Crouched beside her mother and daughter, Jochebed wished life unwound as easily as weaving. To teach Miriam the rhythm and pattern of basketry was simple because she could undo her work or, if the basket warped or a flaw appeared in the structure, start over. Of course in weaving, the pattern changes were obvious and the necessary corrections easy to see. Relationships were harder to figure out.
Jochebed watched her mother showing Miriam something with the basket they were working on as Miriam’s head nestled in the curve of her grandmother’s shoulder. It had not been too long ago since she sat there, resting in that love, safe in knowing Mother could make right whatever went wrong, and believing the God of her fathers still cared about the Hebrews.
Poking through the reeds in search of ones thick enough for the basket’s spokes, Jochebed smiled, remembering when her mother had first explained the spokes’ purpose to Lili and Shiphrah.
“What would happen if you had no bones?” Mother had asked the two girls.
Unsure of the answer, Lili and Shiphrah looked at each other and giggled. “We couldn’t break them?”
“You would be like water. Spokes are the bones of a basket, like ribs. They give shape and strength. Without spokes, there’s no basket, just a mat to walk on or sleep on.”
Remembering that time with Lili and Shiphrah, Jochebed sighed loudly. Miriam turned, concern lining her young face.
“Are you all right, Mama?”
Quickly, Jochebed nodded. She had not meant to frighten Miriam. Ever since Jochebed lost the baby, Miriam had hovered near with a worried look.
“I was just remembering your grandmother teaching me those same things and how quickly time passes. I think you learn much faster than I did.” Jochebed forced her lips to curve into a smile to reassure her daughter.
“I don’t know about that.” Her mother rubbed her hands as if they ached. “Seems to me you two are the quickest learners I’ve ever had.”
Miriam returned to her work, seeming satisfied, and missed the look Jochebed shared with her mother. Threatened with the telltale warmth of tears that came so easily these days, Jochebed bent over the reeds scattered in the dirt and chose the last spokes. As she compared their sizes to determine if they would work together, she wondered how different things might be if she had picked and chosen her friends like she chose a basket’s ribs, or if, as with a ruined basket, she could simply start over at the beginning.
With a little whimper, Aaron announced he had finished his nap, and Jochebed handed him a piece of bread. She crinkled her nose at his pungency, and glad for a reason to avoid her memories and questions, she snatched a clean cloth and followed him as he toddled outside.
River breezes curled around her face as she washed Aaron by the river. She left the cloth to dry in the sun and settled herself in the shade of a palm tree.
She eased herself against the trunk. Its ragged cuts dug into her back, and she remembered how as children she and Lili had decided the tree trunk was woven together. It seemed so long ago when she and her cousin had agreed on almost everything. Jochebed leaned a little to one side and thought of Lili.
Lili had been as much a part of her life as the Nile was of Egypt, comforting in its constancy, predictable in mood, and at times, overwhelming.
Tears warmed Jochebed’s eyes. She missed those days with Lili, the easy companionship, their agreement on almost everything. The only thing she knew they agreed on these days was the preciousness of children. She’d been delighted when once, Aaron tottered to where Lili sat with her back to them and rested his head against her shoulder. Lili had startled and then reached out to caress his hair.
She smiled as her son draped himself around her neck to demand more food. Aaron stuffed most of the bread in his mouth and began piling pebbles into a stack. She loved watching him play, enjoying his giggles and squeals as he scattered the pebbles with his hand. Jochebed tucked a loose curl behind one ear. Did other mothers treasure their children more after losing one? She thought of the child she had lost and closed her eyes, allowing herself to remember his tiny perfection. If only she could have held him just once.
“Why aren’t you watching your child?”
Startled by the harsh voice, Jochebed looked up to see that the censorship in Lili’s voice matched her pursed lips. Lili was beginning to sound like Sarah.
“I am.”
“With your eyes closed?”
Jochebed took a deep breath. “Lili, he’s fine. I just closed my eyes for a minute.” She patted the ground beside her. “Can you sit down with me?”
Indecision flickered on Lili’s face and Jochebed coaxed, “You know Aaron would like it.”
Lili sat as far away as she could sit and still share the fringe of shade. Silently, they watched Aaron. Jochebed searched her mind for something to say, but before she thought of a safe subject, Aaron flopped his grimy little self into Lili’s lap. Lili laughed, and briefly Jochebed saw the shadows leave Lili’s face. How happy she seemed with a child in her lap.
Lili’s barrenness saddened Jochebed. Lili had cared for her brother Benjamin with so much patience and tenderness. She would have been a good mother, mused Jochebed as Aaron pushed himself free to wobble away.
