Love Amid the Ashes (33 page)

Job raised both eyebrows, feigning interest. As long as his blustering cousin spewed stories, Job didn’t have to conjure polite conversation. Perhaps a few more hours of pondering could smooth the frayed edges of his heart.

His thoughts wandered back to Sitis’s grave—the visit two weeks ago. His bumpy ride on the litter behind Aban’s exquisite dapple gray stallion. The curious glances of onlookers as Dinah and Nogahla steered the beast onto the secret pathway through the siq. His first glimpse of the seemingly impregnable mountain path leading to Widow Orma’s cave.

“Please, Job, be careful,” Dinah had said to him, offering her hand as he conquered the final steps on the rocky path. “Though your strength is returning, this is still a hard climb.”

But he had done it. The muscles in his legs were on fire and sweat dripped into his eyes. His arms shook and he could hear his heartbeat like a horse race in his ears, but it felt good. “I’m fine,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t notice his weakness.

“Master Job, listen to Mistress Dinah!” Nogahla stood at the cave entrance, her finger bobbing like a scolding ima. “Slow down. We did not bring burial herbs to wrap your body and lay you next to Mistress Sitis!”

“Nogahla!” Dinah’s disapproving gaze and one-word censure was enough to silence their little friend.

Nogahla’s features fell, but Job tried to lift her heart. “Not long ago, I would have willingly let you lay me in the cave beside Sitis,” he said. Turning to Dinah, he tried to steady his breathing and bridle his emotions. “Now I believe Yahweh has something planned for each one of us.” Jacob’s beautiful daughter turned away, as had become her custom since that morning on the mountaintop, and Job’s heart plummeted.

Stepping toward the cave entrance, he greeted two soldiers from Aban’s household, stationed there to prevent grave robbery. The guards had already staved off one attempt by bandits who had mistakenly believed Sitis was buried with pagan offerings. Job glanced just above the curved doorway, noting a small fissure in the red cliff where a sheer scrap of purple linen swayed in the breeze. He tried to reach it, but one of the soldiers stopped him.

“Master Job, if you don’t mind.” The young man’s cheeks colored as if he was embarrassed. “My partner and I have been watching the female hoopoe in her nest.” He cleared his throat, straightened his spine, and adjusted his leather belt. Job hid a grin. The young man apparently needed a better-fitted uniform to hide his tenderness. “Watching the silly creature keeps us alert during our long hours on duty.”

Oop-oop-oop.
 Job’s heart stopped at the sight and sound of the lovely pink-and-black-crested bird fluttering to its cliff-side perch with another wisp of fine linen in its long beak. Could it be the same little hoopoe that had appeared on Sitis’s balcony the night of the tragedies? Job’s spirit sang at the thought.

Oop-oop-oop. Oop-oop-oop.

He bowed his head and allowed the grateful prayer to fill his soul. 
Yahweh, heal my broken heart and fill it with a new life, a new love that is pleasing to You.

Job heard a dainty sniff and glanced up at Dinah. Her head was bowed, but he saw tears streaked down the front of her ambrosia linen robe. Confused, he looked at Nogahla. “My mistress cries each time she sees the bird at the cave, Master Job.”

For the first time in weeks, Dinah looked into Job’s eyes. “Do you remember the lesson you taught me about the hoopoe just before our caravan arrived in Uz?”

A stab of irony jolted Job’s senses. He’d forgotten. His silence answered Dinah’s question, and the pain in her expression pierced him.

Dinah glanced away. “It’s all right. I saw another hoopoe bird in Uz,” she said, picking at a thread on her sleeve. “On the day Sitis ran into my arms at the base of your ash pile, a hoopoe bird landed beside us. It was El Shaddai’s loving command of that little bird that convinced my friend to open her heart that day.” Once again Dinah looked up at Job. “Would you like Nogahla and me to wait outside while you say good-bye to your precious wife?” Dinah’s lips quivered as she awaited his answer.

It was the last time Dinah had spoken to Job except to answer a direct question or to ask how his wounds were healing.

