Rachel

by Jill Eileen Smith

  “All the more reason you could use my men to guide you safely through the mountains.” Esau said the words, but they lacked conviction. “But I suppose you have a point. My men would chafe at having to slow their pace to keep up with yours.” He touched Jacob’s shoulder.

  Jacob looked up. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Esau embraced him once more, kissing each cheek. Jacob, not wanting to slip from the role of servant, did not return the gesture but bowed instead and kissed Esau’s feet. He did not invite Esau to linger, to share a meal, or to spend the night around the campfire.

  “Until we meet again, brother,” Esau said, helping Jacob to stand.

  “Until then.” Jacob watched Esau turn, mount his camel, and lead his men back toward Seir.

  Jacob found his steward and directed his servants to pack their belongings and head north and west toward Succoth. The exact opposite of his brother.

  31

  TEN YEARS LATER

  Leah stood near the edge of Jacob’s camp and wiped sweat from her brow. The gates of the city of Shechem were less than half a day’s walk from the camp, too close for Leah’s comfort. She had grown used to Succoth, where Jacob had chosen to stay for a time after hearing of his mother’s death. Somehow hurrying to see his father had lost its earnestness as he grieved the woman who bore him. He had even gone so far as to build a home like Leah and Rachel had known in Harran, a house of stones with shelters for the flocks and herds. Things had been pleasant there, and Leah missed the protection of the stout walls and the clay oven he had built for them to bake their bread.

  If only they could have stayed . . .

  But when a caravan had come bringing Deborah, Rebekah’s old nurse, with news of Isaac’s desire to see him, Jacob’s guilt at having neglected the man had grown into restlessness to continue to travel southward to see his father before it was too late. Deborah had stayed on with them then, though even she had seemed anxious to immediately return to Isaac. If not for the flocks’ mating season, they would be traveling even now, rather than settling again near a city she feared.

  She shook her head to dispel the disturbing thoughts. She had no real reason to fear the inhabitants of Shechem. Jacob had found them most agreeable when he had asked to purchase land near the city. And the women had been kind to her when she shopped in the marketplace.

  But their idols and the temple worship had reminded her too much of Harran and the gods her father and relatives had worshiped, not at all like the One Creator God Jacob adored. Not like Adonai, the Lord who had given her six sons.

  She twisted the wet rag she had brought, letting the dirty water drip to the side of the path, then rubbed the back of her neck and turned at the sound of her daughter’s voice. “Ima, can I go to the city to the shops? Adi will come with me. We won’t be gone long. I promise.” Her daughter, Dinah, gave her a pleading look, her beautiful dark hair escaping the pale blue scarf she wore that denoted her a virgin daughter of her father. The girl was too much like Rachel and too unaware of her appeal to men.

  “It is not safe for women to go alone to town. Not without your father or brothers.” And Adi, a servant’s daughter, was younger than Dinah—no protection at all!

  “Then let Joseph take me.” Dinah and Joseph had remained close despite the distance between Joseph and Leah’s sons. Distance brought by Jacob’s constant favoritism toward Rachel’s only child. Leah felt the muscles clench in her jaw. She forced herself to take a long, slow breath.

  “There is no need to go to town. When your father plans a trip or if one of your brothers has need to go there, then we will consider going along.” She looked at Dinah, ignoring the girl’s curled lip and the tiny scowl lines between her eyes.

  “You never let me do anything exciting. Why must my brothers always go with me? I’m old enough to watch out for myself. And I can run faster than Joseph or Issachar, and they can almost catch a fox.” Dinah crossed her thin arms over a well-developed body and met Leah’s stern gaze.

  “Almost does not count. Even foxes get caught in traps. You do not know what traps await you in a foreign city with foreign gods.” Leah touched Dinah’s cheek, but the girl flinched and turned away. At fourteen years she should be betrothed to a worthy man, a man who could put that restless spirit to good use raising his children. Maybe then she would realize the anxiety she brought to Leah with her bent toward adventure and even a hint of rebelliousness. If only her father would listen and find a suitable husband for the girl.

