Shadow of the Storm Read online

  With nothing else to do, I lay watching her suckle in her dreams, tiny eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks, and thought of Ayal. His gentleness with his sons, seeming rejection of the baby, and unacceptable actions with me by the stream wove a tangled mass of questions through my thoughts. I could not reconcile any one with the others.

  Lulled by Talia’s soft breaths and unable to keep my eyes from drifting shut, I fell asleep, but the steady thrum of accusation whispered through my dreams. My fault. My fault.

  19

  A shadow beckoned me from sleep. Threads of blurred images clung to me for a few moments—a face by a stream, a brown sparrow, a voice calling my name again and again . . .

  With reluctance, I opened my eyes. A ring of afternoon light surrounded a form in the doorway, blinding me. I blinked, trying to clear the sleep from my mind.

  “I’m sorry to wake you.”

  Ayal. My pulse thrummed as a barrage of memories further clouded my vision, spurred by his soft words reaching to me from the shadows—his smile framed by deep grooves as we worked side by side with the sheep, his amber eyes holding me captive by the river, his lips beckoning mine. A spike of anger rushed to my heart’s defense. Ayal had taken advantage of my girlish fantasies—just like the Egyptian. He had betrayed me.

  How long had I slept? I sat up, instantly struck by a headache from the piercing sunlight through the tent flap. Jostled by my quick movement, Talia awoke. Her little arms had slipped free of her swaddling and now grasped the air in displeasure. Clucking reassurances, I pulled her onto my lap.

  With an apologetic look, Ayal dropped the tent flap behind himself, shutting out the intrusive light. He stepped forward, and instinctively I shrank back.

  He put out a hand, concern creasing his brow. “I won’t—” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. “I won’t touch you again. I promise.”

  I clutched Talia closer to my body, afraid that his words did not match his intentions. Voices murmured outside the tent. If he moved any closer, I could yell. I sucked in a surreptitious breath.

  “But I must ask—” His tone was hesitant, almost pleading. “I need your help, since Dvorah can only come a couple of times a day.” He dropped a brief glance to Talia. “Until I figure out what to do with—” He swallowed. “With the baby.”

  Exhaling, I dropped my eyes to the small bundle in my arms. “But surely your family—”

  “No.” He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm. “They won’t have anything to do with Leisha’s child.”

  He spoke of the little one as if she was not connected to him at all. A rush of pity for the infant conquered my apprehension. I could not walk away, leaving her alone with a father who wanted nothing to do with her. What would happen to her if I refused?

  “I promised your wife that I would help,” I said without taking my eyes off the object of my vow.

  He blew out a short breath. “Thank you.”

  “And what of the boys?”

  He scratched at his beard. “They can go with me to tend the sheep.”

  “Two little boys under your feet while you work? And what about building the Mishkan?” I shook my head, remembering their antics from earlier. At some point they would need to learn from their father, but as young as they were, for now they would be more of a distraction than a help. “I will take them with me during the day. I am sure Kiya would be happy to help entertain them.”

  “Don’t you have your duties as a midwife?”

  “No.” My response was terse. “I am needed here.”

  “They will not be a bother to you?”

  I attempted a tight smile. “They are sweet boys. We will be fine.”

  Relief dripped from his features. “I cannot thank you enough. I assure you it will only be a temporary arrangement.”

  I nodded. Temporary.

  “As for that day . . .” He cleared his throat. “Shira . . .”

  The look in his eyes and the desperate way he spoke my name whisked me back to the stream and the brush of his lips against mine. I recoiled with alarm, reminded of his deception.

  He held out a hand. “Please, I must tell you—”

  “What is going on in here?” Marah stood in the doorway of the tent, naked suspicion in the caustic look she divided between us. Like a mouse trapped in a corner, guilt held me captive.

  Ayal sighed. “We are discussing plans for the children.”

  She squinted at him. “You should not be alone with this girl.”

  Although I had been suspicious of Ayal before, somehow Marah’s insinuations made my hackles rise. He had seemed almost apologetic before she interrupted.

