But the thoughts were foolish to consider now with the babe not yet weaned. She stroked her daughter’s dark hair, already to her shoulders, away from her cherub face. Dinah opened her eyes as though she knew Leah was watching and smiled, her gaze wide with childish secrets, then closed them again.
“I thought you would be in your tent.” Leah startled at the sound of Rachel’s voice.
“Sometimes the breeze is better in the tree’s shade.” She wiped sweat from her brow and positioned Dinah to the other side.
Rachel knelt near her and pulled a section of wool from a basket she carried and began to separate the strands. Joseph sank down beside her and found a stick to draw circles in the dirt. He glanced at Leah, pausing a moment. “Is she done yet?”
Leah smiled at her nephew. Though they were young, Joseph and Dinah had taken to each other, with him entertaining her with stories as soon as he could string words together. Leah had marveled at his patience with his half sister, but since her own youngest sons, Issachar and Zebulun, had each other, she was grateful for her nephew’s ability to distract Dinah.
“Almost.” Leah patted Joseph’s arm. “Go on with your pictures. What will you draw today?” The boy was a dreamer like his mother, either running and jumping, giving his mother’s nerves a good shake, or sitting quietly as he was now and occupying himself.
“Oh, I dunno. Birds and trees and sheep.” He lapsed into silence and set about to scribble in the dirt.
Rachel looked on him with pride, and Leah felt a little kick over her heart that Jacob took such delight in this son. But she allowed her own sense of pride when she watched Reuben, Simeon, Levi, and even seven-year-old Judah traipse after their father into the fields, already becoming fine shepherds themselves. Would Joseph grow up to tend sheep? She couldn’t imagine him capable of killing a fox or lion or jackal when he grew flustered at the sight of one of his half brothers killing a scorpion. How could Jacob even consider this child as his heir? But one glance at her sister squelched her wayward, jealous thoughts.
“What is on your mind, sister? Or did you just long for my company?” Leah helped Dinah sit up and patted her back.
“I suppose I wanted your company.” Rachel’s smile made Leah silently repent of her jealousy of her sister’s son. “And I needed someone to fret with about Jacob.” She glanced beyond Leah a moment, then turned her attention to the wool in her hands.
“He does seem more tired and quiet than normal. Though you would know better than I how much he speaks.”
Jacob lapsed more often into silence around the meals or conversed with his sons, teaching them things about shepherding, and rarely conversed with his wives, who stood nearby to serve. They often waited now to eat after Jacob and his sons were fed, and since Jacob spent his evenings in Rachel’s tent, Leah was not often privy to his thoughts.
“He is terribly exhausted. Don’t you see it upon his brow?” Rachel looked up, and Leah put Dinah on the grass near Joseph, then took some of the wool from Rachel to help her comb it.
“I see it some. I confess I am often distracted with the children.” She would not admit that she had stopped looking to Jacob for companionship after Dinah’s birth. She just didn’t have it in her to keep hoping he would one day see her with greater favor.
Rachel sighed and tugged at a piece of tangled wool. “Well, he is working himself too hard trying to build the flock. He is training the boys, yes, but they are young. They cannot handle some of the greater tasks of trimming the sheep’s hooves or lifting a lamb from a pit. They can barely handle the sling against those who come against the flock.”
“Reuben and Simeon have learned quickly. Surely they are more help than you think. You weren’t much older when Father sent you to the fields.”
Rachel gave a conciliatory nod. “Yes, of course they are a wonderful help to him. But Father has made things so difficult. He has changed Jacob’s wages six times in four years, and I have no doubt he will do it again in the two that Jacob has left to serve him. First it was speckled, then spotted, then striped. But no, that is not good enough to prove Adonai is blessing Jacob. Then it was speckled and spotted with only brown spots. Then it was striped but only black stripes. Father is impossible!”
Leah let the wool fall to her lap. “I did not realize.”