  “I don’t care about the foreign gods, Ima. I want to shop in the marketplace, meet the women, maybe talk to girls my own age.” She glanced at her servant Adi, a girl three years younger.

  Leah studied Dinah’s dark, brooding eyes. “If you have questions of womanly things, you can talk to me or to your aunt Rachel.”

  “I don’t have questions. I just want to explore, to meet girls my own age.” Dinah glanced toward the city gates seen easily in the distance, her look full of longing. Leah inwardly cringed at the desire in her eyes, wanting to pull her back, rein her in as she would one of the young donkeys, praying her daughter would not be as stubborn as such an animal.

  “Will you take me to their festival?” Dinah’s question held a hint of accusation, her small mouth pursed, so much like Rachel’s. Half of the young men in the camp had turned their heads at the sight of her. How much worse would it be in a town full of uncircumcised heathens?

  “You should want no part of such a festival, my daughter.”

  Her sons had brought rumors on their return from occasional visits to the city about the heathen practices that went on during those festivals—the way the virgin girls danced and how the men of the city would capture the virgin of their choice, whisk her away to their place, and take her as their bride. She had nearly cuffed Simeon’s ears when he had laughed at the rites and suggested he wouldn’t mind participating. The last thing she needed was for him to bring home a captive Shechemite bride, some unsuspecting young maiden who would not want to leave her homeland, who would expect to be captured by a man from her own city. She shook her head, wondering not for the first time where that boy’s thinking came from. Levi was no better. Sometimes all six of them made her want to shake them, but in the next breath she could hold them close and lavish her love on them. They might not have Jacob’s favor, but they would surely have hers!

  “I don’t see what’s so wrong about it. The girls dance in colorful costumes until their lover comes and steals them away to his house to be his bride.” Dinah pressed her hands to her heart, her head tilted to the side, eyes closed, as if the idea were some pleasing, happy tale. “For some of the poorer girls, it is a way to be wed without a dowry.”

  “Who told you such things?” Why on earth had Jacob settled them so close to the town? “The men who take their bride in such a way may keep her as a slave or a concubine, not a wife.” Her voice rose as she fought to talk some sense into the girl. “You are the daughter of a prince, Dinah. You do not want this, and you should not think it a good thing.”

  “Bilhah and Zilpah are slaves, and Abba cares for them quite well.” Her comment stopped Leah’s breath.

  “So you would rather be a slave?”

  Dinah rolled her eyes. “Of course not. But I don’t see why I couldn’t go to watch. You could come with me, Ima.” Her pout turned to a pleading look that Leah often had trouble resisting. The girl could coax the wool from a sheep without shearing it.

  “We will speak no more of this, Dinah,” Leah said, forcing sternness into her tone. “You will not go to the city without your father or a brother, preferably two. I will not risk it.” She placed a hand on Dinah’s shoulder and beckoned Adi to follow, leading them back toward camp, her heart picking up its pace as her irritation shifted to the all too familiar fear.

  “You worry too much, Ima,” Dinah said in quiet challenge.

  Leah closed her eyes and drew in a slow breath. She would keep her temper in check, though the girl seemed to know exact
ly how to exasperate her.

  “Oh, and Abba has called everyone to a sacrifice. He built an altar and said to come find you.”

  Leah tsked. “Why didn’t you say so at once? All this foolish talk of festivals.” If Jacob had sent for her, she must hurry. She lifted her skirts and motioned each girl to hurry along.

  “And Aunt Rachel is sick again. She was asking for you.”

  So much to happen in the few minutes she had slipped away from the camp? They had barely finished the morning meal. Why couldn’t Jacob and Rachel have said something to her there? But she squelched the thoughts. Rachel had complained of illness often of late. Could it be? Was she again finally with child?

  Leah’s own womb had closed several years ago, and Joseph was already sixteen years of age. Could Adonai have blessed Rachel with another after all this time?

