Love Amid the Ashes (19 page)

Like a dove settling on its nest, the object of Job’s offering settled into Dinah’s heart. “Your tears are your burnt offering, Job.” She had not learned this teaching as Elihu had learned of Noah’s story in the House of Shem, but El Shaddai had testified to its truth in this moment. The finality in her spirit surprised her, and the relief on Job’s face thrilled her.

Elihu looked up, startled. “What did you say?” His face was an unmarked grave, no trace of his opinion there.

“Job’s tears burn like fire,” Dinah explained, a little less confident now that a learned student might challenge her. “He offers them to El Shaddai in sorrow and repentance. Aren’t his burning tears more costly than the burning of an animal that bears him no personal pain?” She gazed down and watched Job’s eyes close, the faintest smile crease his blistered lips. One of her tears dropped onto his face, mingling with his in a deep wound on his cheek. She cringed, hating the thought of adding to his pain. Wiping her eyes, she said, “I have no doubt that Job will sacrifice a hundred lambs when this journey is ended. But for now, his tears are enough.” Dinah remained focused on Job, suddenly caring nothing about Elihu’s reaction. She knew in her spirit that Yahweh was pleased.

“I think I’d rather face a hundred bandits than contend with you.” Elihu’s quiet voice interrupted her peace. Dinah gazed into his close-set eyes, now compassionate and tenderhearted. His gentle smile unnerved her. “I loved Uzahmah, but you have earned my admiration.” He looked down at Job as if bolstering his courage. “Perhaps El Shaddai has brought us to Abba Job’s household for His greater purpose.”

Job’s brow furrowed, causing him to gasp.

“Job, what is it?” Dinah was thankful for the distraction. If Elihu considered his last remark the prelude to a betrothal, he needed serious counsel on the ways of men with women.

“Elihu . . . accuse Sayyid . . . now.” Job swallowed with great difficulty.

Nogahla appeared with a mint tea leaf. “Here, Master Job. Put this on your tongue.”

After sucking on the leaf for a few moments, Job’s eyes opened with more clarity, and Nogahla offered a satisfied smile. “Elihu, you must accuse Sayyid at the city gate 
now
.” His words were slurred from the tea leaf, but he grew more adamant. “When Sitis tells Sayyid that you know he’s responsible, he’ll try to kill you.”

Dinah’s mind reeled at the dreadful possibility that their nightmare wasn’t over but merely beginning a new scroll in an ongoing story.

“But what about Ima Sitis?” Elihu’s voice was shrill, panic setting in.

“If you go to the elders now, they’ll summon Sayyid immediately and interrupt whatever he plans for Sitis.” Job swallowed again and focused hard on his would-be son. “Elihu, you must leave Uz immediately after the trial. You cannot return here after you accuse Sayyid. Take one of the camels the herdsmen brought back, and ride quickly to find Sitis’s brother, Bildad, and Uncle Eliphaz. They’re the only people who can help us.”

Sayyid tightened his belt and smoothed his robe. Ridiculous. He was as nervous as a virgin bride. The clicking of sandals on the stone floor outside his chamber left his mouth parched, and just as he reached for his cup of wine, Aban appeared at the door with Sitis and Nada.

“Master Sayyid, Mistress Sitis and her maid have arrived.” His captain bowed, and Sayyid inhaled both wine and breath, causing him to spray and sputter like a disgruntled camel. Not the noble impression he’d envisioned for Sitis’s first visit to his bedchamber. Aban rushed to his side while Sitis and Nada watched wide-eyed from the doorway.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Clearing his throat and wiping the choked tears, Sayyid shoved away his captain’s awkward attempts at concern. Replacing his cup on the tray, he strode toward his beloved and cupped her face in his hands. “By the gods, Sitis, you look like death!”

The woman’s stony black gaze would have crushed a weaker man, but it was precisely Sitis’s regal air that drew him. “Perhaps my death was your intention when you sent your captain to burn my house this morning, Sayyid.”

Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he noted a crack in her stately wall of control, a slight trembling of her chin. “You know I would never harm you, my love.”

