“You can lead a delegation and bring her to my camp. I will instruct my men to build a fire, and we will tie her to a stake and set her in the flames.” Just saying the words made him feel vindicated at last. He would be rid of the girl who had brought such dishonor and grief to his family. He would never have to think of her again.
Like you never think of Joseph?
The thought came out of nowhere, and he felt as though someone had slapped him. No, of course, not like that, he told himself. But as Hirah left to do his bidding, he could not shake the realization that when he hated someone, his reaction was to wish them dead or gone. What kind of person did that make him?
38
The sound of male voices caught Tamar’s ear as she sat with her mother turning the spindle and distaff in her hands, trying to keep calm. They had expected the news of her pregnancy to garner some sort of reaction, and now as they waited in the central courtyard of their home, Tamar knew. The louder the voices grew, the more her heart beat with dread and the realization that their presence would not be for her good. She slipped to her room and retrieved Judah’s seal, cord, and staff and carried them back to the courtyard with her.
A loud knock came, and Yassib emerged from one of his rooms to answer it. He had stayed away from the fields today, waiting, as they all were, for something to happen or someone to come calling. Would her father have a change of heart and stand in the gap to defend her?
Her father opened the door to Hirah and a group of men encircling him. “Judah has demanded Tamar to be brought to his camp to be burned. She is pregnant by harlotry and must die.”
Burned? The normal punishment was to be stoned. How much did her father-in-law hate her?
Her father stepped aside to allow the men entrance into the courtyard. He said nothing to defend her or try to stop the men. Heart sinking, she fought the grief of betrayal and braced herself.
“On your feet, Tamar,” Hirah said, his tone holding anger instead of the kindness he had always shown her.
She slowly stood. Hirah gripped her arm and pulled her toward the other men, but she planted her feet, unwilling to go so easily. “Wait.”
The men stared, murder in their eyes. Were they enjoying her pain? She produced the staff, pulled the seal and cord from a pocket in her robe, and handed them to Hirah. “The man who owns these things made me pregnant. Look closely. Whose seal and cord and walking stick are these?”
Hirah’s face blanched. She knew he recognized them.
“Take them to Judah and ask him,” she said. “If he does not recognize them, take me freely.”
Hirah accepted the items from her hand and walked quietly from the courtyard. The rest of the men grew silent and followed him.
“Now we wait,” her father said, a look of surprise on his face. “You could have told us the child is his.”
“I was afraid to tell anyone, Abba.” She sank onto the bench to pick up her spindle and distaff once more.
He nodded but said nothing more and walked away.
“You could have at least told your mother.”
Tamar looked at her mother, whose scowl showed her need to know before the town found out. “You know now, Ima.” She focused on her spinning, its rhythm keeping pace with her heart.
Judah paced the grounds of his camp from one end to the other, bypassing the central cooking fire once, twice, until he’d lost count. He glanced at the fire, then imagined Tamar tied to large branches and set among the flames.
He shook himself. He could not have her killed in the place where they met to eat. He would never get the vision of her death out of his mind. He was walking with brisk steps toward one of the servants to give the order for a separate place to be built, when a commotion came from the path carved out through the trees.
Hirah strode toward him, his face pale, his mouth framed in a frown. He stopped before Judah, who ceased his frantic pacing. “Do you recognize these?” Hirah asked, holding out Judah’s cord, seal, and walking stick. The very things he had given the prostitute three months earlier.
He took them from Hirah and placed them where they belonged on his person. “Where did you get these?” But by the look in Hirah’s eyes, he knew. He began to shake inwardly as though a cold wind had blown over and through him.
“From Tamar. She said that she is pregnant by the man who owns these.” Hirah said nothing more but stood watching him.
Shame heated Judah’s cheeks, and he could not hold Hirah’s gaze. “She is more righteous than I am, because I didn’t arrange for her to marry my son Shelah.”
“What would you have us do, Judah? She is carrying your child.”
“You don’t have to remind me again, Hirah. Obviously I will do right by her. Bring her to my camp. She will not die. But I cannot give her to Shelah either.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
“Will you marry your daughter-in-law then?”
The shock of that thought caused Judah to take a step away from his friend. “Of course not!” The very idea! It would be wrong for so many reasons. He whirled about and stalked away. “Just bring her home,” he called over his shoulder. He would place her in the tent she had shared with both Er and Onan until she could weave a new one. One thing was certain. He would care for her and be a father to her child, but he would never sleep with her again.
CANAAN, SIX MONTHS LATER
Tamar moved slowly from the well to Judah’s camp, carrying the jar atop her shoulder. Talliya had continued to meet with her, though the walk had become harder for Tamar in recent days. She met the servant girl Judah had supplied her and gave her instructions for the day.
“From now on, I need you to gather the water for us, morning and night. I fear I will give birth on the road if I make that trip again.” Tamar smiled at the look of fear in the girl’s eyes. “You have no need to worry. I will be fine. I simply can no longer handle the long walks.”
“Yes, my lady,” the girl said shyly, then hurried off to prepare the bread from the grain she had ground, another task Tamar found too difficult to do with the bulk in her middle.
“How are you feeling?” Judah asked, striding toward her, his expression one of concern. “I overheard your comments. Is it time?” His cheeks flushed, and she knew contact with her made him feel awkward. So much ill will had passed between them. How did she make things right with the man who nearly had her burned to death?
“I am tired. Stretched thin. And I think I need to see the midwife soon,” she said. She had no sister or friend to tell these things to other than Talliya now and then. Her servant was a child, too young to understand.
“I will send for her immediately.” Judah rushed off before she could say “wait” or “not yet,” but Tamar realized from the constant pain in her back and the stronger pains that came and went across her middle that perhaps Judah was right to get the midwife now.
She turned to enter her tent and paced slowly, longing to sit but uncomfortable when she did so. Oh, what she would give to sleep through the night! But the child was too active, almost as though he was fighting and she was the target.
She pressed her hands against her sides and breathed deeply. She should have asked Judah to send for her mother and sisters as well. Suddenly she felt so very alone, and the feeling scared her. What if she died giving birth? Her mother should be here to hold the child, to swaddle it and cleanse it with salt. She didn’t want only the midwife!