Shadow of the Storm Page 19

  “I don’t know that there is much you can do . . .”

  He scratched at his beard. “I can at least continue paying you to nurse the baby.”

  “But it won’t be much longer . . .”

  He pressed his lips together. “Do not worry about that. We have plenty of milk and wool to spare. We will continue to pay you as long as you need, or until you find . . . someone else to care for you and your son.”

  Ayal truly was a kind man and would be a good father to Matti. I almost regretted using him, but I could not let this chance slip away. With a quick swallow of ridiculous nerves, I stepped forward and threw my arms around him, placing my head on his chest. “Oh, thank you, Ayal. You don’t know how much this means to me.” I released a sob against his tunic, although the smell of sheep clung to him like a disease.

  He stiffened and patted my back. “Oh . . . well, it is the least I can do . . .”

  Slipping my arms tighter around his waist, I pulled him close, hoping that the months without a woman in his bed would be my greatest ally. I melted against him, settling my curves against his body in the way I had been schooled. I slid my hand up his arm, allowing my fingers to meander along his bicep. I licked my lips and, pulling back to look up at him, willed an expression of complete vulnerability as I sniffed against fabricated tears. “You are a good man. I will never forget your kindness.”

  Ayal’s eyes were as wide as those of a gazelle caught in torchlight, but his stance did not soften. What was wrong with him? He’d had little problem tossing aside his fidelity for Shira. How dare he reject me!

  Urgency nipped at the heels of my anger. Matti was what was important. Not my pride.

  Before I could even ask her for assistance, Isis answered my plea, delivering a gift right into my hands. The tent flap parted, only a small way, but enough to catch a glimpse of Shira’s stricken face as she took in the sight of her betrothed wrapped in my arms.

  As triumph surged in my bones, I slid my hands to his shoulders and kissed him—on the cheek, but close enough to his mouth that from Shira’s standpoint it would appear as nothing less than a passionate embrace. I closed my eyes to complete the ruse and let my lips linger a moment.

  Strong hands wrapped around my wrists and pulled them down in front of me. “Dvorah.”

  With a quick glance back to the doorway to ensure that Shira had indeed disappeared, I allowed Ayal to press me gently but firmly away.

  “You know I am betrothed to Shira.” His reminder was as firm as the grip he maintained on my wrists.

  “But Marah said she was a thief.” I blinked, as though innocent of such dealings.

  He shook his head. “I do not believe a word of it.”

  “She was the only one in the tent. Who else could have done such a thing?”

  “I know Shira, and she would never take something that does not belong to her.”

  She won’t take you either. I have ensured that.

  “I know you want to believe the best of her, Ayal, but the fact is, she is guilty.”

  He released my hands. “How can you, too, accuse her when she has been so kind to you?”

  Confusion tugged at me. “Kind?”

  “Yes, she has nothing but good things to say about you. She even told me once of what a good midwife you were. Of how strong and knowledgeable you were.”

  Why would Shira say something like that? I had gone out of my way to brush her off whenever we had worked together. She was such a mouse that undermining her had been easy. Whenever I snapped at her, she dropped her eyes to the floor like the obedient slave she was; although, at times, a flare of something like challenge glittered in her eyes. But just as quickly, the spark always disappeared, leaving her at my mercy.

  No. I would not let such a stupid little girl steal my last hope. I pushed Ayal’s argument out of my mind.

  “The fact is, Ayal”—I slid my hand in a slow, suggestive trail from my waist to my neckline, my blood surging as his eyes immediately followed—“Shira can’t give you what I can give you.” I let my eyelids drop as I wet my lips. “She has no idea how to please a husband.”

  Ayal stepped back. “Dvorah, I am sorry if you misunderstand me—”

  “There is no misunderstanding.” I let my false innocence drop, along with the shoulder of my tunic. “I want you. I need you. And you need me too.”

  “Dvorah. Stop.” Although he twisted away, eyes on the far wall, the warning in Ayal’s tone startled me. “Put your clothing back on.”