“Jacob did not want to complain. But it is wearing on him. He hides his anger, but I know he is counting the days until we can leave this place.” Rachel glanced at Joseph as though fearing the child would tell what he had heard. But he had wandered a short distance from them with Dinah, gesturing toward the treetops and talking, Dinah looking on with rapt attention.
“But what can we do?” Protectiveness toward Jacob and anger toward their father caused Leah’s hands to clench into tight fists. She leaned forward. “I would love to see Father squirm as much as Jacob has done in the eighteen years he has been with us. I think Father delights in besting him.”
Rachel nodded. “And Jacob is starting to sense a change in Father’s attitude to him. Have you noticed? I think Bahaar still considers Jacob a friend, but he will not go against Father. What of your brothers? Do they resent our husband?”
Leah picked up the wool again and pondered the thought. Did they? She had paid little attention to them and rarely spoke at length with their wives. She was too busy with her own children to notice. “I do not know. Have you spoken to your mother? Perhaps she knows. I have had little time to speak to mine.” She regretted the way that sounded the moment she said it. “That is, I haven’t really been up to going to the house since Dinah’s birth.”
Her sister seemed not to notice the impression Leah gave that Rachel, who had only one child, would have more time to spend with her mother than Leah did with hers. Both mothers often saw the wives of their sons, who had rooms extended in their father’s house, unlike Rachel and Leah, who lived in tents with Jacob on the farther reaches of Laban’s property nearest the sheep pens.
“My mother has not been feeling well of late. When I am with her, we do not discuss anything that could upset her.” Rachel ran the comb through another section of wool.
Leah looked at her, surprised at this news. “I had not heard this. How long has she been ill?” She saw the shadow pass in front of Rachel’s luminous eyes.
“About a month. She has lost weight—she has no appetite. And she could not attend the last birthing of Tariq’s daughter-in-law.” She bit her lower lip and looked away. “I worry about her.”
Leah leaned closer and touched Rachel’s arm. “We must pray Adonai’s favor upon her.” She couldn’t imagine giving birth without Suri’s help. She was the best midwife in all of Laban’s household and had saved many a woman from undue pain and even death. “I must ask her to teach me her secrets,” Leah said. “Perhaps I can help until she is well.”
Rachel nodded and called Joseph to come. Leah glanced up to see the pair of children had wandered closer to the distant trees that led to the sheep pens. Joseph took Dinah’s hand and quickly obeyed. Leah marveled at the child’s lack of rebellion and couldn’t help but feel the twinge of envy that Joseph had been given far more of Jacob’s time than her sons ever had. Perhaps that was why his spirit was one that was quick to obey.
“I don’t know what we can do to help Jacob,” Rachel said once she was satisfied that Joseph was within a safe distance.
“We should do something to make Father think twice before changing his wages again. Something he would find painful.” Leah lowered her voice, half amazed at her own rebellious thoughts. “That is, if there was such a thing.”
“The only things he cares about are his pipe, his beer, and his gods.”
“His gods most of all. He paid a hefty price for those images, and some are as old as Tariq. Ima said that Father bought them when Rebekah still lived here, long before Jacob or you and I were born.” Leah tucked her combed wool into Rachel’s basket, brushed the lint from her robes, and stood. “I can’t see what we could possibly do to his gods
that he wouldn’t discover. Then our husband would have to pay for whatever damage we did, and it would take us even longer to leave this place.” She called Dinah to her. “I must change her and start the grinding.”
Rachel stood as well and took Joseph’s hand as they headed back to their tents. “You are right, of course,” she said in parting. “I just wanted you to know.”
Leah’s heart warmed as she held Rachel’s concerned gaze. Perhaps they would be closer now. At the very least, she was glad she was the one Rachel had included. No one else loved Jacob like Leah did, and perhaps Rachel was finally coming to see that.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Rachel nodded, then turned her attention to what Joseph was saying. Leah watched them but a moment, then hurried with Dinah to her tent, wondering what she could do to her father’s gods to make him think twice about hurting Jacob.
