Rachel

by Jill Eileen Smith

  He glanced heavenward. Deep, billowy clouds stood like strong towers overhead, briefly blocking the sun. What was he to do?

  The thought sank like a heavy millstone to his middle. He walked slowly, lifted the staff with clenched fist, and tapped too hard on the earth, needing the action to keep him steady. If he did not fight against this, he would be as a drunken man, unable to stand upright.

  He walked among the flock, noting those that were weak and those that were strong. A female lamb could breed every eight months, and if he were fortunate, they might carry two or even three young at each birth. If God was truly with him, there would be time in six years to produce at least a few spotted, striped, and speckled young. Was there a way to coax such a thing?

  He pondered the thought as he led the sheep to the well and greeted his fellow shepherds, sons of Laban’s neighbors, wondering what they were saying about him behind their hands, or at night when they gathered around the campfire and Jacob returned to his wives. Probably thought him the fool for engaging a man like Laban.

  But Laban was not the only man who knew how to win at such games. Jacob’s conscience pricked at the memories of his past and the prayers he had prayed to turn away from them.

  “How am I supposed to find justice and gain my earnings otherwise?” He spoke to a male goat near him, which lifted its head as if to ask what it possibly could say to that. “What? Not even a sound from you?” The goat opened its mouth and bleated, then came and nuzzled Jacob’s hand. “All right. I’m coming.” He drew the stone from the well’s mouth and filled the troughs, watching, thoughtful, as the animals came close and drank.

  There had to be a reason some lambs were born white and others were not. The normal thought would have been to mate black with white to produce speckled or striped. But his flock all looked the same, as white as the clouds above. He could ask a friendly neighbor to mate his black sheep with Jacob’s, but he risked a dispute to ownership. No. If he would have his wages, he must find a way to coax the sheep to think spotted and speckled thoughts.

  Did sheep think? He scratched the back of his neck, fully doubting he had any sense left in his own wayward thoughts.

  He pondered and prayed for a coherent idea—or, at the very least, one that made sense to him—to do what would be impossible on its own.

  And would not take far longer than six years.

  Rachel draped a light shawl over six-week-old Joseph and walked with him to meet Jacob as he was returning to the sheep pens. The early evening breeze was gentle and warm, a respite from the earlier heat of the day. She had healed well since the birth and felt her spirit strengthened with each step toward the pens. It had been too long since Jacob had lain beside her at night, talking of his concerns for the future. Due to her uncleanness after the birth, he had stayed away from her tent except to stop in to glimpse Joseph before retiring to his own. She had been so exhausted and caught up with Joseph’s care that she had barely noticed. But this morning she had realized how much she missed him.

  She must remedy that now, must show him that she still cared to hear his concerns, the ones he didn’t voice when they all joined under the shade of his tent for the evening meal, when the children were underfoot and the clamor kept them from discussing anything of importance.

  Joseph stretched slightly in her arms beneath the soft fold of cloth covering him. She stopped, adjusting the scarf so he could see, then lifted him to her shoulder. What wonders did a babe notice in so small a body? Surely he was too young to understand anything beyond colors or light and dark. Then again, he did recognize her face, and he already knew his father’s voice.

  She kicked up dust as she followed the tree line to the pens just over the rise. Jacob’s form came into view as she continued at a slow pace to the stone sheep enclosure.

  “Rachel.” Jacob called to her and hurried his step, his smile welcoming. “And who have you brought to see me?” His voice rose slightly in pitch, as it always did when he spoke to a lamb about to give birth or to his children when they were babes.

  Rachel laughed and turned Joseph to face him. “Your son, of course.” She could not help the pride that accompanied the words, and she smiled as Jacob bent to kiss first his son, then her.

  “You have pleased me well.” He cupped her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Come, help me divide the sheep and goats.”

  She followed him to the gate where he inspected each lamb and each goat, then led them to separate partitioned areas for the night. “Is Bahaar coming to watch them?”

