Pearl in the Sand (34 page)

But God brought Jericho’s walls down because Israel clung to the Lord and not to their own understanding:
he would cling to God
. God brought Jericho’s walls down because Israel persisted:
he would persist with his wife
. God brought Jericho’s walls down because He wanted to give Israel that territory:
God wanted to give Rahab to Salmone
. He believed this with single-minded conviction. Rahab’s freedom was God’s will. And it was that will which would win them the victory. As he had been a warrior for God against the walls of Jericho, so he would be a warrior for God against the walls that trapped his precious wife. He would demonstrate the same obedience, the same patience and persistence, the same unyielding resolve to win over his wife that he had shown in battle against Canaan’s cities. The soldier in him smiled.

Long into the night Salmone then wrestled with his own judgment of Rahab. Once he had been disgusted with Imri for not knowing the worth of her. He saw now that in his own way he had failed to value his bride, failed to see her full worth. He had made of her two women, the one lovable and precious, the other tainted, undesirable. She had grown paralyzed with that division, not knowing how to keep the two halves apart for him. Because within her own soul she was shamed and belittled by her past, she did not have the resources to stand against his unspoken recriminations. She took them in and felt them just. She believed them the true measure of herself.

Salmone wanted to love her right. He wanted to cherish her and make her feel secure in him. He wanted the boundaries of his love removed until his beloved felt that she belonged to him and was safe in him. For hours he prayed that God would teach him to love Rahab like that. He repented. He confessed. He strove in prayer until he was spent. For a few hours he fell asleep beneath the shade
of the tree where God had first told him that he could marry Rahab. When the sun shone high in the pale blue sky, Salmone made his way home. For the first time in days, joy accompanied his steps. He walked like a warrior intent on conquering a priceless territory.

Rahab jumped as Salmone entered their tent. It was late morning. He had not come home for the night, and she had fretted through the wakeful watches of the passing hours, terrified that he had left her. From beneath lowered lashes she studied his handsome face. He seemed inscrutable to her. Whatever his mood, she could not read it from his expression. She felt frozen at the sight of him, not knowing whether to bring up his night’s absence. Before she could speak however, he came straight to her.

He stood very near without quite touching her. This close, she found his height imposing. Something in her wanted desperately to step back, to put more space between them. She resisted the impulse, knowing it would annoy him.

His silence goaded her to speak. “Have you … Have you eaten? Would you like some food? I just finished baking some bread. There is smoked trout and goat cheese too.”

“Sounds delicious.”

With relief she turned away to fetch the food. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him. “Would you pack it for us? I thought we could go outside the camp and be alone for the afternoon.”

“Alone?”

His smile deepened the grooves on his cheeks. It was the first smile he had given her in days. Rahab’s heart quickened at the sight of it. “That was the idea, yes. You and I and food. We could go past the tent of the wounded. You used to walk near there. Remember?”

“Y-y-yes.” What was this, a peace offering? Encouraged, Rahab dared a slight smile back. But the burgeoning hope proved short-lived.
How long would his approbation last? How long before she ruined it with a wrong word or action? “Would you like help with the food?”

“I can manage. Thank you.” Rahab trudged with slow movements as she put together a bundle, stuffing it with warm barley bread and fish and soft cheese and a wooden cup for water. She didn’t want to go. It would only end in disappointment. She knew her reluctance did not escape his notice. He was frighteningly perceptive. And yet he did not seem perturbed or annoyed by it. He sat on a rug, whistling a jaunty tune under his breath as he changed into sturdier sandals. When she couldn’t delay anymore, she came to him and dangled her bundle.

“Lunch is ready.” She tried to make her voice sound carefree.

“Oh, but this won’t do.”

“What?” she asked, alarmed.

“Your shoes. Much too delicate for a serious trek outside the camp. You’ll get blisters in those flimsy things. Come here.”

Rahab went to him, heart pounding. He made a motion for her to sit near and she obeyed. He fetched her walking shoes, and she extended her hand to take them from him.

“I’ll take care of it.” He knelt before her and lifted her foot. Gently, he undid her sandal.

Rahab’s throat went dry. She tried to pull her foot free. “My feet aren’t clean.”

He held tight to her ankle, not letting go when she struggled. Seeing the determination in his eyes, she grew still. He gave her a small smile full of approbation. He pulled off her sandals and, after wiping her feet with a damp cloth, strapped on her sturdy shoes.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He took a moment to rinse his hand in a pitcher before rising. “Well, wife, are you coming or are you going to cling to the rug the rest of the afternoon?”

Rahab had forgotten she was sitting. A kind of openmouthed confusion dulled her mind. Had he truly done the work of slaves—washed her feet and tenderly strapped on her sandals for her? What
was he up to, this husband of hers who was an utter mystery to her? What was he doing here at home in the middle of the day, acting like naught was wrong between them? Where had he spent the previous night? Why did he want to spend time with her? From the stubborn angle of his jaw she suspected that she wouldn’t discover any answers until he was good and ready to tell her. She scrambled to her feet and almost jumped out of her skin when he took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. Bending to pick up the bundle of food she had made, he flashed a smile. “Be a shame if we forgot this. I feel hungry for the first time in days.”

