Sealed by S. G. Ricketts (sight word readers txt) 📖

me with wary looks and whispered words. I barely looked up. Onan was dead. I didn’t need my silent procession of accusers to tell me who Judah thought responsible. I had his promise that he would come for me in three years’ time to marry Shelah. I laughed to myself. Shelah, sweet Shelah… He would have been a husband unlike the others, young as he was. The boy had compassion and loyalty in place of their cruelty and deceit. Judah had managed to raise one good son. I twisted the bridal ring on my finger, its copper worn from my nervous habit. Judah had one good son, and he’d never risk the boy on me. I had with me my dowry and a few extra things Judah had given to soften the blow. I only hoped Father would not be too disappointed.

The thought of them was my only consolation. The twins would be nearly fifteen by now, nearly men. And my darling Vashti would be almost twelve. I brought their faces to my mind again, trying to add on the years. Judah had sent a message before us, but it would be the first in all the years I’d lived in his household. I watched the rolling plains go past, holding their images tightly in my mind. They were a talisman against the black stares of the servants. Near noon of the second day, I caught a glimpse of rough-cut walls in the distance. The servant nearest to me cheered and the pace picked up. By nightfall, they’d be rid of their unwanted mistress. I only too gladly kept up with them.

Father greeted us a quarter mile from the gates and led us to his summer camp. Work bustled through the tents, as familiar as the day I’d left. For the first time since Er’s death, I felt tears prick my eyes. Someone helped me off my camel and Father walked off to finish arranging things with Judah’s messengers. I watched him go, surprised and relieved at the little changes in him. His back was still straight and his hands still strong, but his beard and hair was nearly white. Still, it was Father.

And then, I was in the shadow of a tent. A young girl stood gracefully, thick curls cascading around her shoulders and framing a pretty little face. An older woman stood as well, her mouth bracketed by deep lines and the corners of her eyes creased. “Tamar… Tamar, is that really you?” the old woman said.

The tears fell. “Mama,” I breathed. I ran to her and buried my face in her chest. “Oh Mama.” She patted my head and held me close, waiting until I’d calmed a little. Gently, I pushed away. “And, that can’t be my little Vashti.”

The girl’s face lit up. “I do remember you! I didn’t think I would, but I do! You used to sing me to sleep and brush my hair for me!”

I held my arms out to her and hugged her tight. “Yes, sweet Vashti. And…” I pulled her away slightly. “I’d like to do that again, if you’re not too grown up.” The child beamed up at me, and I hugged her again. The bitterness pressed against my chest as I held this young woman where a little girl had been. Keturah and Elisheba’s husbands had allowed them to visit their families from time to time; mine had forbidden it, due to a god he didn’t follow. I hated Er all the more, that he would rip me from my home.

“Tamar! Tamar!” I jerked, surprised to hear deep voices calling to me. Mama frowned and I tried to hide my habitual fear. “Tamar!” Two shadows burst into the room smelling strongly of sheep. One stepped back and shoved curls as thick as his sister’s out of his eyes. I stared in shock up at the young man before me. Had I shrunk? The twins were easily three or four inches taller than me! The other stepped back as well. Both wore matching goofy grins beneath the beginnings of their beards.

“Jairus? Baruch?”

The first dipped into an elegant bow, his dark eyes twinkling through the fringe of his hair. “How’d you guess, Sister?”

I laughed, the sound strange to my ears. “A jokester as always, I see, Jairus.”

Baruch took my hand and squeezed it. “We missed you,” he said.

I smiled up at him, my sweet, innocent brother. “I missed you, too. All of you.”

“Well then! You boys need to go clean yourselves, since I’m sure your father will have the servants with the sheep for the rest of the day. And Vashti, go fetch Tamar something to eat.” The three of them hovered for a moment, and my mother flapped at them again. With sheepish grins, they all left.

I watched them go with a bittersweet ache in my chest. “They’ve grown up.”

My mother tugged me down onto the pillows. “So have you, my child.” I couldn’t bear to look at her. Instead, I stared at my folded hands, ashamed of the easy tears. She wiped them away but didn’t make me look at her. “Judah promises you Shelah once he’s of age. This isn’t the end.”

I laughed bitterly. “Two of his sons have already died, and he’s not the only one who thinks I had something to do with it.”

Mama sighed. “How did Er die?”

“A sickness. He caught it just after the locust plague.”

She nodded. “And Onan?”

“A knife wound which festered.”