  Jacob shook his head. “One of the hired servants will sleep at the gate.”

  This was not unusual, but never as good as when the flocks were watched by Jacob or one of her brothers. “What if there is trouble?”

  “The boy will come to get me.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I could stay. But I need the respite of my own mat this night.”

  She looked at him more closely. “Have you not slept well?” She would not know, as he had spent his nights of late alone, choosing to be apart even from his other wives.

  He patted the head of one lamb, sifting through the soft wool, then bent to remove several brambles from its head and body. “Where did you find yourself today, little one, that you are so covered in barbs?” He glanced up at her. “I have had little rest from the worry of how to provide for my family.”

  Her stomach did an uncomfortable flip at his words. She stepped closer, patting Joseph’s back. “Is it so bad then? My father left you with nothing?”

  Jacob continued to sift the lamb’s wool for possible thorns and barbs, nodding as he worked. “He left me only the white ones.”

  Her breath caught. Shepherds knew that to produce white offspring, one only needed to mate male and female white sheep. The chance of them producing black or discolored young was rare. “It could take years to produce a flock to call your own.” They needed the goats for milk for the children, and the sheep offered their wool to clothe their large household. But of course he knew this. She clamped her mouth against saying more.

  “Longer than the six years I bargained for.” Jacob tensed, a muscle twitching along his left brow. He looked at her. “I had a dream.”

  She tilted her head and gave him a curious look. “A dream?”

  He finished with the lamb and stood, ran a hand over his beard. “I think God gave me a way to coax the sheep to bear spotted and speckled young.” He looked at her, and she saw uncertainty in his eyes.

  “Tell me your dream.” She shifted Joseph, praying he would not fuss, and glanced at the last of the goats as they trotted into the pen to settle among the soft hay the servant had spread out that morning.

  He patted the bottom of the last sheep as it passed his inspection, then moved to the gate and glanced toward the servants’ tents, where their growing household of maidservants and menservants camped near their own. She followed his gaze. No sign of the servant boy yet.

  He faced her then. “He will come.”

  “Yes. You are early.” She smiled into his eyes. “Tell me your dream.”

  He met her gaze, then looked beyond her, weighing his thoughts. “You will think it foolish.”

  “Nothing you can say to me will make me feel that way.” She shifted Joseph again. Jacob caught the movement and extended his hands. She placed Joseph in his strong arms.

  “In my dream, I took poplar, almond, and plane trees and peeled white stripes on them and placed them in the water troughs during the mating season when the sheep and goats came to drink. The sheep mated before the rods and produced spotted, striped, and speckled young.” He looked at her, searching her gaze as if looking for confirmation or skepticism.

  She held his gaze, hoping he could see approval in her eyes. “I have never heard such a thing done before, but that doesn’t mean it won’t help.” She touched his forearm and drew closer, smelling the soft baby scent of Joseph mingled with the more masculine scents of field and sheep and sweat from Jacob. “Surely if God gave you t
he dream, then He means for you to do what the dream suggests.” She wondered at the doubt lingering in her own heart at the idea.

  “Did God give me this dream?” His doubt mirrored hers. “Or am I just a desperate man in need of something who imagined the first ridiculous thing I could find?”

  “Your thoughts are not ridiculous.” She would not have him thinking this way. “You don’t know whether this will work until you try it. Perhaps God is giving you a way to outwit my father.” She glanced over her shoulder toward her father’s house, then toward Jacob’s tents. The servant boy came toward them at a slow jog.

  Jacob handed Joseph back to her. “Perhaps you are right. It cannot hurt to try. And whittling rods will keep me from going mad trying to figure out something better.” He laughed at that and she joined him. “Better to not worry over something I cannot control, in any case.”

  She settled Joseph on her shoulder again. The servant boy approached out of breath.

  “I am sorry to be late, master.” The boy was older than Reuben by only a handful of years, but he had proven fairly responsible in the previous months.

