In the Field of Grace (33 page)

“How do you feel, beloved?” he asked.

“I feel well, Boaz. It is a strange malady that only affects me occasionally. Please try not to worry.”

He removed his wool cloak, his movements abstracted, and hung the heavy garment on the hook behind the door. Droplets of water clung to it from the afternoon showers. The early rains had delayed in coming, but now they poured with a steady speed that
soaked the ground with satisfying thoroughness. Without the early rains, the plows could not do their work. Their advent was a cause for relief as well as celebration. Boaz should be in an elated mood, not withdrawn and quiet. Ruth felt a tinge of guilt for being the cause of her husband’s obvious anxiety.

She tried to distract him. “Tell me about the fields. How is the planting going?”

He sat at the foot of the bed. “The sowers are making steady progress behind the plows. It’s been very cold and miserable for them in the heavy rains. But the work must be done if we are to have a good harvest. I was beginning to be concerned with the delay of the rains, but they have come just in time. The ground is soft and pliable. The oxen are making good time.”

“What a rich blessing from God. Now all we need is the spring rains and the summer sun and we shall have another plentiful year in Bethlehem.”

He gave a distracted nod and she wondered if he had heard a single word. “I’ve sent for a physician from Egypt,” he said.

Ruth’s jaw dropped. “From Egypt! For a mild stomach upset?”

Boaz stood and began to pace. “It’s been going on for too long.”

“Three days!”

From the corner of her eye, Ruth noticed Naomi making a calming gesture at her.
Make your gestures at him
, she wanted to say.
He is the one acting out of all sense
.

To her dismay, Naomi said, “That is a good idea. By the time he arrives, we shall give him a rich dinner and a hearty laugh to share with his Egyptian colleagues about the overprotectiveness of the husbands in Judah. But I think it would be good to ensure she suffers no serious malady.”

Boaz nodded. “I hope he does laugh.”

W
hen Boaz left to meet with Zabdiel, Ruth rounded on her mother-in-law. “Why did you encourage him?”

Naomi sat next to Ruth. “If you are pregnant, he will be no less worried than if you are sick. Having a high-and-mighty physician here might bring him calm.”

“Because Judith died in childbirth, you mean?”

“That, and because she had many miscarriages before she had their daughter. I doubt if Boaz has forgotten the pain of so many disappointments. They are bound to cast their shadow over him now.”

“Just because they lost their babies doesn’t mean I will lose ours.”

“Of course not. But the heart does not reason so judiciously. You can try to reassure your heart with prudent words, but the weight of old sorrows colors our perceptions beyond reason. The Lord Himself shall have to minister to Boaz and heal him of the past. In the meantime, you must be patient with him.”

“In the meantime, I might not even be with child. This might all be a storm over a piece of bad cheese.”

Naomi gave a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Are you worried too, Mother?” Ruth asked.

“No. It’s only … I sometimes miss them so. My dear boys.”

Ruth winced. “I have been thoughtless. The possibility of this
pregnancy must be a sting to you.”

“Never think it. It would be all joy. That doesn’t mean that my heart doesn’t long to hold my own sons in my arms too.”

A week passed with little change. Ruth still felt queasy part of the day, though she contrived to hide it better. Much of the time she felt strong and unaffected by the strange bouts of mild dizziness and nausea that gripped her without warning. She grew hopeful that she might indeed be pregnant, for her flow had yet to come.

It proved a wavering hope, however, for whenever she remembered her barren years with Mahlon, her many unanswered prayers, and the endless, monthly disappointments, her heart would sink. Had God chosen to reverse the ineptitude of her body? Had He desired to bless Mahlon’s line when He had refused to do so while Mahlon lived? Was she pregnant or just wishful? Once barren, always barren. Then, against all reason, hope would poke its head out again, and the cycle of her thinking would start once more.

One afternoon, when the rains abated and the sun peeked weakly through the clouds to bring a modicum of warmth, she decided to visit the stables near the house. She knew Boaz would be there, and the sight of her, hale and hearty, would cheer him. To her surprise, she did not find him with the horses but inspecting four new oxen.

As she approached him, the sharp odor of fresh ox dung hit her with a pungent blow. It took her a moment to settle her heaving stomach. She wrapped her scarf firmly about her nose and forced her feet to move forward.

A couple of servants were cleaning the stalls where the oxen were usually kept, and Boaz, who seemed to find no job unpleasant enough to keep him at bay, was busy whispering to the restless oxen in an adjacent stall.

“Your stalls are ripe, my husband.”

“Ruth! You ought not to be here, beloved. It’s filthy.” He came
away from the oxen, lowering a rough wooden barricade to keep them from escaping.

“I noticed. Is it always like this?”

Boaz smiled. “A pristine manger means you own no oxen. But without the strength of the oxen, you cannot have abundant crops.” He shrugged. “What’s a little dung compared to the riches of a good harvest? If you want blessing, you must accept the manure that accompanies it.”

