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difficult to have another woman come into a household. Even though Athaliah wanted a wife for Zibeon, she had cared for him for so long it was probably hard to yield to another woman. I must let her see that I know my place , thought Marah. Surely in time I will gain respect in the eyes of my mother-in-law.

     
    Now the morning sun rose higher and already she felt the warmth on her back. The chickens scratched about the yard and the goat was loudly proclaiming her need to be milked, for they had sold the kid. Dibri, the young son of a neighbor, had come and collected the sheep to take to the shepherd. Marah looked around her. She had a home, a husband, a family, and soon, a babe of her own. Her life could be worse, she reasoned to herself. Tomorrow would be the Sabbath, and Zibeon would go with the other men to the temple to pray. Since no work could be done, she would have a day to herself.
    It was getting more difficult to kneel down at the stream and wash the clothes. The day before, as she worked on the cloth, Marah looked up and smiled as she saw Hannah put her basket down.
    “You are well? The child grows.”
    “I am well, Hannah, but I feel like a great cow!”
    Hannah laughed and set about her own washing. “Your friend Atarah marries soon. It may be a race to see which comes sooner, the babe or the wedding.”
    Marah laughed aloud with an exaggerated shrug.
    “Zibeon is treating you well?” Hannah did not look up, but though the question was casual, Marah heard her concern.
    “He is pleased about the child. He does not seem like such an angry man.” Marah paused, reflecting. “I was so afraid of him, Hannah. And those first few weeks I did not know how to behave. He was so unpredictable. Yet now,” she murmured thoughtfully, “he does not seem like such a bad man. Perhaps it is as you said that day on the way back from Jacob’s well. Perhaps he needed a wife to make his life easier.”
    Hannah nodded. The two women talked as they worked, sharing the latest gossip, and finally parted to their respective homes. As Marah carried the basket of clothes, she noted that the afternoon shadows were beginning to stretch over the yard. Zibeon would be returning from the shop soon. She remembered that first day when she had braced herself to face Zibeon’s return. When he came, he strode boldly into the house and sat down by the small fire. Marah and Athaliah moved swiftly to set his dinner in front of him. He did not greet his mother or Marah but lustily consumed his food. From time to time he watched her. It was as if he were waiting for something.
    At last Marah had taken a deep breath and blurted, “Your day went well, Husband?”
    Zibeon paused and appeared to be surprised. Then he let out a great bellow of laughter.
    “That is good, Wife. Yes, I had a fine day.” His eyes narrowed and he looked at Athaliah. “She is adequate in her duties?”
    Athaliah had been hovering over him. “She will learn.”
    “Mmmmm,” Zibeon murmured. Then he looked at Athaliah again. “Shimei has not returned?” he growled.
    “No, my son,” she answered quickly. “It could be that the skins you sent him for took longer—”
    “You make excuses for him?” Zibeon bellowed and both women trembled.
    Zibeon leaned back on his elbow and belched. “Eat, old woman. I have had my fill.” As Marah hesitated, he indicated her with a wave of his hand. “You also, Wife. You will need your strength,” and he grinned. He unplugged the wineskin and took a great gulp.
    “Did Reba leave with the caravan, my son?”
    “Yes, Zohar the silversmith saw them leave at first light. Good riddance to that one!”
    He spat. For once Marah could agree with him.
    She waited, almost holding her breath as she helped Athaliah clean up the remnants of the meal. As Athaliah turned to her pallet at last, Zibeon picked up the small lamp.
    “Come, wife,” he ordered.
    Marah bowed her head and followed her husband from the room.

9
     
    M arah