Love Amid the Ashes (2 page)

~Genesis 34:1–4~

Now Dinah, the daughter Leah had borne to Jacob, went out to visit the women of the land. When Shechem son of Hamor the Hivite, the ruler of that area, saw her, he took her and violated her. His heart was drawn to Dinah . . . and he loved the girl and spoke tenderly to her. And Shechem said to his father Hamor, “Get me this girl as my wife.”

Dinah watched the young Cushite bundling each piece of pottery and plant, every herb and vial. Nestling down on the rug and gathering a blanket beneath her head, Dinah’s eyelids drooped, lulled by the rhythmic sounds of the Hebron camp at work. Wooden spoons clanged on brass cooking pots. Lambs
mahhhed
for the ewes. Children’s laughter floated on the spring breeze. But a new sound joined the chorus. Nogahla’s gentle hum sent a soothing vibration deep into Dinah’s soul, and sleep carried her away.

The dream was as vivid as the first time Dinah lived it. She was fifteen again, and the heavy morning dew soaked her robe as she moved quietly through her abba’s flocks, careful not to disturb the ewes with their lambs, lest their bleating wake her surly brothers. Her thighs ached as she climbed the steep limestone terraces covered with wheat fields, olive groves, and vineyards. Brilliant purple and orange hues glowed in the eastern sky, casting an alabaster glow on her high-stepping march through the golden heads of wheat.

The morning sun burst over the high walls of Shechem, and the prince bearing the city’s name stood at the gate. Dinah was transfixed by the outline of his muscular frame, the backdrop of the glowing sunrise making him appear more god than man. Shechem bowed as if she were royalty and he the shepherd’s child. “Good morning, beauty of Jacob.”

Dinah felt her cheeks grow warm at his words, and she returned his bow, keeping her gaze downcast. Never had a man spoken to her in such a way. He reached out for her hand, and she instinctively drew back. He gently touched her chin, and she looked into his eyes for the first time. “I will never force you to do anything against your will, lovely Dinah.”

Her breath caught. “How do you know my name?” she asked.

The brightness of his smile on that sun-kissed face matched the dawn. “When your abba bought the land from my brothers and me, we were mere children, but I noted how beautiful you were, and I asked your name. Now I am twenty, and you are marriageable age, are you not?”

Dinah dropped her gaze immediately. She couldn’t breathe or think or reason. Had this handsome prince just asked her to marry him? Impossible. “Yes, I am of age,” she heard herself say.

“Well, I have been waiting to make you my wife. My father has only one wife, and I plan to follow his example. You are my choice, Dinah.” He held out his hand once again. Dinah studied it, knowing her future hung in the balance. His hand was large and tanned and gentle as it folded around hers.

She could feel his pulse racing through her hand, its rhythm turning her thoughts into a jumbled torrent of words. “But Ima Rachel’s silver!” She blurted out the words, startling poor Shechem. “She is a midwife, and I’m her assistant. I promised to retrieve her payment from Nebal the merchant and then return home. Abba and Ima Leah don’t even know I’ve gone into the city alone. They’ll be worried if I don’t return soon.” She hated that her voice sounded desperate and childish, but if she went home without Ima Rachel’s silver . . .

Home. Would she be returning home? Her head snapped up and she searched Shechem’s face. Kind eyes and a gentle expression.

She became lost in him. What was this aching in her chest? This glorious desire to sing, to run, to melt into his arms—all in the same moment?

Shechem gently squeezed her hand and winked, a wide grin stretching across his broad face. “Your ima Rachel will have her silver. I’ll see to it,” he said. “Nebal told me you were coming today. It’s why I’m here.” He reached out to trace her jaw with one finger.

His touch broke the spell, and Dinah dropped her gaze. She peered at the passing merchants, her head bowed shamefully. Suddenly conscious of the stares, she regretted allowing Shechem to show his affection in public. If her abba heard, there could be trouble.

Shechem must have realized her discomfort because his next words came with a chuckle, and his hands fell to his sides. “Tell me, Jacob’s daughter, would you like to stand here at the city gate and discuss our wedding, or shall we go to the palace for the remainder of our conversation?”

“Wedding?” Dinah breathed, her heart beating so hard and fast, she was certain her woolen robe danced without her permission. She giggled, her cheeks on fire, and then leaned in close. “Am I to spend the rest of my life with a flushed face, Prince Shechem?” she whispered. Her first attempt at teasing was met with his delighted laughter, and before she could object, he hoisted her into his arms and carried her through the city streets.

“What are you doing?” She tugged frantically to cover her exposed ankles.

Her question was met with princely strides in the direction of the palace towers. “I am carrying my wife through her city,” he said, his eyes so full of her that Dinah could see her reflection in the warm brown pools. “Tell me, daughter of Jacob, how do you feel about being a queen someday? What do you think of our city?”

Dinah didn’t know whether to be embarrassed at being carried like an injured lamb, or honored or frightened or suspicious. After all, she didn’t really
know
Prince Shechem. He was widely renowned as the most honored and respected of all King Hamor’s sons, but was he an honorable man? Did he have many women? Was he deceiving her? All she knew at this moment was that he was handsome and charming, and he had just asked her a question she was supposed to answer.

