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the earth, the winds, and the rain—said there was something. Perhaps the God of Judah was that something . A shield against enemies. A shelter in a storm. Nay, a fortress . . . oh, how she longed to know. Yet she dared not ask.
    What right had she to bother Judah with questions, especially when so many other things plagued him?
    Someday, perhaps, she would have the time and the opportunity to ask.
    In the meantime, she would wait and hope to see some sign of what Judah believed and how he worshiped.
    * * *
    Judah and Er returned five days later. Tamar heard them arguing long before they entered the house. So did Bathshua, for she sighed heavily. “Go and milk one of the goats, Tamar, and tell your nurse to make some bread. Perhaps if the men eat, they will be in better humor.”
    By the time Tamar returned with a jug of fresh goat’s milk, Judah was reclining against some cushions. His eyes were closed, but Tamar knew he wasn’t asleep. His face was tense, and Bathshua was sitting close by, glaring at him. She’d probably been vexing him again, and he was doing his best to shut her out.
    “Five days, Judah. Five days. Did you have to stay that long?”
    “You could have come with me.”
    “And done what? Listen to your brothers’ wives? What have I in common with them? And your mother doesn’t like me!” She whined and complained like a selfish child.
    Tamar offered Er milk. “Wine,” he said with a jerk of his chin, clearly in a surly mood. “I want wine!”
    “I’ll have milk,” Judah said, his eyes opening enough to look at her.
    Bathshua’s head came up. “Here! Give me that. I’ll serve my husband while you see to my son.” When she had the jug, she sloshed some milk into a cup, thrust it at Judah, and then set the jug within his reach so that he could serve himself next time.
    Bathshua was still badgering Judah when Tamar returned with wine for Er.
    “What good does it do you to see your father, Judah? Has anything changed? You’re always miserable when you come home from his tent. Let Jacob grieve over his second wife and son. Forget about him. Every time you go back to see him, you come home and make my life miserable!”
    “I will not forsake my father,” Judah said, his jaw clenched.
    “Why not? He’s forsaken you. A pity the old man doesn’t die and spare us all. . . .”
    “Enough!” Judah roared. Tamar saw that it was not anger but pain that made him cry out. Grimacing, he raked his hands back through his hair. “Just once, Bathshua, hold your tongue!” He raised his head and glared at her. “Even better, leave me alone!”
    “How can you speak to me so cruelly?” She wept angrily. “I’m the mother of your sons. Three sons!”
    “Three worthless sons.” Judah’s eyes narrowed coldly on Er.
    Tamar’s stomach dropped as she waited for him to say something that would rouse Er’s temper. Her husband would control his temper as long as he was in his father’s presence, but later she would be the recipient of his frustration. Bathshua kept on until Tamar wanted to scream at her to stop, to leave, to have some particle of common sense. Thankfully, Bathshua stormed out of the room, leaving silence behind her.
    Tamar was left alone to serve both men. The tension in the room made her nerves tingle. She replenished Er’s cup of wine. He emptied the cup and held it out for more. She glanced at Judah before refilling it. Er looked up at her with a scowl, then at his father. “Onan and Shelah can see to the flocks for the next few days. I’m going to see my friends.”
    Judah raised his head slowly and looked at his son. “Will you?” His voice was soft, his eyes hard.
    Er shifted. He looked into his cup and then drained it. “With your permission, of course.”
    Judah gazed at Tamar and then looked away. “Go ahead. But stay out of trouble this time.”
    A muscle jerked in Er’s cheek. “I never start trouble.”
    “Of course not,” Judah said drolly.
    Er stood and