Love Amid the Ashes Read online

  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, unkn
own 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.

  The next morning, Shechem and Dinah emerged from his chamber, and King Hamor performed a simple Shechemite ceremony, making official the marriage of their hearts. “I’ll return before tonight’s wedding feast,” Shechem said confidently, as he and the king left the palace to negotiate her bride-price with Abba Jacob.

  That’s when her dream turned to a nightmare—as it always did. Now she tried to wake, but couldn’t. Dinah had waited at the palace with King Hamor’s wife, and they were among the women who cried out against the sons of Jacob when they demanded all the men of Shechem undergo circumcision so that Dinah could remain Prince Shechem’s wife.

  “No, my love,” Dinah said. “Please, put me away. Take a Shechemite woman and forget about me.” But the night before his cutting had been the tenderest night of Dinah’s short life, and the love he’d shown her was beyond anything she’d ever known. Surely, no man had ever loved a wife like Shechem loved her—not even Abba’s love for Ima Rachel could compare.

  On the second day after his cutting, the prince said, “You see, my love, this will all be over soon.” Dinah had pampered and spoiled her beloved every moment of his recovery. He caressed her cheek as she slipped into bed beside him that night. “Someday we will laugh and tell our grandchildren the story.” The love in his expression pierced Dinah’s heart. Never before had she known such selflessness.

  “Perhaps we should have children before we start talking about grandchildren,” she said, kissing his cheek, his neck, his shoulder.

  He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Perhaps we should turn out the lamp and go to sleep so I can heal quickly.” Dinah giggled and snuffed out the oil lamps, taking her place in the bend of her husband’s arm until their breathing became slow and deep and steady.

  And then came the wailing.

  Dinah tried to wake but was captured in a semiconsciousness of horror and dread. Shechem’s face lay before her. His eyes empty. His lovely mouth twisted in death’s last plea. Her arms were warm, wet, sticky with her husband’s blood. “Simeon, Levi, no!”

  Her brothers stood over her, their swords dripping.

  “This Shechemite dog will never defile another man’s sister.” Simeon spat the words as he reached for Dinah’s arm.

  “No! He did not defile me! We are married!”

  “Not according to Abba, you’re not!” Simeon lunged at her, and she recoiled, trapped between the bloody shell of the man she loved and the animal brethren who had killed him.

  “Get away from me! He did not rape me! Shechem loved me!”

  “Dinah.” It was a man’s voice. “Dinah.” She felt a hand shaking her arm. “Dinah, wake up, we must leave.” It was the voice of Simeon—no, it was Levi!

  Dinah screamed, terror gripping her anew. She clawed at the copper hair and beard before her. “No! Get away from Shechem. No, Levi! He loves me! He didn’t rape me! Don’t hurt him, Simeon! He loves me!” She flailed and kicked at the man trying to restrain her.

  “Dinah, it’s me, Job. Dinah! Shh. Dinah, stop.” Strong arms subdued her. She couldn’t struggle free. Her screams turned to sobs, and Dinah’s body went limp.

  “Dinah, shh.” Gentle arms rocked her. “It’s me, Job. Shh. It’s all right, Dinah.”

  She gazed up into deep brown eyes, the color of her ima’s dark bread.

  “You’re coming home with me, Dinah. You’ll be safe with my son.”

  Dinah finally awakened fully, and for a moment—just a moment—she longed to melt into the strong, loving arms of the man who held her. He sat on the rug, cradling her, stroking her hair. But this man was to be her father-in-law!

  Humiliation and shame tightened their hold on her. She wrested herself from his arms, huddling near the stacked baskets like a wounded animal. They had barely ever spoken, and now he had seen her deepest wound exposed. A low, guttural moan escaped. “Go,” she said, turning her face away. He tried to help her stand, but she crouched lower still. “No, please. Just go.”

  He stood over her, offering his hand once more. “Dinah.” Silence hung in the tent like the thick burial odor of the shattered pot of myrrh. “Are you all right?” The mourners’ wails echoed in the camp with Job’s sigh. “Your abba has returned with Great-Abba Esau from the burial cave. Esau wants to leave for Mount Seir right away and asked that my caravan accompany him to the south.” Job paused again and spoke softly. “I’ll tell him I’m not prepared to leave so soon, nor can I afford the extended travel route. Can you be ready by dawn to leave for Uz?”

