A Lineage of Grace (4 page)

Onan shrugged. “Off with his friends. He was angry when he heard where you’d gone. I stayed out of his way. You know how he gets.”

“Bathshua!”
Judah strode toward his stone house.

A buxom woman with heavily painted eyes appeared in the doorway. “What are you yelling about this time?”

“Did you tell Er I was bringing his bride home today?”

“I told him.” She leaned indolently in the doorway.

“Then where is he?”

She lifted her chin. “I’m his mother, Judah, not his keeper. Er will be along when he’s ready and not before. You know how he is.”

Judah’s face darkened. “Yes, I know how he is.” He gripped his staff so tightly his knuckles turned white. “That’s why he needs a wife!”

“That may be, Judah, but you said the girl was pretty.” She gave Tamar a cursory glance. “Do you really think this skinny girl will turn Er’s head?”

“Tamar is more than she seems. Show her to Er’s chamber.” Judah walked off, leaving Tamar and Acsah standing before the house.

Mouth tight, Bathshua looked Tamar over from head to foot. She shook her head in disgust. “I wonder what Judah was thinking when he chose you?” Turning her back, she went into the house and left Tamar and Acsah to fend for themselves.

* * *

Er returned late in the afternoon, accompanied by several Canaanite friends. They were drunk and laughing loudly. Tamar remained out of sight, knowing what men were like in this condition. Her father and brothers had often imbibed freely and argued violently because of it. She knew the wisdom of staying out of the way until the effects of the wine wore off.

Knowing she would be summoned, Tamar had Acsah array her in wedding finery. While waiting, Tamar willed herself to set aside every terrible thing she’d ever heard about Er. Perhaps those who had spoken against him had hidden motives. She would give him the respect due a husband and adapt herself to his demands. If the god of his father smiled upon her, she would give Er sons, and quickly. If she were so blessed, she would bring them up to be strong and honest. She would teach them to be dependable and loyal. And if Er so wished, she would learn about the God of Judah and bring up her sons to worship him rather than bow down to the gods of her father. Still, her heart trembled and her fears increased with each passing hour.

When Tamar was finally summoned and saw her husband, she felt a flicker of admiration. Er was tall like his father and held the promise of great physical strength. He had his mother’s thick curling mass of black hair, which he had drawn back in Canaanite fashion. The brass band he wore around his forehead made him look like a young Canaanite prince. Tamar was awed by her husband’s handsome appearance but filled quickly with misgivings when she looked into his eyes. They were cold and dark and devoid of mercy. There was pride in the tilt of his head, cruelty in the curve of his lips, and indifference in his manner. He didn’t reach out to take her hand.

“So this is the wife you chose for me, Father.”

Tamar shivered at his tone.

Judah put his hand firmly on his son’s shoulder. “Take good care of what belongs to you, and may the God of Abraham give you many sons by this girl.”

Er stood unblinking, his face an inscrutable mask.

All through the evening, Er’s friends made crude jests about marriage. They teased Er unmercifully, and though he laughed, Tamar knew he wasn’t amused. Her father-in-law, lost in his own thoughts, drank freely while Bathshua lounged nearby, eating the best tidbits of the wedding feast and ignoring her. Tamar was hurt and confused and embarrassed by such rudeness. What had she done to offend her mother-in-law? It was as though the woman was determined not to show her the least consideration.

As the night wore on, her fear gave way to depression. She felt abandoned and lost in the midst of the gathering. She had married the heir of Judah’s household, and yet no one spoke to her, not even the young husband who sat beside her. The hours passed slowly. She was bone weary from lack of sleep the previous night and the long walk to her new home. The tensions of the wedding feast further sapped her. She fought to keep her eyes open. She fought even harder to keep the tears from welling up and spilling over.

Er pinched her. Tamar gasped and jerked away from him. Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized she had unwittingly dozed against his side. His friends were laughing and making jokes about her youth and the impending wedding night. Er laughed with them. “Your nurse has prepared the chamber for us.” He took her hand and pulled her up to her feet.

As soon as Acsah closed the door of the bedchamber behind them, Er stepped away from Tamar. Acsah took her place outside the door and began singing and beating her small drum. Tamar’s skin prickled. “I’m sorry I fell asleep, my lord.”

Er said nothing. She waited, her nerves stretching taut. He was enjoying her tension, plucking her nerve endings with his silence. Folding her hands, she decided to wait him out. He removed his belt sardonically. “I noticed you last year when we brought the sheep to your father’s fields. I suppose that’s why my father thought you might do as my wife.” His gaze moved down over her. “He doesn’t know me very well.”

