When I return home from the bath, I am feeling worlds better: clean, crisp, and rehabilitated. I feel as if I have been through a war and survived.
Mother is at the courtyard to greet me, and the sun is nearly set.
"Where is your husband?" she asks.
I have planned for this. It may go badly, but it is the best of all options.
"He went to see his uncle," I say. "He may have to stay the night."
Mother's eyes narrow.
"There aren't problems between you, are there?"
I twist my hands together. I want to tell her, but any way I say it, it will be a lie. Plus, what will a woman like Mother do with honesty? It is like casting pearls to swine.
"He...he is good to me," I say, and I cast my eyes downward. It is a charade, nothing more, and Mother buys it.
"What?" she asks. Her voice is sharp. "Does he beat you?"
I give a quick glance up, my eyes widening with feigned surprise. "No, no," I say. Then I pause. "Well...once, a few times."
And this time my face really does go red, because for all of my pretension, I am telling the truth.
Mother says nothing, only stares at me with open eyes, her jaw working the entire time.
"When he comes back, let me know," she says, and then she turns and walks back into her chamber. I can hear the sound of liquid gurgling from a bottle, and I can see that the evening has officially arrived.
YOU ARE READING
I Am Not an Adulteress Anymore
Historical FictionHanna has been married off to a man of the rival Samaritan tribe, forsaking her people and her God. But when he strikes her and she loses her child, things change forever.
