Jacob nodded, meeting the woman’s triumphant gaze, and he knew in that look that she was glad it was her daughter who had given Jacob an heir, the first sign of his strength, and not Rachel.
“Come.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Bless your son.”
He followed like an obedient ewe, accepting the well wishes of Laban and his sons, then followed Farah to Leah’s tent. Still no sign of Rachel.
“You cannot touch her or you will be unclean,” Farah was saying. “But you can speak to her and hold the babe.”
“Am I not supposed to bless the babe outside, in the presence of witnesses?”
Farah stopped at the threshold. “You can do that after you see Leah.”
He glanced around, still searching. He looked back at Farah. “Is Rachel in the tent?”
Farah could not hold his gaze but looked over his shoulder into the distance. “I assume she is in her own tent. I have not seen her.”
Jacob touched Farah’s arm. “Why did she not help her sister with the birthing?”
Farah looked at him then, and he caught the slightest flicker of indecision pass over her expression. A deep sigh escaped. “I would tell you that Rachel had no desire to be here. But the full truth is that Leah did not want her company. So they have not spoken, and Rachel is not here.” She crossed both arms over her chest, and the crowd stilled as though listening to their every word. “You must do something to make them get along, Jacob.”
Her comment raised his ire. “Me do something? I cannot control their jealousy. And I will remind you that we would not be in this situation if things had been done as I requested.”
Farah shook her head. “No, but we cannot undo the past. And Leah has given you a son where Rachel has not. So come, see your wife and son.”
Jacob stood still, warring with indecision. At last he turned and found a seat near the fire. He did not care what Laban said or did to him. He would see Leah in his own time. “Bring my son to me,” he said at last.
Farah looked from Jacob to Laban, then moved closer to her husband. “This is not right, my lord.”
Laban puffed on his pipe and looked from her to Jacob, then back again. “The man can do as he wishes with his wife,” he said. “Bring him the boy, and let me see my grandson.”
Farah’s expression darkened, but she did not protest. She turned and went into Leah’s tent, then returned with a swaddled bundle. She approached Jacob and held the sleeping boy out to him. “His name is Reuben.”
He has seen my misery. Jacob took the boy and looked into his face, his heart pricked with sudden guilt. Whether he visited Leah or not, she had sent him a clear message. She was miserable, and her son would be a constant reminder as to why.
“She said,” Farah continued, “‘surely my husband will love me now.’” She spoke loud enough for the entire company to hear.
Jacob’s face grew hot. He could not conjure love from nothing. Love was a feeling, a passion, a deep caring, bringing with it purpose and a desire to protect from all harm. Love drew him to Rachel to spend time with her, to grant her every desire. When it came to Leah, he had no love left to give. Rachel used it up, pulled it from him, and wrapped herself in it, creating a tight bond between them. How could he even think to share such a thing with her sister as well?
The thought was ludicrous!
He glanced at Leah’s mother, then down at the baby, his son, who had now opened his dark liquid eyes and seemed to look into Jacob’s soul. Whether he loved the mother or not, this was still his son. The thought warmed him in a way he had never felt before. He stroked the boy’s face with one finger and smiled.
“May you be blessed of Adonai, my son Reuben.” He faced the crowd and lifted the boy for all to see, then pulled him close to his heart. “My son!”
“May he be blessed of Adonai!” Laban said, and his sons and the women of the household said the same.
The noise startled the boy. His lips puckered, and a moment later he let out a lusty cry. Men and women laughed at the joyous sound, and Farah held out her arms to take him. “I will return him to his mother,” she said, tight-lipped.
“Tell Leah I said ‘thank you.’” He would visit her later, after he found Rachel. Somehow he must find a way to ease her wounded heart, and somehow, God help him, he must bring some kind of peace to his household.
12
Rachel slipped away from the commotion, waiting until Jacob was distracted with Leah’s mother, then worked her way up the hill to the sheep pens, following the tree line behind the tents. She could not bear to watch Jacob blessing Leah’s son, nor stand by and watch as he entered Leah’s tent, probably to give her a fond look and thank her for giving him such a sturdy firstborn. If Leah did not want her company, she shouldn’t have Jacob’s either!
