hurry, please. He’s becoming impatient.”

“Hold still,” Dinah commanded, beads of sweat forming on her brow. Sitis grimaced but decided to allow the woman’s impertinence after all her other kindnesses this evening.

“I said I’m going to see my wife, Nada!” Job barged in, slapping the linen scarves aside just as Dinah finished tying the last bandage. Looking as shocked as the rest of those in the room, Job stammered, “Oh, Dinah. You’re bandaging my wife’s hands.”

“Just as I said.” Nada, hands on hips, didn’t have to feign her frustration.

“Job! You smell like death!” Sitis said as she and Dinah instinctively covered their noses. The moment she said it, his face looked stricken, and a stab of regret pierced Sitis’s heart. 
I should have considered what he’s seen today, the death he encountered in the fields, instead of criticizing him the moment he entered the room.
 And just as suddenly, Sitis realized she wouldn’t normally have considered her husband’s feelings. Shocked and inspired by her own burgeoning sensitivity, she addressed the other women. “Will you excuse us? My husband and I need some time alone to talk about his difficult day.”

“Of course.” Dinah bowed and guided Nogahla out of the room. Nada closed the door behind her with an authoritative sneer at Job. Their epic battle would no doubt continue.

Job stood at Sitis’s bedside, gazing down at her. He was dirty, smelly, and forlorn. Everything within her wanted to banish him until he bathed. She’d never endured odors well. Even when she was a child, Atif and Nada had filled her tent with frankincense on the days the wind carried the stable stench in her direction. Perhaps her sacrificial love began with a smelly husband who honored the edict of no bathing during the seven days of mourning.

She swallowed the extra saliva gathering in her mouth. “Tell me, husband, were the fields as awful as you feared?” She patted the bed, indicating a nice fluffy spot beside her.

Job lifted an eyebrow. “Though I didn’t touch the bodies, Sitis, my clothes are saturated with the smell of death. Are you sure you will allow me on your bed?” He leaned over, placing a tentative hand on her beautifully woven covering.

“No,” she said, watching his smile fade. She patted the bed again. “I’m 
inviting
 you onto my bed.” The relief in his features made the odor tolerable. He fell onto the bed beside her, exhausted. Her ensuing nausea made her thankful she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Swallowing again, she concentrated on his eyes. “Tell me what you found in the fields.”

He affectionately laid his hand on her leg, and she instinctively flinched. The dirt on his hands and around his fingernails would most certainly stain her fine linen robe. “Sorry,” he said, starting to pull away.

Suddenly realizing the great gulf her elegance had carved between them, she enfolded his soiled hand and wiped it with her robe. His eyes misted, and he gazed at her longingly. 
I do love you
, she thought, 
I just haven’t been very good at showing you.

“It was worse than we’d expected, Sitis. Hundreds of our servants—men, women, children. Their families are refusing to touch the dead bodies for fear of retribution from the gods. Elihu, Shobal, Lotan, and I tried to just heap dirt over the bodies, but we couldn’t even begin to bury them all. We’ll unearth Ennon’s home and take our children’s bodies to the family tomb tomorrow, my love.”

Sitis listened long into the night while Job described the horrors he’d seen. He held her, and they wept for all the children lost to Uz. At some point, they fell asleep in each other’s arms—the filth, the stench, all part of their shared experience now.

Sitis turned in her sleep, vaguely aware of the birds’ morning chatter. Eyes still closed, she sensed darkness jealously yielding to dawn’s first rays, and at the same moment Job gasped and wheezed beside her. A lazy grin stretched across her lips as she wondered why her husband would begin snoring after forty years of slumbering bliss. She rolled toward him and let her arm fall across his strong, broad chest.

Her bloodcurdling scream split the morning silence.

Sitis bolted upright, staring at her husband—the man she thought was her husband—now lying paralyzed in pain, covered on every visible surface with seeping sores.

“By the gods, Job! What has happened to you?”

The first rays of sunrise streamed in from her balcony, the light breeze mingling the putrid odor of the death field with a new rotting stench from his sores. Sitis turned away and retched on the floor. Wiping her face, she stared at Job. He was shaking uncontrollably. Unable to speak, he began to grunt and gasp for air.

