No. He dared not risk it. He knew the law and what he should do, but Shelah was young. Tamar could wait for him. Yes, that was what he would do—send her back to Yassib until Shelah was of age. Then he would send for her again.
Though as he heard Kaella’s cries and looked once more into the face of his son, he was not sure he ever wanted to see Tamar again.
33
EGYPT, 1824 BC
Joseph watched the sun dip below the surface of the Nile, a view he found relaxing after a day of moving through a fourth of the cities and fields in Egypt to make sure the grain was counted and collected. Hamid had told him that the numbers were growing too high to count, but Joseph insisted they continue keeping track of the amount to show to Pharaoh for as long as they could.
Now he stood on the roof of his house and let the stress of the day flow from him. He could never have imagined he would find himself in this place or this position of power. Sometimes his whole life felt surreal, as if he was in the middle of a dream more impossible than those he’d had in his youth. Was this Your plan all along, Adonai?
The sun’s last rays, splayed in fingers of orange and red, set the Nile on fire on its way to the other side of the world. Or, as the Egyptians taught, to die and rise again each dawn.
Joseph could not accept such teaching, even though God did not always seem close to him here. Hadn’t God blessed him in everything his hands had touched? Hadn’t He given him a wife he had come to love and Manasseh, his precocious two-year-old? The boy was smart and already speaking in long sentences, surprising in one so young.
He turned at the sound of voices behind him in the house. Manasseh’s nurse held him as he wiggled to get down. “Abba!” the boy cried.
Joseph smiled. He opened the doors leading to the house. “Let him come,” he told the nurse.
She placed Manasseh on his feet, and he ran toward Joseph, who scooped him into his arms, laughing. “And what have you done today, my son?”
“Salma took me to play.” He touched Joseph’s ornamented robe. “Are you leaving again, Abba?”
Joseph rubbed the boy’s head. “Not today.”
Manasseh clapped his small hands, and Joseph carried him into the house to his private rooms, where he removed his Egyptian garb each night. The boy bounced on Joseph’s raised bed while Joseph’s servant helped him return to a normal Egyptian rather than a ruling one.
Manasseh ran to him once he wore his plain tunic and the robe and headdress and makeup had been removed. Joseph tossed the boy into the air and caught him again, bringing on delighted giggles. He let Manasseh lead him into his room, and Joseph knelt onto the floor to play with him.
An hour passed, and Joseph expected the nurse to return to put Manasseh to bed when the noises coming from his wife’s rooms grew louder. Was it time?
Asenath was due to birth their second child any day, but she had shown no signs of labor when they spoke before he left for the fields. He lifted Manasseh into his arms again and walked the length of the hall toward Asenath’s rooms. Manasseh’s nurse appeared, and Joseph kissed his son’s cheek, then handed the boy to her.
He poked his head into his wife’s sitting room, but the obvious rushing of midwives and servants caused him to walk back the way he had come. He traversed the halls of his large estate, every now and then hearing Asenath’s distant cries.
Please, Adonai, be with her. Deliver to her a safe and healthy child.
He almost asked for another boy but decided those things were up to God. He would be happy with a daughter as well as a son.
As the night waned and he stood again on the balcony overlooking the Nile, a baby’s cry pierced the air. He turned and hurried down the halls toward Asenath’s rooms. This time he entered the outer room and waited. The midwife came at last with a wrapped bundle and placed the child in his arms. He glimpsed his wife through the door, saw her smile his way.
“You have another son, my lord,” the midwife told him.
Joseph looked into the face of the child and felt an overwhelming sense of wonder. He walked with the boy to the threshold of Asenath’s bedchamber. “He is Ephraim,” he said, looking from the boy to her. “It is because God has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering.”
“Ephraim,” she said, sounding groggy, as she had with her last delivery. “It is a good name.”
Love for his small family rose within him, and he watched his son’s mouth move as if he was looking for his mother. Joseph laughed for joy. He handed Ephraim to the midwife to give to Asenath, then quietly watched as she nursed the babe.
God had made him fruitful and blessed him in the land of his suffering. He had made him forget his betraying brothers. He had given him better than he had known before.
Joseph knelt, raised his hands toward the heavens, and worshiped.
Asenath held Manasseh’s hand while Safiya carried Ephraim to the inner courtyard gardens of their vast estate. Months had passed since Ephraim’s birth, and she had taken to bringing them to this favorite place. Manasseh loved to run between the rows of bushes and often brought her bouquets of flowers he’d picked from the clay pots or flowering trees.
The sun had risen to the midpoint of the sky, so she chose the bench in the shade and sat. Taking Ephraim from Safiya, she held him to her breast to nurse. “Keep watch of Manasseh,” she told the girl, knowing how easily the boy could lose himself in the maze of greenery. The gardeners had created a place of immense beauty here, following Joseph’s instruction and her design. She smiled as she gazed at it all, remembering Joseph’s approval and the light in his eyes as he agreed to her final choices.
“What brings such joy to my dear wife’s face?” Joseph asked, coming up behind her.
She startled at hearing his voice so early in the day and turned to greet him. “You are home early, my love. Is everything all right?” She patted the seat beside her, beckoning him to sit with her.
He obliged and leaned back against the stone bench, stretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles. “All is well. So well that they cannot keep up with the building of granaries. Hamid has his hands full overseeing the placement of these storehouses, but the amount of harvest is nearly too much to count. And we are only beginning our fourth year of plenty.”
Asenath lifted Ephraim to her chest and rubbed his back, waiting for him to burp, and looked at her husband. “That is good news, is it not? More is better if the famine to come is going to be as bad as you have said.”
Joseph nodded. “It is good. It is just a lot to keep ahead of. We should have anticipated more when we saw the yield in the first year. As it is, we are only one step ahead of each harvest, whether it is grain or fruit from the vine. God has blessed it all.”
Asenath studied her husband’s face, saw the lines along his brow, and wondered if the work Pharaoh had him do was all that filled his mind. But before she could ask, Manasseh came running through the maze of plants, straight for Joseph.
“Abba! You are home!” he cried.
Joseph sat up straight and reached for the boy, who flung himself into Joseph’s arms. Their mingled laughter filled Asenath with a sense of deep delight. How blessed she was to have been given to this man. How good his God had been to all of them.
She listened to Manasseh chatter about his exploration in the garden and saw his little hand open to reveal a beetle in his palm. Asenath flinched and leaned away from the bug, but Joseph took it in his own hand, and the two of them examined its large body and small head.