She hugged her arms about her, shivering with anger—and fear. Her mother’s admonition to make peace with Leah probably held wisdom. Jacob would surely think so. The thought stung. Would Jacob choose her sister now over her because Leah was fertile and Rachel was not?
She trudged higher, her steps weighted with worry. When she reached the pens, she found her brother Bahaar pouring oil over the head of one of the sheep.
“How do the animals fare?” She stepped into the pen and rubbed the head of one of the lambs. The flock had once been hers, before Jacob came and took over their care and she was forced to take on other chores. Perhaps she could talk Jacob into giving some of them into her care again, to get her away from her sister and the babe.
“The flock flourishes under Jacob’s care,” Bahaar said, glancing up from his work and assessing her. “Why aren’t you with Leah?”
“Why should I be? She didn’t want me.” The reminder added to the hurt, the sense of betrayal she felt that God had blessed Leah and not her.
Bahaar sat back on his haunches and regarded her. “She didn’t want you or you didn’t want to be there?”
“Both.” She moved a piece of dirt with the toe of her sandal. “She doesn’t deserve to be a mother ahead of me.” She challenged him with a look. Her brother was many years older than she, the second born of her mother and father, and the brother who had played with her as a child. Of her three brothers, Bahaar loved her best. She could tell him almost anything and he would not chide her unduly for it.
“Apparently Adonai did not see it that way.” Bahaar stood and stretched the kink in his back. He stepped closer, looking down at her with affection.
She swallowed past the sudden thickness in her throat. “Why?” she asked once the threat of emotion passed. “Why should she have a child when she should not even have a husband? Not my husband!” The bitterness had grown in strength this day, and she wearied of its weight.
Bahaar laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I do not know. I am not God to answer such questions.” He stroked her cheek, lifting her chin with his fingers. “Stop fighting the inevitable, Rachel. You will drive Jacob away from you and straight into Leah’s arms.”
“What?” She stepped back, stricken. “Never!” She crossed her arms in a self-protective gesture, wishing she could shut the world out and keep only Jacob in. “He loves me.” The words came out a whisper, and suddenly she was not so certain. Even now he could be telling Leah how much he loved her. She had given him a son, after all.
“I’m not saying that will happen.” Bahaar shrugged, his dark eyes doubtful. “I do know that a man does not want strife in his house. He will go to the ends of the earth to avoid it. Have you not noticed how many times Jacob does not return the sheep to the pens at night? Would he have done so in the early days of your marriage?”
“He did. Sometimes.” Didn’t he? “Sometimes he has no choice. You know yourself that it can take days to find green pastures.”
“Yes, but Jacob has stayed away even during the early rains, when the grasses are green, probably taking shelter in a cave. Is that what you want him to do?”
She shook her head and worried her lower lip.
His
gaze softened and he opened his arms, coaxing her forward. She fell into his embrace, warmed by his strength, his kindness. “Don’t give him a reason to seek Leah’s tent, dear one. Let him find your tent warm, inviting, and free of critical comments of Leah. Otherwise he will soon grow weary of you.”
“I don’t complain.”
He held her at arm’s length and gave her a knowing look.
“Very often . . .” She turned at the sound of crunching stones. “Jacob.”
“Go to him,” Bahaar whispered in her ear. “Remember what I told you.”
She nodded and straightened her robe as she hurried to meet him coming up the path. “Why are you here?” She flew into his arms, and he lifted her, twirling her about. She laughed. “I am glad you are here,” she said when he set her down. “But why aren’t you with Leah?”
“I had to find you,” he said simply. “When I heard that you were not with her and did not see you, I feared—”
“It is all right.” She smiled up at him and kissed him. “I am sorry for the turmoil I have caused.” Though she still could not quite forgive Leah for what she had done. “I do not wish to ruin the day your first son is born.”
“You have not ruined it.”
