Boaz watched as Ruth's shadowy figure disappeared into the pre-dawn darkness. He stood, moments after, staring into the nothingness, still trying to gather his thoughts.

He trudged his way back to his makeshift bedding of straw, and dropped, weary, into it. It wasn't so much him being tired because of losing sleep as it was him dreading what came next. He was both excited and anxious.

His train of thoughts veered into the what-ifs, and he started to think of the many ways the upcoming meeting could go wrong. Then he caught himself and shook his head as if to clear those thoughts.

He'd grappled all night with the task set before him-what it meant to him, how he felt about it. Thinking of the possibility of Ruth becoming his wife, he would get this fluttery feeling in his stomach. His heart would beat faster in anticipation.

But after he'd gone down the positive road, his thoughts would veer. Thoughts of Ruth with Cush would fill his mind and cause him to plunge into depths of despair.

Then he'd have to reign in his thoughts and remind himself that she'd never been his, to begin with, and may never be his wife. He needed to be okay with that.

He sighed and leaned back, slouching against the mount of barley behind.

The day hadn't even begun, and he was already weary of it. He wanted so badly to be done with his task.

He looked up to the heavens just as dawn was approaching, and was witness to something breathtaking. He'd seen many a sun rising in his days, yet he was amazed each time. There was something about sunrise that calmed his spirit and left him feeling nothing but awe.

He sat frozen in place, his entire being was focused on the scene that unfolded before him-his creator using the sky as His canvas.

The sun peaked through the darkness, banishing it and welcoming the colours of the morning.

The radiant, fiery sun lit the sky on fire, smoky grey clouds accompanying. Intense hues of orange, purples, streaks of pink. A thousand colours in between.

Cool winds swirled and wrapped around him, transporting with them the dewy smell of the early morning.

Trees in the distance stretched skywards, and cast their branches outwards, upwards. As if trying to reach up into the heavens.

Then almost as quickly as it had begun, the sky started to change. Clouds migrating. A thousand colours of the sunrise shifting, mixing, merging-blazing red to purple, to a calm blue.

He grinned up at the sky, thankful. He'd needed that.

He took in a lung-full of fresh air and let go of the tensions that had built up inside him as he exhaled. His body went limp against the support.

There was no use giving himself anxiety, worrying over things he couldn't control.

But he couldn't help it. This one was hard for him to surrender.

Boaz was the kind of man that set his sights on something and worked his hardest to achieve it. But hard work couldn't help him now. And he hadn't wanted something this bad in a long time.

Somehow, amidst his fear, he'd equated trusting Yahweh to guarantee an undesirable outcome.

Surrender was scary, but from experience, he knew that though Yahweh's will didn't always align with his immediate desires, they were always the best options for him in the end.

Repentant, Boaz felt hope rise within him. He didn't know what Yahweh had planned for the future, but he had a feeling there was something more in the cards for him.

♣♧♣♧♣

The city square was abuzz with activity. Boaz was one of the many travellers of a well-worn, meandering path of compact dirt.

The cacophony of noise that was the market experience filled his senses. The pounding of donkey and horse hooves trotting past him fastened to carts and wagons loaded with farm produce.

Traders stationed on both sides of the path, calling out, vying for the attention of potential customers, each trying to outdo their competitors.

Excited streams of pedestrians rushing to and fro, most in happy moods and calling out greetings to passers-by.

Boaz loved to see it. It was a welcome deviation from the gloomy years of famine now behind them. New stalls were propped up everywhere he looked.

The population of Bethlehem was increasing once again. Weddings were being held, children were being born. Those that had survived the sojourn to other countries returned in multitudes.

Boaz received his own share of the greetings, and he gave polite, curt responses. His straight-backed posture, long strides, determined demeanour invited no room for further conversation. He was a man on a mission.

He'd usually be headed for the produce section, where most of his farm products were sold, or straight through to the city gate, where he'd attended to many official matters. But his business led him down a different path today. The fabric section.

He took a left turn to that portion of the marketplace. Cush's booth was one of the first in sight.

Two women were engaged in a conversation with Anat, Cush's younger sister. She was all smiles, her explanation animated. She gestured towards some of the displayed fabric, towards herself, towards them. Her undivided attention was on those two customers. And they were nodding as she spoke; clearly engrossed in whatever it was she was saying. Boaz judged her a great salesperson.

