The time of the barley harvest was nearly over. Every farmer in the village was harvesting his crop. The women exchanged bits of news and gossip as they worked. Some tossed the grain into the air from their baskets and let the wind float away the chaff. Others used a threshing board, letting the children ride on it for extra weight as the oxen moved in wide circles over the grain. Some gathered the sheaves and other women cooked, bringing out the food at midday when everyone would stop for a noontime prayer and refreshment. It was a time when the whole village worked together.
The workers harvested the family fields. As Marah moved gracefully about her tasks, she was aware that she was pleasing in the eyes of the men, young and old. During the harvest, many a maiden had been caught in the fields alone by an amorous young man and a hasty wedding had ensued. Simon watched over Marah as a father would, and Hannah stayed close by, but no one in the fields would bother her—they were all afraid of Zibeon. Many of them had been the recipient of his temper on occasion, and it was not an incident to be easily forgotten.
The days passed far too quickly. The last of the harvesting would be over and the time of the wedding was approaching. Working from dawn to dusk, Marah fell upon her pallet at night in exhausted sleep. Sometimes she slept soundly out of sheer weariness, but from time to time her strange dream occurred. It was always the same. Walking down a long road with that mysterious person waiting for her. It was not a person to be feared. As she walked toward the man, she felt only peace. He held out his hand to her and smiled, but as she went to reach for his hand, she awoke. Marah puzzled over the dream, but was strengthened when the dream occurred. Soon, with the preparations for the wedding, she put it out of her mind. She had no time to think of strange dreams.
Reba remade her beautifully embroidered wedding dress for Marah. A garland of leaves was woven for Marah’s head and soft embroidered slippers waited for her feet. Even though remaking the dress was a way to conserve the bride price for herself, Reba was a prideful woman and did not want anyone to say that she had not done her best for her niece. Reba was already aware of gossip in the streets when she went by. She held her head high and played the role of the gracious aunt to the end.
“I will be shaking the dust of this town of Shechem from my feet soon enough,” Marah once heard her mutter to herself.
A craftsman made the headband of coins that would be part of Marah’s dowry. It waited in the jeweled leather box. There was little that Marah would bring with her except for her wedding coins, the animals, and the candlesticks. The candlesticks! Marah thought of how Hannah had related the incident and smiled in spite of herself.
Hannah came in search of Marah and saw Reba with the candlesticks, trying to quickly put them out of sight. Fortunately, Hannah knew they had belonged to Marah’s mother.
“Ah, Jerusha’s candlesticks!” she proclaimed loudly. “Marah shall be proud to bring these to her new household.”
Hannah gently but firmly took the candlesticks out of Reba’s hands. Ignoring the woman’s sharp look of anger, she held them up and praised their fine quality.
“I was merely putting them in a safe place,” Reba blustered. “Of course Zibeon will be pleased!” She shot Hannah a look of pure hatred, but placed the candlesticks among Marah’s household goods.
The day before the wedding, Shimei came to take the small flock of sheep and the three goats to Zibeon’s pens. One of the sheep was killed and dressed for the wedding feast. Reba wanted to keep the sheep and goats to sell, but she dared not go against Zibeon, and he made it clear he expected the animals in his pens. The chickens were carried away squawking. He didn’t miss anything that would add to his wealth. And there had been a scene over them.
Marah was on the roof the day Zibeon came, and she crouched back from the parapet not wishing to give her presence away.
“Why haven’t the animals been brought to my pens?” Zibeon demanded.
“Ah, Zibeon, surely you can spare a goat and a few sheep?” Reba’s voice was wheedling.
Then Marah heard Zibeon’s low growl of anger and saw him take Reba by one arm, pressing his fingers painfully into her flesh.
“That was not our agreement. Were you trying to sell them, Reba?”
“You are hurting me, Zibeon. Let go of my arm. It was only a thought. Of course I will see that the animals are brought to you. They will go into your pens tomorrow. Of course you are entitled to the animals.”
“Thanks to your bride price, you have enough money to return to Haran. As far as I am concerned, the sooner you are gone, the better!”
Marah heard the small cry of pain as he released Reba’s arm and strode angrily out of the courtyard. Marah had warily glanced down and saw Reba standing there, rubbing her arm and then shaking her fist in a defiant gesture at the empty gate. Ducking down, Marah remained still until she heard Reba go into the house and then crept down from her hiding place and walked toward the door of the house as if she had just come into the courtyard.
Reba was slamming things down in the house and muttering to herself when she saw Marah come in. She stared at her as if to determine if the girl had witnessed the previous scene, and when Marah gave no indication of having seen her humiliation, she turned away again to sort and pack her things. She picked up the jeweled box and stared at it a long moment. Then she smiled and opened it, taking out the headband of coins. She laid it with the other wedding garments and, with a defiant look at Marah, rolled up the box in a bundle of clothing and placed it in her own basket.
It had been a gift, Reba had told her, so Marah shrugged and turned to help with the evening meal. Marah could not anticipate Zibeon’s rage when he found out Reba had taken the box for herself.
The two women ate quietly, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Marah ate slowly as if she could somehow hold back this last night hour by hour. Finally, as she lay on her pallet, she realized that though tomorrow would come, tonight was hers alone. She looked up at the stars and the constellations that had taken their places in the night skies since the beginning of time. Was the great God of the universe aware of who she was? A simple girl of Samaria? Did He not order the heavens and the seasons that came and went year after year? He must know of the anguish in her heart and her unhappiness, yet it was He who ordered their lives according to His plan. As her father had said many times, “Does the God of all the heavens not know His way?” Somehow, her life to come was His way, and she accepted it simply. In the months that had passed, with Jesse living in Sebaste, it was easier to put him out of her heart. The friendship between them was a moment that was to be only a memory. She would close that door tightly within her. No one would touch that inner place, ever again, especially not Zibeon. He would have her body, but her spirit could never be taken by force.