“I’m sorry, what did you just ask me?”

His laughter boomed and his eyes sparkled—not a glimmer of impatience or frustration. “I asked what you think of our city.” His grin and arched eyebrows said that he would wait in silence for her appraisal.

Though Dinah had visited Shechem dozens of times with Ima Rachel, she’d never roamed freely through the marketplace. And even if she’d seen the market a thousand times, the view from Prince Shechem’s arms was certainly different. Vendors shouted from their crowded booths. Animals of all shapes and sizes were traded for labor and sold for meat. Children scampered from merchant to merchant, some begging bread and others tucking items into the tiny folds of their robes. A man holding a heavy metal chain led ten women wearing iron collars. Each woman wore a costume from a different land, though two of them wore nothing at all. City life was a completely different world to Dinah, and when she returned her attention to the prince, his eyes were clouded with worry.

“What do you think of your new home?” he asked. “Can you ever be happy surrounded by high stone walls and noisy people after living on quiet hillsides in neat tent rows?”

Dinah saw true concern on Shechem’s features, and she was awed by his tenderness. She couldn’t remember ever being asked her opinion or having anyone show concern for her happiness. Tears threatened, and she couldn’t let him think she was such a child, so she answered with her mischievous side. “I confess I prefer the smell of shepherds’ fields and sheep dung to rotted food and smelly old men in the city streets, Prince Shechem—but
you
are far more appealing than my ugly brothers.” Holding his gaze, she tilted her head and lifted an eyebrow, letting only one side of her mouth show its pleasure.

His response was better than she hoped, more pleasing than she expected. He smiled, stopped in the middle of the street, and kissed her deeply. Those bustling around them stopped to applaud, and when he pulled away, Dinah was breathless. “I’m glad you find me appealing,” he said, mischief of his own dancing in his eyes. “Ha!” He resumed his march toward the palace, and she nestled her head against his shoulder, finding it comfortable enough to satisfy her for the rest of her life.

When they arrived in the large limestone structure, Dinah was surprised that they didn’t stop in the main hall. Instead, Shechem continued carrying her through a maze of winding hallways, past several doorways and wondering servants. He climbed a narrow stairway and finally entered a room grandly furnished with extravagant rugs and plush furniture. Dinah was awestruck. She remembered Ima Rachel’s instructions for when they tended the wealthy births in Shechem, and tried to keep her gaping mouth closed. The prince gently set her feet on the floor, but she rushed from one beautiful hanging tapestry to the next.

“It’s all so elegant,” she said, forgetting her soon-to-be bridegroom at the door. When she finally remembered where she was, and what—or who—had brought her there, she was once again humiliated by her childishness. “Please forgive me, Your Majesty.” Her cheeks were aflame, and she bowed to Prince Shechem. In her subservient posture, she noted that she had stopped directly beside the large veiled bed in the middle of the room. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone as dry as the Eastern Desert.

In less than a heartbeat, Prince Shechem stood before her, one hand lifting her chin, the other securely around her waist. “So it’s ‘Your Majesty’ now, is it?” he said with a sly grin.

She saw hunger in his eyes and looked away, not knowing how to respond. Why had she allowed him to carry her to his bedchamber?

“I said I would never force you to do anything against your will, Dinah.” His eyes searched every corner of her soul. This time she couldn’t turn away no matter how hard she tried. But did she even wish to try? He’d captured her in less than a moment’s breath, not in body but in heart.

“What do you ask of me?” Dinah whispered the words. She knew what he was asking, but would he say it? Could she do it?

“I ask you to be my wife. Today. Now.”

“Your wife? Now?” Panic clawed at her. “But what about your family? Isn’t there some ceremony we must follow?”

“Dinah, I am the prince of Shechem. I marry whom I wish, when I wish it. I have waited many years to have you. You are the one I want, Dinah—the only one I want.”

“But my father . . . he is the son of Isaac, the son of Abraham. We worship Yahweh and—”

“My father and I will offer a bride-price for you, my beautiful Dinah, that is beyond anything ever paid for a daughter in Canaan. Your father will be overjoyed at our happiness.” Before Dinah could say more, Shechem covered her mouth with his kiss. The bliss of physical union united their souls—a wedding day of the heart, unknown and unapproved by Abba Jacob.

Dinah’s dream faded, and she lingered between two realities. Her tent felt empty. She opened one eye to find three neatly stacked baskets against one wall, filled with fleece-wrapped jars and tight rolls of dried herbs. Activity in the camp grew louder, but the ecstasy of Shechem’s kisses drew her back to the land of dreams. She vaguely recalled her present reality. Grandfather Isaac was dead. He’d commanded her to marry a new husband, and she should be packing her things for her departure to Uz. But Dinah’s dream returned her to the rapture of her wedding day with Shechem. Every color, sound, and scent of that day came back in a flood of sweet surrender.