  “What kind of a man do you think I am—?”

  “I know just what sort of man you are.” Her accusation was a well-honed blade.

  He flinched as though stung, and his fists clenched at his sides. “Shira will be taking the baby with her for now, and watching Dov and Ari during the day. I will supply her family with extra wool and milk in exchange for her help.” He glanced at me, all hint of repentance wiped away. “Is that acceptable to you?”

  Although tempted to refuse the offer and escape this uncomfortable situation, for the sake of Talia and the boys I agreed. But for my own sake, I would remember—I must remember—this is temporary.

  20

  Dvorah

  19 CHESHVAN

  8TH MONTH OUT FROM EGYPT

  Matti clung to me, his little face pressed against my shoulder. Liquid brown eyes gazed up at me as I prepared bread from the day’s manna. The shadows behind those dark pools made me grind my teeth.

  “Ima stay?”

  I tried to reassure him, yet skirted around any promises. The truth was, if Reva summoned me, I had to go. Babies were born at all hours of the day and night; they were no respecters of my brief time with my son.

  Some days I wished I had never agreed to apprentice as a midwife. At the time it had seemed a way to escape the oppression of an overfull tent, and an occupation for my mind. Crammed into one room with my brother-in-law’s two Egyptian wives, their five brats, and Matti—while Hassam enjoyed the other room to himself—was pure torture. But being forced to leave my son with them each day was even more excruciating. Whenever I returned from a delivery or from checking on mothers with Shira, Matti was starving, both for attention and for food. The two witches wouldn’t lower themselves to doing more than ensuring he stayed out of the fire and their belongings.

  “What do you have for me today?” Hassam’s voice grated like flint against metal.

  “Only some milk.” I gestured toward the jug Ayal had provided.

  Hassam’s nostrils flared. “That’s it? You’ve been in quite a few tents these past few days.”

  I steadied my breathing, willing myself not to twitch. “No. Either the last ones have their gold hidden well or they’ve given it all away to build the Mishkan.”

  He snorted. “Fools. Mosheh and his greedy brother must be laughing their heads off at these halfwits filling baskets with gold and jewelry. No one needs that many materials to build a big tent. Those two are sleeping on finer linens than Pharaoh, I don’t doubt.”

  I shrugged a shoulder. I didn’t care if they slept on diamonds and rubies, those sorcerers terrified me with their glowing clouds and their dark magic. I wanted nothing to do with them. When Reva had brought Miryam to witness a birth, the old priestess had slanted condemning glances at me the whole day, as if she could see everything—the cow.

  Hassam crouched down next to me at eye level, his cutting gaze slicing straight to my core. “You’d better be telling the truth.”

  “Of course I am.” One wing of the golden Isis amulet pilfered from Leisha’s belongings after she died pressed into my abdomen. The safest place for the charm was in my belt, tied about my waist. My goddess would protect me.

  Hassam’s arrogant smile reminded me of the open-mouthed gape of a skull. “Bring me something better next time. Much better.”

 
; He reached out and I flinched, thinking he would hit me again. But instead he caressed Matti’s golden-brown hair. “Hmm. So soft. So like my brother’s hair.”

  Matti pressed closer to me, trembling. Fury thrummed in my temples.

  Hassam stood, hooked the jug handle with two fingers, and disappeared into the tent—taking with him my payment for my own milk and the extra hours away from Matti.

  Isis. Without moving, I conjured up the golden statue’s fair face in my mind’s eye. I’ve offered years of service to you, body and soul. Please repay me. Give me some way to get away from this man. I’d rather be working with that simpering little Levite, or nursing Ayal’s baby, or even putting up with his out-of-control sons.

  The realization that Shira’s mysterious lover was Leisha’s husband was a gift from the gods and valuable information should Shira ever threaten to cry to Reva. Yet even if she kept her mouth closed, pilfering valuables from tents was a dangerous game and my position as a midwife tenuous at best. It wouldn’t be long before Ayal gave in to his leering at Shira and took her as a wife anyhow. And then where would Matti and I be?