She did not fault Er for the hurtful words. She felt he was justified. After all, her heart had not leaped with joy when Judah came and offered a bride-price for her.

“You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

If she said no, it would be a lie. To say yes would be unwise.

His brow rose. “You should be afraid. I’m angry, or can’t you tell?”

She could, indeed, and couldn’t guess what he would do about it. She remained silent, acquiescent. She’d seen her father in rages often enough to know that it was better to say nothing. Words were like oil on a fiery temper. Her mother had told her long ago that men were unpredictable and given to fits of violence when provoked. She would not provoke Er.

“Cautious little thing, aren’t you?” He smiled slowly. “At least you keep your wits about you.” He came toward her. “You’ve heard things about me, I’ll bet.” He brushed his fingers against her cheek. She tried not to flinch. “Have your brothers carried stories home?”

Her heart beat faster and faster.

“As my father said, you’re mine now. My own little mouse to do with as I wish. Remind me to thank him.” He tipped her chin. His eyes glittered coldly, reminding her of a jackal in the moonlight. When he leaned down and kissed her mouth, the hair on the back of her neck rose. He drew back, assessing her. “Believe the rumors, every one of them!”

“I will try to please you, my husband.” Heat poured into her cheeks at the quaver in her voice.

“Oh, no doubt you will try, my sweet, but you won’t succeed.” His mouth curved, showing the edge of his teeth. “You can’t.”

It took only a day of the weeklong wedding celebration for Tamar to understand what he meant.

TWO

Tamar tensed as she heard Er shouting inside the house. Bathshua was shouting back at him. Even with the midday sun beating down upon Tamar’s back, her sweat turned cold. Judah had summoned his eldest son to assist with the flocks, but it seemed Er had plans of his own. Er’s temper was hot enough now that he would seek out some way to vent it, and his wife would be an easy target. After all, no one would interfere.

Keeping her head down, Tamar continued hoeing the rocky patch of soil Bathshua had assigned to her care. She wished she could shrink to the size of an ant and scurry down a hole. Inside the house, the ranting of son and raving of mother continued. Tamar knelt once, fighting against frightened tears as she pried a large rock from the ground. Straightening, she tossed it toward the growing pile nearby. In her mind she built a wall around herself, high and thick, with a clear sky above. She didn’t want to think about Er’s temper and what he might do to her this time.

“She’s losing her hold on him,” Acsah said grimly as she worked a few feet away.

“It does no good to worry, Acsah.” The words were uttered more to remind herself than Acsah. Tamar kept working. What else could she do? Four months in Judah’s house had taught her to avoid her husband whenever possible, especially when he was in a bad temper. She’d also learned to hide her fear. Her heart might race with it, her stomach be tight as a knot, her skin cold and clammy, but she dared not reveal her feelings, for Er relished fear. He fed upon it.

“A pity Judah isn’t here.” Acsah made a sound of disgust. “Of course, he’s never here.” She hit the hard ground with her hoe. “Not that he can be blamed.”

Tamar said nothing. Her mind worked frantically, searching for an escape and finding none. If only Judah hadn’t gone ahead. If only he’d taken Er with him in the first place, rather than send a servant back later to fetch him. When Judah was present, Er could be managed. When he was absent, Er ran wild. The chaos of this family came from Judah’s failure to exercise his authority often enough. Judah preferred the open spaces of hills and fields to the confines of his house. Tamar didn’t fault him—sheep and goats were peaceful, complacent company compared to a contentious wife and hot-tempered, quarrelsome sons. Sometimes Er and Onan behaved like wild beasts tied together and thrown into a box!

Judah could run away from unpleasantness. Judah could hide from responsibility. Tamar had to live with danger day after day.

Her body jerked as something large crashed inside the house. Bathshua screamed tearful curses down upon her son. Er retaliated. More crockery hit the wall. A metal cup flew out the doorway and bounced across the ground.

“You must stay away from the house today,” Acsah said quietly.

“Bathshua may prevail.” Turning away, Tamar gazed toward the distant hills while the battle raged behind her. Her hand trembled as she wiped the perspiration from her face. Closing her eyes, she sighed. Perhaps Judah’s command would be enough this time.

“Bathshua always prevails in one way or another,” Acsah said bitterly. She scraped angrily at the dry earth. “If screaming fails, she’ll sulk until she gets her way.”

