By the Waters of Kadesh (Journey to Canaan) Page 15

  The camp sat in a valley between two mountain ranges. On the slopes grew the massive, valuable cedar trees Egypt imported to build their furniture for the palace—and chariots. Plenty of those lay buried under the Yam Suph now, along with their drivers and Ramses’s soldiers. The cedars were as wide as they were tall, and they made a beautiful sight covering the mountainside.

  He returned to the pine grove and sat. A small brown animal with a fluffy tail as big as its body ran in front of him and up a tree, chattering as loudly as he could. Another waited in the branches, and together they ran to the top of the tree out of sight.

  Was the whole thing worth it? It had been—what? A year and a few months. It felt like an eternity since they had left Egypt. And what had been accomplished? Not enough. Not enough to make it worthwhile. Not for him.

  He lay back and tucked his arms under his head. Two battles already—Rephidim and Sinai. How many dead? How many had he killed himself? And now they were supposed to fight giants just so they could build little houses and little farms to try to coax enough food out of the ground to stay alive. Or keep enough sheep and goats healthy to sell milk and buy food. Anyway you looked at it, it would be far more work than back in Egypt. He came home at the same time every night there. So he didn’t get to choose a job. Was that so bad? At least he wasn’t fighting for his life.

  He stared at the strange trees. He didn’t like them, but the fallen needles made for a very soft bed. He rolled over, and went to sleep. The questions would have to wait for tomorrow.

  Gaddiel awoke after everyone else. First time that’s happened since the first day out. He’d been up too late thinking about the trip, the escape, Joshua, everything. The aroma of roasting fish filled his nostrils and his mouth watered. He stretched and stood, then walked to the campfire at the river, plopping down next to Palti.

  “This is the end. This is Lebo. We turn back today.” Caleb stuffed a bite of fish in his mouth.

  Gaddiel exhaled loudly. “This is the end?” The wave of relief that washed over him took him by surprise. It was if he had been holding his breath for the last three and a half weeks.

  Caleb chuckled. “We have to go all the way back, but, yes. It should be faster going back, since we won’t be exploring or finding our way. But we’ll stop at Abraham’s grave near Hebron.”

  What? Is that necessary? Gaddiel barely stopped himself from speaking aloud.

  “For today,” said Joshua, “we can rest here a day, or head back now. What do you think?”

  Joshua asking for their opinions? That was new.

  Palti volunteered his thoughts first. “We’ve had Sabbath rests. I think we should move on.”

  Sethur, Igal, and Geuel nodded their agreement.

  “How long have we been gone?” Palti asked.

  Joshua pulled out a parchment with marks on it. “Twenty-two days.”

  “I wouldn’t mind an extra day’s rest,” said Ammiel.

  “Nor I,” said Shammua.

  “Anyone else?” Joshua looked around at those who had not spoken.

  “I’d rather get home.” Gaddiel reached for a fish. “Soon.”

  The others grabbed fish. All were silent for a while as they ate. The spring bubbling, the bulbuls singing, and mouths smacking were the only sounds.

  “I think it’s been a successful mission.” Caleb nodded and stuffed another bite of fish in his mouth.

  Gaddiel nearly choked. “Successful?”

  “Yes. We’ve accomplished what Moses asked. We know everything we need to know to conquer this land Yahweh has given us.”

  Gaddiel threw his fish in the fire. “Conquer? We can never conquer it! It is filled with giants and walled cities and Amalekites. We barely beat them the first time. Do you really want to fight them again? Or the giants?”

  “Yahweh said He would fight for us. Like he did when we fought the Amalekites. We beat them. We’ll conquer anything we find here.” Joshua’s voice was calm.

  Gaddiel stood. “I barely made it through that battle. I have scars all over my body. I certainly don’t want to fight another one.”

  “So you expect everyone else to fight for the land while you sit and wait, so you can move in without working for it?”

  “No …”

  Joshua rose and jabbed a long finger at Gaddiel. “Then you don’t have any other choice. Now sit down and finish eating. We leave as soon as we’re done.”