24
Jacob sipped his barley beer, watching the crowds of men—workers and sons of Laban—enjoying the fruits of their labors after a successful sheep shearing. Laughter and the swell of voices drowned out the sounds of the fire crackling in the pits and in the tall sconces that cast long shadows on the walls.
Jacob moved along one of those walls of the courtyard now, catching patches of conversation as he headed to where Bahaar and Laban’s other sons sat with full plates before the fire. He stopped at the sight of Rachel coming toward him from the cooking room with a large flask and held his cup out for her to refill it.
“Did you notice the difference in the sheep this year?” Jacob turned at the sound of Tariq’s voice. “Jacob’s sheep were heartier and stronger than our father’s. Does anyone besides me see a problem with this?”
Jacob slid into the shadows and pulled Rachel with him, holding a finger to his lips. He cocked his head to better hear and glanced around, hoping he was not noticed.
“Jacob has taken everything our father owned and has gained all this wealth from what belonged to our father.” The voice belonged to Rustam, son of Laban’s concubine Refiqa. Murmurs of agreement followed the comment.
“He took only what our father agreed to pay him.” Jacob recognized Bahaar’s voice, his heart lifting to find one supporter among his brothers-in-law. “Though it is curious that he has done so well while our father’s flocks have clearly weakened.”
The skin prickled on Jacob’s arms. Perhaps not so supportive. He glanced at Rachel, whose wide eyes told him she had heard and feared for him, for them. Surely Laban’s sons would not harm him. But as the voices continued to argue and agree, Jacob forced himself to pull away. He drew Rachel into the house, into one of the inner rooms, and shut the door.
“I want you to take Joseph and go home,” he whispered, afraid even the birds of night might hear his comment and repeat it to Laban or one of his sons.
“But I will be missed. There is still so much food to prepare and pass to the men—” She cut her words off at his touch on her shoulder.
“You heard your brothers, beloved. They suspect me of cheating them.”
Rachel nodded and took his hand. “They will not harm us here, Jacob. We cannot just run away. My father will be slighted if you send all of us to our tents and leave his celebration.” She released his hand and touched his forearm. “They have had too much to drink. By morning they will forget everything.”
He didn’t agree. She had not worked beside them shearing the sheep, had not seen the malevolent glances his way when they thought he would not see, when one of his sheep came before the shearers. But now was not the time or place to fully express his concerns, his fears.
“You are right, of course.” He touched her cheek. “But as soon as you are finished, I want you to leave. I will send Leah shortly after you. The children are young and must be put to bed. No one will argue that.”
Rachel looked at him a moment, considering his request. “I had thought to check on my mother before we go. To see if she needs anything.”
He gave a slight nod. How could he refuse her anything? Especially when Suri’s health had continued to decline. “Go to her as soon as you can, then take Joseph and leave.” He knew he was probably being overly protective of them, but he could not shake the feeling of unease in his gut. “You will go?”
She nodded, her dark eyes holding him captive, her smile erasing some of the fear troubling him. “I will go, Jacob. I think you worry too much.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “But I will leave as soon as I’m able.”
He drew in a breath, though the action did little to soothe him. She picked up the flask she’d set by the door, and he followed. He would go back to the fire and give them warning of his approach, lest Laban’s sons suspect he had overheard them. Then he would see how they acted in his presence.
Rachel’s heart beat too fast as she walked to the fire where her brothers and half brothers sat talking among themselves. She approached Tariq, making her presence known, and was satisfied when the conversation shifted to concerns over the wheat crop rather than further discussion of her husband. She moved from man to man, refilling their cups, resting a pointed look on Bahaar. He glanced beyond her, but she read the guilt in his eyes. He did not appreciate Jacob’s success any more than the others, but at least he felt some type of remorse for his comments.
She looked up as Jacob approached the men, their smiles forced but half welcoming before she moved to stand in the shadows, listening. Her brothers made room for Jacob to join them, but the air was tenser now, and the jokes carried barbs that seemed especially sharp. Rachel stood near, her hands clenched tight about the flask, and for the briefest moment wished for the sling she used to carry when she shepherded the sheep in the fields. But she wouldn’t really use such a thing against her own kin. Still, she couldn’t help the protectiveness that rose within her for Jacob and for her son.
