covering Job and Sitis. “My mistress, not you too! I cannot bear to lose you too!” She ran to Sitis, lifting her mistress’s chin, her arms, inspecting her for injuries.
Job tried to gather the hysterical woman in his arms. “Nada, calm down. What’s happened? What do you mean—”
“No!” Elihu grabbed the maid’s arm with such ferocity and strength that Job stood gaping. “Nada, where is Uzahmah?” Elihu raved. “I saw you walking to Ennon’s house as I entered the city.” The old woman buried her face in her hands, shaking with sobs, unable—or unwilling—to speak.
“No,” Sitis said, her voice a menacing growl, head wagging side to side.
Nada let her hands fall to her sides, her expression pleading. “Mistress, I tried to help them.”
“No! Nada! It’s not true. Tell me right now that my children are safe!” Sitis screamed, trembling violently. “Tell me the babes you caught on birthing stones are alive and drinking wine at my oldest son’s home.”
Job suddenly felt as though he were inside a narrow hallway. Sounds became distant. He grabbed Sitis, clinging to her. Was this real or a terrible nightmare?
“Nada,” he said, struggling for breath, “tell us clearly what happened.” He was vaguely aware of others in the room, but he couldn’t recall their names or why they were present. He could see only Nada, hear only her voice.
“I went to Ennon’s house to tell the children you had arrived home and Elihu would be here shortly.” Nada gasped, the rest of her words coming out in a cry. “Then the wind came. A mighty desert wind struck the four corners of the house as I walked out of the courtyard. The stone walls gave way, and the tented ceilings and beams came down on top of them.”
“Nooo!” Sitis collapsed into Job’s arms, but this time he had no strength to hold her. They both tumbled to the floor, lost together in private agony. Sitis continued her wailing, groping on the floor. Someone cradled her, tried to comfort her, but Job couldn’t think about Sitis. He had to know about the children.
Like a madman, Job was back on his feet. He grabbed Nada’s head between his hands and drew her face so close, he could smell the sweet wine she’d been drinking. “The children, Nada,” Job shouted above Sitis’s cries. “Did you see them? Did you see any of the servants? Could they have escaped somehow?”
The old woman’s arms began to flail. “No!” she screamed. “The children, the servants—everyone. They’re all dead! I saw them begging me to help them, their hands held out to me among the red rocks and broken beams!” She called out the children’s names, slapping herself in the face, smashing her fists into the unyielding stone wall until her knuckles were bloody.
Job tried to restrain her, but she shoved him away with surprising strength. He watched helplessly as hysteria entered their midst, its grip like the leviathan’s jaws.
Elihu ran from the room, screaming, “Uzahmah, no! Uzahmah!” Job called after him but realized the boy was beyond reason.
Sitis clutched at Dinah’s robes, her hair, her face, as though grief were quicksand and Dinah the lone rope. Then, just as quickly, Sitis rebuffed Dinah’s embrace and struck her violently. Dinah tried to quiet her, tried to restrain her, but the grief fueled his wife’s strength, and Dinah moved away, giving wide berth to Sitis’s frenzy. The inconsolable mother pulled out handfuls of her long, ebony hair and clawed at her own face, leaving deep gouges.
“No, not my children! El Shaddai, Al-Uzza, by the gods, not my babies!”
“Come, wife,” Job said with a sudden and unexplained calm. He grasped Sitis’s shoulders, lifting her gently to her feet, restraining her tenderly but firmly. “Only one God can help us.”
“No!” Sitis screamed. “This is your fault! You and your God!” She broke away from his guiding hands.
“Sitis. Stop this. Please, let me help you.”
“Like you helped
Job tried to gather the hysterical woman in his arms. “Nada, calm down. What’s happened? What do you mean—”
“No!” Elihu grabbed the maid’s arm with such ferocity and strength that Job stood gaping. “Nada, where is Uzahmah?” Elihu raved. “I saw you walking to Ennon’s house as I entered the city.” The old woman buried her face in her hands, shaking with sobs, unable—or unwilling—to speak.
“No,” Sitis said, her voice a menacing growl, head wagging side to side.
Nada let her hands fall to her sides, her expression pleading. “Mistress, I tried to help them.”
“No! Nada! It’s not true. Tell me right now that my children are safe!” Sitis screamed, trembling violently. “Tell me the babes you caught on birthing stones are alive and drinking wine at my oldest son’s home.”
Job suddenly felt as though he were inside a narrow hallway. Sounds became distant. He grabbed Sitis, clinging to her. Was this real or a terrible nightmare?
“Nada,” he said, struggling for breath, “tell us clearly what happened.” He was vaguely aware of others in the room, but he couldn’t recall their names or why they were present. He could see only Nada, hear only her voice.
“I went to Ennon’s house to tell the children you had arrived home and Elihu would be here shortly.” Nada gasped, the rest of her words coming out in a cry. “Then the wind came. A mighty desert wind struck the four corners of the house as I walked out of the courtyard. The stone walls gave way, and the tented ceilings and beams came down on top of them.”
“Nooo!” Sitis collapsed into Job’s arms, but this time he had no strength to hold her. They both tumbled to the floor, lost together in private agony. Sitis continued her wailing, groping on the floor. Someone cradled her, tried to comfort her, but Job couldn’t think about Sitis. He had to know about the children.
Like a madman, Job was back on his feet. He grabbed Nada’s head between his hands and drew her face so close, he could smell the sweet wine she’d been drinking. “The children, Nada,” Job shouted above Sitis’s cries. “Did you see them? Did you see any of the servants? Could they have escaped somehow?”
The old woman’s arms began to flail. “No!” she screamed. “The children, the servants—everyone. They’re all dead! I saw them begging me to help them, their hands held out to me among the red rocks and broken beams!” She called out the children’s names, slapping herself in the face, smashing her fists into the unyielding stone wall until her knuckles were bloody.
Job tried to restrain her, but she shoved him away with surprising strength. He watched helplessly as hysteria entered their midst, its grip like the leviathan’s jaws.
Elihu ran from the room, screaming, “Uzahmah, no! Uzahmah!” Job called after him but realized the boy was beyond reason.
Sitis clutched at Dinah’s robes, her hair, her face, as though grief were quicksand and Dinah the lone rope. Then, just as quickly, Sitis rebuffed Dinah’s embrace and struck her violently. Dinah tried to quiet her, tried to restrain her, but the grief fueled his wife’s strength, and Dinah moved away, giving wide berth to Sitis’s frenzy. The inconsolable mother pulled out handfuls of her long, ebony hair and clawed at her own face, leaving deep gouges.
“No, not my children! El Shaddai, Al-Uzza, by the gods, not my babies!”
“Come, wife,” Job said with a sudden and unexplained calm. He grasped Sitis’s shoulders, lifting her gently to her feet, restraining her tenderly but firmly. “Only one God can help us.”
“No!” Sitis screamed. “This is your fault! You and your God!” She broke away from his guiding hands.
“Sitis. Stop this. Please, let me help you.”
“Like you helped
Similar Books