Jochebed felt so helpless when Lili was excluded by the village women. She didn’t believe it was intentional; there was simply less to talk about, less to share. Lili had never known the telltale early sickness, the delicate fluttering of life, or the interminable heaviness of being with child.
As months of barrenness bled into years, Lili’s behavior isolated her more. If she heard someone speak crossly to a child, her lips would tighten into a straight line and her eyebrows lift.
Lili didn’t understand the weariness of mothering. She had never walked the nights in dull stupor with a teething baby before going to work the fields all day and then returning home to cook and care for family and flocks. She had not lived the joy of birth mixed with the strain of a little person to clothe and feed and comfort.
High-pitched giggles interrupted Jochebed’s thoughts. Aaron had thrown himself backward and landed squarely in Lili’s lap. Lili counted his toes, tickling the bottoms of his feet. Jochebed smiled, enjoying the look on Lili’s face as much as she did her son’s laughter. If only it could stay this way, like it had been in the beginning.
Aaron rolled off Lili’s lap and began to examine his toes.
“Bedde…”
Surprised, Jochebed turned from watching Aaron. It had been a long time since Lili had called her that.
“I know we have not been close, but I’ve wanted to tell you, or maybe ask … but if this is not a good time…” Lili twisted her hands.
Jochebed waited patiently, glad they were actually talking.
“I’m not sure and I … It’s probably nothing—a foolish question—but in the mornings I’m…” Lili stuck out her tongue and made a face. “And I’m so tired, and when you were … Did you sleep a lot?”
It took only a few seconds for Jochebed to repeat Lili’s words to herself before understanding lit a smile inside of her and burst forth in happy tears. Jochebed reached out as Lili scooted forward, and the two women clasped hands, laughing through their tears.
Miriam held the basket close to her eyes as she studied the weave pattern. “Grandmother, does the last finish strand go over or under?” she asked.
“Slip it over, around, and then under. The pattern is easier to see if you hold it away from your face, child.”
Jochebed bustled into the room with Aaron. Settling him near her mother, she tapped Miriam’s shoulder.
“I want you to take something over to Lili for me. She’s expecting you.”
Miriam hesitated. “I don’t think she likes me, Mama. She frowns and pinches her lips together when she looks at me. Are you sure she wants to see me?”
“I’m sure. She’ll be different this time. I promise.”
Pulling a handful of dried flowers from the rafters where they hung upside down, Jochebed wrapped them in a scrap of cloth and handed them to her daughter.
“Scoot.”
Miriam dragged her feet as she left.
“Did I hear you right?” her mother asked. “Lili is expecting something from you? Does that mean…?”
Jochebed picked up Aaron and twirled around the room until Aaron chortled and she was too dizzy to stand. She knelt, and Aaron reached for his grandmother.
“Mama, you’ll never believe what’s happened!” she said breathlessly. “Yes, Lili and I talked, really talked for the first time in years.”
“Thank God.”
“It’s better than that, Mama.” Jochebed threw her arms into the air. “She’s pregnant!”
Tears glistened in her mother’s eyes. “Lili … pregnant, after all this time! My, my!”
“Isn’t that the most marvelous thing you have ever heard in your life?”
“Mmm, no, but it is one of the most wonderful things that could happen. I’m so happy for her. The Lord has answered my prayer with a yes. Has she told Shiphrah yet?”
“I didn’t think to ask.” Jochebed hugged herself. “Mama, after all these years of tension between us, finally everything is going to be perfect. I know Shiphrah will be thrilled for her and the three of us will be friends again. And Shiphrah will marry and then we can all raise our children together and maybe someday they’ll marry each other and then we can be grandparents together and everything will be perfect. I’m so excited I can hardly stand it.” She giggled. “I sound like a little girl, don’t I?”
“Exactly,” her mother agreed.
“Oh, I wish I could see Shiphrah’s face when she finds out. Do you remember how excited she was for me, and I was pregnant within a few months of marriage? Lili has been married … how many years?”
“Does it matter now that she is with child?”
“Shiphrah will be so happy, she’ll probably move in with Lili to make sure nothing goes wrong.” Jochebed wiped Aaron’s nose with the hem of her dress. “Mama,” she said in a calmer voice, “have you noticed how serious Shiphrah has been lately? She hasn’t talked to me much, and I can’t figure out what’s bothering her. Could she be sick?”
“Bedde, she hasn’t been here to see me in a while. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Maybe this news will cheer her up. It’s so good to see Lili happy, really and truly happy. You know how she’s always wanted children, and she’s so good with them.”
“Does she still have that lamb in her house?”
Bedde nodded.
