In the Field of Grace (19 page)

For a moment the girl stood, arrested, her mouth wide-open. Then she waved in the air, as if wiping away his comment. “More than can be said about you,” she said with a sour expression, pointing at his dusty tunic. “You might consider washing your clothes once a year.”

Adin rolled his eyes heavenward, kicked at the wheat stalks, and stormed away.

“What are you staring at, you stupid Moabite?” Dinah said to Ruth and flounced off in the opposite direction.

M
ahalath came to visit in the evening and stayed for supper. More and more Ruth felt a kinship with the young woman. Gentle as a spring shower, Mahalath soothed those around her with her easy company. She judged no one, having herself suffered under harsh judgment once. Ruth was willing to stand on her head if it would make the girl’s dark eyes light up with joy for a short moment.

Naomi insisted on making the meal, leaving the younger women to chat in private. She refused their help, saying, “You’ve both worked hard already. Let me take care of you now.”

Mahalath chewed on a date between stories. “The master bought a new horse yesterday. It’s brown. I can say that much for it. Far be it from me to censure a creature of God, but that horse is ugly. When it runs, it hits its back leg with its front hoof. It’s short and fat, and as bad-tempered a creature as I’ve ever seen. Lazy too. Zabdiel chided the lord for wasting his money. But the master insists that with the right treatment this horse will be a champion. The beast has heart, he says. What use is heart in a horse, I say, when what you need is a broad back and willingness to work? But the master sees the best in everything, even a horse. Well, especially a horse. He has a soft spot for the beasts and can’t resist them.”

“I’ve noticed him riding Shakhor. I think he likes to race the
wind. Sometimes, I even think he wins.”

“Did he ride fast the day he brought you home after you became sick?”

“No. He plodded like an old turtle. He must have feared I would be sick over his linen mantle. He was probably right. I’d never felt such misery.”

Mahalath smiled. “You have recovered well. He worried for you after he brought you home. He told me you were as white as the first snow and weak like a kitten. I had to assure him that you were too strong to keel over and die from too much sun. At sunrise, I found him sitting on his bed, praying. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night.”

“He was probably praying for his horse to survive my intrusion upon its fine back.”

After Mahalath left that night, Ruth withdrew into a lonely patch in the garden to pray.

“
I am full of praises and tears,”
she told the Lord. “
Tears because I am lonely. You have given me Mahalath and Hannah. They are better friends than I had in Moab. But they aren’t bone of my bone. I’m still on the outside of everybody.”

Mahalath’s innocent talk about Boaz had stirred Ruth’s heart. An unfathomable longing settled like a stone in her gut that would not dislodge. “
Oh Lord, I feel so passed over and unworthy of notice. Who would want me now? Not Your son, Boaz.”

She realized that this was the crux of her loneliness, the source of her tears. She was lonely for
him
, whom she could not have.

“
Still, I won’t forget that I am blessed, Lord. Blessed to belong to You. Blessed to belong to Naomi. Blessed to receive Boaz’s generosity, and to have my strength so that I can provide for our welfare
.
And for these things, I praise You.”

“Were you praying?” Naomi asked, as Ruth came back inside.

“Yes.”

“You were ever fond of the garden. I remember you spent many hours in the tiny plot behind our house in Moab.” Her head
drooped as she twined the white wool.

Ruth wrapped her arms around Naomi. “I miss them too.”

They sat together in the light of their one lamp, remembering what they had lost, and could never again have.

“I’ve decided Adin should marry Dinah,” Ruth said abruptly into the heavy silence.

Naomi moved away from Ruth’s embrace. “Indeed? And what do they have to say about it?”

“Adin thinks my mind was permanently damaged by the sun, and Dinah knows nothing about it.”

Naomi laughed. It was the first time Ruth had heard her laughter in months. She felt her heart melt. Sinking on the floor, she laid her head on Naomi’s lap and the older woman caressed her unbound hair as if she were a little girl.

“Adin might be right. It’s no small matter taking two people’s hearts into your hands.”

“Wouldn’t you do it, if you thought it would bring them happiness?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Ruth lifted her head from Naomi’s lap. A strange rigidity had entered Naomi’s expression. The older woman almost looked ferocious.

“Are you hiding a secret from me?” she asked with sudden insight.

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I said.”

Six days into the wheat harvest, Naomi fell ill with a fever and cough. Ruth stayed home to nurse her. Although Naomi’s sickness appeared not to be life threatening, Ruth could not sleep for worry and only left the older woman’s side to fetch water from the well. The memory of Mahlon and Chilion’s sickness remained too fresh for Ruth to feel calm about Naomi’s condition.

They had plenty of food at home after her weeks of labor in the
fields. She made Naomi fresh bread every day and covered her chest with a mustard poultice, hoping to ease her coughing. Naomi’s old friend Miriam came to lend a hand when she heard of the older woman’s illness.

“I’m not dying. Such a fuss this daughter of mine makes over me,” Naomi complained.