Tamar ignored Acsah and tried to think of more pleasant things. She thought of her sisters. They had squabbles, but they enjoyed one another’s company. She remembered how they had sung together as they worked and told stories to entertain one another. Her father had a temper like any other man, and there had been loud arguments at times between her brothers, but nothing in her experience had prepared her for Judah’s household. Each day she tried to arise with new hope, only to have it crushed again.

“If only I had a place here, Acsah, some small corner of influence . . .” She spoke without self-pity.

“You will have when you produce a son.”

“A son.” Tamar’s heart ached with longing. She longed for a child more than anyone, even her husband, whose desire for a son was more an extension of his own pride than a desire to prosper his family. For Tamar, a son would secure her position in the household. She would no longer feel such loneliness, with a baby in her arms. She could love a son and hold him close and receive love from him. Perhaps a son would even soften Er’s heart toward her—and his hand as well.

She remembered again Bathshua’s crushing condemnation: “If you didn’t disappoint my son, he wouldn’t beat you so often! Do as he wishes, and perhaps he will treat you better!” Tamar blinked back tears, fighting against self-pity. What good would that do? It would only weaken her resolve. She was a member of this family, whether she wanted to be or not. She mustn’t allow her emotions to prevail. She knew Bathshua delighted in making hurtful remarks. A day never passed without her mother-in-law’s finding some way to stab at her heart.

“Another moon has passed, Tamar, and
still
you haven’t conceived! I was with child a week after I wed Judah!”

Tamar could say nothing without rousing Er’s temper. What defense had she when nothing she did pleased her mother-in-law or her young husband? She ceased to hope for tenderness or compassion from either of them. Honor and loyalty seemed to be missing as well, for Bathshua had to resort to threats to get Er to obey Judah’s summons.

“Enough, I say!” Er shouted in frustration, drawing Tamar’s attention back to the altercation between mother and son. “
Enough!
I’ll go to Father! Anything to get away from your carping!” He stormed out of the house.
“I hate sheep!
If I had my way, I’d
butcher every one of them!”

Bathshua appeared in the doorway, arms akimbo, chest heaving. “And then what would you have? Nothing!”

“I’d have the money from their meat and hides. That’s what I’d have.”

“All of which you’d spend in a week. Then what? Have I raised such a fool?”

Er called her a name and made a rude gesture at her before turning and striding away. Tamar held her breath until she saw he was taking the path away from Kezib. She would have a few days’ respite from his cruelty.

“It seems Bathshua won this battle,” Acsah said. “But there will be another, and another,” she added dismally.

Lighter of heart, Tamar smiled and returned to her work. “Each day has trouble enough, Acsah. I’ll not burden myself with worrying about tomorrow.”

“Tamar!”
Bathshua stepped outside. “If you have time enough for idle chatter, you can come clean up this mess!” Swinging around, she marched back into the house.

“She expects you to clear up the destruction she and Er have made of that house,” Acsah said with loathing.

“Hush, or you’ll bring more trouble upon us.”

Bathshua appeared again. “Leave Acsah to finish in the garden. I want you inside this house
now
!” She disappeared inside.

When Tamar entered the house, she treaded carefully so that she wouldn’t step on the shards of broken pottery strewn across the earthen floor. Bathshua sat glumly staring at her broken loom. Hunkering down, Tamar began to gather the shards of a jug into the folds of her
tsaiph
.

“I hope Judah is satisfied with the mess he’s made,” Bathshua said angrily. “He thought a wife would improve Er’s disposition!” She glared at Tamar as though she were to blame for everything that had happened. “Er is worse than ever! You’ve done my son more harm than good!”

Fighting tears, Tamar made no defense.

Muttering imprecations, Bathshua tipped the loom up. Seeing that the arm was broken and the rug she’d made tangled, she covered her face and wept bitterly.

Tamar was embarrassed by the woman’s passion. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Bathshua burst into tempestuous tears. The first time, she’d gone to her mother-in-law and tried to comfort her, only to receive a resounding slap across the face and blame for the woman’s despair. Tamar kept her distance now and averted her eyes.

Was Bathshua blind to what she caused in this household? She constantly pitted son against father and son against son. She argued with Judah over everything—and in front of her sons—teaching them to rebel and follow their own desires rather than do what was best for the family. It was no wonder her mother-in-law was miserable! And everyone was miserable right along with her.