  Leah’s steps slowed the slightest bit as the thought hit her. She was not sure she was ready to hear whatever Rachel had to tell her. Her sons already competed with Joseph for their place in Jacob’s life. Another son of Rachel’s would put them even further from Jacob’s heart.

  Her pulse fluttered, and her stomach twisted uncomfortably. She glanced at Dinah skipping ahead of her now, unaware of the power of her beauty. How long could Leah protect her?

  Somehow she must. She would speak to Jacob this night. She would make him see that Dinah must marry, as her mother had made her father see that she too must marry when he agreed to give her to Jacob in Rachel’s place.

  Rachel forced herself up from bending over the clay pot, the contents of the morning meal now filling it. She shuddered, wiped her mouth with a linen towel, and crawled to her mat, a hand pressed to her middle as she lay back. The queasy feeling passed several moments later. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, pondering the changes her body had undergone in the past few months. Jacob, though he had guessed the truth with Joseph before she had, did not suspect. And this time, after so many years of waiting, she feared being wrong. What if her symptoms were simply the result of an overwrought mind?

  She rose from her mat, half longing for the raised cushioned bed she had used in Succoth, quickly fixed her disheveled scarf, and walked slowly from her tent. Jacob’s household, his servants and wives and children, moved past her toward the clearing at the rise of a nearby hill where Jacob had called them, to an altar he had set up. She wrapped her robe more tightly around her and fell into step with Leah, trailing behind her daughter.

  “Dinah said you wanted to see me.” Leah glanced at her, sizing her up as though she already knew. “You are sick?”

  “I think it is more than that.” Rachel kept her voice low, her gait slowing. “I haven’t told Jacob yet.”

  Leah nodded, and the two walked in silence until they neared the rise of the hill, the altar clearly visible from where they stood, the rest of the household gathered around the perimeter.

  “Is there a reason you are waiting?” Leah met Rachel’s gaze, her pale eyes holding a hint of compassion.

  “I wanted to be sure. After all this time . . .” She looked away, ashamed of the tears rising up the back of her throat. She swallowed. “I’m afraid,” she whispered. “It’s been so long.”

  Leah touched her shoulder. “I am sure you have nothing to fear. But of course every birth brings uncertainties. It is natural for a woman to feel as you do.” Her tone was gentle, reassuring, putting Rachel’s mind at ease.

  “You think so?”

  Leah embraced her, a spontaneous action so unexpected they both laughed as they pulled away. “You must tell Jacob soon, of course.” Leah smiled, and Rachel saw no guile or even a hint of jealousy in her gaze.

  “Thank you.” She brushed a stray tear from her cheek and turned to the sound of Jacob’s voice giving thanks to Adonai as he spilled the blood of the sacrifice and lit the fire on the altar.

  Smoke rose to the heavens, and Jacob’s voice rang out over the assembled camp. “This altar shall be called El Elohe Israel, God, the God of Israel.”

  Rachel listened as he extolled Adonai’s praises, recounting the things He had done for them since the day Jacob met Him at Bethel over thirty years before. When he finished, he prayed for forgiveness, for mercy on them all.

  Rachel placed a hand on her middle over the place where a new life formed. Oh, Adonai, have mercy also on this child that I carry. Let him be healthy and let him live to please his father.

  When the gathering dismissed, she returned to the camp. Tonight, when Jacob came to her, she would tell him.

  Leah waited for Jacob to finish speaking to his steward, telling Rachel she would join her for the weaving after she had spoken to him of her concerns for Dinah. Rachel had nodded her understanding. Through the years, when Leah had fretted over Dinah’s restless ways, Rachel had assured her the girl was just spirited and longed for adventure. Much like Rachel had been in her youth. Rachel had put her mind at ease on more than one occasion.

  But this was not a time for commiserating over a young girl’s desires. Dinah needed a husband, and only her father could make that happen. Surely Jacob would see this. He was not as blind as her father had been or so greedy that he would make them wait. Surely.

