Rachel
Page 13
Leah nodded too quickly. “I know that. If someone else would have had me, I would have. I know I am not lovely like you.”
The admission pricked Rachel’s conscience. “You shouldn’t compare yourself to me. You are pretty, especially so when you are with child.” Some foreign source within her urged kindness from her lips, though her heart felt little compassion to go with the words. “I am sure Jacob does not find you unattractive.”
“Did he say so?” Her eager question and the look of such hope in her expression softened Rachel’s own eagerness to wound where she had been wounded. She need not purposely hurt Leah. They were sisters, after all.
“Not in so many words.” At Leah’s dejected look, she amended, “But I can sense it. He does not say so to spare me, that is all.” She looked away and started walking again.
They strode in silence for a time, Rachel’s mind churning with Leah’s latest news. Four children in four years! She closed her eyes, stricken, nearly stumbling with the heavy load of the basket on her hip, wishing yet again that it was a child she carried there. How long, Adonai?
As they neared the tents, she watched Leah walk ahead, taking Levi into her tent, no doubt to nurse him. Servants sat at the grindstone preparing the grain for the evening’s baking, and a stew slowly cooked over the fire pit. Bilhah deposited the linens in Rachel’s tent and hurried to help with the meal preparations, but Rachel stood looking on, feeling somehow detached from it all. Four children so quickly. And still she waited.
Well, she could wait no longer. She looked on her young maid once more, assured that the girl was no longer a girl. The outline of womanly curves showed along the profile of her garments. A shapely girl, well built to carry a son. A son that would belong to Rachel.
Jacob might not like her suggestion. But he must agree to it. She knew how to convince him. And she would use all of her womanly ways to do so. Though it would break her heart in the process.
16
The following week, Jacob dipped his bread into the bowl of red lentil stew he had made and handed it to Laban. Fire crackled in the pit nearby, casting shadows over the circle where Laban and his sons had joined him. The flocks rested in the pens a stone’s throw beyond. Night had fallen quickly on the banks of the stream, and the air was festive with the coming sheep shearing. Morning would find them working hard, but tonight they ate and drank in camaraderie.
Laban took the bread Jacob offered and ate, the signal that his sons could partake as well. Jacob soon joined them, the mood high-spirited, abundant with food and laughter.
“Good stew, Jacob,” Rachel’s brother Bahaar said between mouthfuls. “With skills such as these, who needs women?”
Laughter followed the remark. “Bahaar only says this because his woman feeds his belly and nothing more,” one of Rachel’s half brothers said between mouthfuls of stew.
Tariq, Leah’s oldest brother, tore a hunk of flatbread from the loaf Jacob handed to him. “Jacob has no lack where that is concerned.” He glanced at Jacob, his meaning clear.
Jacob ignored the comment and scooped his own bread into the steaming pot.
“I hear Leah is expecting again,” another brother said. “Rachel making your life miserable yet?”
“I hear Rachel is considering giving him her maid to wife.” Laban took a swig from the flask of beer at his side and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Jacob looked up, masking the surprise he felt and the sudden twist in his gut. “How would you know such a thing?” Rachel should be the one to tell him, not her father, if this was the truth. Was she considering this?
“Her mother told me.” Laban belched and patted his ample middle. “Though Suri suggested it six months ago. I’m surprised Rachel hasn’t told you by now.”
“Perhaps Rachel did not wish to take Suri’s suggestion.” He had barely noticed Rachel’s maid except when she placed food before him. Though now that he thought about it, Bilhah had placed food in front of him more often of late, and Rachel had encouraged her to sit with them at meals, if only for a few moments. Had she been preparing him for a change in their relationship?
No. Surely not.
“It’s the only way Rachel can have children, Jacob,” Tariq said, stating what was all too clear. Was his displeasure at the thought so obvious? “You know it is a woman’s right if she is barren.” He met Jacob’s level gaze.