Job’s stomach twisted, and blood drained from his face. The sounds of Aban’s crowded banquet room entered his consciousness again, and his memory of Sitis’s grave faded. 
It seems all the pondering in the world can’t answer my persistent questions about Dinah.

Job glanced at the raucous faces and felt weary to his bones. His patience with his Edomite kinsmen was growing thin. No doubt they had originally flocked to Uz to offer gifts and cheer; however, the drought made them linger in the well-watered city, and Job’s newly renovated home made them too comfortable to return to their desolate lands. Aban had graciously welcomed Job into his home, offering a much-needed escape from the crowds whenever Job chose to withdraw to his second-story chamber.

Practical and life-giving, Elihu, Eliphaz, and Aban had been like bread and water to Job. Elihu had kept careful records of Job’s quickly growing wealth. Uncle Eliphaz showed hospitality on Job’s behalf to welcome fellow Edomites, and Aban provided boundaries of privacy for Job in his well-guarded palace.

“Abba Job!” Elihu wound his way between rows of guests and tables, dodging children with toys, avoiding men who’d enjoyed too much wine. “Your great-abba Esau has arrived in Uz!” Elihu continued his perilous march, breathless by the time he arrived at the head table.

Job’s heart skipped a beat, and the crowd of friends and family quieted. “Where is Aban?” Job asked, hoping the big man hadn’t ridden to a distant field to check on his grain stores.

“Aban has sent word to Eliphaz that Esau will enter the canyon momentarily.” Elihu held out his hand. “Come, Abba! We must meet them at the grand courtyard gate!”

Job’s hands began to tremble. The Great Red Mountain himself had come to visit his favorite great-grandson. “Elihu, does Dinah have my canes?” He cast a hopeful glance across the room. No Dinah. She had become dutiful but distant, tending his wounds but guarding her heart. As his body healed, she seemed to feel he needed her less, when everything within him cried out for her more.

“I have your canes, Master Job.” A young serving maid lifted a cane to his three-fingered right hand, her features nearly identical to his Sitis of forty years ago. Wrapping his thumb and fingers around the handle, the girl began tying his one-fingered left hand to the second cane with a leather thong. “Mistress Dinah has asked me to care for you while Master Esau is in Uz.”

How did Dinah find out so quickly that Great-Abba was in Uz?
 Job imagined Dinah hiding like a frightened rabbit the moment she heard of Esau’s arrival. He remembered how harshly Esau had treated Dinah at Grandfather Isaac’s camp, and he was incensed that these strangers around him celebrated the arrival of his brutish great-abba while his best friend and greatest support felt compelled to hide like a criminal.

“Do you know where I might find Dinah?” he asked the girl.

She glanced right and left as though guarding a secret. “Dinah is in the kitchen courtyard grinding grain, Master Job. Nada is working day and night to feed everyone, and Mistress Dinah insists on helping her.”

Job squeezed the cypress cane handles, his frustration mounting. He could never hobble through the kitchen, retrieve Dinah from the courtyard, and wade back through the crowd in time to meet Esau. 
If it weren’t for all these people . . .
 A deep sigh. A quiet prayer. These were the frankincense and myrrh for his people-weary soul. 
El Shaddai, remind me that the celebrants are not strangers. They are my brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and friends—blessings from You, not curses to bear.

Job spoke calmly to the girl. “Please tell Dinah I’d like to speak with her after I greet Esau.” She nodded and was quickly on her way.

Steadying himself, Job parted the crowd and walked as regally as his canes allowed. Elihu followed closely behind, his enthusiasm to meet the Great Red Mountain spurred by exuberant youth. Eliphaz appeared at Job’s side, dutifully preparing to greet his abba, a relationship neither man pretended to cherish. And finally, Aban divided the crowd, his bronze arrows rhythmically clanging with each step.

The four men stood at Aban’s courtyard gate, the Edomite throng pressing behind them, waiting in the gentle but steady rain. Job received every drop as a whispered promise of El Shaddai’s assurance, watching expectantly for his great-abba’s arrival.

~Genesis 36:32~

Bela son of Beor became king of Edom. His city was named Dinhabah.

