Return to Me (29 page)

Y
ael knelt in her room combing her hair and plaiting it into a long braid. The spring rain clouds had blown away during the night and the sun shone brightly this morning, making Yael eager to get out of the stuffy house. Abba said to meet him below the steps to the temple mount right after the morning sacrifice.

She heard the familiar thump and scrape of a crutch on the cobblestones as Hodaya came to stand in the doorway. “Are you going to see your friend Leyla today?” she asked.

“Yes, I am. It’s been much too long since I’ve visited her.”

“May I go with you?”

Yael searched for a kind way to refuse as she stood and went to Hodaya. “It’s too far to walk, little one,” she said, smoothing Hodaya’s dark curls away from her face. “You would be exhausted before we were even halfway there.”

“We could borrow your father’s donkey . . . I could ride.”

“That old donkey is too stubborn and grumpy to ride. He might get it into his head to throw you off, and I don’t ever want anything bad to happen to you.” She gave Hodaya a hug and felt her slender arms wrap around her in return.

Hodaya had grown into a strong, happy ten-year-old who
walked with her crutch nearly as well as Yael walked on two good feet. Her laughter and bright smile made everyone in the community love her. But Yael could never take her adopted sister back to the village where she was born. Leyla’s family would know who she was the moment they saw her, not only because of her crippled foot, but because of her strong resemblance to her half sister Leyla and half brother Rafi. They all had the same thick curly hair and large dark eyes. Hodaya might see the resemblance herself, and Yael didn’t want her to learn the truth about her birth. She belonged to this family now.

“Hodaya?” Safta called. “Where are you? I need your help.”

“Why doesn’t Yael ever help?” she asked as she turned to limp away. “How come she gets to run all over?”

Yael didn’t wait to hear Safta’s explanation. She tousled Hodaya’s hair as she hurried past her saying, “See you later, little one.”

Abba talked on and on about his barley crop as they walked to the Samaritan village together, describing how the plentiful spring rains had made it flourish. Yael listened patiently, smiling to herself, knowing how much her father loved his land. It had prospered under his hands these past ten years, and the land easily fed their extended family with enough food left over to sell.

Yael’s father sat down with Zabad and the elders at the entrance to the village when they arrived, but Yael couldn’t look at Zabad, hating him for ordering his infant daughter to be put to death. She hurried into the village as he and Abba talked, but her progress was soon slowed by the abundance of greetings from all the women and children who gathered around her. Yael’s stature as a respected seer was well established, and people from other local villages now sought her advice, as well.

When she finally reached Leyla’s house a few minutes later, she found her friend propped up in bed, looking pale and weak. But her face lit up with happiness the moment she saw her.
“Yael! I have wonderful news! And now I have my best friend to share it with.”

Yael smiled as she walked to Leyla’s bedside. They’d been best friends for more than ten years. “Tell me your wonderful news.”

“I’m betrothed! I’m going to be married!” Yael could only stare in disbelief as her friend chattered on. “Abba made all the arrangements and settled on my dowry, and now I’m officially betrothed to my new husband.”

“Who is he? Have I ever met him?” Foolish questions. The women in Leyla’s village never socialized with the men. The fact that her brother Rafi sometimes came into Leyla’s room to visit with her was highly unusual. Yael searched for something to say to disguise her shock and surprise. “Is he young and handsome?”

Leyla laughed. “If you mean as young and handsome as Rafi—no. But that doesn’t matter. My husband is nearly as rich as Abba, and our marriage will seal their business partnership. I was lucky that Basam accepted me since I’m past the age when most women in my village marry.”

“I see.” Yael tried to smile and be happy for her friend, but she wasn’t. How could her father use beloved Leyla to seal a business deal, in spite of her poor health? Yet Leyla seemed to think this was fine. At least her father hadn’t married her off years earlier when she was barely grown.

“Promise me you’ll come to my wedding, Yael. I want you to be my attendant.”

“Of course I’ll come. I would be honored.” She was about to sit down beside the bed when the door opened and Rafi strode into the room.