  Gaddiel stalked off. There were other options. They didn’t have to stay here and fight hopeless battles. They didn’t have to stay in the wilderness, either.

  Back in Egypt they had food. Meat, vegetables, fruit. Not manna. Meal after meal, day after day, week after week. They lived in houses, not tents. It was cooler on the delta. As long as you did your job, life was bearable.

  Life here would be far from tolerable. Always looking over your shoulder, waiting for a giant to come eat your children and steal your wife.

  Gaddiel couldn’t face any more battles. He just couldn’t.

  23 Tammuz

  Tirzah stood next to Kamose, before Moses at the river where the girls so often played. Where she’d fallen in love with Kamose. Meri, holding Adi, stood next to Bezalel. Nahshon was next to Sheerah, who had Naomi on her hip. Ahmose grasped Keren’s little hand in his.

  She thought back to her first wedding day. She didn’t remember very much of it—she had been so nervous. She’d had no friends with her then, and she barely knew Jediel. She’d gone into that marriage alone, but expecting she would have a husband to share her life with. She’d been wrong.

  This time would be different. Wouldn’t it? She met Kamose’s gaze. His smile told her everything she needed to know.

  Moses handed Kamose a skin of water. “In view of the circumstances, and since there is no bride price or betrothal period involved, we will first share the cup. We have no wine, obviously, so we will make do with water.”

  “Wait.” Bezalel produced a gold cup.

  Kamose’s eyes widened as he reached for it.

  “Where did you …” Tirzah began.

  “From the palace.” Bezalel grinned. “We used it when we married.” He linked hands with Meri.

  Kamose filled the cup and handed it to Tirzah.

  Tirzah took it, keeping her gaze on Kamose. She drank half and handed it back.

  Kamose finished it and returned the cup.

  “Since by accepting the cup you have accepted his proposal, I shall now bless—and marry—you.” Moses raised his hands over the heads of the new couple. “Blessed are You, Yahweh, who has heard our cries and delivered us from Egypt. Blessed are You, El Shaddai, the Creator of the earth and all that is in it. Blessed are You, Yahweh, who has brought together these two people who will love and care for each other as no one else can. Bless them and grant them wisdom and strength to carry out whatever tasks You place before them, to care for their family, to love all those You bring into their lives.

  “And to you two, I say, if you dwell in the shelter of Shaddai, He will be your refuge and your fortress. If you say, ‘Yahweh is my refuge,’ and you make El Shaddai your dwelling, no harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent. If you love Him, He will rescue you; He will protect you, if you acknowledge His name. If you call on Him, He will answer you; He will be with you in trouble; He will deliver you. With long life He will satisfy you and show you His salvation.

  “Now may Yahweh bless you and make you fruitful. May He keep you faithful to Him and to each other. May He grant your children a long life in the land He is giving us.”

  After a simple meal with their friends, Tirzah followed Kamose as he took her hand and led her into her tent in Zebulon. They had chosen to spend their bridal week there, knowing that the girls would be well taken care of by Meri and Sheerah in Judah without having to wonder why they couldn’t go into their tent or see their mother for seven days.

  Kamose lifted the basket of manna cakes and dates sitting next to skins of water and goat’s mi
lk in the corner. “Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head.

  He reached for the far-too-short wedding robe she had borrowed from Sheerah and slipped it from her shoulders. Draping it over his arm, he rubbed his hands down her arms, and the warmth of his touch traveled all the way to her toes.

  She smiled at the robe he wore. Nahshon’s, it was so small he hadn’t even tried to wear it and had simply draped it over his broad shoulders.

  He shrugged it off and tossed both garments in the corner.

  She stepped closer to him and rested her cheek against his chest, her arms pulled up by her shoulders. She felt his heartbeat under her ear as he rubbed her back. His steady breathing infused her with calm.

  He buried his hands in her hair. His fingers moved softly against her neck, sending shivers of pleasure throughout her body. The warmth and solidness of his frame next to hers made her blood heat and her breath come faster.

