Shiphrah yawned. Why did babies so often come at night? She concentrated on setting one foot in front of the other. Between the long walk to a village downriver where she was not judged so harshly and the two days of midwifing, she was eager to be home. She would tell Puah both the mother and twin girls survived. Then she would sleep.
She hardly saw Puah anymore. They alternated caring for Ella and stayed busy attending births and assisting mothers with their infants. The new mothers asked so many questions, and the mothers of three or four children needed help with the younger ones. Shiphrah loved every minute of it. If she couldn’t have her own child, this was the next best thing.
The most wonderful moment in her life had been placing Lili’s infant boy in his mother’s arms and seeing the glorious joy on Lili’s face. The birth of her own adopted daughter, Ella, had been incredible, but Lili’s firstborn child was long awaited and so very wanted.
Remembering the delight on Lili’s face whenever she picked up her infant son, Shiphrah smiled. How wonderful to hear Lili laugh, to see her included with the other women. She was no longer regarded as a dry river, a barren desert. She had given a son to her husband, her tribe, her people.
A goose, feathers askew and trailed by her four fuzzy goslings, ambled across the road on her way to the river. How did she teach them to walk in such a straight line and with the exact same amount of space between each one? Did the goose know how to do that because she was a goose or because she was a mama?
Shiphrah never expected to be a mother. She was “Aunt Shiphrah” to Bedde’s children and Ella and probably would be “Aunt Shiphrah” to Lili’s son.
She never expected to marry, although sometimes she secretly pretended she was the wife of … Shiphrah sniffed. Marriage—what a foolish dream. With her uneven gait, an Egyptian would not have her, and the Hebrew men treated her with suspicion. Only Lili’s brothers knew her as “Shiphrah” and not “that half-breed girl.”
Yawning, she wished the Lord would give Aunt Puah a husband and children of her own. She knew who would be perfect for Puah.
Shiphrah saw her village ahead. It wouldn’t be long before she could lie down and rest. Maybe tomorrow, if her leg felt better, she could carry Ella to Lili’s house, check on the baby, and determine if Bedde was resting enough.
Lili and Bedde. Shiphrah treasured their friendship. When loneliness sneaked up on her and the mud of drudgery mired her thoughts, she would take out the memories, turn them over in her mind, and marvel at their gift of kindness to a broken little stranger.
She realized Lili still wondered about the mysteriousness of her past and believed Shiphrah was secretly a princess or a slave escaping the royal court. Lili liked to tease that they helped save Shiphrah from marrying a shriveled old man or serving a cruel mistress.
As she entered their tiny courtyard, Shiphrah’s heart fluttered. Lili’s brother Samuel was talking to Aunt Puah. In her most secret of all dreams, she wished…
Puah saw her first and ran forward, her face pale and drawn.
Alarmed, Shiphrah gasped. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Ella?”
“Ella’s fine. She’s with a neighbor. Thank the Lord you are home, Shiphrah. Lili and Bedde need you. Samuel has come to take you there safely.”
Shiphrah blinked. Safely? Strange, no one ever seemed concerned about her traveling alone before. As midwives, she and Puah moved freely among the villages without considering danger. They were welcome everywhere—or at least Puah was still welcome.
Samuel stared at her with deadened eyes. “Shiphrah, there was trouble today, from the Egyptians. Bedde worries someone might blame you or try to harm you.”
“Blame me? Whatever for? What happened? Was anyone hurt?” Uneasy with Samuel’s manner, Shiphrah questioned him sharply.
“Yes.”
“Well?”
Samuel’s lips tightened. “Lili was struck down. The infant boys—thrown to…” His jaw clenched. “They were all killed.”
“Killed?” She leaned forward, certain she misunderstood. “Babies killed? Dead?” She felt the blood drain from her face. “Not Lili’s boy!”
“All except Deborah’s son and Joseph’s newborn. Deborah had taken them to the fields with her. They were away from the village.”
Shiphrah covered her mouth with both hands, the spasms in her leg dulled by the shock and pain of Samuel’s words. She could not look away from the anguish on his face.
“There’s more, Shiphrah. Almost a dozen of our men, Amram, Zack…”—he stopped speaking and closed his eyes before forcing out the next words—“were chained and sent away. When the soldiers came for the slaughter, the village was defenseless—nursing mothers and children. Those of us who could have fought were in Pi-Ramses.” Tears slid down Samuel’s face. “While we slaved for them, while we built their city, they butchered our babies in front of our women.” Samuel choked out the words. “The blood of our children sours the air and stains the shore.” A shudder rippled through his body, but when he spoke, his voice was quiet. Defeated. “Our homes are destroyed. They loosed the flocks, trampled the fields, killed what we most value—our children.”
Samuel raised a fist and then let his arm drop, his despair more frightening than anger. “There is nothing else they can take from us. Is there no deliverance for us?”
Numb with horror, Shiphrah shook her head. Mama Elisheba would have said something about the Lord’s plan. “I don’t know, Samuel. I don’t know.”