18

Mahlah plodded back to camp avoiding where her family’s livestock roamed. She did not want to be questioned about where she had been or with whom she’d talked. Talked. She laughed. Reuben had received her truth in shouts. She hoped Eli was still entrusted with the care of their animals and that Noah ruled their tent. How was it possible that her clansman had wandered off to worship a foreign god, yet he could inherit land? She and her sisters served the God of Abraham faithfully, and yet they had no right to assume their father’s portion of land.

She perched atop a rock on a hill a fair distance from the tents of Manasseh. How vast her tribe seemed to be, nestled alongside the other tribes of Israel. A sea of tent tops covered the ground. A testament to the strength of the eldest son of Joseph, a ruler over Egypt. She blinked in awe. What standing did five orphaned girls have among so many families?

The sun baked her head covering. A drip of sweat slid down the side of her nose and settled on her lip. Salt sizzled on her tongue. The weight of her father’s cloak burdened her arm. She should have left it in their tent. Little good it did her to seek out Reuben. All he sought was betrothals for her sisters. He did not speak one word about her own betrothal. At least, not with him. Somehow, after their meeting, he did not seem so ruggedly handsome.

Her future, and that of her sisters, overflowed with uncertainty. Being the firstborn of Zelophehad left her with little standing in her clan. The elders of her tribe were set to scatter her sisters into different tents. Some as wives and others as servants.

Mahlah tipped her chin toward a bright blue sky. Her chest tightened, making breaths difficult. “I don’t have a mother or a father, God? But you know that. You know the truth.”

Tears seeped from her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to brush them away.

“How can I honor the vow I made to my mother when no one will let me? I am nothing in the elders’ eyes now that my father is dead.”

A wisp of a cloud drifted overhead.

“Are You listening, Lord? I’ve seen Your cloud over the Tent of Meeting. Your pillar of fire leading our people.” She swallowed, her throat thick and raw. “I saw Moses lifting a serpent on a stick so Your people would be saved. Or could be saved.” She shook the images of her father’s bloated body from her vision. “I know You care.”

She glanced around to make sure no one had witnessed this spectacle of a girl talking to a cloud. Hadn’t she already stirred the curiosity of the fighting men waiting outside the camp?

“I am not a son, but I swear I love You more than some who wear a loincloth.” She hiccupped as the tears flowed. “Help me, Lord. I am pushed aside while my family is forgotten.”

Did the sky brighten? A ray of light broke free from the small cloud and illuminated the ground at her feet. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? She blinked.

Another ray of light burst from the cloud.

“God? Is that You?”

Dropping to her knees, she flung her father’s cloak over the rock and lifted her arms toward the blinding light. She closed her eyes and allowed the warmth to heat her flesh.

“O God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, hear my prayer. I am a woman without husband or standing or means. My mother and father are gone.” Her chest heaved, choking her petition. “Who is going to take care of me and my sisters?”

I Am.

Mahlah’s eyes flew open. Someone had spoken. Had Reuben followed her?

She whipped around, but no man stood anywhere near her.

It couldn’t have been? Could it?

The cloud hovered overhead in an expanse of endless sky. Her soul emptied of sorrow and soared like a skylark breaking free from the white mass and darting toward the heavens.

“What am I to do, Lord? I love my sisters. They can be brash and silly, but I love them with all my heart. We’re a family.” She licked her lips, warmed by the sun’s rays. “God are You truly listening?”

I Am.

Again. She heard it.

That voice.

Forehead to dirt, she bowed. Heart racing. “Toda raba, Lord. Give me Your wisdom.”

She stayed low to the ground until her back cooled and her limbs stopped trembling. She glanced at the blue hues above her. The cloud had vanished.

Leaping to her feet, she hurried toward her family’s tent. She fled past women weaving and cooking without giving a glance or a greeting. Not a word would she share about her encounter at the rock. Some of her people already thought her half-mad for chastising an elder and throwing his gold into the fire.

As she neared her tent, the one with the slight tilt, her sisters’ voices drifted out to her. She stilled and listened over the boom of her heart.

“I should never have slept outside this tent,” Hoglah said. “My bones are still weary from the fever.”

Mahlah bit her lip. Oh, Hoglah.

“Do not tell Mahlah.” Hoglah’s tone sharpened.

“She has other worries at the moment.” Noah’s voice held a tease.

Don’t tell them, Noah.

“Someone help me find all my rocks,” Tirzah complained. “Milcah kicked them into the corner.”

“I did not.” Ire filled Milcah’s defense.

Hand to her mouth, Mahlah stifled her tears. This was her family. The family she’d vowed to watch over.

She beheld a slice of sky visible between the tent tops.

“God of Israel, I cannot disappoint my sisters and my mother. If what I heard today was You, then give me strength to speak to the one who speaks for You.” She closed her eyes and smiled. A sack of grain weighed on her heart as her sisters’ complaints and conversing filtered from the tent.

Nemuel and the leaders of Manasseh would not separate her family. Not while her lungs held breath. The daughters of Zelophehad would carry their father’s name into the land God had promised His people.

She and her sisters would go above their tribal elders and seek the man who spoke to God and for God.

For a future together, she and her sisters would seek Moses.

What was one more family scandal?