She tried to pull away, and in the tussle, Sayyid’s fingers became ensnared in her hair. She tossed her head and whimpered when his gemstone rings tangled around her black tresses. “Sitis, wait!” Frustration driving him, he grabbed her head and shook it like a melon. “Stop fighting me!”

Eyes wide with fear, his Ishmaelite princess was struck dumb. A frightened dove in the fowler’s snare.

The old nursemaid raised tremulous fingers to untangle her mistress’s hair from his rings. “Master Sayyid, my mistress has come seeking your help.” Nada’s hand rested on his forearm, a chastising glare reminding him that Sitis preferred honeyed promises to prickly threats.

Slowly, gently, he released Sitis’s face, and she stepped back into Nada’s waiting arms. Sayyid studied his beloved from head to toe. Her feet were dust-covered and bleeding. No doubt the past two days had been more perilous than anything she could have imagined.

“My Sitis-girl, how could you think I would ever intend harm against you?” Reaching for her hands, he studied every feature of her lovely face. “My heart is broken at the hardships I see written all over your body.” His eyes roamed every curve, every contour of her shape. He’d waited forty years for this day. He mustn’t ruin his long efforts with a short temper.

Ever so slowly, she removed her hands from his grasp. “If you had nothing to do with the fire in my home this morning, Sayyid, explain why your captain was positioning bandits at every exit.”

He watched a single tear slide down her cheek and dangle precariously from the point of her perfect jaw. Sayyid longed to catch the lonesome drop on his finger, taste its salty sweetness.

“Sayyid, did you hear me?” Her slight stomp cleared his distraction and sent the tear cascading down her slender neck.

“Of course I’m listening, Sitis-girl. I’m just stunned you didn’t know.” Sayyid gave his best impression of confusion. “But how could you know? You would have been sound asleep in your chamber at dawn.” Motioning Aban to join their conversation, he began his fantastic falsehood. “You see, Aban was the first to witness the same divine lightning that killed your sheep. It revisited the skies of Uz this morning just as dawn was breaking.” He eyed the young man, and Aban quickly registered halfhearted agreement. “My captain wasn’t positioning bandits at the exits of your home, my love. He was trying to force men into your house to save you from another divine tragedy.”

A lovely 
v
 formed between Sitis’s brows. “Divine tragedy?”

Sayyid realized the story sounded absurd, but hadn’t Job’s day of tragedy been just as astounding? Certainly Sayyid would tell this tale to all of Uz with as much believability as the rest of Job’s destruction. “Yes, the fire of the gods reached into your balconies and windows, setting your house ablaze. Those 
bandits
, as you called them, were my hired men that Aban tried to force 
into
 the entrances of your home to save you.” He reached up, squeezing Aban’s shoulder with an authoritative hand. “My captain and twenty witnesses saw a shaft of lightning split the sky and ignite an inferno in your home, Sitis. I fear this is just more divine retribution for your husband’s sins against the gods.”

“You liar!” She flew at him in a rage, fists flailing, but Aban rushed to subdue her. The mighty captain held Sitis draped over one arm, thrashing and kicking until her strength was spent and sobbing settled in.

Nada stood like a statue, seething as her mistress lost all dignity. “My Sitis has endured enough without adding your lies, Sayyid.” She stepped forward, asserting her lifelong influence over a farmer’s son who was now a mighty merchant. “Order your captain to release her. My mistress has come to request your help.”

Sitis stilled at Nada’s voice, and Aban responded, gently steadying Sitis’s feet on the floor. His hands cradled her, large and awkward on her back. “Are you all right, Mistress Sitis?” he whispered. A strange air of unease surrounded the young man.

Sayyid’s eyes narrowed. 
How dare Aban obey Nada’s command without my approval?
 
He owes loyalty to his master alone.
 “Sitis will be fine when she bows to my will.” Sayyid kept his voice low but leveled a deadly glare at his captain.

Cupping Sitis’s chin, Sayyid grabbed the back of her neck and bent low, his whisper almost touching her lips. “Nada says you come for help, but all I’ve heard are accusations.” He could smell the fear in her warm breath. “If you want my help, ask. But remember my terms, Sitis-girl.” He felt her chin tremble beneath his grasp. He released her and stepped back, her brokenness creeping up his arm and into his heart.

