In the Field of Grace Read Free Page A

Always.”
    They were her last words.

Chapter

One
FIVE YEARS LATER
     

    To whom do you belong? And where are you from?

1 SAMUEL 30:13
     
     
    E veryone in the city of Kir-hareseth seemed to have descended upon the marketplace, making final purchases before the stalls closed down. Crowds. Why couldn’t they just stay home? Ruth tried to ignore the jostle of too many bodies. Dragging a perspiring hand down her worn tunic, she took a deep breath to steady her jangled nerves; the scent of sweat covered thinly by oily perfumes hit her with the force of a blow.
    Ruth’s mother had sent her to buy dates. She eyed the mounds of brown sticky fruit in a stall, trying to calculate how to get the best price so she could avoid one of her mother’s blistering set downs. Bending forward, she picked one and examined it with intensity. It looked like a date to Ruth, which exhausted the breadth of her knowledge on the topic. About to open her mouth to ask for the price, she was surprised when a gentle hand caressed her arm.
    “You can find better,” a soft voice whispered in her ear. Startled, Ruth turned to find the source of the advice. The woman was in her middle years, with smooth skin and thick grey hair that peeked from beneath her ivory headdress. Her faded blue tunic appeared clean, the only good thing that could be said for it. The leather of her sandals, visible beneath her ankle-length tunic, showed signs of long wear.
    Brown eyes sparkled at her. “What a lovely young woman. May the Lord bless you, child.”
    Compliments and Ruth did not go together. Certainly, no one had ever called her
lovely
. Her eldest sister was the acknowledged beauty of the family. Ruth was the last born and the Great Disappointment. The last chance at her parents’ hope for a son, unfulfilled.
    Too tall. Too quiet. Too female.
    “Pardon?” she said, fumbling with the empty cloth bag she held, trying unsuccessfully to swallow.
    “Forgive me. My sons tell me I am too free with my tongue. But you are such a pretty creature, I had to tell you.”
    Ruth gaped at her like one of the cows of Bashan.
    The stranger flashed a wide smile, displaying a full set of startlingly white teeth. “I’ve embarrassed you. I’m sorry. We are more forthright with our thoughts in Israel. I’ve never lost the habit.”
    That explained the odd lilting accent. And the strange blessing she had given Ruth. What had she said? The Lord. Not Chemosh, but the Lord bless you. “You are an Israelite,” Ruth said, forcing her tongue around the words.
    “Yes. My sons and I have lived here for some years. We came when Bethlehem went through a famine and we feared we might starve. My husband was with us then, but he died of a wasting disease some years ago.”
    “That must have been hard to bear,” Ruth said. “Having to raise your sons alone and in a foreign land.”
    “Hardest thing I’ve ever done. But the Lord has seen us through.”
    Ruth, who knew nothing about this Lord other than a vague recollection that He was the deity worshiped in Israel, gave a short nod.
    “I am Naomi. Naomi of Bethlehem, in Judah. And you, my sweet girl? What do they call you?”
    “Ruth.”
    “Ruth.” Naomi nodded. “I like it. Have you brothers and sisters?”
    “Four sisters, all older.”
    Naomi raised her brows and made a gentle humming sound in her throat. An odd silence settled over them; Ruth felt the crowds receding from her senses, their incessant sounds and smells muted. She had a strange notion that the woman had gazed into her life and seen it, known its pains and sorrows, just from that one sentence. As if Naomi knew that four older sisters meant Ruth had grown up invisible. Unwanted. Never quite managing to please anybody.
    Yet she had uttered no words. Just that gentle humming in her throat.
    As if coming to a sudden decision, Naomi said, “You must come to my home and share supper with us. My sons will be delighted to meet you.”
    Ruth’s jaw dropped open. “I