Journey to the Well: A Novel by Diana Wallis Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

“Perhaps someday I’ll be able to come for the flute and play it.” Then she sighed again. “Flutes are for shepherds and children, and I’ll be a married woman. There will be no time for playing a flute.”
    His longing reached out to her like tangible warmth, but he did not touch her. For a long moment they looked at each other, and then she turned and covered her hair with the shawl. Jesse must not see her tears. He also turned away, looking out over the sheep for a long moment.
    “Goodbye, Jesse.” She struggled to keep her voice from quavering.
    “Goodbye... Marah.” His voice was muffled.
    Marah grabbed the water jar and fled.

6
     
    T he 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