“Nada is right. I 
have
 come to ask your help.” She wiped her tears, smearing the soot on her face. “Job awoke this morning with seeping, smelly sores from head to foot. He’ll die if we don’t have bandages, shelter, and food, Sayyid.” Like a child working a ball of clay, she forced up the corners of her lips in a pained smile. “Can you help us until I can get word to our families?”

Sayyid’s heart sang at the words “he’ll die,” but his world suddenly grew dim when Sitis mentioned their families. When Sayyid and Bela hired the Chaldeans to ruin Job’s camel trade, Sayyid’s only considerations had been winning Sitis’s love. Bela’s aim was to diminish Job’s wealth and secure Esau’s favor as successor to the Edomite kingdom. But if Sitis sent messengers to her Ishmaelite brother, Prince Bildad, or to Job’s great-abba Esau, Sayyid and Bela could both be destroyed by a unified Ishmaelite-Edomite army.

“I can’t believe Job would dishonor himself and beg help from your families.” Sayyid’s sneer of disgust was genuine. “Didn’t you say your husband was dying, Sitis? Why shame the man among your families? Let him die an Edomite with some dignity.”

“He won’t die if you help us,” she said, lifting her chin, her Ishmaelite streak of stubbornness returning.

Sayyid studied her, considering the ramifications of his own heritage. If Esau heard rumblings that Sayyid—an Ishmaelite—had dealt wickedly with his favorite great-grandson, the Edomite father might call for all-out war against the Ishmaelites and break the treaty established by Job and Sitis’s marriage.

He must post guards to be sure Sitis sent no messengers to either the Ishmaelites or the Edomites. Just to be safe, however, he must continue some semblance of goodwill.

“Ah, Sitis-girl,” Sayyid cooed, “I will most certainly help you.” He watched her face brighten, relief softening her features. He saw his advantage and held out one hand. 
Let her step back to me if she wants my favor.

Sitis cautiously planted her hand in his.

“I will hire men to begin restoration of your home today, but it will take many full moons, my love.” He raised her hand to his lips, locking his eyes in a hungry gaze. She didn’t pull away but allowed him to taste the sweetness of her skin. “And I will provide a place for Job to recuperate from his illness if . . .”

The fragile clay corners of her smile chipped away. “Sayyid, I will never marry you.” Her lips trembled, tears began anew. “I love my husband. I will always love Job.”

Sayyid’s hand tightened around hers, and he nuzzled her hand, working his way up her arm, pulling her closer as his lips found her neck. 
Why must you defy me?
 Suddenly without concern for the Edomites and Ishmaelites, he tasted the salt and soot mingled on her throat. “So you would rather your husband starve than marry me, Sitis-girl?”

She pulled away as though bitten by a serpent. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?” Sitis retreated, taking refuge behind Nada—as though the old woman could somehow protect her.

“I’m saying if you continue to refuse me, I will not only deny Job food and shelter, I will make all of you wish for death.” He circled his childhood obsession like a vulture and leaned in to shred the vestiges of her tattered dignity. “Elihu will be banished from Uz, disgraced and humiliated. Dinah and her little maid will starve, no one to marry and no one to serve. And you, princess, will spend your days cleaning slop jars and scrubbing floors like a common servant.” He laughed, expecting her to crumble under the weight of his new threat.

Instead, her eyes probed his soul. Seeming to have found some inner strength despite her piteous existence, she whispered, “Sayyid, why are you doing this? You’ve been my best friend all my life. You opened my heart to Al-Uzza after El Shaddai closed my womb. If it hadn’t been for your kindness, I might have gone mad.” She reached up and gently placed her hand on his cheek. “This villain before me is not the companion who supported me through all manner of hardship.” She stepped toward Sayyid, boldly moving him back a step. “Please, my friend, do not ask me to dishonor my family by denouncing my husband in the city given to me as a dowry.”

Sayyid’s heart melted at her touch. For forty years he had waited for her love. His heart warred with his mind. Could he wait a little longer? Find another way to woo her, to win her?