Rebekah

by Jill Eileen Smith

  “Perhaps they were already at odds before they left?” Selima’s eyes grew wide, but her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “They do not always get along. It is the way of brothers. Laban and Bethuel were no different.” She thanked the God of Shem, blessed be His name, that her only child had been a girl, despite the circumstances of her birth.

  Selima’s look grew thoughtful.

  “So, finish your thought, my girl! Your mother’s bones grow old waiting for you to finish.” She rubbed the small of her back to emphasize her point.

  “Nadab said he had come back to ask Isaac for permission to marry. And Haviv says, ‘Good, good, I am happy for you, Brother.’ And Nadab says, ‘I’m glad you feel that way, Brother, because I am asking to marry Selima.’”

  “Is there another Selima in the camp?” Deborah scowled, trying to think, but could not recall another girl or woman that shared her daughter’s name.

  Selima paused and slowly shook her head. “No. I do not think so. In any case, Haviv says, ‘Selima? My Selima?’ He called me his, Ima! And then Nadab says, ‘As far as I can tell, she is not yours yet, Brother. I thought you should know that Isaac is considering my request.’”

  “He already asked Isaac?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “What did Haviv do?”

  Selima sighed. “I wanted to sneak closer to see, for all I could hear were grunts and the sounds of flesh against bone. I think Haviv struck Nadab. Do you think he will kill him?” Horror filled her gaze and she covered her mouth, swaying as though the thought had suddenly dawned on her.

  Deborah caught her arm. “Brothers have killed each other over such things before. Was not the first murder done because of jealousy? The God of Adam, blessed be His name, banished Cain for killing Abel.”

  A sob escaped Selima’s lips.

  Deborah’s grip tightened. “Come, my daughter. We must run to Isaac and tell him. Perhaps he can stop their fighting before it is too late.”

  Rebekah picked up the camp oven and hung it from a peg inside the women’s cooking tent. The buzz of female voices filled the area, rising and falling as the women hurried to and from the central fire, taking food to their men. She turned at the sound of Selima’s excited chatter as Selima and Deborah rushed past her toward the place where Isaac sat. What on earth?

  “Deborah, wait!” She hurried after her maids, who did not stop despite her call. Something was wrong. She joined them as they came to a halt near Isaac’s seat and bowed low.

  “My lord, forgive us,” Deborah said, rising to face Isaac. “But you must hurry to the wadi and stop Haviv and Nadab before they kill each other.”

  Rebekah gasped, and she looked to her husband.

  Isaac began walking, acting more quickly than Rebekah had ever seen. “What are they fighting about?” he asked as the three women gathered their skirts and hurried after him.

  “Nadab told Haviv that he had asked you for permission to marry my daughter, while everyone knows it is Haviv who has his eye on her. Why should the boy do such a thing?”

  Deborah’s comment would have made Rebekah smile if the situation weren’t so grave.

  Isaac did not respond, but his pace increased, and all three of the women had to run to keep up. They came at last to the outskirts of the camp, to the rise overlooking the wadi, where they spotted Nadab squatting in the dirt and no sign of Haviv.

  Isaac slowed his approach and stopped at Nadab’s side. “Where is your brother?”

  Nadab tilted his head toward the wadi, and Rebekah raced Selima to the edge of the rise to look down at the moving water below. Haviv sat a good distance away, his back to them.

  Selima started down the rise, but Deborah caught one of her arms, Rebekah the other. “Wait,” they both said at once.

  Selima resisted, but at Deborah’s stern glance, she stilled.

  “Why? I must go to him to see if he is all right.”

  “And destroy the man’s pride? It is already bruised. Come.” Deborah pulled Selima away from the wadi, back in the direction of the camp.

  Rebekah glanced once more at Haviv, who appeared to be fine, and followed. They walked in silence until they were out of earshot of the men.

  “Why wouldn’t you let me go to him, Ima? He needs me!”