  “It is no matter. I am early.” Jacob smiled at the boy, gave him a few instructions, and patted his shoulder, then placed a hand at the small of Rachel’s back and walked her toward their tents.

  “Surely God will watch over us, Jacob,” Rachel said when they were out of the boy’s hearing. “He gave us Joseph. Surely He can be trusted to give you flocks as well.”

  He nodded but said nothing for several moments. “We have no choice but to trust Him this time, beloved.” He touched the top of Joseph’s head. “We can no more create speckled sheep than you could conceive this child.” He stopped, facing her. “But you did. God heard you and answered. So I will whittle the wood and see if the dream meant anything. If not, either way we will trust.”

  She nodded, wondering if indeed the whole idea was wise and of God or just the dreams of an overwrought husband with many mouths to feed and an entire household depending on him.

  Lambing season came, and Jacob placed the rods of poplar, almond, and plane he had carved among the water troughs while the strongest of Laban’s ewes were in heat. He had taken great care to choose two of the sturdiest rams to mate them, surprised and pleased to discover that every female that mated had conceived. He had fully expected to wait another cycle for some of those in heat to carry young, but Adonai, blessed be His name, had honored Jacob’s silent pleas. Perhaps the dream had been a sign that He was indeed keeping His promises to bless Jacob and his household, as his father Isaac had once said.

  Jacob leaned against his staff as he walked among the flock where they now grazed in the fields. Wistful longing filled him. He wanted to go home. To see his father and mother again, even Esau. Though the thought of his brother caused his stomach to tighten into a swift knot. Did his brother still hate him? If he returned, would he be in danger of his life?

  He moved away from a patch of brambles and used the staff to guide a wayward young ewe back toward the flock, troubled by the memories he could never quite shake. He had done Esau wrong in stealing the birthright and blessing. But there was no undoing what was past. Still, he could not put Rachel and Joseph or his other wives and children in danger just because he wanted to see his mother and father again.

  He glanced heavenward, squinting against the patches of sun streaming out from thick puffs of cloud cover, wishing his choices were easier.

  Do You want me to return or to stay? The question borne of his heart yearned toward the Unknowable One, and he waited a moment, not surprised when there was no response.

  He would wait to see if the lambs produced young that he could keep for himself and not the normal white lambs Laban would claim as his own. If God was merciful and truly blessing his efforts, the result would show him clearly.

  In the meantime, he would send word to his father to see if it was safe to bring his family home.

  23

  Three-and-a-half-year-old Joseph took hold of Rachel’s hand and skipped and kicked at stones along the path. Rachel laughed at his antics and finally released him to run on ahead once she spotted Jacob walking toward them looking dusty and hot, the sheep following behind him. They had reached more than the halfway point in Jacob’s contract with Laban, and Jacob’s wealth had increased faster than either of them could have imagined. The first season, the sheep had borne healthy, speckled young without a single miscarriage. Jacob’s flock grew fifty-fold.

  Her father had questioned each of her brothers and half brothers to be sure Jacob had not somehow snuck into the flocks by night and taken from what was his, but in the end he was forced to admit that the speckled lambs were Jacob’s. The acceptance came with a price, however, as her father changed Jacob’s wages to lambs with spots, not speckled or striped, making the likelihood of payment near impossible again.

  But Rachel had laughed behind her veil at her father’s flushed face when the lambs were born spotted and he had confronted Jacob that second time.

  “What is this you have done to me? You have taken from my spotted lambs and switched them for the white ones.” Laban’s features were mottled in anger, and he stepped close to Jacob, staring him down. But Jacob stood his ground.

  “I had no opportunity to do such a thing. Your sons keep your flocks several days’ distance from mine. And my flocks are in the care of Reuben and Simeon, while I have kept yours apart. You accuse me falsely, my father.” Jacob’s tone had been conciliatory, and after a moment of silence, Laban finally looked away.