Revulsion stepped aside and fear seized her. Remembering Sayyid’s words that the city elders had spurned them, she wondered who in Uz would treat Job’s wounds. No physician would come near them. She covered her mouth, silencing the panic that threatened to overtake her.

And then she smelled it. The gum-yamin ointment on her bandaged hand.

“Dinah!” Sitis screamed. “Dinah!” She slid off the bed and ran down the hallway, uncertain which chamber housed the blonde beauty and her maid. “Dinah, get your medicines! Come quickly! My husband is dying!”

~Job 30:13–15~

They succeed in destroying me. . . . They advance as through a gaping breach; amid the ruins they come rolling in. Terrors overwhelm me; my dignity is driven away as by the wind, my safety vanishes like a cloud.

Elihu sat atop the middle mountain ridge by Job’s sacred altar in the early glow of pre-dawn stillness. Crystal-clear nights sharpened the desert chill, and his chattering teeth sang a remorseful tune to the lonely blanket still in his bedchamber. When Elihu had first arrived at Job’s home as a boy of twelve, he dreaded the pre-dawn climb from his fourth-floor bedchamber each morning. Abba Job’s chamber had been next to Elihu’s, and they’d often made the climb together, counting every step in the tower passageway. Four hundred thirty-two rock-hewn, steep-grade, narrow-walled stairs led to an immense porthole in the mountaintop. As an adolescent, he’d found the tower climb to be a nuisance. As an adult, he saw it as a wonder, the gateway to Elihu’s most holy place—the only place on earth he felt Yahweh truly heard his prayers.

This morning, they could bring no animal for sacrifice, but Abba Job would undoubtedly arrive at dawn for morning prayers. The two herdsmen would most likely join him. Would Dinah come too? Rubbing his bald head, he gazed at the amethyst sky, trying to focus on the miracle of God’s wonders rather than the mystery of God’s plan.

Last night sleep wouldn’t come, and Elihu couldn’t eat after arriving home from the death fields. Even more unsettling than the smell clinging to his robes were Abba Job’s words churning in his mind. 
Perhaps the Most High has called you and Dinah to my household for a greater purpose than we realized.

Elihu smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “For what purpose, Abba?” he had asked. Like a camel with its bridle and tail knotted, Elihu’s naïveté had marched him in a senseless circle. He was mortified when Abba Job bounced his eyebrows, giving his slow-witted student a moment to absorb the implications.

El Shaddai, if it’s truly Your will for me to marry Dinah, why didn’t the thought occur to
 me
? Why do I still love Uzahmah?

Elihu fought tears. His emotions had gotten the better of him the night of the tragedies. He couldn’t let it happen again. He needed to be strong for Abba Job and Ima Sitis.

But is it weak to mourn Uzahmah? Is it weak to doubt that I could ever love a woman like Dinah?

Of course, she was stunningly beautiful, and her devotion to El Shaddai seemed genuine. But her past would forever stain the man who married her. Could Elihu live with the questions for the rest of his life? Was he as certain as Abba Job of her innocence? He felt like a jackal for even admitting his doubts, but could he defend Dinah publicly when so many for so long had accused her?

He was suddenly distracted by movement in the canyon below. Elihu crouched, hurrying to the edge of the cliff. In the infancy of dawn, he watched several men leading pack animals near Job’s kitchen courtyard. Startled, he realized dozens more hammered at the courtyard wall, creating a gaping breach through which more men filed into the house! His heart slammed against his chest. Who would break down the wall when the gates were unlocked? What evil were they plotting, and how could he stop them?

If he hurried down the sharp eastern cliffs, where the mountains met and the canyon ended, he might reach the sleeping Shobal and Lotan in the stables. Surely they could find swords still packed in the Hebron caravan. But how could three men fight fifty, and what about Abba Job and the others still in the house? He must take them to safety first!