“Judah wants Er to tend the sheep.” Bathshua yanked at the loom, making a worse mess. “You know why? Because my husband can’t bear to be away from his
abba
for more than a year! He has to go back and see how that wretched old man is doing. You watch when Judah comes home. He’ll brood for days. He won’t speak to anyone. He won’t eat. Then he’ll get drunk and say the same stupid thing he does every time he sees Jacob.” She grimaced as she mocked her husband. “‘The hand of God is upon me!’”

Tamar glanced up.

Bathshua rose and paced. “How can the man be such a fool—believing in a god who doesn’t even exist?”

“Perhaps he does exist.”

Bathshua cast a baleful glance at her. “Then where is he? Has this god a temple in which to live or priests to serve him? He doesn’t even have a
tent
!” Her chin tipped in pride. “He’s not like the gods of Canaan.” She marched to her cabinet and flung it open. “He is not a god like
these
.” She held her hand out toward her teraphim reverently. “He isn’t a god you can see.” She ran her hand down one statue. “He isn’t a god you can touch. These gods fan our passions into being and make our land and our women fertile.” Her eyes glittered coldly. “Perhaps if you were more respectful to them, you wouldn’t still have a flat, empty belly!”

Tamar felt the barb, but this time she didn’t allow it to sink in deeply. “Didn’t the God of Judah destroy Sodom and Gomorrah?”

Bathshua laughed derisively. “So some say, but I don’t believe it.” She closed the cabinet firmly, as though such words would bring bad luck upon her house. She turned and frowned down upon Tamar. “Would you raise up your sons to bow down to a god who destroys cities?”

“If Judah wills it.”

“Judah,” Bathshua said and shook her head. “Have you ever seen my husband worship his father’s god? I never have. So why should his sons or I worship him? You will train up your sons in the religion of Er’s choice. I have never bowed down to an unseen god. Not once have I been unfaithful to the gods of Canaan, and I advise you to be faithful as well. If you know what’s good for you . . .”

Tamar recognized the threat.

Bathshua sat upon a cushion against the wall and smiled coldly. “Er wouldn’t be pleased to hear you were even thinking of worshiping the god of the Hebrews.” Her eyes narrowed. “I think you’re the cause of our troubles.”

Tamar knew what to expect. When Er returned, Bathshua would claim there was spiritual insurrection in the household. The woman relished stirring up trouble. Tamar longed to throw the broken crockery on the earthen floor and tell her mother-in-law it was her own actions that were destroying the family. Instead, she swallowed her anger and collected shards as Bathshua watched.

“The gods have blessed me with three fine sons, and I’ve brought them up in the
true
religion, as would any
good
mother.”

Hot-tempered sons, who do even less work than you do,
Tamar wanted to say but held her tongue. She couldn’t win a war with her mother-in-law.

Bathshua leaned forward and lifted an overturned tray enough to pluck a bunch of grapes. She dropped the tray again. “Perhaps you should pray to Asherah more often and give better offerings to Baal. Then your womb might be opened.”

Tamar lifted her head. “I know of Asherah and Baal. My father and mother gave up my sister to serve as a priestess in the temple of Timnah.” She didn’t add that she’d never been able to embrace their beliefs or say aloud that she pitied her sister above all women. Once, during a visit to Timnah during a festival, she’d seen her older sister on an altar platform having sexual intercourse with a priest. The rites were intended to arouse Baal and bring spring back to the land, but Tamar had been filled with disgust and fear at what she saw, sickened even more by the excited crowd witnessing the scene. She’d drawn back, ducked around the corner of a building, and run away. She hadn’t stopped running until she was out of Timnah. She’d hidden in the middle of an olive orchard and remained there until evening when her mother found her.

“You are not devout enough,” Bathshua said smugly.

No, I am not,
Tamar said to herself. She knew she could never be devout when she didn’t believe. The gods made no sense to her. All her efforts to worship them filled her with a strange sense of repugnance and shame.

Bathshua rose and returned to her loom. She had calmed enough to begin straightening the tangled threads. “If you were a true believer, you’d be with child by now.” She glanced at Tamar, no doubt trying to assess the impact of her mean-spirited words. “It would seem the gods are angry with you, wouldn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Tamar conceded with a pang of guilt. Bathshua’s teraphim were nothing but clay, stone, and wood statues. She couldn’t embrace them as Bathshua did, nor could she adore them as fervently. Oh, Tamar said the prayers expected of her, but the words were empty and held no power. Her heart was untouched, her mind far from convinced.