Salmone set the pace, ambling with his long-legged gait until he realized that Rahab was scrambling to keep up. He slowed his steps immediately. “I’m sorry. I often do that to you. Force of habit, I suppose. Miriam complains that I walk like a mountain goat.”

He slowed down to a relaxed speed that was easy for Rahab to navigate. As they walked, he began to regale her with stories from his work, discussing the challenges of settlement and farming that faced their community in the immediate future. With flattering frequency, he asked her opinion, considering her responses with serious interest. By the time they had made their way out of the perimeter of Israel’s boundaries, Rahab found herself calmer.

Salmone chose a path that led to a narrow brook flowing out from the Jordan. “Let’s cross to the other side. There are some pretty acacia trees if I remember aright.”

Rahab stepped forward, intending to submerge her foot into the water. Without warning, Salmone grabbed her around the waist and swung her high into his arms. “No need for us both to get wet,” he said, grinning.

Without her volition Rahab felt herself tense. Being this close to him was torture. Salmone’s handsome face softened. “Be at your ease. I won’t harm you, Rahab.” His voice, low and quiet, held no edge, no irony. Relief flooded her. Relief that her stupid uncontrollable reactions were not turning him away from her as they often did.
She let herself go limp, but could not bring herself to raise her arms and clasp him about the neck.

On the other side of the brook, Salmone lowered her to the ground, letting her body slide down against his in slow motion. Heat rushed to Rahab’s cheeks, but if Salmone noticed it, he made no comment. “What do you think of this spot? We can sit on that low rock with the acacia tree over us while we eat.”

Rahab nodded. She would have agreed to sit down on a dunghill if he had led her, she was so utterly befuddled by his actions. He handed her bread and fish, which she could only play with. Her stomach churned at the thought of food.

“You need to put that in your mouth and start chewing. You’ve lost too much weight.”

Rahab was deaf to the concern in his words and could only focus on the implied criticism. Did he think she was losing her looks? Did he find her unattractive? She shoved a piece of bread in her mouth and swallowed with determination. It stuck in her throat, choking her, and she began to cough, doubled over.

“Drink this,” he commanded, holding a cup filled with water from the brook to her lips. She managed a sip. Then another, until the coughing began to subside. “It would help if you chewed before swallowing. You know of chewing? It’s when you move your teeth up and down on your food.”

Rahab smiled in spite of herself, feeling gawky before this together man. “Must be out of practice. Anyway, you’ve lost weight yourself. It’s good to see you eat.”

He grew earnest and thoughtful at her words. “It hasn’t been an easy time for either of us.”

“No.”

“Rahab, I brought you here because I wanted to talk about us. Home holds too many hard memories for us to feel at our ease. I wanted us to come to a quiet place where we could talk openly.”

She felt a wave of nausea at the thought of one more conversation with Salmone. He would now press her for answers, answers she
could not give. “Oh, must we, Salmone? We are having such a lovely day. Let’s not ruin it.” She rose up and turned her back to him. Everything in her strained to run—from this place and from this man with his probing questions.

From behind her Salmone spoke, sounding calm and unperturbed. “We can’t hide from this. We must face it together. I don’t fault you for feeling as you do. I’ve made many mistakes, Rahab. I ask your pardon.”

Rahab’s heart contracted. A painful certainty began to creep over her. He wanted to set her aside—divorce her. That was why he was apologizing. That was the mistake to which he referred. No wonder he had stayed away all night and arrived home in good humor. He was resolved already. And who could blame him? The entirety of Israel would sigh with relief.
Oh God, I cannot bear it. I cannot
.

“Please don’t, Salmone,” she cried, her heart in her mouth.

In a flash he was beside her. “Don’t what, Rahab? What is it?”

She almost begged, begged for him not to leave her, not to abandon her. But she had gulped down a lifetime of entreaties, knowing them useless. Why belittle herself further by starting now? One thing she could try to salvage was the vestiges of her bruised pride. She hung her head in defeat, beseeching God in the silence of her agonized thoughts.
Give me courage to let him go
. “You’re right,” she said, her voice cracking like dry tinder. “Divorce would be best.”

T
he silence that greeted her outburst held an ominous thunder. Rahab was surprised to see an expression of despair on Salmone’s face. His skin was pale, and a sheen of fine perspiration clung to his forehead. “Why do you bring up divorce? I never said aught about it.”

“But you were thinking it. It’s all right. I don’t blame you. I suppose I see no other solution myself.”

“I never thought it. Never even considered it. Never will.”

He had
never
thought about it? It occurred to her with a kind of astonished wonder that she had wounded him by her suggestion. He was hurt. Hurt that she would wish to end their marriage. And why had she made such a bitter suggestion? In order to spare her pride. She had reacted as she always did to the horrors of life. She had hidden her real feelings behind a pretense of strength and in the process wounded the man she was supposed to cherish and protect. To save face, she had hurt him.

“I … I didn’t mean it,” she murmured, her voice hoarse with regret. “I thought you wanted it; that’s why I said it.”

He took a deep breath. She saw the air fill his chest, expand it, held there like an inner bubble of stretched time, and then he expended it, and with it, she could see some of the tension leaving his features. “Come with me. Come and sit by my side.”