“You are blessed to have a daughter-in-law who loves you better than any daughter.” Miriam’s shrewd eyes followed Ruth as she cared for the older woman.

“You need strength to recover,” Ruth said, undeterred by Naomi’s complaint. “Drink the wine and eat this honeyed bread, and I will leave you be.”

After Miriam left, Ruth worked in the garden, watering the newly sprouted plants while Naomi slept. Leeks, cucumbers, and beans had begun to grow and would be a welcome addition to their diet in several weeks’ time. She attacked the stubborn weeds that always seemed hardier than the plants themselves. Then she collected mint and rosemary and brought them inside to dry.

She looked in on Naomi and found her still sleeping. Her breathing sounded ragged from a chest filled with congestion. Too warm with fever, Ruth decided, biting her lip. She remembered that a clump of rue had grown large in their garden. Ruth fetched a small handful and mixing it with mint, she added it to boiling water with a touch of honey and let it steep. She hoped the mixture would aid in quieting Naomi’s breathing.

That evening, Naomi sat in bed, her chest sounding better, although the fever had yet to leave. To Ruth’s delight, Mahalath came to visit them, another full basket clutched at her side.

“Everyone in Bethlehem is speaking of Naomi’s illness, and of Ruth’s tender care for her,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

Ruth, who had shed her veil in the privacy of her home, pulled her thick braid over one shoulder. “How do they know?”

Mahalath folded her legs under her. “When you went to fetch water at the well yesterday, you told the women there that Naomi
has a fever. By the noon hour, everyone from Abel to lord Boaz had heard the tale.”

“But what makes them think I am taking good care of Naomi?”

“You owe thanks to Miriam for that. To hear her tell it, you are the most tenderhearted daughter-in-law bestowed on womankind since the time of Noah, and no one in all of Judah compares to your goodness.”

Naomi patted Ruth’s hand. “That much, I can agree with.”

Ruth laughed. “One moment I am the scourge of Judah, armed with Moab’s wickedness and ready to corrupt every young man in my path. The next, I am cast in the role of the ideal daughter-in-law. The women of Bethlehem need to make up their minds.”

Mahalath pulled out a skin of wine and a round of fresh cheese wrapped in clean cloth from her basket. “I don’t know about the women of Bethlehem, but lord Boaz has made his opinion clear. It’s becoming a full-time chore bringing gifts to your house.” She rooted around the basket. “Ah yes. He bade me soak almonds in milk for you, Naomi. To settle your stomach.”

“My stomach is fine!”

“Humor him, I beg.”

“At this rate, I think Ruth and I should take turns falling ill. It’s proving very profitable.”

Mahalath and Ruth burst out laughing. “I think you are improving,” Ruth said.

Ruth stayed home the next day, worried that Naomi, who still had a mild fever, would push herself too quickly out of bed and suffer a relapse. The day dawned fair, with wisps of clouds dotting a blue sky and a soft breeze that refreshed the soul.

Ruth fetched extra water from the well and washed Naomi’s sweat-stained clothes before cleaning the house and cooking them a light stew. There was water left over, and Ruth used it to wash before changing into her clean tunic. She combed through her long,
thick hair, leaving it unbound, enjoying the freedom of it hanging loose down her back.

Naomi had fallen asleep after eating and snored gently on her mat. Ruth gave her a fond smile. Her chest was beginning to sound clear, and her breathing seemed easier. Giving in to temptation, Ruth lay down on her own mat and slept in broad daylight, a luxury for which she no longer had time, unless she was unwell.

She woke up refreshed after an hour of deep sleep and found Naomi sitting up, twirling her spindle. “Did you sleep well, daughter?”

“I did, Mother, thank you.”

“You work too hard, child. If I could, I would give you an easier life.”

“You are my easier life.”

A knock came at the door. The women had left it open as was custom during the day, and Ruth had not bothered to close it before she had slept. Just outside, stood Boaz. Startled, Ruth sat frozen to her mat.

“Come in, my lord,” Naomi said, her mouth stretched open in a wide smile.

Ruth sprang up, remembering that her hair was uncovered, hanging loose down her back. Boaz stared at her for a moment before looking at his feet. Blood rushed up Ruth’s chest and neck, and she could feel the heat of it in the skin of her cheeks. She grabbed her veil and threw it over her head.

“I have come at an inconvenient time, I fear,” Boaz said, his voice sounding strained.

Ruth composed herself. “Not at all, my lord. We are honored by your visit. As you see, my mother is improving.”

“I am happy to hear it.” Boaz’s deep voice reminded Ruth of warm honey. “I heard you were sick and I grew concerned, Naomi.”

Naomi gestured for him to sit on their plumpest cushion. He folded his long legs with ease and sank on the ground as if sitting
on skinny cushions and bare floors was nothing out of the ordinary for him.

“I am much improved, thanks to Ruth’s care.” Naomi straightened the hem of her green tunic. “The Lord favored me when she joined my household.”