Redeeming Grace: Ruth's Story Read online

  Naomi glanced up from the corner where she sat spinning goat’s hair to make into fabric for an awning. “Whatever will we do with so much grain, my husband? Would it not be better to send some to our brethren back home?” She often spoke of home, though Elimelech did not seem overly pleased to hear it. She could not let him forget.

  Elimelech lifted his gaze to hers, the slightest scowl between his dark brows, though he seemed to be considering her words. “Our people could have moved here as easily as we did, Naomi. Though I might consider selling a small amount . . .” He paused and shook his head. “I still want to build the silos.” He set the cup on the floor beside him. “And I have agreed to help our neighbor tend his vineyards for a share of the profit and the right to take clippings from his best vines and plant a vineyard of our own.”

  Naomi let the spindle stop, stunned at his comment. First the fields that he had finally convinced the governor to sell to him, then vineyards from this neighbor? What next? Did he have his eye on an olive grove somewhere nearby? Her stomach did an uncomfortable dip. Oh Adonai . . .

  “Perhaps we will harvest enough for the sacrifice and for giving some to the poor and still have plenty for your storage.” She held his gaze, silently pleading with him to see things her way. “It would please Adonai for us to be generous, would it not, my lord?”

  He rubbed his bearded chin, then abruptly stood. “You would give everything we own away, Naomi. Yes, of course we will offer the sacrifice and give some to the poor. I am not completely heartless.” He left the house without a backward glance.

  She had not said he was heartless. But her heart felt distant and abandoned by his actions and his words.

  The following night Elimelech left their house again immediately after the evening meal, Chilion in tow. Naomi glanced at Mahlon, who remained seated in the courtyard. Stars glittered above them, bright gems beckoning.

  “I haven’t seen the stars this brilliant since Bethlehem,” Mahlon said, glancing her way. “Does it make you long for home, Ima?”

  She drew a steadying breath, not wanting to give away her truest emotions. The fact that Elimelech considered the town’s evening festivities worth his time troubled her more than where they were living. Though if they had never left Bethlehem, he would not be faced with such temptations.

  “Many things make me long for home, my son.” She met his gaze and forced a smile. “But I am here with all of you, and where you are, that is where I make my home.”

  He nodded, but his thoughts seemed distant. “I like it here,” he said at last. “That is, I like what I have found here.” He looked at her then, giving her that mischievous grin she loved so much.

  “And what have you found so appealing?” She feared she already knew, given Chilion’s continual comments about Orpah. How long could she keep him from asking Elimelech to seek the woman’s hand in marriage?

  “I find the Moabitess Ruth a very kind woman.” He stood and came closer to her, taking her hand in his. “I think Ruth would make a fine wife, Ima. I know you have your heart set on me sending to Bethlehem for a wife, but . . .” He glanced away for a moment and she saw his Adam’s apple move. A deep sigh escaped him. “I don’t think there is a more beautiful woman in all of Israel.”

  She faced him and waited until he looked at her once more, saw the intensity in his gaze. How could she say the words she knew would turn that intense passion into anger? She could lose him to a foreign woman.

  “Give it time, my son,” she said, doing all in her power to keep her voice calm. “If we return to Bethlehem in a year or two, would Ruth follow you? What if you wed her and she decides she prefers her foreign ways? She could return to her father, or her father could refuse to let her go. To marry one who is not of us . . . you take too big a risk.”

  “Her father is dead, Ima. And the man her mother entertains is not her husband. Ruth is of age to decide for herself, though I am sure she would seek her mother’s approval.” Mahlon gave Naomi’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Chilion also wants to marry a Moabite, Ima. Ruth’s friend Orpah.”

  Of course he did. He had told her so the first day he met the woman six months before. “I am aware.”

  “But you do not approve.” Mahlon released his grip and leaned away from her. “Why do you find these women so repulsive?”

