Journey to the Well: A Novel (18 page)
Read Journey to the Well: A Novel Online
Authors: Diana Wallis Taylor
Jesse came alone, dressed in his Sabbath clothes. His blond hair was carefully combed and his beard trimmed. Marah’s heart nearly melted at the sight of him.
Catching Jesse’s eyes several times as she served the men, they gazed at each other. Simon’s words were bees buzzing softly in the background. The meal and the conversation took forever.
“The carpenter shop goes well for you?” Simon was saying.
“It is hard work, but I like creating useful things out of it. Even when I was a boy, and tended the sheep, I carved things . . .” Jesse caught Marah’s look and his eyes danced.
“It is a good thing to do that which you enjoy as your daily living,” Simon answered heartily.
They talked about the carpenter trade in detail and then went on to solemnly discuss Simon’s crops. From their somber tones, it was as if the mundane things of every day had assumed great significance.
“You would think that the next harvest was the most important topic of conversation at this meal,” Hannah whispered fiercely to Marah as they served. When at last their supper was finished, the women cleared the few wooden platters, cleaned them carefully, and placed them on a shelf. Hannah stood back, her hands clasped in front of her. Marah waited anxiously. The room became extremely quiet. Simon looked expectantly at Jesse who cleared his throat.
“It was a fine meal, a fine meal. I thank you for the honor of letting me share it with you.” He smiled at them both. Marah, standing in the shadows, felt she could barely contain her impatience.
“There is something else you wish to speak about?” Simon prompted gently.
“Yes. I wish to, ah, thank you for your kindness to Marah through the events that have taken place.”
Simon waited.
“It is truly God’s blessing that she has good friends who have shared their home with her.”
Simon smiled and nodded encouragingly.
“I have come to ask your blessing and permission. I wish to make Marah my wife.”
At last the words were out and Marah discovered that she and Hannah had both been holding their breath.
Simon smiled broadly, enjoying his role. Then he became solemn. “You can support a wife and children?”
Knowing Simon, Marah knew he had already inquired tactfully in the village.
Jesse grinned and nodded. Simon was looking out well for the young woman in his charge. “I can support us, and Caleb, . . . and more children when they come.”
Hannah clasped her hands to her breast and beamed.
Simon reached out and shook Jesse’s hand enthusiastically. “You have our blessing . . . and for what it is worth, we are not blood relatives, you have our permission.”
Jesse grew taller as he rose and stood in the lamplight, reaching out his hand to Marah. She longed to be in his arms, but modesty held her back in front of Simon and Hannah. She took Jesse’s hand and returned his warm gaze. Simon cleared his throat, reminding them they were not alone.
“And when shall this wedding take place, hm?” Hannah was always the practical one, getting down to business.
“Since it is the end of the barley harvest, I felt it could be soon. My shop does not depend upon the seasons and my father’s field is small, so it will not take long to harvest. Since we are both widowed, it did not seem necessary that we wait out the year of betrothal.”
Simon grinned from ear to ear. “I think that a short betrothal would be best.”
Hannah nodded and looked at Marah. “This is in agreement with you?”
“Yes. I want the wedding to be soon. It nears the end of the month of Nisan. Perhaps the beginning of Tammuz, after the wheat harvest?” That was three months away. It would be a short time to prepare for a wedding, but there was little dowry to discuss and it would be long enough to keep the town gossips from surmising another reason for a hasty wedding.
Simon stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Yes, I think that under the circumstances, this would be acceptable. Your time of mourning has long ended.” He nodded his head. “We will announce the good news in the village tomorrow and your betrothal ceremony will be in three days.”
Three days. In three days she would be betrothed to Jesse. Marah could hardly breathe for the joy that filled her.
“Wine, woman,” Simon said, reaching for his goblet. “We must celebrate!”
Jesse and Simon raised their goblets. “To your wedding!” cried Simon exuberantly.