Ruth laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that. Are these new?” She pointed to the four trembling animals, bones poking out of their shoulder blades. In spite of their apparent thinness, their brown fur gleamed and stringy muscle covered their haunches.

“Yes.”

“More dung to clean.”

“With the new land, we needed the help.”

Her eyes softened. He meant Elimelech’s land. Yet more money to be spent on Mahlon’s lineage. A lineage that might be growing within her even now. Ruth twined her hand into his, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratefulness that God had given this man to her as husband. “You are a good man, Boaz of Bethlehem.”

By the time the physician from Egypt finally arrived, brown skinned and smoothly shaven, Ruth had grown as impatient as Boaz for his arrival. She wished for an end to this torment of wavering between hope and despair. She said nothing to Boaz of her hope. What would be the point if it proved false? He would only grow more anxious. She preferred the physician to do the talking. He, at least, would have certainty on his side.

Her stomach had begun to settle down and she felt the bite of nausea less often, though she now battled an unusual weariness that had her in bed, unconscious with exhausted sleep in the middle of the afternoon. She wondered if this meant that she was truly sick.

She shared her symptoms with the physician while Naomi held
her hand for support. To her surprise, the Egyptian spoke Hebrew fluently, though with a guttural accent that she sometimes found hard to understand. He told her that he had met Boaz on a caravan many years ago, and that he traveled to Israel regularly to visit wealthy patrons.

His manner was easy, but it became clear that beneath his charming demeanor lay a sharp mind that knew its business well.

“Congratulations, mistress. You are with child.” He rinsed his fingers in the bowl he had prepared earlier and dried them on a linen towel.

“Are you certain?” Ruth’s voice emerged in a feathery whisper. “I was married before for over four years and barren that whole time. I never became pregnant. Not even once.”

The Egyptian shrugged a nut-brown shoulder. “Who knows why such things happen? I can assure you that you are with child now. And since you appear as healthy as one of your husband’s horses, I predict this pregnancy shall progress well.”

Ruth’s heart soared. The Lord had blessed her. He had enabled her to become pregnant. Beyond every expectation, beyond the measure of her faith, He had given her the fulfillment of her dream. He had filled her empty womb. She would be a mother.
A mother!
Ruth of Moab was going to be a mother! No longer would people call her
barren
. They would call her blessed.

“When will he come, my baby?” She loved the sound of those words—
my baby
. For years, she had been forbidden to make such a claim. Now, these words would be a common part of her life.

The physician rubbed the smooth skin of his cheek. “Toward the end of summer, I should think. You will be large with child in the high heat. That won’t be pleasant for you, but it can’t be helped.”

“If you want blessing, you must accept the manure that accompanies it,” Ruth said, her eyes twinkling.

“Pardon?”

“Something my husband taught me. Shall we call him in and tell him the good news? And please try to reassure him. His first
wife suffered many miscarriages. I suspect he shall fear the same will happen to me.”

The Egyptian nodded, making the odd-shaped, starched linen covering his head shiver stiffly. “I remember that sad story.”

Boaz came in looking like a man about to receive a sentence of death. His skin appeared clammy and pale. “Well?”

“Congratulations, my lord. You shall welcome a child into your home at the end of summer.”

“
A child?
”

“We are going to have a babe,” Ruth said, her hand reaching out to hold his.

Boaz did not even notice her outstretched hand. He said nothing for a long moment. He opened his mouth several times, but no sound came out. Finally, he croaked, “But I thought you could not … And we’ve only been married a few short months. How could she already be pregnant?” He turned to face the Egyptian.

The physician, shrugged, unabashed. “What shall I say? You have potent seed, my lord. It’s cause for celebration, no?”

Ruth coughed and Naomi tried to hide her laughter behind her veil.

A wave of color flooded Boaz’s face. He threw Ruth a sideway glance and grinned. “If a physician of your stature declares it is so, who am I to argue?” The smile faded and he put his arm around Ruth’s shoulders, drawing her against his chest. “Is she in danger?”

“None that I can see. She is hale and strong. The child proceeds well.”

As soon as the physician left, Boaz prayed, giving thanks to the Lord, asking for His protection. This baby was his, and yet not his. Mahlon had as much right to this child, if it should prove to be a son, as Boaz himself. Yet not by one syllable did he betray any resentment. His whole focus seemed to be Ruth’s well-being. Then Naomi blessed Ruth and the babe she carried, weeping as she prayed. Ruth felt so filled with joy and thankfulness that her own
prayers emerged in a jumble of words that could only have made sense to God.

“Are you happy?” Ruth asked Boaz, when they were alone.

Boaz looked down and said nothing.

Ruth’s heart dropped. “Do you wish it were Judith? Do you wish it were her child?”