  Naomi scoffed. “I do not consider them repulsive, my son. I only wish for you to keep our bloodlines true and pure—we are of Bethlehem Ephrathah, and you should both marry women from our city and our tribe.” She held his gaze. “You know I do not say so lightly. I say so out of a desire to please Adonai. And I do not think we are right to be living among our enemies and considering them as possible kinsmen.”

  Mahlon glanced beyond her, but she could fairly see the thoughts turning in his mind. He stood and walked to the edge of the courtyard and stopped to stare out at the fields beyond.

  Naomi watched his back for the space of many heartbeats, counting her breaths. She had hurt him or angered him, but with Mahlon it was always so hard to tell. She looked heavenward, wishing she could pull wisdom from the stars. The thought to pray crossed her mind, but the words would not come.

  At last Mahlon turned to look at her. “I do not understand you, Mother. There is no good reason not to marry Ruth and Orpah. There is no good reason that I can see to marry women from Israel. Surely our God accepts foreigners. Did he not accept Boaz’s mother Rahab? What possible wrong could there be in accepting these Moabites, especially if they will embrace our ways?” His glare bored into her. “You know I am right.”

  Naomi searched his hardened gaze. She knew that look, the one of anger barely concealed, the look he carried when he could not win his father’s approval. “Has your father already given you his blessing?” The thought dawned on her suddenly and caused a deep ache in her gut.

  Mahlon shook his head. “I have not asked him yet.” He knelt at her side and took her hand in his again. “He would only seek your approval, Ima. So I wanted you to know my feelings first.”

  “You are not asking my approval then, only that I convince your father.” She knew the truth of her words by the gleam in her son’s eyes.

  “It is a decision I hope you will accept,” he said, his voice gentle.

  “That you have already made, my son?” Naomi’s mother heart hurt that she had so little influence, so little say, in her son’s choices. Weren’t his parents supposed to be the ones to arrange such a thing? And yet in this foreign land, who knew what kinds of things Mahlon had heard from the foreign men he spent time with when the sun went down? Perhaps Moab’s customs were far different, and Mahlon seemed to find them agreeable, at least in this case.

  “I would like your blessing, Ima, but I will marry Ruth with or without it.” Mahlon stood, his jaw set, his gaze penetrating.

  “If she will have you.” Naomi could not resist the reminder. “Or are you telling me she already has?”

  He shook his head. “I have not asked her yet. So will you speak to my father? Will you accept my choice?”

  Naomi released a sigh held too long. She searched this son’s gaze once more, wondering how he had grown into such a determined man without her notice. “I will think on it,” she said, unable to bring herself to promise more.

  He nodded, turned away, and left her sitting alone staring after him.

  Naomi turned over in her sleep and immediately awoke when she felt the empty mat beside her. Darkness bathed the room, with only a swatch of light coming from a small lamp—just enough to see should she need to leave Elimelech’s side before he awoke.

  But one look told Naomi what her heart continually feared. Elimelech was not in their bed yet. He had taken to keeping their sons in town later and later, leaving Naomi alone in this house outside the city walls. Though she barred the door and Elimelech had built a stout wall around their little sanctuary, Naomi could never quite shake the fear his absence evoked.

  Where was he?

  She let her eyes adjust to t
he light flickering from the hall and glanced about the room. No sign of her husband. She jumped up, snatched her robe from the peg on the wall, and grabbed the lamp from its niche. She walked quickly, her bare feet padding the stone floor Elimelech had so proudly built for them. She stopped at the room Mahlon and Chilion shared. Their bodies were stretched out, their even breathing telling her they were well.

  She heaved a grateful sigh. But . . . they never left town without their father.

  Where are you?

  Her heart beat faster as she hurried to the sitting room. Surely Elimelech had simply fallen onto the cushions in the main room and slept, not wanting to disturb her. Even in a drunken state, which had grown more frequent in the months since coming to this foreign place, he could be considerate of her need to sleep undisturbed.