“To our wedding,” Jesse echoed, and they drained their cups.
Marah thought how different it would be this time. She had been so terrified and unhappy before her marriage to Zibeon. She had taken no pleasure in their betrothal ceremony. The betrothal to Shimei was brief and what amounted to a sham. She was thankful a wedding had not taken place. She had not been able to imagine Shimei as her husband. Yet, betrothed, she was the same as his wife in the eyes of the law. So there was the shame of the bill of divorcement. Now that shame would be erased. She would be a wife, Jesse’s wife.
22
T
he betrothal ceremony was a joyous one with a large gathering of neighbors and friends. The women could see that this was a love match. It touched their hearts as it has done with women through the ages. The good wishes were plentiful, and from the bawdy comments of the men, it was easy to see they envied Jesse his bride.
he betrothal ceremony was a joyous one with a large gathering of neighbors and friends. The women could see that this was a love match. It touched their hearts as it has done with women through the ages. The good wishes were plentiful, and from the bawdy comments of the men, it was easy to see they envied Jesse his bride.
The high priest had not attended, but the shammash solemnly blessed the occasion. He did not speak to Marah again concerning the matter of Shimei, for the whole village knew he had fled and was not likely to return. The bill of divorcement had been duly noted and recorded by the scribes.
The shammash ended his long blessing and turned to Marah. “It is good that you will marry at last,” he said.
“Yes, my lord,” Marah had answered softly, respectfully lowering her eyes. The shammash turned and left with the elders of the village.
The time of the wheat harvest came. Marah worked closely with Hannah as they fed Simon and the men in the fields. Hannah stayed close to Marah in the fields.
Jesse also came to help in the harvest, and though Marah modestly looked down when they passed, her heart quickened. On the few occasions when Jesse caught her eye, no words were needed.
The month of Sivan passed slowly and in a week the month of Tammuz would usher in her wedding. The women of the village smiled and nodded at Marah as they gathered at the village well. Marah had not gone to Jacob’s well for water since the day Reba sent her.
“Are you ready for the wedding, Marah?” asked Leah. “I’m glad you are to marry again. I thought you had not found any of our men to your liking.”
Marah ignored the inference and smiled sweetly. “It is good of you to ask, Leah. Yes, I am looking forward to the wedding.”
“Such a change from last time. For such a man, I would be eager for the wedding also!”
The women laughed and Marah laughed with them. They could tease her now. In her love for Jesse, nothing could bother her. She also knew the source of their lighthearted camaraderie. They did not have to fear for their husbands any longer. She was no longer a single widow, eyed by half the men of the village, but a betrothed woman. Soon she would be a married woman among them with all the duties of her own household. She would be helping Jesse to care for Caleb and his parents.
As she walked back to Hannah’s with the jug of water, she smiled to herself, thinking of Caleb. He was an exuberant little boy and a handful for Jesse’s aging parents, Elon and Abigail. She wanted to be Caleb’s mother and of course, in time, a mother to their own children. The children who would be born of the love she and Jesse shared.
Jesse was spending all his spare time building a small room adjoining the house of his parents.
“I want us to have a place of our own,” he told her earnestly one day.
He made the new room with an opening to the small courtyard as well as the main room of the house. Elon, who had felt stronger in recent days, helped his son as much as he could.
The mud brick was carefully placed along the lines that Jesse had laid out, and as the walls went up, Jesse applied the mud plaster to the sides. For the roof, he wove brushwood branches together and laid them on the rafters hewn from several trees. He covered these carefully with a thick layer of clay. It filled the spaces between the branches and formed a hard, smooth layer of plaster. He made a set of steps that went up the outside wall of the room so he and Marah could place their pallet on the roof in hot weather. He formed a parapet around the edges of the roof in keeping with the Book of the Law—
“When you build a new house [in this case, a room], you shall make a parapet for your roof, that you may not bring the guilt of blood upon your house, if anyone fall from it.”
