Judah stood at the tent’s door, peering into the endless gray sky. The rains had been steady during this season, causing his crop to grow greater than he could have imagined. This, the third harvest, had been as plentiful as the first. He’d never seen wheat fields yield so well. Surely God’s hand was in this. Perhaps He had forgotten what Jacob’s sons had done to Joseph, and all the other things they had done. Why bless them if He had not forgiven?
Judah ducked into the tent again, troubled that he still thought of the boy—for that was how he remembered him. His own son was nearly the age Joseph had been when they sold him to the Ishmaelite traders.
He glanced at Er still asleep on his pallet. At fifteen the boy should be rising with the dawn, even if dawn was hard to see for the clouds that blocked the sun. The goats needed to be milked, and both sheep and goats needed pasture, rain or not. Judah couldn’t handle his large flock alone. Would a wife help to keep Er responsible? The time had come when he needed to fulfill his promise to wed Er to Tamar.
The thought rested heavily on him. Tamar had grown into a beautiful woman, yet Er was still half man, half child. He had never taken kindly to his father choosing a wife for him years before he was ready. Was he ready now?
Judah walked across the room and shook Er’s shoulder. “Er! Wake up!”
The boy grumbled and moaned, and Judah shook him again.
“I wish you would let him rest, Judah,” Kaella said as she mixed her ground wheat with water. “The scent of the flatbread will awaken him.”
“He needs to learn to awaken long before food is ready to break his fast.” Judah took hold of Er’s shoulders again and forced him to sit up. “Wake up, Er. We have much to do.”
Onan and Shelah stirred and rose, and at last his eldest son blinked hard and stretched. “What is so urgent? The goats can wait a little longer.”
Judah tamped his rising anger. Er had been a problem for most of his life, and now he was nearly hopeless. Would he ever change? The thought troubled Judah.
“The goats cannot wait to be milked, and we also have a wedding to plan,” Judah said, shoving his frustration aside.
“A wedding?” Kaella spoke before Er fully shook himself awake.
But the words must have penetrated at last. “Whose wedding?” Er asked, rising. He walked to the clay basin and dipped his hands in the water to scrub his face.
“Yours,” Judah said. “It is time we keep our agreement with Tamar. With the plentiful harvest, we will have more than enough food and wine to entertain many guests.” He smiled at the thought, reminded of his own wedding.
Er whirled around and stared at Judah, wide-eyed. A hint of . . . was that hesitation or fear or something else in his gaze?
“What if I don’t want to marry her?” His dark eyes narrowed, and his tone held a defiant edge. “My friends don’t have to marry someone they don’t want.”
Judah’s mouth opened in shock, but he quickly clamped it shut. Kaella lifted her gaze from the griddle, and she also looked surprised by Er’s comments.
“I thought you liked Tamar. Any young man would find her good to behold.” Judah rubbed the back of his neck and felt a sudden need to pace the length of the tent. “I cannot back out of an agreement with Yassib. I would never be able to make an agreement again. Your brothers would be unable to find a suitable mate.” He glared at his son, whose obstinacy had not abated. “You will marry Tamar at the end of harvest, and I won’t hear another thing about it. We will build another section to the tent so you can have privacy with her.”
“I want my own tent, not one that is just part of yours.” Er walked toward his mother, skirting around Judah. He knelt near the griddle and snatched up one of the flat cakes. “I’ll marry her if I can live in my own house or tent. Though I would rather have a stone house. It’s what she is used to, after all.” Er gave Judah a smug smile, as though he had been planning such a thing for a long time. Had he?
Judah stepped out of the tent into the misty rain and cursed under his breath. Though he owned a sizable piece of land here, his family had always lived in tents. The women had tents of their own, as did Jacob’s sons. But they could all gather in their father’s tent should he want to speak with them there.
Er was too young to live apart from them, though he was old enough to sire children. Marriage would settle him. Make him into the man Judah had always wanted him to be.
He shielded his eyes from the mist and turned in a circle, looking for a possible place to raise another tent or . . . did he dare give in to the lad and allow him to build a stone house? If he did, Kaella would want a house of stone like her father had owned. No. He would not become completely like the Canaanites. Shepherds lived in tents, and despite the other crops he cared for, he was a shepherd first.
He turned and moved back into the tent, brushing the water from his shoulders and hair. “You may have your own tent if your mother agrees to make it for you,” he said to Er. “You may not have a house of stone. And you will wed Tamar at the end of harvest. I don’t want to hear another word about it.” He picked up some dates and flatbread and took a bite of the bread. “Now hurry up. Onan and Shelah, you will come too. Rain or not, the sheep must eat.”
He stuffed more food into a pouch at his side and grabbed his goatskin of water and his staff where it lay near the door. Without a look back at his family, he marched toward the sheep pens. The boys would follow, sulking every step of the way. But at that moment, Judah did not care what his children thought or what went through his wife’s mind. He would keep his word. He would honor the covenant he had made with Yassib. He would not betray Tamar as he had Joseph. He lived with enough regrets.
Tamar walked with her friends, who giggled and laughed as they all followed the bridegroom and his brothers to Judah’s property, where a large feast awaited them. Legally she had been Er’s wife for five years. And her father grew richer for every year she was forced to wait.
But to marry Er . . . the idea had troubled her from the beginning. She was three years his senior and should have married at fifteen as her sisters had. She felt as though she was marrying a child, for it was no secret that Er did not act like a man. Not like the men in her family. Even thirteen-year-old boys behaved more as men than Er did.
And now she would find out what it was like to live with this man, her husband. A shiver worked through her. She did not realize how nervous she truly was until they approached Judah’s property.
A large fire blazed in the central court area. Judah’s family lived in tents, so they had no brick courtyard as houses in the towns did. Tamar looked at the tents that surrounded the large fire pit, torches lit outside of each one. Judah was said to be a wealthy man, for in the years he had been in Canaan, he had amassed many sheep and goats, enough to allow him to hire men to farm his fields. But the area where they lived seemed crude to her. She was too used to her father’s sprawling house of stone.
Living in a tent wouldn’t be so different, would it?
The shouts of the people in Judah’s camp greeted them as Er led their procession, with the men immediately following and Tamar leading her maids behind them. Her thoughts whirled as she and Er were led to a hand-carved bench and food and drink were placed before them, while the rest of the crowd ate in various places around the fire.