  “You do not want that.” I let seduction lower my voice.

  “Yes.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I do.”

  What was wrong with him? I had never seen a man so immune to such open enticements. Stricken with confusion, and not a small bit of embarrassment, I pulled my tunic back up on my shoulder. Shira had no problem tempting him that day by the stream, how could this have failed?

  “Am I so repulsive?” I snapped.

  “No, Dvorah. You are a beautiful woman.” He dragged a hand over his face but still did not look at me.

  “Then why would you choose that girl over me?” I lifted my chin. “She is nothing.”

  He lifted a censuring palm. “I will not let you insult her. She is soon to be my wife.”

  My blood ran hot. “She can’t give you what you need. She can’t even give you a child.”

  Ayal’s head whipped around. “What do you mean?”

  I lifted a brow. “Oh, you don’t know? The perfect woman has not been honest with you? Ha!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s barren, Ayal.”

  The statement seemed to knock him backward. “How do you know such a thing?”

  I waved a flippant gesture. “Oh, she told me a while ago—and insisted I not tell you, of course.”

  Hurt played across his face, but I did not care. This was my last chance. I must make him understand that Shira was not a viable choice.

  “So you see, I have no problem accusing her of stealing. She is a proven liar. To hide something so important from her own betrothed?” I shook my head and clucked my tongue against my teeth. I stayed quiet a moment to allow my accusations to take root. He scratched at his beard, an annoying habit, but seemed to be contemplating.

  “I would never do such a thing, Ayal.” I softened my tone and took a step forward. “I can be a good wife to you. I can be everything you want.”

  He lifted his eyes, and the sincerity in them halted me. “No. You can never be what I want. You cannot be her.”

  34

  Shira

  My feet refused to walk in a straight line. As blurred as my vision was, I was not sure how I even arrived at my campsite. The image of Ayal embracing Dvorah would not abate, no matter how hard I tried to shove it away. It pulsed in my mind with every step, jeering, mocking my foolishness. What did I expect? Ayal was not a man of his word or, in any stretch of the imagination, faithful. I had known this from the start. And what I had witnessed today was only testament to my instincts.

  Perhaps this was all for the best. Dvorah obviously was in love with Ayal, and he with her. Why had he betrothed himself to me in the first place? To provoke her to jealousy? No . . . she had seemed all too willing to accept him before—conspicuously so. None of this made any sense.

  I slipped in through the flap of my mother’s tent, grateful that Kiya had been too occupied with the boys to notice my return in the dim light. The woolen cocoon enveloped me in a sense of safety, and I forced a deep breath, unsteady though it was. My mother’s bright, multicolored, striped rugs beckoned, and I folded my legs to meet them.

  I dropped my head and cried but refused to allow any sound to escape my mouth. I could not bear Kiya’s sympathy just now.

  With the smell of salt in my nostrils and my tunic wet from my anguish, I laid my cheek on the floor in front of me, taking solace in the familiar feel of the wool against my skin. I concentrated on the sensation of the scratchy fabric and the tang of it
s gamey odor instead of the constant repetition of images in my head. Dvorah’s arms around Ayal, the victory in her glance, her lips raising to his . . .

  Dov laughed nearby, striking another painful blow. I had lost the boys. I had lost Talia. Dvorah would tuck them under their blankets. Kiss their fears away. Watch their legs lengthen and their faces change moment by moment.

  Closing my eyes, I turned my face and pressed my forehead to the floor. I stretched my arms wide and lay there, a broken branch shattered on the ground.

  Yahweh. Why do you give and then take away? You give me a glimpse of midwifery and then steal it. You give me the promise of marriage and then snatch it. You give me a taste of motherhood and then rip it from my hands. Am I truly worth so little to you? To anyone?

  My name and the flicker of an oil lamp woke me, startling me from the sleep that somehow had followed the outpouring of my heart. I pushed myself up to my knees and scrubbed at my face.