“Leyla, I—” He stopped short in surprise. “Well, hello, Yael. I didn’t realize you were here. Did my sister tell you her good news?” His smile made Yael’s heart beat a little faster. She still thought of him as Leyla’s brother and as a friend, the same way she thought of Zechariah as her friend. But Leyla was right; he
had grown into a very handsome man. He wore his dark, loosely curled hair longer than Jewish men did and his dark beard was a little longer, too, framing his magnificent smile.

“Yes, we were just talking about it,” Yael said. “I’m so happy for her.”

“What I don’t understand,” he said, stroking his beard, “is why a beautiful woman like you isn’t betrothed yet? Doesn’t your father know he could ask a king’s ransom for your dowry? Or is that the problem? Are the Jews in your community too stingy to pay what you’re worth?” There was something about the way he looked at her today that seemed different—or was she imagining it?

“Believe me, Safta Dinah has tried to marry me off several times. She promised my mother she would find me a good husband but I told Abba that I don’t want to get married yet.”

Rafi’s brows lifted. “Really? The fathers in our village would never allow our daughters to boss us around and tell us what to do.”

The insult stung. She lifted her chin. “Besides, I’m too busy to think about a husband.”

“Is it your work as a seer that keeps you so busy?”

“That’s part of the reason. I’m also learning to be a midwife.”

He grinned. “Ah, now I see what has you frightened of marriage—watching babies being born.”

“Not at all!” His teasing made her heart race. She couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or something else. She planted her hands on her hips and decided to tease him back. “And by the way, why aren’t you married, Rafi?”

“I haven’t met anyone I want, yet.”

“Oh, so you get to choose who you’ll marry and Leyla doesn’t?”

“Of course. She’s a woman, and I’m a man. That’s the way God created it to be. The Torah clearly says that the husband shall rule over his wife.”

“The Torah?” She would have to ask Zaki about that when she got home. He studied the Torah all the time. But somehow it didn’t seem fair to be ruled over. “Are the men in your village ever allowed to marry for love?” she asked.

“We marry for a variety of reasons. Love is sometimes one of them.” The way he looked at her was disconcerting, his dark eyes fixed on her as if memorizing her face. She needed to change the subject.

“Have you met Leyla’s husband? Is he a good man? Worthy of my dear friend?” She had seen Rafi’s love for his sister over the years, and knew how tender and protective he was. She had often wondered if he would have protected his other sister, Hodaya, if he had known about her. She couldn’t imagine either Rafi or Leyla letting their baby sister die.

“I don’t know Leyla’s husband very well,” Rafi said, turning away. “He’s from another village. I should go. I’m keeping you ladies from your wedding plans.”

“No, you’re not,” Leyla said. “Can’t you stay?”

“Not today.”

Leyla looked up at Yael and gave a sigh after he was gone. “I’ve always wished that you and Rafi would get married. Then we really would be sisters.”

Yael couldn’t speak. Why did the idea make her feel so funny inside?

“I’ve been waiting for you to come so you could read my stars,” Leyla rattled on. “I need to find the best day for my wedding.”

“Yes, of course.” Yael fetched her charts from the little trunk at the foot of Leyla’s bed and spread them out to get a look at Leyla’s future. Zaki had warned her of the consequences if she got caught with her scrolls in Jerusalem, and so she kept them at Leyla’s house most of the time. What she read in Leyla’s stars today surprised her.

“I see so much happiness! It’s . . . it’s almost overwhelming! The moon, the stars, all of the heavenly bodies—they all line up to give favor and blessing. You will have a prosperous new life, Leyla, and many, many sons.” Leyla’s grandmother joined them and they bent over the charts together, choosing a favorable date for the wedding two months from now.

“There! It’s settled,” Leyla said happily when they were alone again.

“I still can’t believe that you, my dear friend, will soon be married. Tell me more about your husband.”

“I barely know him,” Leyla said with a laugh. “His name is Basam. He already has one wife but she has only given him daughters. When I give him a son, he will be Basam’s heir, and I’ll become his primary wife. In time, we may even grow to love each other.”

Yael couldn’t imagine being married to a man she didn’t know or love. The Jewish couples she knew all loved each other—her father and mother had. Iddo loved Dinah, Besai loved Rachel. She didn’t know what to say to her friend without revealing her doubt—or her fear. “So, you don’t mind that your father chose Basam for you?”