She hurried away, wondering where Joseph had wandered off to. Jacob’s earlier distress suddenly filled her with worry. She must tell Leah and take the children back to the tents. Perhaps it was time for them to leave her father’s household and travel to Canaan as Jacob had long hoped. Jacob’s contract with her father would be completed at month’s end, and her father had done nothing to make any of them want to stay even a week beyond. She stopped near the outer courtyard searching for her son, spotting Leah’s older boys playing games with Bahaar’s children. Would they truly go and leave this all behind?
Thoughts of her mother surfaced, bringing a sense of loss. Her stomach twisted in an uncomfortable knot. How could she leave her when she was so ill? And how could she live without her? Or bear another son without her aid? To leave her behind . . . But her mother could never come with her. Her father would hunt them down to bring her back.
She worried her lower lip, her anxious thoughts racing ahead of her feet as she hurried through the house searching for Joseph. There were too many rooms and too many children. She should have told him to stay close to her. But at six years old, he could hardly be expected to hang on to her robe and ignore time with his cousins.
She found Leah in one of the sleeping rooms holding Dinah, Issachar and Zebulun and Joseph already sleeping on cushions beside her. “There you are. I expected them to be playing with their cousins.”
Leah glanced up. “They held races in the field behind the courtyard and nearly fell asleep eating their meal.”
“Let me help you take the children home.”
Leah shifted Dinah’s sleeping form onto her shoulder. “We should have taken them long ago,” she said, exhaustion lining her face. “These feasts wear me out.”
Rachel bent to coax the boys awake and took Joseph and Zebulun by the hand while Leah took hold of Issachar’s. They moved quietly through the house, passing Farah in one of the halls.
“Have you seen your mother, Rachel? She’s asking for you.” Farah glanced at Rachel, then looked at her daughter. “Let me help you. Are you taking them home?”
Leah handed Dinah to her mother and took Zebulun’s hand fr
om Rachel’s. “Shall I take Joseph for you?”
“No, he can come with me. We won’t be long.” She left them and took a side hall to her mother’s room, where she found Suri lying on her mat. Rachel hurried to her side. “Are you in pain, Ima?”
Her mother’s face looked pale and drawn, but she shook her head and offered Rachel a weak smile. “I am well, my daughter. Just tired. So very tired.” She looked from Rachel to Joseph, and her smile widened. “Come to see me, dear child.”
Joseph, still groggy from a full day of work and play, climbed beside his grandmother, his touch gentle as if he sensed her weakness. She pulled him near and stroked his soft dark hair. “Such a beautiful boy you are, Joseph. Yahweh has great things in store for you, my son.” She kissed the top of his head, and Rachel’s heart stirred with a mixture of joy and pain. Joy over her mother’s blessing and pain over the fear that she would soon lose her.
“Can I get you anything, Ima?” Rachel wanted to linger but sensed that her mother needed rest. “Shall I call for your maid?”
Suri shook her head. “No, child. Seeing you was all I needed. I fear I wore myself out trying to help until Farah shooed me away.” Her gaze traveled beyond Rachel, and Rachel turned to see if someone was there, but they were alone. “Go now, Rachel. Take Joseph home.” She kissed Joseph’s cheek then, and Joseph crept closer to Rachel. Rachel bent to kiss her mother’s sallow cheek.
“I will come tomorrow, Ima.” Surely a good night’s sleep would make things right.
“Tomorrow,” she said, her voice drifting off.
After a few moments, when she saw her mother’s even breathing in the soft rise and fall of her chest, she took Joseph’s hand and left the room. They made their way to the main sitting room of the house, then toward the outer courtyard, passing her father’s shrine to his gods as they went. Rachel paused at Joseph’s tug on her arm.
“Why does Sabba Laban keep images, Ima?” He no longer sounded sleepy, and a grave frown creased his young brow. “Abba says we are to worship only one God, Elohim.”
Rachel Page 19