He saw a shadowy figure standing at Job’s main courtyard gate, positioning guards at every exit of the home. 
Who are you?
 Elihu thought. The man turned slightly, and dawn’s early rays revealed the chiseled features of Sayyid’s captain. Elihu’s mind raced with devastating possibilities. Uzahmah had once mentioned the tension between Sayyid and her abba, but Elihu couldn’t imagine Ima Sitis’s old friend organizing an attack on his neighbor.

Regardless of Elihu’s doubts, the fact lay before him. Sayyid didn’t even sneeze without his captain offering up his sleeve to wipe his nose. Elihu must act quickly to stop whatever Sayyid had planned.

Running toward the hole in the mountaintop, Elihu jumped down the tower stairs two and three at a time. His heart pounded in his ears, his breathing hard and fast. “I must get to the women in time. They’ll attack the women first,” he whispered, coaching his feet to move faster.

Finally reaching the bottom step, he burst through the heavy wooden door and was suddenly aware of a woman screaming. 
Am I too late?
 He ran faster and stumbled through the fourth-story hall, nearly tumbling headlong down the remaining stairs. Then he saw her—Ima Sitis hysterically screeching as she ran down the hallway in her night robe.

“Dinah, where are you?” She was running from door to door.

“Ima Sitis, quiet!” Elihu half-whispered, half-shouted. She turned, having obviously heard him, but then bolted in the opposite direction. “Ima, what are you doing? You must come—”

Nada burst from an adjoining third-story chamber, knocking Elihu’s wiry frame into the wall. “What’s wrong, my Sitis?” she asked, her eyes wild. Elihu recovered from the jolt and motioned her to be quiet, but she ignored him and chased after her lady instead.

At the sound of Nada’s voice, Sitis turned. “I must find Dinah! Job has sores. He can’t speak, his pain is so great. Help me find Dinah.”

“This way,” Nada said. The two continued down the hallway, Elihu pleading behind them.

“Ima Sitis, Nada, come back!” Exasperated, he wondered if he had become invisible.

“Mistress?” Dinah emerged from a veiled doorway down the hall, her small Cushite maid peeking out beside her.

“We have no time for this!” Elihu exploded, his whispering forgotten. By now, the bandits had no doubt heard the women’s screeching. “Ima Sitis, all of you, don’t ask questions. Just follow me. Now!” His deep, resonant voice echoed against the sandstone walls.

“Don’t talk to me that way, young man. My husband is ill!” Sitis said, stomping her foot.

Nada placed a balled fist on her hip, no doubt preparing to scold someone, but seemingly confused at where to start.

“Ahh!” Elihu hoisted Sitis into his arms, surprising everyone, including himself. “I said 
now
!” Whirling toward the stairway, he said, “We’ll collect Abba Job on the way.”

“Elihu, put me down!” Sitis kicked her legs in protest. “I’m too heavy for you to carry. Put me down! Job needs Dinah’s medicines!”

Elihu gritted his teeth, partly from frustration and partly from the strain of carrying someone matching his own weight. “Ima, we can tend Abba Job’s wounds later,” he whispered. “Right now men are entering your house and sealing off the exits. We must get to the mountaintop altar.” Sitis stopped kicking, and her face finally registered the concern Elihu had tried to convey. “We have to go up the tower stairs and escape across the mountain path,” he said, more gently now that fear scarred her features.

“But Job’s pain is too great,” she said. “He won’t make it.” Sitis glanced over Elihu’s shoulder and began flailing again. “Stop! Dinah is going back to her chamber. Put me down, Elihu.” He nearly dropped her but managed to land her gently on the tiled floor. “Nada and I will go to my chamber and get Job on his feet,” she said, “but you must get Dinah or Job will die.”

“Nogahla, hurry,” Dinah said, grabbing the two baskets of herbs and potions they’d unloaded from the caravan earlier. “Take this basket, and I’ll gather the linen bedcover for bandages. I heard Mistress Sitis say Job has sores and needs medicine, so we’ll take everything we have and hope for the best.”

Nogahla was already moving toward the door, basket in hand, when Elihu arrived with panic in his voice. “Hurry!” he said, and then suddenly stilled. Dinah heard raucous laughter and sounds of breaking pottery coming from the floors below. Elihu whispered, “There’s no time to bring the supplies!” He motioned them down the long hallway toward Sitis’s chamber.