  “Here she is.” Eben’s hand was on the tent flap as he peeked in at me. “I found her.”

  “May I speak with her?” Ayal’s rich voice outside caused gooseflesh to rise on my arms. My eyes widened as I shook my head vehemently at my brother.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Yes. Of course.”

  Why would he do such a thing? “No, Eben. Don’t—”

  He put his hand up, cutting off my insistent whisper. “You need to hear what he has to say.”

  Please no, I mouthed at him. But he winked, instructed me to trust him, and disappeared.

  “I will be only a few paces away,” he said loud enough for me to hear. “So if she calls out, know I will come in and slay you where you stand.” His threat was delivered thick with sarcasm.

  He is joking with Ayal? Now? After I had been shamed and used by this man who proclaimed to be his friend? And now he would let that man come inside my mother’s tent, alone, to speak with me? Fury at my brother jolted me to my feet. What kind of strong fence would let in such a wolf?

  Yet as soon as Ayal ducked inside the tent and unfolded himself to his full height, my anger retreated and I stumbled back a few steps. Ayal placed an oil lamp on the overturned pot near the center pole of the tent. The glow from the one wick cast shadows around the space. If only I could melt into the darkness beyond its edges. I stared at the light, worrying the end of my braid.

  “Shira. Look at me.” Ayal’s whisper was tinged with desperation. “Please.”

  I dragged in a steadying breath before complying.

  Ayal was unraveled. His dark hair stuck out in places, like he had been yanking at it in frustration. I had never seen his face so pale, as if he did not spend every day toiling in the sun.

  He dug his fingers into his hair again, proving my assumption correct. “You saw us.”

  I nodded, tears springing up again. I wished I could wipe them away, along with the image of him and Dvorah embracing, but my arms had lost all strength.

  “I’d hoped Dvorah was wrong. That I could somehow explain to you before you heard from someone else . . . but then you saw us. . . . As soon as she told me you had been there, I came looking for you. I explained to your brother. But still . . . I’d hoped she was wrong.” His words tripped over one another, circling back around as if chained together. His chin dropped and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if simply speaking the words was painful.

  “You have nothing to explain. I will make sure that Eben does not hold it against you.” I cleared a warble from my throat. “You are free to break the betrothal.” Divorce. Even before our marriage has been made complete. The shame of it would prevent me from marrying again.

  His head snapped up. “No! You must listen to me. Please. Please let me explain.”

  “What is there to explain? You love Dvorah.”

  “No! I could never.”

  “So it was only a dalliance?” I winced. “Like when you . . . like by the stream?”

  “No . . . You don’t understand.” He stood taller. “She threw herself at me, surprised me in my tent.”

  “Why would she do such a thing?”

  “I think she did it to protect her son. She seems desperate to get away from her brother-in-law. She sees me as a way to be safe.”

  “But I saw you kiss her.”

  “You saw her kiss me.”

  “But—”

  His eyes pleaded with me. “Shira, did you see me return the kiss?”

  “No . . .”

  “Did you see me push her away? Tell her that I have no interest in her? That it is only you I want to marry?”

  A confused rhythm thrummed in my ears, and I shook my head. He took a step closer, and although my instinct was to back away again, I stood fast.

  “Hear me, Shira. I don’t want her. I want you. I’ve always wanted you. So much that I dragged you into my own sin that day by the stream.”

  I snatched a quick breath, startled by his admission and needing air to brace myself against the trembling that had begun deep at my core. I could not fathom his words, could not fit the ragged edges together in my mind. “But it was my fault . . .”

  “Your fault?” His eyes went wide. “You think it was your fault that I reached out and took what wasn’t mine? You didn’t even know that I was married. I could tell by the way you looked at me with such . . . such hope. And, coward and wretch that I am, I coveted your sweetness so much I nearly destroyed it with my actions.” He dragged his hands over his face and groaned. “I kept the truth from you so you would keep on looking at me that way.”

  My courage soared at his admission and I asked the question that had been branded into my heart for months. “Why? Why would you do something like that to Leisha? She was your wife. The mother of your children. How could you wrong her like that?”