She picked up my hands and rubbed them gently. “Tamar, how did you have anything to do with that? Did you bring Er the sickness? Did you stab Onan or cause his fever? No. Judah is an honorable man. When Shelah is grown, you shall marry him as well.” I let her think such pleasant thoughts, content to enjoy my mother’s company once again. She didn’t know what had happened like I did. She didn’t see the looks or hear the whispers. She didn’t see the fear on the faces of the tribe of Judah. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, tenderly caring for a daughter she should never have had back in her house. Let her continue in her delusion. I knew the truth. Judah, honor or not, would not sacrifice yet another son to the Canaanite witch. To me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jairus brought the news. He burst through the door and fell in a heap against my wall. “Jairus! Gods above, why aren’t you out in the fields?” I stood, suddenly alarmed. “Where are you hurt? Do I need to let Adin know?”

He looked at me with such stunned surprise that I sat back down. “Adin? Why? Wait- no, I’m not hurt.” He grinned and sat up, using his staff to keep from falling down. His chest heaved in the effort to keep his breath. “And by Kotharat, she doesn’t need any more stress, with her time coming.”

I hid the automatic pain at the unintentional reminder. Jairus’s new wife was blossoming with her pregnancy, and I wouldn’t let my own pain hold back his joy in her. It seemed like neither the Israelite god nor my own goddess of marriage and pregnancy wanted to help me. I instead rolled my eyes and returned to my weaving. “Then why are you collapsing in front of me?”

He grinned and sat up straighter. I rolled my eyes, reminded of the eight-year old version of my brother. “Hirah is taking Judah to the sheep shearing.” He grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. “Hurry, Tamar. This is your chance! Go to him and ask him to remember his promise to you!”

I stared up at Jairus in wonder. After four years, my family still had such faith in this man. Still, a plan was beginning to form. I hugged Jairus, then shoved him out of my room. “Go back to your work, you little monkey. And thank you. I will go talk to him.” Proud to be helpful, Jairus bounded out the door and back towards the fields.
I watched him leave and, making sure no one else was around, stepped back inside. The plan spun around and around in my head. Would it work? Could I pull it off? I opened the closet and pushed aside my widow’s clothes. There, just behind the coarse wool, were my clothes from before. Rich ambers and oranges and olives, the fabric soft as a breeze compared to my clothes now. I pulled the finest ones out and pulled a veil out of my chest. The silk slid over my fingers, catching on the calluses of weaving. Footsteps hurried past, and I shoved the garments under the sheepskin of my bed. I held my breath, praying to the gods that it wasn’t Baruch coming to tell me what Jairus already had. I wrinkled my nose at the thought of serious Baruch telling me of Judah. While all of them foolishly believed my father-in-law would follow through on his promise, only Jairus thought I should take it into my own hands. The footsteps faded and I sat back in relief. Quickly, before I could doubt myself, I changed into them, tucking the veil into the front of my robes. My widow’s clothes went over-top. I felt a moment’s guilt knowing that Jairus never intended for me to go down this path, then stepped out into the bright spring sunlight. My fate had been sealed eleven years ago when Father sold me to Judah. It was time to collect what he owed me.

I followed Hirah and his men from a safe distance. Once or twice, a man would look backward, but never did he see me. This land was my land. I knew every dip and rise with my eyes closed. Seven years away hadn’t diminished those memories, and I clung to the rocks like the sheep I once guarded. In the distance, I saw the dust from another caravan. My chance had come. Slipping from shadow to shadow, I made my way past Hirah and hurried on to Enaim. Judah and Hirah would meet at the crossroads just before the little town, and I would be waiting for him. I slipped off the coarse woolen robes that marked my status, relieved to let the breezes run through the much thinner wool beneath. Deep voices carried over the plains. They were nearly here. I fastened the veil in place, leaving only my eyes bare. I wanted Judah to look me in the face. Without knowing it, I wanted him to face what he had made me.

As I’d planned, the men passed Enaim near noon. I weaved my way through their masses as I’d watched Er’s harlots do so many years before. I teased and flirted and stole little sips of wine and fermented goat’s milk. The men swayed around me, drunk on drink and the joy of companionship. Slowly, I worked my way to the center of the group. Hirah glanced once at me, then away. Good, even he doesn’t recognize me.

Judah, though, didn’t look away. I smiled, letting it reach my eyes, and took a deep breath. “Oh my lord, how weary you look! Come, come, let me ease your burden before you continue on your journey.”

The others called and teased him, but Judah had eyes only for me. I smiled again, knowing I’d caught him. He followed me back to the roadside, out of the throng of cat-calling fools. “Come now,” he breathed, his eyes just barely glazed over