“Do you think her husband will be able to persuade her to return the lamb to its mother now?”
Jochebed laughed. “Yes, and I think she’ll make a better ‘person’ mother than a sheep mother.”
The knocking startled Jochebed. She started to nudge Amram awake and then recognized the voice calling her name.
“Bedde, it’s Shiphrah. Do you hear me?”
“I’m coming.” Jochebed pulled open the door, and moonlight spilled into the room. “Shiphrah, what’s wrong?”
“Bedde, is it true? Is Lili with child?”
“You woke me up in the middle of the night to ask if Lili is pregnant?”
“Is she?”
Jochebed peered through the darkness, concerned by the strain in Shiphrah’s voice and trying to see her eyes. What had upset her? “Yes, Lili is finally going to be a mother. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Shiphrah covered her mouth with both hands and backed away without answering. Bewildered, Jochebed followed her outside, trying to understand her reaction to Lili’s news.
“Shiphrah, aren’t you glad she’s pregnant? You know how much she wanted a baby.” Jochebed tilted her head, trying to understand. What had upset Shiphrah? “What is the matter with you? I thought you would be thrilled for Lili.”
Shiphrah backed away.
“Why are … What is upsetting you? Are you angry she didn’t tell you first?”
Taking another step backward, Shiphrah shook her head.
“Have I done something to hurt you? Are you angry with me?”
A noise sounding like a sob escaped Shiphrah. “Am I angry with y…? No, Bedde.”
Jochebed wanted to put her arms around Shiphrah to comfort her as she had when they were children. Did she dare? Placing a hand on Shiphrah’s shoulder, she waited for a tensing away and, feeling none, slowly pulled her friend’s small frame close. Rubbing the thin back, Bedde felt Shiphrah quiver.
“Can you tell me about it?” At first she thought Shiphrah might share what troubled her, but when she stiffened, Jochebed knew to release her.
“Would you tell Mama Elisheba something for me?”
“Come tell her yourself, Shiphrah. You know she thinks of you as her other daughter, sometimes her favorite daughter,” Bedde teased.
“Tell her I’m sorry, Bedde.”
“Sorry? Sorry for … what?”
Shiphrah shook her head. “Just tell her I’m sorry. She should not have befriended me. I never meant…” Shiphrah jerked back and began to stumble away.
“Shiphrah, wait! What are you talking about? I thought we were friends. Can’t you tell me?”
“Leave me alone, Jochebed!”
Puzzled, she watched as Shiphrah limped slowly toward the river.
Hurt dipped into anger, and Jochebed battled an urge to throw something and watch it break into a multitude of tiny pieces. Just when things were righting between her and Lili, she was being shut out of Shiphrah’s life.
Hot tears welled up, and Jochebed flicked them away, annoyed that anger made her cry. These two people whom she dearly loved caused her more heartache than everyone else put together—Egyptians included.
Jochebed sensed more than heard her mother join her. The women stood silently, their hands linked in silent support.
“Mama, something isn’t right. Shiphrah is acting so strangely. I thought she would be happy Lili is expecting, but instead she acted upset and then she said the strangest thing. She said, ‘Tell Mama Elisheba I’m sorry.’”
Her mother sighed. “I’ve wondered what was troubling her. She hasn’t been to see me in quite a while. That’s not like our Shiphrah.”
“Ever since I lost the baby, she’s been different—distant—as if it were her fault I miscarried. Does she think I blame her because she didn’t come in time to help?”
“Bedde, I’m not sure it had anything to do with you or even you and the baby. Puah has seemed distraught, too. Could it be something happened between the two of them?”
Jochebed scraped her thumb against the plaster on the doorway, peeling away flakes of mud and rolling them between her fingers. “I don’t know. Mama, I thought Lili and Shiphrah and I would be friends forever and raise our children together. It’s just not going the way I planned.”
“You always did like a plan, dear.”
Jochebed heard the smile in her mother’s voice before the coughing hid it.
“And plans are good, Bedde, but life seldom follows them, at least not ones we make. Remember, we are the Lord’s chosen people and part of His plan.”
Jochebed grimaced. She’d heard all that before. “Mama, is it the Lord’s plan that Shiphrah and Puah don’t have husbands to care for them, or that Lili is just now having a baby after all those years of barrenness, or that we are Pharaoh’s slaves? What happened to our ‘promised land’ your Lord said we would have?”
“I don’t pretend to know the mind of our Lord.” Mama spoke softly. “But I do know of His promises, and I know He keeps them.”
Listening to the rustle of night sounds, Jochebed did not respond. How could her mother be so certain the Lord kept His promises?