Oh, God of Judah, I need help. She had taken to praying more often to Judah’s God, and Judah himself had mentioned Him to her, even thanking his God for each meal.
Those memories helped between the waves of pain that started coming closer together. At last the chatter of female voices filled the air, the distinctive voice of her mother loudest of them all.
“Where is my daughter?” Her mother would have the whole camp in a stir. But Judah’s voice calmed her, for she fell silent until she opened the tent flap and hurried to Tamar’s side.
“Tamar! My child. Why didn’t you call for me sooner?” She patted Tamar’s cheek, then placed a hand on her belly. “You are most definitely in labor.”
The midwife stepped forward and touched Tamar’s belly as well, agreeing with her mother. “Let me examine you,” the older, stocky woman said. “Lie down so I can see how long you have to go.”
Tamar obeyed, and the woman lifted her tunic to examine her but then looked puzzled. “I see a hand,” she said. “Quick, give me a scarlet cord.”
Tamar saw her mother comply through another wave of pain as she felt the midwife pull the child’s arm and tie the cord around it. “This one came out first,” she said. “What! He has pulled back his hand, and another is coming!”
Tamar bit down on a rag, barely able to stand the struggle, when at last the child emerged in blood and fluid.
“How did you break out first?” the midwife asked, her expression astonished. “In all of my years of helping with a birthing, even of twins, I have never seen one break out ahead of the other who came first.”
Beads of sweat creased Tamar’s forehead as she bore down a second time. A child’s cry pierced the air, and the midwife lifted the baby’s hand for her to see the cord tied around his wrist.
As her mother and the midwife each held a son up for her to see, Tamar’s heart lifted with an instant love for both boys. How was it possible to bear such beautiful sons? In that moment, all of her heartache disappeared and her heart’s longings were fulfilled. Thank you, she prayed to Judah’s God. He had heard her prayers and was not deaf to her pleas.
“Hurry! Wash and bind them,” she said. She lifted a hand to touch each one. “I want to hold them close.”
The women did as she asked while her sisters cleaned her up and settled her onto her pallet.
Later, when Judah came to the door of Tamar’s tent, she said to him, “The one to break out first is Perez.” Her mother sat holding his twin. “And the one with the scarlet string on his wrist is Zerah.” She lifted her gaze from the son at her breast and met Judah’s awed look.
“Two sons,” he said in a hushed voice.
Two sons for the two he had lost? She wondered if that was how he saw them.
“They are good names,” he said at last, looking from one child to the other. “When they are eight days old we will circumcise them.” He met her gaze. “After you are feeling strong enough and the babies have grown enough to travel, we are going home to Hebron where I belong. And their grandfather will hold them on his knee.”
Tamar gave Judah a quizzical look but did not argue with him. She was too weary from the birth to think of what moving would mean. But she saw the look of sadness fill her mother’s eyes the moment Judah left the tent.
“He can’t take you away from us. Not now.” Her mother held Zerah closer to her heart. “We just met them.”
Tamar lifted Perez from her breast and rubbed his back. “We aren’t going yet, Ima.” She held her mother’s gaze. “I never should have left here. You know that. I have belonged to Judah’s house for many years. His children have finally come home.”
“They should have been his grandchildren.” Bitterness tinged her mother’s tone.
Tamar said nothing in response. Yes, they should have been Er’s children, not Judah’s. But right now, she did not care whose children they were except hers. She kissed Perez’s cheek and smelled his newborn skin. She was already in love and silently grateful. Despite the way they had come, they were here safely and were healthy. And they would be good men, for she would raise them to be so.
39
EGYPT, 1820 BC
Joseph sat on a sturdy canopied seat, listening to the lap of the Nile with each dip of the slaves’ oars. At the bow, the ship’s captain, Jabare, stood watching the slaves’ progress, while every now and then he turned to see how close they were to the next city.
A guard stood on a raised platform, Joseph’s personal protection during his many trips. Amarna lay behind them, with Hermopolis appearing in the distance to their left. The seven years of plenty had come to an end, and they were now well into the first year of famine, though Egypt had yet to truly feel its effects.
How many times had he made this trip from one end of Egypt to the other? For the local cities, he traveled by chariot, but Egypt was long and narrow, winding like the river that Egyptians considered their source of life. This was his first trip since the years of plenty had ended. He looked out over the calm waters, releasing a slow sigh. How many, if any, uprisings would there be in years to come?
“We’re coming upon Hermopolis, my lord,” Jabare called to him from the bow. “Will you be going ashore or meeting with the city officials at the docks?”
Joseph knew the slaves could use a rest from rowing, but he did not want to take the time to enter every city and town to get the answers he sought. He would send his lower officials to check the granaries once the Egyptians began coming to him for help.
“Have the city’s governor come to my ship. The oarsmen may go ashore to stretch their legs while we talk. I want to keep moving so we can reach home before the sun rests in the west.” He caught the appreciation on the faces of the slaves, whose lives he wished he could improve. His power only reached so far. The best he could do was to treat them with kindness, something he had always appreciated from Potiphar and the prison warden during his own years of slavery.
“Very good, my lord. Prepare to dock,” Jabare called to the slaves.
Joseph leaned into the chair as the boat came near the river’s edge, where posts emerged from the water. Jabare tossed a rope to a man standing on the pier. The boat was soon tied to the pier, and the slaves climbed from the lower floor and scrambled to shore with another of Joseph’s guards following.
The meeting with the men of the city went quickly, and Joseph felt a sense of relief that there had been no trouble there. The attempts to steal grain had been taken down by Potiphar the year before, and so far there had been no more reports of such a problem.
The ship returned to the river sooner than the slaves might have liked, but Joseph had a sense of urgency to get to the next port and back to Memphis so he could report to Pharaoh. Soon he would remain there and hand out grain to needy Egyptians, and while he should enjoy this final trip the length of Egypt, he missed his family more than he would have thought. Manasseh and Ephraim were growing fast, and he missed the warmth of Asenath’s arms.
And then there was the nagging thought that this famine would be wider spread than the length of Egypt. If his father still lived, what would he do when they ran out of food? God help him, but Joseph wasn’t sure he wanted an answer to that question.