  “Yes, of course he needs you. But what man who is thinking straight wants a woman to see his defeat? They did not kill each other. That is enough. Let Isaac sort out the details between the brothers, and when Isaac comes with an offer from one of them, you will marry him and be done with it. If he gives you to Nadab, you will be glad you did not rush to comfort Haviv.” Deborah’s words came out winded, and Rebekah touched her arm.

  “There is no longer a need to rush. Let us catch our breaths on our way back to camp.” Rebekah turned to Selima. “Your mother is right. Listen to her.”

  “But I don’t want Nadab.”

  “Pouting does no good, Selima. Pray. Trust Adonai to give you the man you want. Did He not do so for Rebekah?” Deborah looked at Rebekah, and the two exchanged a smile.

  Selima nodded. “Yes. But it is very hard to wait for God to act.”

  Rebekah placed an arm around her maid’s shoulder as they reached the edge of the camp. “It is even harder to wait for men to act. Pray, Selima. God works faster than men.”

  The words silently chastised her. She had her own praying to do and only hoped her words were true.

  Isaac paused at the threshold to his tent, suddenly realizing that Rebekah could not join him this night. He had seen the shadow cross her face when she served him the morning meal two days ago, a reminder that her time was upon her. There would be no child this month, and despite his reassurances, the knowledge seemed to trouble her more with each passing day. Adonai must have something to teach them with the waiting, but Isaac’s comments to that extent did not bode well with her. Why could she not simply trust?

  He took the torch from its stand near the entryway and lit a clay lamp to carry inside. He turned at the crunch of stones behind him.

  “May I speak with you, my lord?” Moonlight revealed the concern in Rebekah’s eyes. “I would not ask if it were not important.”

  He studied her a moment, longing to pull her close, to touch the softness of her hair and to kiss the worry from between her eyes, but he did not broach the distance, unwilling to defile either of them simply because he could not restrain his desires. Only the foolish did such things and did not respect Adonai’s plan.

  “I cannot invite you inside—”

  “No, I understand.”

  “Perhaps a walk?” He took the torch to light their way behind the row of tents where the trees grew tall and proud beyond them. He came to an outcropping of rocks, brushed some loose branches aside, and bade her sit. “I am glad you came. I assume you are curious about Nadab and Haviv.”

  “Yes.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked up at him. The worry lines decreased, and her eyes held deep interest.

  He set the torch in a crevice between two rocks, then braced himself against the trunk of a terebinth tree. “They did indeed fight over your maid Selima.”

  Her expression grew serious and she nodded. “She wants to marry Haviv.”

  Isaac rubbed a hand over his beard, contemplating this new piece of information. “Why would Nadab try to take the girl from his brother? Everyone in camp can see the way the two look at each other.”

  Nadab appeared more interested in mocking his brother and purposely inciting his wrath. The boy needed a woman to ease some of his wild streak.

  “It is hard to say, my lord. Nadab may be jealous of Haviv. You do give Haviv more authority and responsibility.” Rebekah shifted and smoothed her robes.

  “Haviv is older. It is his right.”

  “And Selima is my maid. I can give her to you if I wish. They have no right to fight over her.”

  “I do not want your maid.” He looked at her hard. “I have told you this.”

  She lo
wered her gaze, and he berated himself that he had hurt her.

  “I am glad, my lord. Forgive me. I look too often for reassurance.”

  “There is nothing to reassure. I want only you, beloved.”

  She looked at him and he smiled, relieved to see her relax. He straightened and walked a short distance up the path, then turned back to her. “Her betrothal must be sealed at once.” He leaned one hand against the tree trunk and looked at her. “Shall I give her to Haviv?”

  Her smiled warmed him, and he had to fight the urge to take her hand, pull her into his arms, and hold her close.

  “I am glad that you value my opinion, my lord. Haviv seems to be a worthy man. Selima would be pleased. But Nadab should also be given a wife. He has waited too long to choose one.”

  “I agree. But that decision should belong to his father and mother.”

  “Will Nadab cause trouble if he does not get his way with Selima?” She placed both hands on the stone seat, her bearing stiff as if ready to pounce on Nadab should he even think to do such a thing.