“Have you seen him?” She searched his gaze, seeking answers to her unasked questions. Did he visit Leah? Did he love her son?
“Yes. I held him and blessed him.” His look grew wistful. “Leah’s name for him was not comforting.”
“No. She is looking for ways to express her misery.”
“Seems like a child’s name should not do the expressing. She could just tell me.” He led her away from the pens to a copse of trees shadowing them.
“She is afraid her complaints will push you further away. I fear the same things.”
He looked at her, his hand gentle against her cheek. “You have nothing to fear, beloved.”
“I fear I have sent you away already. You do not come home as often as you used to.” She looped her hands around his waist and held him close. “I miss you when you are gone.”
“And I you. You know sometimes it takes me far to find good pastures.” He looked away, and she knew he had only told her half of the truth.
“I know. But not always. Sometimes you want to avoid us.”
His cheeks flushed, his look embarrassed. “I cannot bear the constant bickering,” he said. He looked beyond her toward the tents where the family no longer celebrated, but where Zilpah and Bilhah and a few other women still worked to prepare the evening meal. They should go to Leah. Rachel should somehow manage to offer a hand of peace.
“I will do my best to change that,” she said at last. “Have you been to visit Leah?”
“No.” He looked suddenly uncomfortable.
“What if I went with you?” She would face her sister better with Jacob at her side.
“Will you not feed her misery if you do?” He raised a brow, his look doubtful.
“Perhaps. But will she not be miserable regardless? She has a son to love now. If we go to see her together, I will offer peace. There is no sense fighting over children. She has her son. You have done what you must for her.” If Jacob stayed away from Leah, Reuben would be the only son she bore, giving Rachel time to conceive and pray God would lift her barrenness.
“I cannot avoid her forever.” She knew he meant more than his words conveyed.
“You can for a time.” She must conceive before Leah could bear another. “But come. Let us go to her now and then rest and eat. Then we can have our own celebration.” She smiled coyly at him, and he laughed. Intertwining their fingers, he led them slowly down the hill.
Leah’s heart stirred to the feel of the babe pressed close, seeking nourishment, the pull of his tiny mouth tugging her breast. Such perfect eyes and thick dark hair for one so small! And his nose still showed little dots of creamy whiteness over his light brown skin, left over from the womb. She touched a finger to the softness and laughed at the way he scrunched his face at her touch, his little mouth moving faster as though he could not eat quickly enough to get his fill.
She studied him, this gift of Adonai, and was moved by a new sensation, one she had never felt to such depth in all of her life. Joy. Unhindered, unequaled joy. How blessed she was! Adonai had heard her silent longings, had seen her misery. The thought awed and humbled her. Surely Jacob would love her now that she had given him such a son.
The low sounds of her mother and her maid talking in the other room drifted to her, and she briefly closed her eyes, the exhaustion of the day mingling with her joy. She looked down on him once more and stroked his soft dark hair. He was beautiful like Jacob.
The thought threatened to dampen her spirits, reminding her of the pain his distance evoked. She should have known he would not come to her even now. But she had hoped. Oh, how she had hoped! Did he hate her so much that he could not even visit her on the day of her son’s birth? She had done what Rachel could not, what every man wanted, and yet as the sun had fully set, he still had not come.
She shifted, pulled the sleeping babe from her breast, and placed him over her shoulder, wetting his blanket with her tears. “It’s okay, little one,” she whispered, her voice wobbly. “You have your mother’s love, and that is enough.”
A stirring outside drew her attention, and other voices soon joined that of her mother in the sitting room. Jacob? Surely not. But she would know his voice anywhere, not only by the distinct way he said certain words but by the way her traitorous heart stirred to hear him.
She quickly covered herself and smoothed the bedcovers, tucking the babe in the crook of her arm, her heart beating fast. She feared her anxiety would wake the boy. The curtains separating the two rooms parted, and Jacob stood in the doorway, his frame blocking the light from the other room. A woman stood behind him, but it was too dim to see who she was.
“My lord,” Leah said, for her mind would not work to think of another thing to say.