  “I do not know if this is true. To test you, I have no choice but to change the terms of our agreement. This time only the striped shall be your wages. We will see if you speak truth. Even you cannot cause the animals a third time to produce as you wish.” He crossed his arms, turned on his heel, and walked away without a backward glance.

  Rachel sobered when she heard these new terms her father laid down, her fear rising. What if her father was right? The first time when the ewes produced all speckled lambs, Jacob’s growing family had rejoiced. When Laban changed the wages to spotted, Jacob’s wives had fretted over what they would do if the next lambing season fell in Laban’s favor. Leah had tried to calm everyone and urged them to trust Adonai, but even Jacob worried, and at night when Rachel lay in his arms, she could feel his restlessness even in his sleep.

  But a third switch? Could even Adonai perform such a feat? Spotted and speckled were more likely to produce white than striped lambs. Her laughter had turned to anger at her father.

  Now Rachel drew closer and noted Jacob’s knit brow even through his delight at seeing Joseph, and she knew the weight of her father’s treachery weighed heavily on him. But she pushed the emotions and thoughts aside as she neared him, now holding a squirming Joseph.

  “He wants to run. He is always busy, and I can barely keep up with him.” She smiled and accepted Jacob’s tired kiss on her cheek. “You look exhausted. Do you want me to take the sheep to the pens while you go bathe in the river? It would do you good.”

  Jacob took Joseph from Rachel’s arms, tousled his thick dark hair, and laughed. “Is it my strength you wish to renew in the river or the smell of my sweat you wish to wash away?” He lowered Joseph to the ground, and each of them took one of the boy’s hands as he skipped along between them.

  “Both!” Rachel shared his laughter and listened as he told her about his day in the fields.

  “I lost one of the ewes to a fox. I killed him with the sling, but not before he had torn the ewe apart.”

  Rachel shuddered. She had always hated the killing, but a shepherd had no choice when protecting her sheep. “How many losses does that make this year?” He kept track for his own sake but did not report the losses to her father. Why cause more dissension between them?

  “In the past eight months, three have been captured by lions, two by foxes, and two by jackals.”

  “Up, Abba, up!” Joseph’s childish voice drew their attention.


  Jacob glanced at her, and she smiled at the wink he gave her. “Up you say, my little man?”

  “Up!” His insistence was more comical than defiant, and they both quickly obliged, lifting Joseph’s arms together and letting him glide over the path. He squealed in delight.

  They continued on, lifting and walking. “You will wear me out, my son,” Jacob said as they neared the fork in the path that led to the river some distance away. He released Joseph’s hand, but Rachel kept her hold. Jacob looked at her. “If you will take the sheep, I will go wash as you wish.” His smile warmed her.

  She wrinkled her nose, sending him a teasing look. “We will appreciate you not smelling quite like a goat, my lord.”

  He touched her head, his gesture affectionate. “I don’t know why I bother, dear wife. I will just need another washing when the lambing takes place.”

  “Then you shall take another.”

  He laughed as they parted, and Rachel was glad for the distraction of the sheep before returning to the tents to help finish the remains of the evening meal and nurse Joseph. She patted each pregnant lamb as it passed by her into the fold, praying the young would be striped this time, wondering if God even heard such selfish prayers.

  For Jacob’s sake, she added. If God intended to bless her husband, she would do well to remind Him that the prayers were meant for him.

  Leah sat in the shade of an oak tree, nursing her newest child. A girl, Dinah, now two years old, born two years after Joseph. She had hoped—oh, how she had hoped—that this seventh child would be a son, to give Jacob the tribal number of twelve. But perhaps Adonai intended to allow Rachel that privilege. Leah sighed and looked down on her daughter, so beautiful in one so young. She had her aunt’s beauty, and Leah found the thought both pleasing and fretful. What fate awaited a comely child or a beautiful woman? Would she be barren as her aunt had been for so long?