  Isaac wondered the same. He could not have these brothers continue to fight. “Nadab will respect my decision. If he does not, I will send him back to my father’s camp.”

  She tilted her head, her look thoughtful. “That might be wise even before he can respond. Give him time to let his anger cool.” She looked at him, sudden alarm creasing her brow. “Or plot his revenge. How much time does it take a man to get over a woman he loves?”

  He regarded her. “To hear my father speak of it, he never does. But Nadab does not love Selima.”

  Had God’s test never come, the love between his father and mother would not have been strained. He shook the thought aside and glanced at Rebekah, seeing compassion softening her gaze.

  She rose and took a step closer. “I wish I could change the past for you, my husband.”

  He shook his head. “You cannot change the will of Adonai, my love. And we cannot keep Nadab from his anger. One of them will go away from this perhaps hating the other. They cannot both have her.”

  He studied her, finding her changing expressions far more interesting than the turn of a leaf or the intricate carvings in the bark of a tree. He suddenly wondered how he could traipse into the wilderness to be alone, away from her, to study the created things and how they grew, when the most amazing of all creatures stood before him within arm’s reach.

  “I will send word to Eliezer and Lila to seek a wife for Nadab.” He closed the distance between them, bending his head toward hers. “I hope you know, dear wife, that I want desperately to kiss you right now.” His breath fanned her face, and she laughed.

  “And I wish you would, dear husband.” She gave him a coy smile, then took a step backward. “But the teachings of Adonai—we do not want to break them.” Uncertainty flickered in her gaze. “We must not do anything to anger Him.”

  Her worry sobered him, and he stepped back a pace as well. “No, of course not.”

  Though they had no written code or law that commanded they do one thing or another, the teachings of their ancestors Seth and Eber had given them plenty of instructions to follow. Were not the sacrifices themselves proof of the need to obey?

  Shame heated his face that he had come so close to leading them both astray. To touch a woman in her uncleanness, even the most chaste kiss, might cause Adonai’s disfavor. And though a sacrifice might be enough to cover their sin, Isaac knew better than to purposely disobey. He would do nothing to cause Rebekah to fear or to blame him for incurring God’s disapproval.

  “We should go back,” he said, suddenly anxious to return her safely to her tent. He picked up the torch and motioned for her to go ahead of him. “When your week is passed, we will travel to Hebron together with Nadab to secure a wife for him. In the meantime, we will see to it that Haviv and Selima are wed.”

  19

  Rebekah walked with Selima to the wadi the next day, trying to determine how to tell the girl of their decision. “I suppose there is only one way to say it.”

  Selima joined her at the river’s edge, where they both dipped their jars and returned them to their shoulders. “Do you have good news, I hope?”

  Rebekah leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Isaac and I have decided on a husband for you. We are giving you to Haviv this night.”

  Selima stopped midstride and faced Rebekah with an expression that seemed to change quickly from awe to excitement to worry. “This night? But, so soon?”

  “It could not be helped, Selima. It is safer this way.”

  Though Rebekah had thought they might wait until week’s end, Isaac had met her when she emerged from her tent that morning and proclaimed the wedding would be best completed now. He had spoken to Haviv after their discussion the previous eve and feared what Nadab might do if the girl was not safely in Haviv’s arms by nightfall.

  The thought spurred Rebekah to move back toward the camp. “Come. We have much to do.”

  Selima hurried to catch up with her. “Am I really to wed Haviv this night?” A giddy laugh escaped her lips. “I had hoped . . . When he found me with the injured leg, I think I loved him at once.” Her eyes lit with delight. “There is so much to be done. Will we have a big celebration? Will you make the special fig cakes as part of the meal?” She paused in her chattering and stopped again.

  Rebekah turned back, reading worry in Selima’s gaze. “What is it?”

  Selima’s face flushed several shades of red, and Rebekah did not need her to speak to know what had entered her mind. She closed the gap between them. “You have nothing to fear. Haviv is a good man.”