  She smoothed her hands over her robe, suddenly nervous to approach him. But at last his steward departed, leaving Jacob alone. Leah climbed the hill to meet him, knowing it would take him time even with the aid of his staff to come down the hill to her level.

  “Leah.” He smiled at her, his look welcoming. “What can I do for you?” He lifted the staff and motioned for her to walk with him, taking the path with the lower incline.

  “I must speak with you about Dinah.” She studied the path before her, glancing his direction once as she spoke. “It is time we found a husband for her.”

  He paused in the path, leaning heavily on his staff. “She is only fourteen.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw.

  “Fourteen is old enough to bear children, my lord. She has been nubile for over a year.”

  He seemed startled by this revelation and looked beyond her as if seeing a different time and place. “You were much past her age when we wed, Leah. She has plenty of years to mature.” He touched her shoulder, and she looked into his dark eyes, searching.

  “I do not think it wise for us to wait, Jacob.” She twisted the belt at her waist and sighed. “She needs a home and children to settle her.”

  He looked at her for several moments, saying nothing. At last he nodded. “I will consider it.” He touched her elbow, continuing their walk down the hill.

  It was all she could do.

  Sunset fell like autumn leaves over the camp as Rachel set the last dish to dry on the woven mat inside her tent. She straightened, pressing a hand to the small of her back, longing desperately for sleep. But Jacob waited for her inside his tent, and tonight she would tell him her news. She had thought to tell him the week before, but he had been too distracted with the business of the flocks and herds and the men from the city coming to invite him to the Festival of Virgins. Jacob had graciously declined, though some of his sons had argued with him afterward about going. He had sent them to the fields with the sheep to keep them from following the pagan pleasures.

  Rachel did not know who was more relieved, herself or Leah, that Jacob had made such a swift decision. With Leah’s sons either already men or on the cusp of manhood, it was no wonder some were anxious to marry. But not that way. Not with pagan women.

  She shook the thoughts aside, grateful that Joseph had not been among those asking for such a thing. God had given her a good son, a son who followed in the footsteps of his father, a son who carried his father’s favor. The thought pleased her. Though sometimes worry slipped in when she compared Jacob’s treatment of Joseph to that of Leah’s sons. Would Joseph one day suffer for such favor the way Jacob had done, when she was no longer there to protect him?

  She shivered, dispelling the very idea, and moved from her tent to walk the short distance to where Jacob waited. Stars began
their evening dance, taking turns brightening the sky. She glanced up. So shall your offspring be, God had promised Jacob.

  He smiled at her approach and took her hand, drawing her into his tent. “Your hands are cold,” he said, wrapping his fingers more fully around hers.

  “Are they?” She stepped closer and kissed his cheek. “I had not noticed.”

  His gaze swept over her, and he touched her nose with a soft kiss. “I’ve missed you. I am sorry to have stayed away so long.”

  “I’ve missed you too.” She slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “But I am here now.”

  They stood in silence for several moments until at last he pulled her into the sitting area and settled her among the cushions she had made. He drew a flask of wine from a basket, poured two silver cups, and handed her one. She sipped, then ran her finger over the rim and looked at him, a smile touching her lips.

  “What is it?” He had always been so observant of her moods. “Something has pleased you, beloved. Tell me.” He swirled the liquid in his cup, watching her.

  “I have something to tell you.” She glanced away, suddenly shy. It had been so long since the last time. What if something happened to the babe? Though none of her sister wives had ever miscarried, there was always the chance.

  He set their cups down and moved closer, encasing her hands in his own. “It is good news?” His boyish smile made her laugh.

  “Yes, of course it’s good news!” She traced the line of his beard along his jaw. “The best of news, Jacob.” Her words were soft, a caress.

  His hand moved to her waist and rested there. Her stomach fluttered at his touch, and the look of love in his gaze dispelled all her misgivings. The babe would be fine. She had nothing to fear.

  “How long have you known?” he asked, his smile wide, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “And when will he come?”

  “What makes you so sure it will be a boy?”