  The air in the room smelled foul, and a prickly fear crept up her spine as she passed the empty sitting room and moved to the courtyard door. High windows allowed air and the moon’s glow into the main room of the house, adding to the light from her lamp. She turned again, searching where her eyes could see. Still no sign of Elimelech.

  Heart pounding harder now, she lifted the heavy board, pulled the latch, heard the familiar creak of the leather hinges, and paused. Her stomach knotted, and a feeling she had not known since her father had passed into Sheol rose within her.

  The smell, stronger here, carried the unmistakable stench of death. She choked back a sob. Surely some wild animal had left a carcass nearby, something she would insist Mahlon and Chilion remove and bury at the first hint of dawn. But as she took one step into the courtyard, she could not miss the form of a man lying prone in the dirt just beyond the wide stone enclosure. The gate to the outer court remained closed, but she could see his feet through the slats in the wood.

  “Elimelech?”

  She set the lamp on the stone ledge and fought with yet another board and latch, finally pulling them free. She burst through the gate. Rushed to her husband’s side and fell to her knees. But one touch of his cloak made her fingers recoil. The sticky feel of blood coated them. Her pulse jumped. But she ignored the desire to stay back, to not look.

  She must help him.

  Using both hands this time, she rolled him from his stomach to his back. He landed with a thud against the dirt, and Naomi could not force back a startled cry at the sight of him. Claw marks had drawn deep lines down his chest and slashed across his once handsome face, taking most of his beard off. His robe was torn as though it had no substance, and blood coated the front of his tunic so fully that it had dripped all the way to his knees.

  Oh God, what happened to him?

  She stared, unable to move, to breathe, until she thought she might faint. She rocked back and forth, moaning, the jolt of realization hitting her. She dragged in a breath. Choked on the stench. She scooted away from him, scrambled to her feet. An animal must have attacked him on his way home from the town. A bear? A lion? Mahlon would recognize the claw marks.

  Her feet fairly flew back into the house toward her boys’ room. “Mahlon! Chilion!” she cried out, startled by the loud sound in the darkness. How did they not know this had happened? Why had they not stayed with their father?

  The vision of Elimelech rose in her mind’s eye, bringing her bile with it. She pressed bloodied hands to her middle and forced herself to calm for a moment. She swallowed once, twice, then drew another breath. At last she turned and ran down the hall, shouting for her sleeping sons with every step.

  “Bears roam these hills,” the governor said to Mahlon and Chilion as townsmen came shortly after dawn to help her sons prepare their father for burial. “Though they usually do not attack men unless the she-bear feels threatened about her cubs. They live in the caves not far from the town gates. It is why we do not travel outside the city at night. Surely your father knew this.”

  “What I want to know is why he went into the city night after night in the first place. A bear never bothered him all these past months.” Naomi turned on her sons. “And why were you not with him?” She looked from Mahlon to Chilion. “What was so important that he couldn’t conduct his business there in the daytime?”

  Chilion simply shrugged, but Mahlon’s dark brows drew into a deep frown. “He enjoyed the gaming houses, Ima. He didn’t gamble, but he found the men of the city more amiable after a few cups of barley beer than when they were working under the hot sun.” He said it as though he agreed with his father, and the thought chilled her. She leveled him with a disapproving look.

  “I assure you, Naomi, your husband did nothing dishonorable. All of the men of the city congregate in the evenings. It is a time to relax and to strategize better ways to increase the land’s yield.” The governor smiled at her in his disarming way, but she could only nod. She did not like this man or his city. And now, without a husband to protect her, she was even more vulnerable to men of his ilk than she had ever been in her life.

  “Father was trying to secure a vineyard, Ima. I believe he had just placed his seal on the contract when Mahlon and I left to return home,” Chilion said. “He had decided to stay to celebrate with one more drink.”

  “He should have hired an escort to see him home. Plenty of our guards are willing to do the task for a small fee,” the governor said. “Our guards are well trained in keeping the wild animals at bay.”