“Not at all. Rafi is right, you know. Women should never choose for themselves. Our fathers and husbands know what’s best for us. They’re wiser about these matters, so it’s good that they should decide. We’re wise to obey them.” Sweet Leyla was so compliant and easy to lead—and so different from Yael. “You know what’s the best part of all?” Leyla asked. “I’ll have babies! I’ve always wanted to have lots of babies.”

“Oh, Leyla . . .”

“What’s wrong?”

Yael couldn’t reply. She knew from helping Safta Dinah deliver babies that labor and delivery exhausted healthy women, much less one as fragile as Leyla. She also knew how much blood
women sometimes lost. Leyla should never get pregnant, never have babies. Yael searched for something to say. “I’m going to give you my moon goddess for a wedding present. She’ll bring you good luck and keep you strong and safe in childbirth.”

“Don’t you want her? Aren’t you ever going to get married and have children?”

“Of course I am . . . someday. Then you can give her back to me.”

As soon as she got home that evening, Yael pulled Safta Dinah aside to talk about her friend. “Leyla is betrothed to a man she barely knows. She wants to have a baby, but I’m so scared for her, Safta. You know how sickly Leyla has always been. Do you think she’ll be strong enough to deliver a baby?”

“I don’t know. She may never be able to get pregnant at all if she’s that ill.”

“It still bothers me that she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Her brother Rafi and the other men in her village get to choose who they’ll marry.”

Rafi
. He had been on Yael’s mind all day like a melody that kept repeating. She thought of his smile, his halo of dark curls, his beautiful eyes. And most of all, the intensity of his gaze as he’d looked at her.

“You should be thinking about it, too,” Safta said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Hmm? Thinking about what?”

“Marriage! Isn’t that what we’re talking about? As the daughter of a Levite, you could have the honor of marrying a Levite or a priest. I promised your mother—”

“I know, I know,” Yael laughed, drawing Safta close for a hug. That was the easiest way to change the subject with Safta Dinah. “I promise I’ll start thinking about marriage soon.”

Rafi was still on Yael’s mind as she helped the other women prepare for the evening meal. She couldn’t stop thinking about
what he’d said, that the husband was supposed to rule over his wife. She decided to ask Zaki about it when he arrived home from the yeshiva. She approached him as he prepared to wash his hands.

“Do you have a minute?” she asked. “I have a question for you.”

“Yes, of course. What is it?” Sweet, responsible Zechariah, always so serious compared to Rafi, who didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Zaki was a little taller than Rafi, but not as muscular, with the trim build of a scholar. He wore his dark hair cut shorter, his beard neatly trimmed, and his kippah slightly askew on his head no matter how many times he straightened it. He would be a priest in a few more years, but to Yael he would always be the solemn boy she had grown up with, the friend she had known all her life.

“Does the Torah really say that a husband should rule over his wife?” she asked.

“Yes, it does. The Almighty One told Eve, ‘Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.’”

“But why? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Well, because Eve tempted her husband to sin.”

“I thought the serpent tempted them.”

“The serpent tempted Eve and then
she
tempted Adam. But the Almighty One also said that Eve was created from her husband’s side to be his partner. They’re supposed to work together in love, two people becoming one.”

“How can they do that if they don’t know each other or love each other?”

“Why all these questions?” Zaki gave a slow, easy grin, and Yael saw the boy she’d long known behind the serious scholar. But concern for Leyla kept her from returning his smile.

“My friend Leyla is betrothed to an older man, chosen by her father. She doesn’t even know him, but she says she has to obey him from now on. That doesn’t seem right, does it?”

Zechariah grew serious again. “No. It isn’t right. That’s another difference between us and the Samaritans—one of thousands of differences. You already know they don’t value human life, and they don’t value their women, either. They see their wives as property, not as helpmates. I wish you wouldn’t spend so much time there, Yael. Can’t you make friends with some of our own women?”

“I asked a simple question,” she said, growing angry. “I don’t need a lecture on who to make friends with.”

“We were friends once, weren’t we?” he asked softly. “What happened?”