“You don’t know that she is barren.” Though what other explanation could there be? Leah was proof that the problem did not lie with him.
Tariq laughed and his brothers joined him, though Rachel’s brothers were conspicuously quiet. “Unless you are not taking advantage of that time you spend with her . . .”
“So she is barren. It matters little to me. My mother waited twenty years. Rachel will not be barren forever.” He clung to the thought, though even he wondered at its truth. With Leah bearing so easily, might Adonai be keeping Rachel from bearing to spare her, as Jacob had always secretly hoped? Perhaps Leah alone was to be mother to his sons.
“Not everyone is like your mother.” Laban puffed on his pipe, his look thoughtful.
“Or my grandmother? Perhaps God has plans we do not know about.” Sarah had given Abraham her maid and lived to regret her choice.
“So barren women run in your family, is that it?” Tariq scoffed. He took a long swig of his beer and capped the end.
“That remark does not deserve a response.” Jacob felt his ire rising, not so much for the ribbing but for the fact that Rachel had become so desperate and kept it from him.
“Well, I say if she offers you her maid, listen to her,” Laban said, smiling. “Give Rachel a child and the strife will lessen between her and her sister.”
Jacob met his father-in-law’s look without comment. To dredge up the cause of that strife would be to invite heated words. He stood instead. “I’m through with this conversation.” He walked to the sheep pens where he would spend the night guarding the door, listening to their laughter behind him.
Rachel sat in her tent, the sides rolled up to let in the late summer breezes while she worked the spindle and distaff and watched the path Jacob would take to return from the sheep shearing with her father and brothers. She glanced at Bilhah working the millstone, grinding the barley for bread that evening. How often her gaze had turned to the girl of late. How often her mother’s words moved through her thoughts like some incessant wind.
Give the man your maid. How easy it sounded! How hard it would be.
She had debated whether to tell Jacob, to ask his opinion, but the decision was hers to make. Of course, he would tell her to wait, to trust Adonai’s timing. But he could not be sure God ever planned to give her a child. Somehow she must secure one herself.
He would tell her of his grandmother’s regret in giving Hagar to Abraham, but at least it gave her a son to care for during the waiting for her own. Surely it could not have been so bad.
She closed her eyes, her hands moving in the familiar rhythm, and listened to the sounds of grinding, of bird calls, and at last of whistling. She opened her eyes and jumped up, dropping the spindle and distaff to the mat, and hurried through the tent. Jacob strolled toward her, a bundle of wool slung over his shoulder, a smile on his handsome face. She ran to him, foolish as it was.
“Jacob! How I’ve missed you!”
He caught her in a half embrace and kissed her. “And I you, beloved.” He set the bundle on the ground and picked her up in a warm embrace.
She laughed as his beard tickled her cheek. “How did things go? I want to hear everything!”
He laughed with her, kissed her soundly, then set her down and took up his bundle again. “The shearing was a great success. Your father plans a feast when they return on the morrow.”
“Why did they not come with you?” Her mother and the other women, including Leah, had been preparing all of the men’s favorite dishes since sunup. Rachel had taken a turn, but when Leah had started telling her what to do and how
to do it, she’d left. Let them prepare the food for the feast. She would wait for Jacob.
“Some of the sheep were harder to shear than others. They sent me on ahead to warn the women they would be late.” He released the bundle at the door of her tent, then took her hand. “Come with me to tell them.”
She squeezed his hand and followed, passing Bilhah still grinding on the way. Jacob glanced at her a moment. “Why is your maid grinding when the feast is to be with your father’s house?”
Rachel looked at him, noting the raised brow. Since when had he noticed what her maid did? Had he been thinking about taking her, since Rachel couldn’t give him children?
“She is grinding extra. Leah ran short.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why do you look at her so?”
“Look at who?”
“Bilhah.”
“Your maid?”
“Yes, of course my maid. Who else would you be looking at?” She glanced away, ashamed at her harsh tone.
