Judah and her father said a few words, but Tamar’s heart beat too fast to pay attention to them. She knew what awaited her, for her sisters had been happy to tell her every detail. What she couldn’t imagine was how Er would treat her. She glanced at him now, laughing with his younger brother Onan. She listened, trying to make out what had brought on their laughter, when she felt a touch on her shoulder.
“Tamar, my daughter, welcome to our family.” Er’s mother, Kaella, took a seat beside her. “I am so glad to finally have another woman to talk with about . . . things women do.” Her comment brought Tamar’s thoughts into clearer focus. Had her mother-in-law intended to say something else? By the look she gave Tamar, she could only wonder.
But life would go on here, like it did in her father’s house. The only difference would be her status as Er’s wife and someday mother to his children. She would still work in a family, just alongside this woman instead of her mother and sisters.
“I look forward to working with you, to serving you,” Tamar said, longing to please the woman she did not yet know well.
“We will have plenty of time to grow close,” Kaella said, glancing at Er with an expression Tamar didn’t understand. But he was her firstborn, the first to marry, and perhaps her thoughts moved in the direction Tamar’s had as she imagined her new life.
“Ah,” Kaella said, standing. “I hear the drumbeat rising.” She looked at Er, who seemed not to have heard the change in the beat or the beckoning call it signaled to draw the bride and groom to their tent. “Er,” Kaella said when his hesitance grew embarrassing, “it is time to take your bride.”
Er turned at his mother’s comment, then looked at Tamar as if for the first time. He stared for a moment, then reached for her hand and raised her to her feet. She hurried to keep up with him as he fairly marched across the compound to a lone tent some distance from his father’s tent. They were to have their own home? She felt a sense of relief at not having to share their space with her new mother-in-law, father-in-law, and brothers-in-law. She would have a place to come to escape them all if she needed such a thing.
“Welcome,” Er said as he led her inside. He moved ahead of her, then let down the tent’s flap, enclosing them in semi-darkness save for one lone clay lamp set on a low table.
She glanced around but decided she would make out the furnishings better in daylight. The sun had long since set, and Er yawned as he moved to the bed in the corner. He removed his robe and sandals, then lay down on the bed.
Tamar stood in the center of the room, watching him, her heart beating even faster than the drum, if that were possible. Were they not supposed to come together as man and wife?
“Er?” she said softly.
He lifted his head. “What?”
“Are we not supposed to . . . the bridal sheet . . . the proof for my father.” She stifled a sob. He was not acting as a groom but as though she were a servant or a sister.
Er sat up and stared at her. “I suppose you are good to look upon.” His tone held a slight sneer. “Let me see you without the wedding clothes.”
Heat filled her cheeks, and she struggled with the headdress as though she had forgotten how to undo the wrapping. At last she dropped the headscarf and undid her hair, and still Er did not move closer, nor did he show much interest in her, as his gaze kept skipping beyond her toward the door. She fumbled with the belt of her robe and stood before him, shivering despite the warmth of the night.
He looked her up and down as though inspecting an animal. “Come to bed,” he said.
She hurried to lie beside him, expecting him to touch her, to kiss her, to do what all grooms did when they had finally gained a bride. But a moment later, Er turned on his side, his back to her, and pulled a blanket over his body.
She lay atop the sheet, tears dripping onto the linen beneath her, until at last she reached for part of the blanket and pulled it close to her shoulders.
She slowly turned her back to Er and soon heard his even breathing. Perhaps he had simply had too much wine to drink. But the gossips had never given her such a tale as this one.
She dared not weep, lest someone hear above the drum still beating in the distance. Would Er awaken and go out to them as though they were now one? What of the bridal sheet he must give her father? Would he ever be man enough to want her?
The night deepened, and the drums stopped beating. The noise of the crowd grew silent, and still Er did not move, his loud breathing filling the tent. Sleep eluded her, and she could not escape her humiliation.
What was she supposed to do in the morning when her father demanded the proof of her virginity? Would Er deny that she was a virgin? But he would be wrong. What was so displeasing about her that he did not want her? Tormenting questions plagued her.
Just as dawn approached and she finally fell into a restless sleep, Er jostled her shoulder and turned her toward him. He was not gentle or kind, nor did he say a word to her as he fulfilled his duty to her. He then forced her up, told her to dress, and handed her the sheet to give her father. Rolling onto his side again, he acted as though she were nothing but a prostitute.
She stood at the door of their tent for a long time as her cheeks burned and her tears fell, until she could compose herself and walk toward the area where her father was just awakening in a tent Judah had set up for his use. She tossed the sheet at his feet but did not answer the unspoken questions in his eyes. She could not have answered them even if he had asked.
31
Judah walked about the camp at the end of Er’s wedding week, bidding the last of the townspeople farewell. Yassib met him near the central fire and walked with him toward the trees that led to the path to Yassib’s home. The rest of Tamar’s family had left just after dawn.
“My daughter is in your care now, Judah,” Yassib said as they stopped where the road went in different directions. “I must warn you, treat her well.” He rested a hand on Judah’s shoulder. “I do not think your son will do so unless you force him to.”
Judah’s mouth went dry. He had feared his son was still too immature to be a husband, but he could not admit that. He lifted his hands. “I have seen nothing to show me that Er has been unkind to Tamar. Of what do you speak?” Er wouldn’t mistreat the girl just because she wasn’t his choice, would he?
“Tamar brought the bridal sheet to me the morning after the wedding, Judah. Er should have brought it himself the night of the feast. She was not smiling, nor did she say a word to me, but I know my daughter. She was not happy.”
Yassib’s troubled expression caused Judah a pang of worry. He had paid dearly for this girl, and Er should be grateful that her father had agreed to the marriage. To his deep regret, he knew that his sons were not obedient. He should have been firmer, stronger, with all of them. And now he had this to deal with?
“I cannot imagine that Er would have done anything to trouble Tamar, Yassib. But I will speak to my son and see to it that he treats her with kindness. She deserves nothing less.” Judah patted the man’s shoulder. “Do not worry, my friend. Your daughter is safe in my household.”
Yassib merely nodded, but Judah sensed what he did not say. Yassib would not stand by quietly if he discovered his daughter was being mistreated in Judah’s home.