  An idea whispered in my mind. Perhaps there was a way to ensure that wouldn’t happen. A way to get back what I had lost. All of it. Talia was a quiet baby. I didn’t mind nursing her, and the boys could be kept in hand. I could start by making friends with Ayal’s sisters-in-law. They seemed to have despised Leisha, and I certainly could work that to my advantage—sympathize with their disdain, find ways to get into their good graces, indulge their vanities. If I could convince Marah at least, Aiyasha and Yael would follow. It would take cunning, and the right words, to convince them of just what a wonderful match Ayal and I would be. Yes, perhaps—

  I dared to slip my finger inside my belt and caress the amulet. Thank you, Isis. You have given me the answer.

  I kissed Matti’s light hair. “Ima will stay, my son. One way or the other, Ima will stay for good.”

  21

  Shira

  26 CHESHVAN

  8TH MONTH OUT FROM EGYPT

  Every part of me was exhausted this morning. Any hum or sigh or tiny smack of Talia’s rosebud lips was enough to jolt me awake, fearing I had rolled over on her in the night, or that she might wake my mother, Kiya, or the girls. But as she drank from the milk-spout in the night, she pulled in close, as if she could melt into my skin, making every sleepless minute of the last week worth the sacrifice.

  Bleary-eyed, I entered Ayal’s family campsite to fetch the boys and meet Dvorah so Talia could nurse—my peculiar new twice-daily ritual. A flurry of activity in the small area greeted me. A number of children, young and old, tossed a rag ball between them.

  Dov and Ari were off by themselves as usual, squatting in the dirt and digging with sticks. My defenses sprang to life as I watched them. What did this family have against Leisha that they would ignore the twins, even after her death? What gave them license to cast out such innocents on account of their parents?

  Across the campsite, four women stood in a circle—Dvorah and Ayal’s brothers’ wives. Marah, Aiyasha, and Yael had seemed determined to make me feel like an interloper. They pointedly ignored me whenever I came for the boys, as if their hatred for Leisha had somehow spilled its black stain onto me.

  Had Dvorah found a way to slip into their good graces? Engaged in the conversation, she smiled, something I had never seen before. The change transformed her face, softening the harsh lines that normally framed her mouth. But when she noticed me, her usual scowl slipped back into place. The other three women turned to stare as well, with an abrupt halt to their chatter.

  Dvorah had already made friends with these strangers after weeks of rebuffing my attempts at friendship? Why did she hate me so much? And what had she told them, that they all regarded me with such disdain?

  Talia sighed against my chest, and my soul echoed the sentiment. This would be painful indeed. Even slavery under a cruel mistress in Egypt had not prepared me for this ring of lionesses.

  I arranged a smile on my face and approached. “Shalom.” I tipped my head in greeting.

  They responded with silence. Aiyasha smirked and sized me up with a glance. Dvorah huffed an exasperated breath and gestured with her hand. “Give me the baby.”

  I disentangled Talia from the linen wrap that secured her to my chest and instantly missed the weight and warmth of her. Dvorah snatched the baby away as if I’d been holding her for ransom.

  Jarred and off-balance, I muttered a quick excuse to the impenetrable female wall and sat down nearby to watch Dov and Ari play. Although I tried to concentrate on the boys’ animated questions and the treasures they brought me from their excavations in the dirt, my attention was continually snagged by the conversation behind me.

  “She is Danite,” said Marah after Dvorah had ducked into the tent to nurse the baby. “But she will make a good wife for Ayal. Yonah insisted he not take too long to remarry.”

  I could almost feel Aiyasha’s haughty blue-green eyes on my back. “Yes. I believe she will. Arrangements should be made soon, for the sake of the children. It’s not as if anyone is mourning Leisha anyhow.”

  The callousness of her statement shocked me, as did the disconcerting spike of envy in my veins. Ayal was considering marriage to Dvorah?

  Marah cleared her throat, interrupting my divided thoughts. “Perhaps she can take those twins in hand. Leisha did nothing but let them run wild.”