  Dinah nodded, her throat too tight to reply. She heard the tent flap fall closed, and when she looked up, Job was gone.

  Her breaths came in short, quick gasps. She hugged her knees to her chest, hoping to still her violent trembling. I must not join the mourners’ wailing, she thought. For if I begin, I may never stop. Rocking back and forth, she moved in tempo with the keening. What if her nightmares worsened? What if she screamed and flailed in the arms of her new husband? Would he be as understanding as Job had been? Dinah’s heart pounded, and she rocked faster.

  A tiny shadow flitted past the narrow ray of sunlight peeking through the tent flap. Dinah stopped rocking. There it was again. And then a sweet chirrup broke through the mourners’ wails. A pink-and-black-crested hoopoe bird landed just outside. The little creature peered in and then proceeded to enjoy its late afternoon dust bath. Oop-oop-oop came its lovely song, slicing through Dinah’s pain.

  “Oh, little bird,” she whispered, “we are too much alike, you and me. Grandfather Isaac said you were one of Yahweh’s most lovely creatures, but He has judged you as unclean.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Men have said I am lovely too, but must they all judge me as unclean?”

  In the frenzied activity of the camp, a servant rushed by and frightened the hoopoe into flight, and loneliness gripped Dinah’s heart anew. “Oh, how I wish I had wings and could fly away to a new home of my own making. A home where my past was forgotten and my future unfettered.”

  3

  ~Genesis 9:26–27~

  [Noah] said, “Blessed be the LORD, the God of Shem! May Canaan be the slave of Shem. . . . May Japheth live in the tents of Shem, and may Canaan be his slave.”

  Job stood beside Dinah’s tent, hearing only her mumbled whimpers. He ached with the need to comfort her but trembled with frustration at her refusal. Dinah had endured more tragedy than any young woman should bear. When he had reached out to wake her, she cried out to protect Shechem—the man reported to have raped her. Why? There was obviously more to the story than rumors disclosed. If she was to marry one of his sons, he had the right to know exactly what had happened in Shechem.

  Job could easily locate Uncle Jacob. Just listen for the constant bickering in the camp, and the sons of Isaac were at its source. He stepped away from Dinah’s tent, crossed under Grandfather Isaac’s canopy, and came upon the hotheaded brothers.

  “Every speckled, spotted, or dark-colored sheep and goat is mine!” Jacob railed. “I slaved for Uncle Laban twenty years to earn those flocks and herds, and you’ll not lay a hand on them.”

  “You can keep your moldy-looking animals, but I’m taking everything else.” Esau was red from head to toe, eyes bloodshot and bulging.

  “You can have everything, you big red dog,” Jacob cried, “but Abba anointed me with Abraham’s covenant promise, and that includes t
he land of Canaan. So you can have all the worthless possessions, but leave the Promised Land to me.”

  “Ha! It is you who holds the worthless piece, brother! Elohim may have promised Canaan to Abraham, but He forgot to inform the Canaanites. It is you who’s been swindled this time.”

  Jacob gritted his teeth and rose up on his toes to spit the words in Esau’s face. “I am not as easily swindled as my dimwitted brother.”

  When the mighty red mountain raised his hand to strike Jacob, Job cried out, “Great-Abba, no!” Esau seemed startled by the intrusion and was distracted just long enough for Jacob to dive at his midsection and tumble his massive brother to the ground.

  Job’s fury peaked at these selfish old fools whose abba’s dead body was barely cold in the grave before they pawed at the inheritance and brawled like children. He promptly walked over to the ridiculous, rolling elders and kicked dust in their faces.

  When they separated and stood up sputtering, Job began his rebuke. “You should both be ashamed of yourselves, tussling like Hittites in Isaac’s camp. You’re old men with brittle bones!” He knew such an argument didn’t hold much sway with the great hunter, Esau, and the able-bodied shepherd, Jacob. Both men were almost as strong at age 125 as Job was at age sixty.

  Jacob raised an accusing finger. “If he wasn’t so greedy, trying to take all the inheritance instead of just the firstborn’s two-thirds, we would have no problem.”

  Esau started to bluster, but Job raised his hand and spoke through clenched teeth. “Look at the servants around you! Look at them!” The sons of Isaac glanced about sheepishly. The servants, who had been working feverishly to prepare for the journey, had halted their work and were staring at the spectacle. With the brothers’ gaze upon them, however, they hurried back to work, humming and whistling shepherds’ songs.