  “At the very least, he should have carried a torch.” Naomi spoke to hear herself talk, to make sense of Elimelech’s unreasonable actions. Surely he’d carried a torch, hadn’t he? But there had been no sign of one. And Elimelech was adept with the bow, which he also usually carried on his back for protection. Where was it now? But she did not voice the questions, for the men suddenly came to declare the body wrapped and placed on a bier, ready for the trek to the town’s common burial cave, where the poor and unknown foreigners were laid to rest.

  She bit back the urge to weep as they neared the place, outside of Bethlehem, outside of Israel. This should not be. Elimelech was part of a princely line that deserved better. He should be buried with honor in Bethlehem. But he had led them away from the safety of Bethlehem. Away from everything familiar. And Mahlon would not agree to use their reserves to pay for his father’s return to his homeland.

  She could not go against her firstborn’s choice without a husband to force him to carry out her wishes.

  8

  Three Months Later

  1293 BC

  Ruth looked up from the loom where it stood in a corner of her mother’s courtyard. Male voices drew her attention to the street, toward the avenue leading to the marketplace. She stood and took a step back into the shadows. If Te’oma was among the men, she did not wish to be seen.

  A moment passed, the wind carrying the voices along with the scent of the almond trees just beginning to blossom in this month of Adar, when the days in their valley alternated between sunny and wet. Definitely not Te’oma’s voice. But there was familiarity in the sound. The men approached, and her heart beat a little faster, her attention fully drawn away from the tunic she was weaving.

  The foreigners, Mahlon and Chilion, stopped at her courtyard gate, clearly seeking someone from her home. She rose slowly, debating whether to call her mother to come or to greet them herself. She paused, realizing they had seen her.

  “Welcome, my lords,” she called loud enough for her mother to hear. “How can we help you today?”

  Ruth had not had many occasions to seek out Naomi since her husband’s passing three months before. The woman rarely left her house on the outskirts of town except to draw water from the Arnon, and Ruth seemed to continually mistime a meeting with her there. How was it then that both of her sons stood before Ruth’s gate?

  “I do hope your mother is well?” The thought that she might not be troubled her.

  Mahlon took a step closer to the gate but did not enter the court. “Is your mother about?”

  She tilted her head, giving him a curious look. Why didn’t he answer her question? “She is
in the garden at the back of the house. Shall I get her for you?”

  She glanced at both men and caught Mahlon’s nod. She took two steps toward the door to do their bidding, but paused as Mahlon spoke again.

  “Yes, please. That is—” He stopped midsentence as if uncertain. “I’m afraid I am not well versed in these things.”

  His confusion made her turn. She glanced into his handsome face, saw the slight clenching of his chiseled jaw. She moved a few steps closer. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, my lord. Has something happened to your mother?” A protective feeling for this man’s grieving mother rose within her. She understood what it was like to live in a house with only one parent and a younger sister—without a father’s protection.

  “My mother?” Mahlon shook himself as if he just now realized her words. “My mother is well, thank you. And she would be here handling this for me except for her grief . . .” His words trailed off.

  Chilion placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder as if to offer him reassurance. He said something Ruth could not hear and then stepped back, leaning against the brick of the court.

  Mahlon looked at his younger brother, then faced Ruth once more. “May I speak plainly?” He indicated the gate between them, and she realized that she had not even had the decency to invite the men into the court.

  She hurried to the gate and unlatched it, then moved quickly to the door and called for her mother. She returned to face Mahlon. “Shiphrah, my mother, will join us shortly.”

  “I wonder,” Mahlon said softly, “is it you who chooses the man you are to wed? Or is your mother the one I should approach with such a question since you have no father?” His earnest, intense gaze followed his tentative smile.

  Ruth swallowed, and her heart skipped a beat. He wanted to marry her? A stirring grew in her middle as his dark eyes held hers. Such a handsome man. A foreign man, whom you barely know. Her heart beat faster with that thought.