  She circled his back with her arms, and lifted her face to his.

  He smiled, and brushed her lips with his. As he cradled her head with one hand, he brought his other down her back to her waist. He covered her mouth with his, and for several moments she lost herself in his kiss.

  She moved her hands from his back to his chest, around his neck.

  When he slid his hand from her waist down her hip, she stiffened. Memories—bad memories—washed over her.

  He raised his head but still held her close. Confusion filled his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  How did she explain it? “Nothing. It’s just that … this part … was never very pleasant … before.”

  He tilted his head and studied her. “Do you like my kisses?”

  Her cheeks heated, and she looked away. “I love your kisses.” She pulled her gaze back to his. “Your kisses make me forget anyone else exists.”

  A small but satisfied smile crossed his face. “And are my kisses like Jediel’s?”

  She frowned, annoyed she should have to explain this again. “Your kisses are nothing like Jediel’s. I’ve told you that.”

  For a long moment he drew his fingers lightly over her jaw, down her neck, traced the edge of her tunic.

  She closed her eyes and sighed, tipped her head back as she delighted in his touch. Her heart raced.

  “Then I doubt anything else that happens tonight will be like it was with Jediel, either.” He kissed her neck. “In fact, other than being a man, I don’t think anything I ever do will remind you of him.” He whispered in her ear. “I promise you that. Will you trust me?”

  At that moment, with his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along her neck, she could barely think, let alone speak. But then his mouth found hers again, and she didn’t have to. And when his hands again began to caress her, this time she did not resist.

  Kamose blinked several times. The tent was bright. How long had he slept? He hadn’t slept past dawn in years.

  Beside him, Tirzah stirred, her body soft against his. Her head rested on his shoulder, her hand on his chest. His arm was wrapped around her waist, and he drew her closer.

  She did not awaken.

  He rolled onto his side and encircled her with both arms. She snuggled into his chest. He’d be content to stay this way forever. Even if it meant being a farmer, a shepherd, or a household servant. He’d had enough glory to last a lifetime. He’d done everything he wanted. As long as he could fall asleep next to her, and wake with her in his arms every morning, he’d be content to do anything else all day long.

  1 Av

  Kamose pushed aside the flaps of the tent. Sunlight poured in as he pulled in a plate, as he had three times a day for the last seven days. Meri and Sheerah had gathered manna for the new couple, cooked it, and delivered it along with dates, milk, and water, to the tent in Zebulon. But this was the last time. Their bridal week was over. He sighed. He missed the girls, but he’d very much enjoyed having Tirzah all to himself for a week.

  He popped a date in his mouth and set the plate aside, then stuck his hands out once more for another bundle.

  “What are you doing?” Tirzah picked up the skin of milk and poured two cups.

  He grinned over his shoulder at his new bride, and winked. “One moment.” He sat back next to her and shook out an Israelite tunic.

  Tirzah’s eyes widened. “What’s that for?”

  “For me.”

  “But why?” She ran her hand over the fabric lying across his lap.

  “I’m no longer an Egyptian soldier. It’s time I stopped looking like one. I asked Bezalel to find a tunic for me before we went back to camp. Help me put it on.” He rose up on his knees and turned it upside down, fumbling for the bottom hem. He stuffed his arms through and she pulled it down over his head.

  She suppressed a smile as she tugged on the short sleeves, drawing them over his shoulders.

  “At least it’s big enough.” He chuckled as he pulled at the garment, straightened it, and then fastened his belt over it around his waist.

  “Barely.” Giggling, she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms.

  He gathered her to him and kissed her. Did they have to go back? Reaching into the corner by his sandals, he retrieved the armbands he had not worn all week. He placed them in the small cloth bag delivered with the tunic, tied the string, and set it by the door. Then he grabbed the plate of manna cakes, and settled next to her.

  Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  His chest constricted. What should he do? “Did I do something wrong?” He set the plate down and put his hands on her face.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Put your armbands away.”