Elihu could barely keep his feet from dancing. In all his years in Abba Job’s household, he’d never met the great Edomite lord, Esau. “I don’t think I can wait much longer,” Elihu whispered, leaning close to Job so no one else could hear his childish eagerness.

“There may still be time for you to hurry inside and make use of a chamber pot,” Abba Job whispered, mischief brightening his countenance.

“Abba! Stop it!” Elihu’s outburst drew a raised eyebrow from Eliphaz and a melodious chuckle from Job. 
Music to my ears
, Elihu thought, relishing the playful banter.

Shofars sounded, and all attention focused on the tall, broad-shouldered form approaching on a gold-and-red-draped camel at the canyon’s entry. The man described as the Great Red Mountain was easily distinguishable even three hundred paces from Aban’s courtyard gate. Power and authority emanated from him, dwarfing the riders beside and behind. His attendants were impossible to identify in the reflecting rainbows of afternoon sun that shone through God’s miraculous rain.

Elihu glanced at his abba and noted beads of sweat gathering below his patchy mustache. Why was he nervous? Then Elihu looked at Eliphaz, a chief elder among the Edomite clan, fidgeting with his sash, eyes shifting from Esau to Job and back to the approaching procession. Why were these men—great in Elihu’s view—so anxious about meeting their abba and great-abba? He had often heard Job recount stories of his childhood, when Esau had taken him on hunting expeditions, training Job personally with spear and bow to be the best hunter/warrior of the Edomite clan. Elihu recalled the wash of sadness on Abba Job’s face after he’d told Esau of his decision to devote his life to the teachings of the Most High. Job’s heart seemed to break each time he spoke of his great-abba’s indifference toward El Shaddai.

The shofars sounded once more, and Elihu returned his attention to the oncoming parade. Astonished, he heard himself gasp. The camel to Esau’s right plodded under Bela’s wide girth. Triumph mixed with rain on the Edomite’s face, and his rounded red cheeks were as bright as the sun. Since Job’s recovery and Eliphaz’s renewed support of his favorite nephew, Bela had been conspicuously quiet. His sudden appearance at Esau’s side settled like a dull blade in Elihu’s stomach.

“Perhaps 
I
 should find a chamber pot.” Abba Job leaned close to Elihu, the weary tilt of his brow betraying the fear beneath his humor.

Attendants on camels flanked Bela and Esau, each carrying red linen standards bearing the image of a god with a mountain in his hand. A great army followed them, and Elihu’s joyous expectation wilted into muddy dread.

A distant rumble of thunder shook the ground beneath their feet, and the heavenly patter of rain dwindled to a fine mist. A nervous buzz settled over the Edomites in Aban’s courtyard. Elihu glanced at the line of his friends, Aban on the end, Eliphaz, and then Abba Job at his side. Each of them was as wide-eyed and confused as the rest. Suddenly a clap of thunder and bolt of lightning split the skies and raised the hair on Elihu’s arms.

“Take cover! We are doomed!” Shrieks of terror rose as the gathered crowd scattered. The thunder, like a living thing, reverberated through the earth beneath their feet. And then, as if someone had poured the last drop from a heavenly bucket, the wondrous summer rain ceased. All of Uz stilled, devoid of the miraculous for the first time in seven weeks.

Esau’s procession, so brash and arrogant moments ago, now halted in eerie silence just a few paces from where Elihu and the others stood. Not even a camel dared spit and break the suspense.

“Kaus lives!” Esau’s voice echoed against the red canyon. “The mountain god remains!” he said, pointing to the cliffs.

Job gulped for air. Elihu placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and watched Eliphaz drop his head, rubbing a furrowed brow. In that moment, Elihu realized that of the four men standing in a row, only Eliphaz’s abba was alive; however, Esau’s blasphemy seemed to grieve his son as deeply as mourning his death would.

An uneasy flutter spread through the waiting crowd as servants helped Esau and Bela dismount their camels. “Job, you look like death!” Esau’s resonant voice filled the canyon. His massive build caused Elihu to cower. Matching Aban’s colossal build, the Great Red Mountain was larger than life itself, a legend, a ruler.