“Leah.” He cleared his throat, and she sensed he was not at ease. “How are you feeling?”
He was asking about her welfare? Hope pricked her heart. “I am well. Thank you. Have you seen your son?” But of course he had. It was she he had not been to visit.
And yet here he stood.
“Yes. I blessed him this afternoon.” He looked at her briefly, then set his gaze on Reuben. “He is a fine boy. You have done well.”
The compliment brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you, my lord.” She had not expected it from him.
He stepped farther into the room, allowing the light to spill from the sitting room, revealing the person who had been standing behind him. Rachel.
“Why is she here?” She should have known her mother would allow this, that Jacob would go against her wishes and bring his favorite wife! “I don’t want her here!”
Jacob stood still, his look uncertain, his shoulders suddenly sagging. Rachel stepped closer to Leah’s side. “Please, Leah. I have come in peace. I only want to congratulate you and to see my nephew.” She knelt at Leah’s side and touched her arm. “There should not be such strife between us. Jacob needs us to get along with each other.”
Leah looked into Rachel’s large dark eyes, searching. Was this a ruse just to appease her? “Do you mean it?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then you will share our husband with me and not keep him all to yourself?” It was a bold question, but Leah knew if she did not ask now, then when? She was vulnerable, but in her weakness she might hold more sway to get what she had wanted for so long.
Rachel nodded. “We can share him, of course.” She glanced back at Jacob, but Leah could not see the look that passed between them. Rachel turned to her again. “May I hold him?”
Leah tightened her grip on Reuben. She did not want to offer Rachel the privilege. But she nodded just the same. “In exchange for a night with Jacob.” She looked from Jacob to Rachel, feeling like she had just made Jacob a pawn in some kind of female game.
/> Rachel’s face flushed at Leah’s bargain, and for a moment Leah wondered if she had risked too much. Why should Rachel care enough to offer Jacob to Leah in exchange for holding a baby for a few moments? But if she meant what she said about sharing him, then she should easily agree. It was little to ask, considering how few nights Leah spent in Jacob’s arms.
“When your time for purification has passed and the boy is circumcised, he can come to you, yes.” She glanced at Jacob, looking for his approval, but all she got in response was a man who seemed like he wanted to flee the room. Did he feel they were using him for their own gain?
“I’m sorry, my lord. I only wish to secure time with you. I hope you will forgive our bargaining.” Leah looked steadily at Jacob, but he would not meet her gaze.
“Just do what you must.” But she could tell he was not pleased with her request.
Still, if she were to have more children, she would need more time with him. If she had to beg, bargain, or steal his time to get it, she would.
“Agreed,” she said, handing Reuben into Rachel’s arms.
Rachel looked at her for a brief moment, then gazed into the baby’s open eyes. A smile lit Rachel’s face, and Jacob stepped forward and placed an arm on her shoulder, both gazing down at Leah’s son. A pang, sharp and fierce, pierced her at the scene they made. A family. As a family should be.
But they weren’t as other families, and the child was hers. Rachel could not claim him. Leah was a rightful wife to Jacob. She was Reuben’s mother. Anxiety filled her for one swift moment until Rachel held out her arms, handing the baby back to Leah.
“He’s beautiful, Leah. Thank you.” Tears glistened in Rachel’s eyes, and Leah’s anxiety shifted quickly to guilt. Had she misjudged her sister? Was she wrong to have kept her away from the birthing? Here she was offering peace, and Leah was holding a grudge.
“Thank you,” she murmured, taking the boy and settling him on her shoulder, then patting his back. She looked from her sister to her husband and forced a smile. “Thank you for coming.” Exhaustion filled her, and as she watched them leave, a deep emptiness accompanied the need for sleep. They couldn’t stay because she was unclean. But she saw the way Jacob placed a protective hand at the small of Rachel’s back. Saw the look of affection that had passed between them as Rachel held the babe. And she knew that despite the fact that she was the one who had blessed Jacob with a son, Rachel would spend the night in his arms.
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