  He looked back at the bag and shrugged. “I-I’m not a captain anymore. I shouldn’t be wearing them.”

  “You’ve worn them ever since we left. For more than a year.”

  “Yes, and I didn’t need to. I probably shouldn’t have. I never thought about it. I simply put them on every morning like I had for years.”

  She cried harder.

  He brushed her tears away with his thumbs. “Habibti, I don’t understand why you are crying. You have to explain this to me.”

  “Did … did I … did I make you give all this up?”

  “Give all what up?”

  “Being the captain.”

  He shook his head. “Habibti, I gave that up when I left Egypt.”

  “Then why are you only now putting on a tunic, taking off your armbands? After you marry me?”

  “Because only now am I happy I gave it all up. Now I have something to exchange it for.”

  She took several shuddering breaths. “Are you sure? Are you sure you won’t blame me someday?”

  He kissed her cheeks, wet with tears, then drew her close. “Never. I gained far more when I married you than I ever gave up.”

  After they ate, Kamose held Tirzah’s hand as they strolled toward Bezalel and Meri’s tent.

  Keren’s eyes lit up when she saw them and she bolted for them. She ran to Kamose first and jumped into his arms.

  Tirzah laughed as Keren slid from Kamose to her. “Imma! I missed you.” She gave Tirzah a slobbery kiss and wiggled back down, then ran away.

  Kamose noticed Bezalel and Meri, Nahshon and Sheerah—and Rebekah holding baby Adi. How long had it been since Rebekah had been at their fire? She stood and smiled broadly as they approached. “Captain! It is good to see you.”

  He smiled. “Not Captain. Just Kamose.”

  “Yes, yes.” She handed Adi to Bezalel as she passed him and came to Tirzah, wrapping her in a warm hug. “Tirzah, habibti, come sit with me. I need to get to know you. I had no idea our captain would ever get married, and I must know who could change his mind.”

  “Uh, all right.” Tirzah glanced back at Kamose as she was led to the other side of the fire.

  Kamose took a seat by Bezalel.

  “I’d have warned you if I knew she was coming.” Bezalel laughed as he watched his mother do
to Tirzah what she’d done to Meri more than a year ago. “She’s doing better than Meri did, though.”

  “Meri had just ridden across the desert with me and had the army at her back.”

  “True.”

  Keren bounded back into camp with Naomi and Ahmose.

  “See?” Keren pointed at the couple. “They’re home!”

  Ahmose ran up to his uncle and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Uncle!”

  “Ahmose!” Kamose squeezed him tightly. “Were you a big help?”

  “He was a huge help,” said Meri. “I don’t know what we would have done without him.”

  Ahmose beamed at Meri, then looked back at Kamose. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  “Me too, habibi.” Kamose kissed his nephew’s cheek.

  Ahmose pulled back as Naomi stepped out of Tirzah’s arms.

  Kamose held his arms out. “Come here.”

  She brightened and buried her face in his neck.

  He held her close for several moments. “I missed you, habibti.”

  “I missed you, Abba,” she whispered, before she kissed him and ran off after Keren.

  His heart nearly exploded. This was a word he never thought he’d hear himself called. Even marrying Tirzah, loving Keren and Naomi as he did, he had not expected them to see him as their abba. He assumed he’d love and care for them, and they’d love him in return, but not this. This was … beyond anything he could ever have hoped for. He closed his eyes and prayed he wouldn’t cry in front of everyone.

  Bezalel leaned close. “I heard that.”

  Kamose threw him a sideways glance.

  Bezalel smiled. “Adi doesn’t talk yet, of course, but she knows I’m her abba. Sometimes in the middle of the night, when she’s very fussy and even Meri can’t quiet her, I hold her, and she’ll rest her head on my chest and grab my tunic in her little fist and be calm.” He paused. “It’s a little scary, to be so responsible for someone, but the love you get back in return … there’s no feeling like it in the world. Feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

  Naomi’s voice saying “Abba” echoed in Kamose’s head. Good didn’t even begin to describe it.