Bela remained at Esau’s right hand. Gloating, to be sure, but they had yet to discover why.

“My life is being restored, Great-Abba,” Job replied, emotion strangling his voice, “by the one true God, El Shaddai.”

Elihu stood taller, proud of his abba’s brave response.

Esau’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “El Shaddai has rejected the Edomites, Job, and He has given my conniving brother, Jacob, the land of Canaan.” Raising his voice and arms to the crowd, Esau’s voice echoed against the canyon walls. “Therefore, the Edomites have established the Seir Mountains as our home and embraced Kaus as our god.” He pointed to the red flags affixed to the attendants’ camels. “As you can see by the disappearing rain, Yahweh is unreliable. He comes and goes at His whim, but Kaus, the god of these mountains, endures forever!” Like trained monkeys in an Egyptian market, the people of Uz burst into praise.

Job and Eliphaz exchanged a disillusioned glance while Esau and Bela lapped up the applause. After sufficient pandemonium, Esau raised his hands to quiet them. “Listen, my children. I have come to Uz to declare my successor and Edom’s first king. He has lived among you, holding my principles and beliefs as law. He is an Edomite first, above all else.”

Esau focused on Job, but his arm embraced Bela. Every muscle and tendon in Elihu’s body was stretched taut, ready to step forward, to support any of his friends at the first sign of resistance.

“I give you Bela, your king!” Esau slapped Bela’s shoulder, and the army initiated a cheer that rippled through the crowd.

Elihu leaned close to Abba Job and noted Eliphaz’s and Aban’s questioning glances. “What should we do?” Elihu asked.

Job’s features were a scrap of gray parchment, his body as rigid as the cliffs around them. “We allow Yahweh to do His work.” The gathering pools in Abba Job’s eyes revealed the agonizing wound of yet another betrayal.

Job left Great-Abba Esau in Aban’s banquet hall and hurried to the kitchen courtyard to find Dinah. The earth had shifted beneath his feet with Esau’s public declaration of idolatry, and he needed to tell Dinah before anyone else blurted the news. As Job squeezed past busy kitchen maids, his canes made clunking noises on the tiled floor, and Nada offered a kind nod.

When Job reached the doorway leading to the courtyard, the sight of Dinah in the afternoon sun jarred him to a halt. Her cheeks were flushed, and tears stained her saffron robe. Long, wheat-colored curls cascaded over her shoulders beneath a sheer white linen head covering. Was she a vision, or was she real? Could anyone be so lovely, so vulnerable?

Dinah looked up. “Oh, Job,” she said, wiping tears. The mere sight of her sent a rush of warmth through his veins that he thought lost to adolescence. He was mesmerized, seeing only her pink lips, rounded when she said his name, perfect for a waiting kiss. How was it possible to love anyone but Sitis? 
El Shaddai, do I dishonor my wife by loving another so soon?

“Are you all right?” he asked, his feet and canes crunching on the red gravel courtyard path. She avoided his gaze again, examining her sandals. 
Why won’t you look at me anymore?
 He couldn’t take his eyes from her. The possibility that his appearance disgusted her had crossed his mind. He had noted his deeply pocked face and patchy beard in Aban’s bronze mirror, but surely he was less repulsive without the worm infestation. He simply didn’t understand her changes.

He stood over her, casting a long afternoon shadow. Dinah wiped her cheeks again but continued inspecting her feet. “I heard Esau’s allegiance to Kaus echo in the canyon, and then the rain stopped.” Finally, she looked up. “Has Yahweh abandoned us?”

“No, Dinah. No.” Job eased down beside her on the bench, allowing his canes to rest against his leg. “El Shaddai doesn’t do things the way we expect. Who could have imagined a shimmering presence or a miraculous summer rain?”

Dinah looked up briefly, her smile stiff and contrived. He used her attempt at decorum to stoke his courage.

“I never expected the caravans to shower me with silver kesitahs, gold rings, grain, and livestock.” He paused, watching her pick at a piece of lint on her robe. “And I never expected Great-Abba Esau to declare Bela his successor and first king of the Edomites.”