Marah came as often as she could to see how the work was progressing. She liked to visit with Abigail.
“Have they not made wonderful progress, Daughter?”
“Oh yes, Mother Abigail. They will be done soon.” How she welcomed entering the family of this gentle woman. She always had a kind word for Marah.
Jesse’s mother had difficulty with her eyes and could no longer thread a needle so Marah took garments home that were in need of mending.
Elon’s field lay outside the town, as did all the fields. Income from it had been meager, but Abigail had managed through the years. Now, in their old age, when Elon could no longer work his field, a helper was hired to care for it while Jesse handled the carpentry shop. Jesse cared for his parents out of love and respect. Abigail and Elon, in turn, thanked God daily for the blessing of a fine son. Elon held up his head in the village and spoke of his son with pride.
The dry season began and the first figs ripened. Soon the grape harvest would begin and the women would be busy making wine for their households. There were figs to dry and small date and nut cakes to pack in heavy crocks, not only for the household, but especially for the wedding feast. Marah had already decided the wedding would be simple. She would wear the traditional garland around her head and her wedding coins, but her garment would not be the dress that Reba had made for her. She would wear the simple white tunic of the Samaritans, with a full mantle that covered her feet with soft, white fringe.
The man who purchased Zibeon’s sandal shop was skilled, and Simon purchased a new pair of sandals for her as a wedding gift. Hannah wove her a new girdle of beautiful rich earth colors.
When the morning of her wedding day came at last, Marah thought of Timnah. She had married an older relative in another village and there had been no word from her since. Atarah had married her potter and in three years had produced two husky children, a boy and a girl. She gained even more weight, but she’d not lost her sense of humor. Married life agreed with her.
No one had to whisper to Marah to smile at the guests. Marah beamed. Even Jesse had not waited for the late hour to come for his bride. The ceremony under the canopy was a joyous one.
Caleb had been so excited, he jumped up and down, crying happily, “I’m going to have a mama. Papa will bring Marah home and she will be my mama.”
Finally, as Marah waited in the small room Jesse had added on to the home of his parents, a warmth spread through her at the thought of what God had done. Caleb’s small pallet was placed near Jesse’s parents for the night. This one night the bridal couple would have all the privacy the small house could afford.
Jesse entered and firmly closed the wooden door that hung on its leather hinges. He had one hand behind his back, and as he came and stood by Marah, looking down at her, his eyes were alight with the love that burned in his heart. He handed her a small bundle of lambskin and waited. Marah looked at Jesse and back to the bundle. There was a lump in her throat as she unfolded the lambskin to reveal a small, beautifully carved instrument.
“Oh Jesse,” she breathed in wonder, “the little flute.” They both looked at it shining in the dim lamplight. It had not weathered but looked as new as on the day Jesse had first given it to her. Marah looked into Jesse’s eyes and saw herself reflected in their depths. Wordlessly she went into his arms.
23
I
t was early in the day, but there had to be plenty of time allowed for preparation. It was the sacred day of Passover. A time of a
hajj
or serious pilgrim-feast. The whole community would join them as they began their journey to the sacred mountain.
t was early in the day, but there had to be plenty of time allowed for preparation. It was the sacred day of Passover. A time of a
hajj
or serious pilgrim-feast. The whole community would join them as they began their journey to the sacred mountain.
“Caleb, quickly, close up the chickens. It is time.” Jesse was to take part in the ceremonies this year and was anxious to get to Mount Gerizim with the others.
A number of lambs were carefully chosen from those born during the previous month of Tishri. They would be sacrificed, as many as needed to feed the community. Extra lambs were also set aside to be used should one of the chosen lambs prove to be unacceptable or unclean.
As they arrived on Mount Gerizim, Jesse helped his father pitch their tent as the women put their things in order for the long wait of Passover. Jesse, now clad in a blue robe given to him for the occasion, joined several other young men as they dug the trenches for the fires.
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