“Why are you so upset?” He stopped halfway to her father’s house to face her. “Is there something you need to tell me?” His gaze was open, tender, and she could not hold it.
“I’m sorry. It’s just . . . Leah has been yelling at me all day, so I came here to get away.” She looked up. “I’m just so glad you are home! Forget Bilhah.” She would tell him later the plans of her heart. If she could go through with them.
He looked relieved, then took her hand again. “It’s good to be home.”
She smiled up at him. “Yes, it is.”
Dawn crept over the horizon, and Rachel could no longer lie at Jacob’s side. She shifted, careful not to disturb him, and rose, snatched her robe from the floor, and headed to the tent’s door. She would fetch her jug from her tent and get to the well before Leah or one of her maids could join her and start the fire for the flatbread. Sleep would not return again, and there was ample gray light to make the path discernible. But her stomach twisted every time her mind strayed to the truth that would not leave her. She was barren. And giving her maid to Jacob was her only solution to having children that would be hers, not her sister’s.
She had lain awake most of the night despite Jacob’s nearness, debating whether or not to broach the subject with him. Her decision was cinched when he inadvertently mentioned something Reuben had said that made him chuckle. Jacob simply must have children besides those of her sister’s. She needed a child to make him proud and bring a smile to his eyes as Leah’s children did. The thought had settled like a heavy stone in her middle.
She must tell him. Today. She could no longer put off what her heart told her she must do.
Jacob stirred and watched Rachel slip from the tent, his heart heavy. Though she had tried to remain still at his side in the night, he had awakened several times and known she wrestled with some disturbing thought. Had her father been right? Every indication, from her curt response at the mention of her maid the day before to her restless sleep, pointed to the truth. And it pained him to know how much she ached inside.
He rubbed a hand over his eyes, blinking in the soft predawn light, and gave in to a deep yawn, then pushed up from the mat and donned his clothes. He slipped from his tent to see Rachel emerge from her own, her water jug balanced on her head, her back straight but her gait slow, as if the jug were already weighted with water.
He followed at a distance, then caught up with her as she neared the path leading toward the well. “You’re up earlier than usual,” he said. Seeing her startle, he raised an arm to catch the jug, but she steadied it on her own, then looked at him.
“I couldn’t sleep. There was no sense in trying any longer.” Her tone was petulant, her fatigue evident.
“Can I carry it for you?” Though a man carrying a water jug was not a common sight, he would do anything to ease her suffering.
She glanced beyond him. “No. Thank you. I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can. I was only trying to help.” He straightened the belt at his waist, though it was already secured with pouches and sling, as he searched for something to say to her.
She stopped midstep, surprising him. “If you would help me, give me children.” Her plea came out choked, broken.
“Don’t you think I have tried?” What more did she expect from him?
“Perhaps we are doing something wrong.”
He couldn’t imagine what. “We are doing all we can, beloved. What more do you want from me?” The words hung on a thread of desperation, and he knew she could sense his irritation. But he did not know what else to tell her. It wasn’t his place to ask for her maid. And he didn’t want to. He silently prayed she would not broach the subject. “We just need to be patient, Rachel. You will conceive in time.”
“You do not know that!” She looked away. “I cannot bear to live like this, Jacob.” She turned then and faced him head-on, her eyes taking on a fierce glint he had not seen in her before. He took an involuntary step backward. “Give me children or I’ll die!”
The words hung between them, thick, impenetrable.
Jacob’s breathing hitched and his anger spiked, warring with the irrational fear her words evoked. “Am I in the place of God, who has kept you from having children?” He couldn’t lose her. Were children really that important to her?
She looked away, her face flushed. She lowered the jar to the ground between them and looked back toward the tents. In the distance, Rachel’s maid already sat at the grindstone, the squeal and crunch of grain on stone sure to awaken the rest of the household. Rachel looked at her, myriad emotions moving over her expression, none of them pleased. He waited, watching her, hating the struggle, wishing he could take it from her.