Silence reigned for two heartbeats. He had expected her to gasp, to rage, to show some sort of indignation at the obvious folly of Esau’s choice. But when she spoke, her tone registered only sadness. “I’m sorry, Job. Bela is an evil man, and Yahweh will not bless the Edomites under his leadership.” The quiver in her voice told him there was something she wasn’t saying . . . but he had yet to reveal the full truth as well.

“Dinah, Great-Abba Esau has also proclaimed Uz the new capital of Edom and changed its name. He will honor the woman whose healing herbs sustained me.”

Dinah sat like a stone, her expression as unreadable as granite. “What is the new name?”

Job reached into Dinah’s basket of freshly ground grain and spelled out the letters of their new city. “D-i-n-h-a-b-a-h. Uz is now Dinhabah, and the capital city of Edom,” he said apologetically.

A slow, wry grin lifted one side of her lips, and she looked at Job with a measure of mirth. “Grandfather Isaac taught me to read my name during the years I took care of him, but it appears your great-abba Esau is no better at spelling than choosing his gods.” Both of them made weak attempts at a chuckle, but the air between them was tense and awkward. Dinah’s eyes filled with fresh tears, and her voice betrayed long-held anger. “If Uncle Esau wishes to humiliate me, he’ll have to be more creative than affixing my name to his new pagan city.”

Tears escaped over her lashes, and without thinking, Job reached up and brushed them away with his three fingers.

She gasped and withdrew, turning her face away.

Job couldn’t breathe. What had he done? “Dinah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Job, I must go.” Her voice was so small, he barely heard the words, which made them more frightening than if she had screamed them.

“No, I’ll leave. I’ll just go back to the banquet hall.” He tried to gather his canes, but he was trembling. Why had he touched her with his hideous hand?

“I mean, I must go back to Abba Jacob’s camp.”

The words stabbed him in the deepest place of his being. A sound escaped his lips—not a word, not a cry, not a breath. The sound of death. A puff. A moan. A wearied gasp. When his wealth and children were destroyed, when his body was stricken, even when his precious Sitis died—all had left him breathless. But this . . .

“No.” He couldn’t say more for fear he’d lose his mind. “No.”

“I must, Job. Esau’s messenger said that Abba Jacob is sick and needs my help.”

He tried to hide his face behind emasculated hands. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not ever. “How can you even consider returning to Jacob’s tents after the way he’s treated you, Dinah?” The words were an accusation, a venomous hiss at the victim as if she were to blame for her pain.

“He’s dying, Job. He needs my care.”

Her compassion stoked his anger. “Is there no nursemaid with herbs in Canaan? Must he demand his daughter’s return so he can mistreat her again before he dies?”

Dinah’s eyes mirrored the dagger in Job’s soul. He’d hurled his pain at her and hit his mark. Why did hurt people, hurt people?

“Dinah, I’m sorry,” he said. Watching tears cascade down her cheeks, he longed to draw her into his arms. But how could half a man comfort such a woman?

“You speak the truth, Job. My abba is selfish, and because of it, no physician will endure his moods. But just as you love Esau and tolerate his ways, I love my abba and withstand his shortcomings to serve him.” She smiled and tilted her head as if explaining to a child. “Besides, Esau made it easier to leave. I cannot live in a city that bears my name and is ruled by an idolatrous king.”

“Please, Dinah. Please stay and fulfill God’s purpose for your life.” He had no idea what he was saying, just that he needed her as a fish needs water or a flower needs sun.

“I have no purpose to fulfill, Job.” She placed her hand on his cheek, the sensation sending an exquisite fire through his body. “Grandfather Isaac commanded I marry an Edomite. Esau made it clear no Edomite would have me until you offered your son. Isaac’s command was my purpose, and it died with Ennon.”

“But I need you.” The words escaped Job’s lips like a wild donkey without bit or bridle.

Dinah’s features lost all life, and the mask she’d worn at Grandfather Isaac’s camp returned, brittle and immovable. “Why do you need me, Job?”

Finally she held his gaze, but now he wished she’d turn away. He felt vulnerable before her, every pockmark, every scar, exposed. How could such a repugnant man dare to love a beauty like Dinah?