  He shook his head. “Leisha.” The bitter way he said her name shocked me. “Leisha had not been my wife for a very long time.”

  “What do you mean? You were married until she died, were you not?”

  “Leisha did not see it that way.”

  My knees wobbled. “I am so confused.”

  He lifted sad eyes. “I know. I have been so wrong to keep all of this from you. I hate myself for not telling you everything from the start. I had hoped to keep you protected from the truth.”

  “The truth?”

  “The baby.” He paused. “Talia is not my child.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face as my suspicions were confirmed. “Whose child is she?”

  “I don’t know. And from what I gathered from the last time I spoke to her, Leisha did not know either.” His tone was flat, as if the idea had no effect on him. “Leisha was never faithful to me. Within a few months of the birth of the boys, she revealed her true nature. Sometimes she disappeared overnight, and sometimes for days. Always she came back, smelling of other men and drink.”

  “But why didn’t you . . . ?” I let the question hang in midair.

  “Divorce her?” He scratched his beard. “I considered it, many times. I could have easily thrown her off. My family encouraged it. But whenever I said something, she would come crawling back to me, repentance on her lips, begging me to forgive her. There were stretches of good times, times where she would act like the mother she should have been, and then she would slip into deep valleys, cry for days on end, sometimes rage at me, and then she would disappear again.”

  He stepped closer. “It was for the boys’ sake that I did not toss her out, Shira. If I had done so, she would have few options but to turn to prostitution to survive. And then, when the plagues struck, she was so terrified that she stayed home with us, did not venture out at all. She locked herself in our house and kept the window barred shut. I tried to console her. Promised her I would keep her safe, that Yahweh was coming to deliver us. After all the beasts died in the fields, she was inconsolable. She insisted that we travel from Avaris down to Iunu, to be near her parents. Said it was the only place she felt safe. Her father was Hebrew, but her mother worked in the temple.”r />
  “You were in Iunu, my town?”

  He nodded. “She fought me that last night we were in Egypt. It took some convincing to get her to leave her parents and to come with us.” His shoulders slumped. “To my everlasting shame, there were times I wished she had stayed there and left us alone. Dov and Ari did not deserve the mother they were born to, they deserve so much more.”

  He held me in a long gaze but then dropped his eyes to the floor. “It was that night that I saw you.” He tugged at his ear. “You were so caught up in helping everyone, making sure everyone was comfortable, keeping your sisters calm. You did not even notice me watching you.”

  I furrowed my brow, trying to piece together the hazy memory. “You were in our house that night?”

  He dipped his chin in confirmation.

  Realization dawned as I laid my memories of that night alongside his. The couple with two boys, huddling in the shadowed corner while the twins slept between them. The vague recollection began to clear, revealing details I had long since forgotten. “Kiya and her family came in soon after yours did. My attention was drawn to her,” I whispered.

  The oil lamp flickered and danced. “It was when you sang,” he said, his words dropping low.

  “What do you mean?”

  He took a cautious step toward me, as if approaching a skittish doe. “Your voice, Shira. You sang that night to calm all of us, and in the midst of the horrors, the beauty of your voice staved off the fear. I had never heard anything so breathtaking as the music that flows from your lips. May Yahweh forgive me, even in the dark, I was half in love with you before the song ended.”

  Somehow my legs had turned to wet reeds. I reached out to steady myself with the tent pole.

  “There is nothing in my life as lovely as you, Shira. I was wrong. So wrong, to approach you by that stream. I succumbed to my thirst for your kindness, your gentle spirit, your innocence. You are everything Leisha was not.” He glanced at the flickering lamp. “She had not spoken to me for months, other than to remind me that the babe who grew in her was not mine and to fling curses at me in the name of foul Egyptian gods.” His jaw tightened. “She barely acknowledged the boys. She brought idols into our tent, although I forbade her from doing so, and flaunted her blasphemy whenever she could.”