At last he touched her arm. “Rachel, I . . .”
She shrugged him aside and crossed her arms, shielding herself from what she was about to do, from allowing him to comfort her. “There,” she said, pointing to her maid, “is Bilhah, my maidservant.” She swallowed hard and brushed a stray tear from her cheek, a tear he longed to wipe away. “Sleep with her so that she can bear children for me and that through her I too can build a family.”
“Rachel.”
“Please, Jacob. Just do as I ask.” She snatched up her jug and returned it to her head, then offered him one more look. “Please. Her time has just recently passed. Go to her tonight.” She strode away from him without a backward glance. He watched until she disappeared over the ridge, taking his heart with her.
Rachel reached the well thoroughly spent. What little energy she’d had upon rising that morning had disappeared the moment she offered her maid to Jacob. Now she was faced with the task of breaking the news to Bilhah. Or perhaps Jacob would do that himself.
No. It was her place to give the girl to her husband. In doing so, Bilhah would forfeit the status of maid to become Jacob’s wife. A bonus for her. Rachel would have to find a new maidservant. The thought did not please her, not for lack of servants but for sharing Jacob’s time yet again.
How weary her life had become! She lowered the jar to the well and wept as it fell slowly to the depths. She felt its weight as it filled and feared she would not have the strength to raise it again. The sky lit now with the pinks of dawn. Dew still tickled her feet where the grasses touched over the edge of her sandals.
She hefted the jar over the well’s lip and sank onto the stone edge, looking toward the tents in the distance. She had no use for dew or sun today. She wanted only to curl onto her side and sleep, not caring if she woke again. Jacob. Why has your God denied us this?
She glanced heavenward, but the skies gave no answer. Of course not. Adonai had chosen to bless her sister instead of her. Somehow she had been deemed unworthy. So now she must give another woman to her husband. Would she live with regret as Sarah once did?
She plopped the heavy jar onto her head and walked with weighted steps back to the camp. She met Bilhah just finishing the grinding and set the jar beside her in the hole meant to keep it from tipping.
“Did you need something, mistress?” Bilhah stepped into the dark interior. Rachel had yet to roll up the sides and did not bother to light a lamp. Darkness suited what she was about to say.
“Yes, come here and sit down.”
Bilhah did as she was told, her expression quizzical. She folded her hands in her lap and waited while Rachel paced in front of her.
“There is no easy way to say this.” She stopped abruptly. “I am giving you to Jacob to wife so that you can bear me a son. The child will be mine. I will name him and bear him on my knees so that I can have a family through you.” She held Bilhah’s startled gaze.
The girl quickly looked down at her hands sitting idle in her lap, now upturned in supplication. But she did not protest. She glanced up and gave a slight nod. “When?” There was nothing else to be said, as Bilhah could not refuse.
“Tonight.” Rachel searched the girl’s face. “You are clean?”
She nodded. “Yes, mistress.”
“Good. Tonight then.” While she still had courage to follow through with this. “I will take you to his tent, and you will become his wife.” The thought twisted inside of her, but she did not show the girl her pain. “You may go now.”
Bilhah stood, but she did not leave. Instead, surprisingly, she stepped closer and laid a hand on Rachel’s arm. “I will pray that your God gives you a son either by me or by you or both.”
By me. Rachel nodded. “Thank you.”
Bilhah left the tent, and Rachel went into her chamber and wept.
17
Jacob stood too long at the sheep pens that night, counting the sheep twice, half wishing one was missing. He preferred the thought of going out after it to what awaited him in his tent. He shook his head, forcing back a deep sigh. He looked at the deepening dusk, rubbed the back of his neck. Surely God was punishing him for his many sins. Why else would He have denied him the one thing he wanted most in life? He had not worked for Leah, did not want Rachel’s maid Bilhah. But the girl would be his whether he wanted her or not.