  Selima nodded, but when she did not speak after several moments, Rebekah turned toward camp again. “Come. Isaac is going to announce your wedding at the morning meal.”

  She glanced back and smiled at Selima’s stricken look. This was a good decision. It was time Selima had a man to please instead of her own wild imaginings. The reality would be nothing like what she had dreamed of in her infatuation with handsome and wealthy men.

  It was time the girl faced that fact.

  Isaac found Nadab still abed long after dawn had risen in the sky. He bent to rouse him and was greeted with a groan and a muttered curse. “Let me sleep.” But as the man opened his eyes, he seemed to think better of his words. “Forgive me, my lord.” He pushed himself to sit up, quickly closing his eyes again, and put a hand to his head. “Is it morning already?”

  “How much wine did you drink last night?” Isaac glanced around the tent, looking for a jar of water and a cloth to dip in it to ease the man’s headache, but the tent was sparsely furnished and the jar nearly empty.

  “Not much.” Nadab let his head flop back on the cushion and raised an arm over his eyes. “Am I late for something?”

  Isaac sat back on his heels, studying the younger man. Nadab had always been the reckless sort, and perhaps more hotheaded than he should be. How well would he take the news Isaac was about to deliver?

  “I need you to arise and shake the stupor from your head.” Isaac walked to one of the tent walls and lifted the sides just enough to let light filter inside. He turned back to Nadab, relieved that the man was at last sitting up.

  “You have come to a decision.” Nadab’s tone held resignation. “You are giving her to Haviv.”

  Isaac squatted at Nadab’s side, searching the man’s beleaguered expression. “Yes.”

  Nadab ran both hands over his face and shook his head as though trying to clear it. “I should have known. Haviv always gets his way.”

  “She is better suited to Haviv.”

  Nadab stared, unblinking. “You cannot know that.”

  Isaac stood, turning his back to Nadab. “You do not love her as Haviv does.”

  Silence followed the remark, and Isaac faced Nadab again, but Nadab would not meet his gaze.

  “What do you want from me?” Nadab’s tone did not hold its usual respect. Definitely time to send him to his father.

  “I a
m sending you to my father’s camp for a time. You will serve him until we can work things out between you and your brother.”

  Isaac offered a hand to pull Nadab to his feet, but he refused it. He rose of his own accord and walked to the chest where the nearly empty water jug sat, poured a small stream into his palm, then splashed the water onto his face and beard. He shook his head, letting the small droplets fly where they would, and faced Isaac again.

  “What if I do not want to go?”

  His eyes held a glint of something Isaac had not seen in him before. Resignation, yes, but resentment also lingered in the narrowed eyes and the slight clenching of the chiseled chin.

  “Go anyway. Let your father seek a wife for you, and then we will discuss your return.”

  Nadab stepped away from Isaac and crossed both arms over his chest. “I do not need my father’s help in choosing a wife. I am capable of choosing a wife on my own.”

  Isaac looked at his overseer and lifted a brow. “You might want to rethink those words.”

  Nadab’s gaze still held defiance, but when Isaac did not flinch or look away, he at last lowered his head. “Forgive me, my lord.”

  Isaac watched the man for a moment. His rigid posture, despite the bowed head, belied the sincerity of his words. But Isaac chose to ignore what wasn’t said. “Do as I ask and go to Hebron. Speak to your father and marry a wife. Things will improve when you do.”

  He turned and walked out of the tent, hoping Nadab was quick to obey his words.

  The week ended with a sense of excitement. Saddlebags were packed, and Rebekah gave Selima last-minute instructions on caring for the household in her absence. “Don’t let the servants grow lax in their work. The men still need feeding, and the garments still need to be finished for the Syrian caravan that should come through within the month.” She touched Selima’s arm. “I am counting on you and Haviv to keep things in order.”

  Selima’s color heightened at the mention of Haviv’s name, and she glanced toward the donkeys, where Isaac spoke with the girl’s new husband. She nodded, her eyes wide with too much responsibility, and Rebekah feared the girl was still too young and inexperienced to handle all that was required of her in their absence.