  They lowered their voices, most likely speculating about me. When I could bear the tension no longer, I told the boys it was time to go back to my family’s campsite, then went to see if Dvorah had finished nursing the baby. She insisted on nursing in private, which was strange, but I’d learned early on to not ask personal questions of the woman. I’d been told to mind my own affairs more than once.

  I peeked through the door flap. Dvorah was stroking the baby’s face and humming, rocking back and forth as Talia suckled. A narrow ray of sunlight illuminated a tear on Dvorah’s cheek. Startled by the realization that I had trespassed on a tender moment, I flinched.

  My sudden movement caused a shadow to fall across the pair, and in an instant Dvorah’s face transformed from softness to fury. “Why are you spying on me?”

  I stepped inside. “I did not mean to intrude.”

  Her nostrils flared. “She’s not yours, you know.”

  “Of course not. I—”

  “You won’t get what you want.”

  I blinked a few times. “What do I want?”

  She jerked her chin toward the tent door. “Him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ayal. I know you want him.”

  “I . . . I only want to help with the children.”

  Smugness hovered on her lips and condescension on her brow. “I see the way you pant after him.”

  Stuttering, I tried to contradict her, but she cut me off.

  Her almond eyes became slits. “Did you kill her on purpose? So you could have him?”

  “No!” The full impact of her accusation pierced me, and my voice rasped against its fiery assault. “I tried to save her. You know I did.”

  “How do you expect to be a midwife, then, if you are so incompetent?”

  My mouth went slack. It was the same question I had asked myself over and over.

  She twitched a shoulder. “I could not care less. Either way, you won’t get him.” She patted Talia’s back, pressing the baby closer to her chest. Her false smile oozed malice. “Or this little one.”

  22

  16 TEVET

  10TH MONTH OUT FROM EGYPT

  I would have removed my sandals, had I been wearing any. The ground beneath my bare feet already seemed to hum with holiness as Kiya and I entered the wide space that had been cleared for the Mishkan.

  “Has Eben described what it will look like?” I asked her.

  “He said there will be tall posts all around.” She gestured in a wide circle. “And of course the white linen panels we are making wi
th all the other weavers will be strung between, to form an outer courtyard.”

  I restrained a groan at the reminder. Three weeks ago I had asked my mother to inform Reva that I would not be returning to midwifery and would instead be helping with the long linen panels. I determined to be satisfied with being part of such a valuable service but hoped no one would too closely inspect the weave on the sections my clumsy fingers produced.

  I swept my gaze over the heads of the crowd to where Levites worked at shaping and sanding beams hauled from some northern forest—just the first of the expensive materials needed to fashion such a unique sanctuary in the wilderness, one that could be broken down and moved as we followed the Cloud. But the Egyptians had paid us well for hundreds of years of slavery, pushing riches into our hands as we escaped. It was their gold that would line the Mishkan walls, their silver that would fund every imported bundle of flax, their jewels that paid for every precious jar of incense and oil.

  Hundreds of people stood in long lines, the atmosphere reminding me of my hometown of Iunu on a celebration day. Excited chatter and loud speculations about the Mishkan murmured all around us. Children perched on fathers’ shoulders, and little ones sat astride mothers’ hips—some with gold and silver trinkets gripped in pudgy hands, ready to drop in the donation baskets. I nearly expected a parade to march through, with leopard-skin-clad priests, plumed dancers, and golden gods on litters.

  Mosheh had announced that his brother and nephews were to be our very own priests. The only ones who could, outside of Mosheh, approach the Most High. Surely the worship of Yahweh would be different than in the Egyptian temple, with its endless chanting and offerings to mute idols. What would worshipping the Living God be like?

  Talia slept through the loud cacophony, content in her soft cocoon of linen against my chest. Her tiny, warm body fit against me like an extension of my own—I envied the peaceful sleep of this newborn who did not comprehend the dark clouds she’d been born under, and that the temporary replacement for her mother was so undeserving.