Her brother, on the other hand, was perched atop a wooden stool, leaning against the sturdy, wooden post of his stall. His arms were folded over his chest, and he scowled at every passing non-customer.

The young man had buried both his parents and sold his inherited land during the famine. Being his kinsman, Boaz had taken it upon himself to ensure neither he nor his sister starved to death. He'd taken them under his wings and provided for their needs. After a while, it seemed Cush had deemed it his right that Boaz catered to his every whim.

After the last drunken episode at his farm, Boaz had decided it was time Cush was gainfully employed. It was neither to his benefit nor the young man's to keep him dependent. He needed to learn to stand on his own two feet.

So, Boaz had gotten him a booth in the market and the capital to start a business.

Selling fabric had been Anat's idea. She was extremely skilled in the art of fabric making, and evidently, in the art of selling as well.

Boaz drew near to the stall and greeted all present.

Anat turned delighted eyes his direction and returned the greeting. Her customers did the same.

Cush left his place in the shade and stepped forward to attend Boaz.

"Shalom, uncle."

"Shalom."

Boaz took stock of the array of fabrics before him, grouped by colour and quality. One, in particular, gripped his attention. Made with fine crimson linen, with intricate, golden embroidery woven into the edges.

Fabric fit for a bride. How he longed to see Ruth in this, standing in front of him as his bride. He felt the fabric, pleased at the rich, high quality feel it.

Cush noticed his interest and smiled. He lifted the cloth to give Boaz a good look. He was curious about what his old, bachelor uncle would want this particular cloth for, but decided quickly that he didn't care. A sale was a sale. And of his best, most expensive fabric, no less.

"You have a good eye, uncle. Should I package this for you?"

Boaz shook his head. He needed to focus on what he had come to do.

"No. I was just admiring this. Come with me; I have something important to discuss with you."

His bushy brows knit together in a furrow, causing his forehead to crinkle between his eyes. He frowned. "Something like what?"

"A business transaction."

That piqued his interest. If there was money to be made, he was very interested.

He nodded and followed Boaz to the centre of the market square-the meeting centre where judicial matters were resolved by the elders.

Boaz chose one of the shaded settings of the outdoor court and asked Cush to settle down, while he called on ten elders-the official number required-to judge.

Naomi and Ruth also joined the meeting.

By this time, Cush was already getting impatient. He'd resumed his folded arms posture, his index finger tapping restless against his arm.

A small cluster of spectators was standing to the side, witnesses to the proceedings.

Boaz looked to Naomi, and she nodded her approval.

It was time.

He sat facing Cush, wanting to catch every nuance in his expression.

"You remember Naomi," He began, gesturing towards the women.

"I do," Cush affirmed.

He'd been a boy when they'd left Bethlehem, but he could still remember his uncle Elimelech and his wife. Their sons, too. They'd been age mates and had spent much time playing, hunting, causing mischief.

He thought back fondly to those times. Back then, before the famine, before the death of his parents and the burden of responsibilities.

A pity they'd foolishly left Bethlehem.

He brought his thoughts back to the present and returned to listening to Boaz. "She's returned from her sojourn in the land of Moab, and is selling Elimelech's land."

Cush's eyebrows drew together, and the thin line of his lips turned down into a scowl. Did Boaz bring him here to waste his time?

"What does this have to do with me?"

"You are her closest kinsman. You have the choice to redeem the land. But if you choose not to, speak now in the presence of the elders so I may redeem it myself."

He inquired the price and was pleasantly shocked. It was ridiculously underpriced.

He'd have to cut down on his many frivolities to scrape together some money for it. Maybe borrow some more here and there. But it would be so worth it.

Uncle Elimelech's land had been one of the choice lands in Bethlehem. He'd heard his own father express his envy over it many times.

It was quite fertile and set in a good location too. If Cush bought it now, he would have more than double his investments in no time.

And why should Uncle Boaz get the land? He already had so much wealth and property.

He grinned wide. This was a blessing, indeed, for he would have land to his name, after all.

Was there anything to think about? He had no land. He'd been forced to sell his own due to hunger. It was good land, and the price was beyond reasonable.

Plus, he would get a lot of accolades for being a 'selfless' redeemer.

"I'll do it."