“I’m bringing my medicines,” Dinah whispered adamantly, encouraging Nogahla in front of her. Elihu either chose to ignore her or didn’t hear. He flattened his narrow body against the wall, snuffing the oil lamps as he passed them, leaving Nogahla and Dinah to follow in a trail of near darkness.

Nogahla began to whimper, and Dinah nudged her from behind. “No crying!” The words registered familiarity between the women, locking their gaze, prompting tremulous grins. Dinah had given the same stern warning when they’d ridden the camel through the narrow siq.

Nogahla had been brave then, but this time she added a little humor. “Well, we certainly didn’t stay long at Master Job’s house, mistress. It’s a good thing we didn’t unpack.” Dinah grinned and nudged her a second time. Nogahla rewarded her with a brilliant white smile that lit the darkened hallway.

“Shh!” Elihu scolded and glanced behind them.

Dinah lifted an eyebrow, convinced Elihu’s hissing-snake impression made more noise than their quiet whispers. Tensions were high, but he acted much too serious for his age. His newly shaved head, slender nose, and close-set eyes gave him the look of a man approaching forty, but Sitis said he would have turned thirty just before marrying Uzahmah.

Nogahla reached back, needing a little comfort, and Dinah took her hand. “It’s all right. We’re almost to Mistress Sitis’s chamber.”

Elihu sighed, and before Dinah had time to wonder what new frustration vexed him, he turned, stepped around Nogahla, and faced Dinah. “I asked you to be quiet because I’m trying to get us out of here alive. If you’re going to be my wife, you must learn to heed my words.” Without so much as a nod, he slipped through the billowing linen veils of Sitis’s doorway.

Dinah froze. Nogahla turned slowly to face her, and in the darkened hallway, Dinah saw only Nogahla’s wide eyes, glowing like eclipsed full moons. “Mistress, did he say you were going to be his wife? When did he find time to like you?”

Dinah could barely breathe, and as usual, Nogahla’s innocent words encapsulated the bold truth. She had last seen Elihu when he’d shunned her at the altar yesterday. Their only words had been angry, their only glances awkward. What had happened to make him think . . .

“Nogahla, go inside. We must check on Master Job.” Dinah peeked once more into the dark hall behind her. She didn’t know if her heart was thudding wildly at the threat of danger or the thought of marrying a mere boy who obviously disliked her. Seeing no glimmer of light approaching in the darkened hallway, she turned to enter the chamber but was met with a ghastly sight.

Job’s body writhed in pain, his face and hands covered in sores.

The torturous searing of his flesh was relentless, surreal. Caught in the hellish divide between consciousness and sweet oblivion, Job prayed for death. He was thrust in and out of miserable awareness like a dirty garment plunged into the river and scrubbed against a rock. First came Sitis’s scream, and then he was alone. His next recollections were tinged with the distorted perceptions of darkness, agony, and terror.

“Abba, can you hear me? Abba Job?”

He gazed into Elihu’s frightened face, the bright blue sky above him. Job tried to move his head, to take in his surroundings, but the pain cut through him like a dull-edged dagger. Every movement, every point of contact—flesh to flesh, flesh to cloth, flesh to air—burned like the fires of Sheol. Eyes wide, hands clutching his robe, he felt the cold stone altar bench lying beneath him. They were on the mountaintop. How? Why?

“Sitis?” His voice emerged a mere croak, and the effort scraped his throat like a blade.

“Nada is tending to Ima Sitis.” Elihu leaned down, whispering, glancing nervously toward the porthole of the tower stairs.

Panic rose in Job’s chest. The memories were returning slowly. Elihu and Dinah carrying him up endless stairs. Men’s ribald laughter echoing in the darkened hallway below them. Crashing pottery. Women crying. “Dinah?”

“I’m here, Job.” A soft voice. The smell of frankincense and myrrh. “I’ve wrapped some of your wounds with herbs,” she said. The warmth of her whispered words burned the sores on his cheek. “They should give you some relief from the pain.”