Rachel

by Jill Eileen Smith

  She searched his face, drawn by the light in his dark eyes. “What did He say to you?”

  Jacob stroked his beard with his free hand. “He did not speak this time.” He glanced beyond her in the direction the angels had come as though hoping to see them again, then looked back at her. “But I sensed His words from the time before. And I sensed His pleasure in me.” His crooked smile reminded her of Joseph, and she knew how much such pleasure meant to him. Despite the blessing Jacob had won, his own father had favored his brother.

  “I am happy for you, Jacob.” She leaned close and kissed his cheek, touching the other cheek with her palm, stroking his beard. “You are the favored of Adonai. You will surely be blessed from this day forward.” A feeling of pride filled her that she could share in such blessing, that her son would one day rule at his father’s right hand. “Will we go directly to see your father and mother in Hebron then?” He had talked so often of the anticipated reunion that she fully expected him to take over for his father as soon as they could return.

  He nodded. “This is my hope. We will stay here for a week to give the animals time to feed and the children a chance to rest. But then we will continue south to my father.” He stood, pulling her to him, and lifted her in his arms, twirling her in a joyous dance. “We shall be home at last, beloved. Ima and my father will love you.” He kissed her then, a slow, gentle kiss that made her knees weak.

  “Perhaps we should continue this in your tent.” She whispered the words against his ear, and he laughed, filling her with joy she had not known since Joseph’s birth.

  “Perhaps we should.” He slipped his arm around her waist and guided her back the way they had come, continuing the kiss as the tent flap closed them in.

  Jacob lay awake long after Rachel returned to her tent to stay with Joseph lest he awaken and fear her absence. His body ached with weariness, and yet anticipation of the future kept his mind churning with possibilities. What would his father say to him? Was his mother well? Was Deborah still living? He had had little word of them during his stay with Laban, the last message coming over a year before. Surely he would see them again soon.

  But as the night sounds settled into the quiet that preceded the dawn, Jacob dreamed of Esau, not his father. All the anger and grappling they had done as children, all the ways Jacob had deceived his brother came to him in memories he had long tried to suppress. The rift between himself and Esau could cause serious problems for him as he entered his father’s camp.

  Did Esau still reside with their parents? Had he taken over his father’s affairs in Jacob’s absence? What would cause him to give up the right to control them now, if he had? Esau had two wives and several sons when Jacob left him, and he had added at least one more wife after Jacob fled, if the gossip was true. No doubt the man had probably fathered more sons during the ensuing years. But was he well? Did he have livestock and servants as Jacob had?

  The vision of the angels that had met him hours before filled the place where the memories of Esau lingered. And with the vision came the sense of his own unworthiness and the weight of the guilt he had carried for years.

  He awoke with a start, sweat beading his skin. God had not spoken in words when He’d sent the angels to Mahanaim, but His guidance could not be more clear.

  Jacob must reconcile with Esau. Before he returned to his father.

  The thought made his insides quiver. Sleep would not return this night.

  “But why, Jacob? Wouldn’t it be better to avoid trouble than to search for it head-on?” Rachel’s words raised his own doubts the following day when he spoke to his wives after the morning meal.

  “I would love to avoid facing my brother, particularly when he left me with the threat to end my life, but it seems this is the path God has led me to.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, wishing he could have avoided this conversation. But his wives must be told what lay ahead. He just didn’t expect Rachel’s gaze to hold such fear. Perhaps he had spoken too warily of Esau in the past.

  “I think if God is leading you to meet your brother, then you must do as He says.”

  He turned at Leah’s voice and assessed her. Were her thoughts truly her own, or was she making the suggestion to increase her sister’s fear? But no. Leah feared Adonai. She would have spoken from her heart for Him, not in meanness to her sister. Surely such jealousies were long past.

  Rachel touched his arm, drawing his attention back to her, and he wondered by the scowl lines along her brow whether that last thought was true. “But think of the children, Jacob. Wouldn’t you be putting them—putting all of us—in danger if Esau were invited to our camp? If he comes alone, then he will fear for his own life. But if he comes with his sons as my father just did, they could be armed as my father’s sons surely were, and attack while we are sleeping.”

  Her fears were not unfounded, but if he listened, if he allowed her fears to become his, he would shrink back from what he knew he must do. Hadn’t the angels of God just met him? Surely Adonai would be with him. He must trust that He would protect him, if this indeed was His plan.

  But was this His plan? The doubts floated near him like pestering insects as he listened to the arguments back and forth between Rachel and Leah.

  “I understand your fears, and I will do all in my power to keep you safe,” he said, no longer able to bear their bickering. “But I believe this is the right thing to do, and I must do it.” His tone was sharper than he intended, but the words had their desired effect.

  Rachel gave a slight nod. “As you say, my lord.” Her tone held constraint, and he regretted that he could not be more reassuring.

  “Adonai will be with us,” Leah said, placing a comforting hand on his arm. He met her gaze and for the first time felt gratitude for her faith, for her purpose in his life.

  He smiled his response and thanked them both. As they went back to their daily tasks, he walked toward the herds to speak to his chief steward. He would find out where Esau now resided and send messengers to greet him, seeking audience.

  Then he would see what God would do.

  29

  “We found Esau living in the land of Seir as you had discovered, my lord,” one of Jacob’s young male servants said a few weeks later. “And we repeated the words you told us to say—how you have been staying with Laban until now and have cattle and donkeys, sheep and goats, menservants and maidservants. We told him that you were sending the message to find favor in his eyes, just like you said.”

  Rachel looked from the messenger to Jacob, saw his stiff shoulders, his tense jaw. Her own heart beat to an anxious rhythm, and her breath was unsteady in her chest.

  “What answer did he give you?” Jacob’s brows drew down, the worry lines clearly evident beneath his striped turban. His knuckles whitened on the top of his staff.

  “He said he is coming to meet you, and four hundred men are with him.” This from the same messenger, but the other men with him nodded in agreement.

  “Four hundred?” Jacob’s voice was low, barely a whisper. His hand trembled in its grip, and it took all in Rachel’s power not to rush to him, to hold him up. But her own knees wobbled, and a sudden pall fell over the group.

  “So many.” Jacob looked about for a place to sit, and his men took his arms, guiding him to the stones set about the campfire. One of the men offered him a drink from their skin of water, and he took it, though some of the water sloshed from his shaking. What could they do? What could they possibly do against four hundred men?

  “It’s the size of a raiding party,” Omid said, sitting across from him. “We have enough men to stand against him, my lord. They are not trained in battle, but we have surely faced many a predator against the flocks and herds. We could go on ahead and meet him before he ever gets to the women and children.”

  Rachel forced strength into her limbs, taking comfort in the steward’s words. She moved closer, seeking a way to join Jacob, to be a silent comfort at his side. She stood in his line of vision
, but his gaze seemed to stretch beyond her as though he was seeing into another time or place.

  The steward cleared his throat and sought to regain Jacob’s attention. “My lord?”

  Jacob shook his head as if to clear it and looked at the man, not acknowledging Rachel.

  “Shall I gather the servants and prepare to battle him?”

  Jacob stroked his beard. When had the streaks of silver cropped in among the hairs? He had always seemed so full of vigor, nearly invincible to her. But right now he looked like the years had suddenly aged him, and the fear, her fear, had overtaken him.

  Regret filled her, and she moved closer, slipping into the seat at his side. He finally sensed her presence and looked at her with an expression she could not read. He took her hand, and his was cold to her touch. He did not speak for a lengthy moment. At last he faced his steward.

  “We will divide the camp into two groups. The men who can handle a sling or a sword shall be in the first group, with some also in the second to protect the women and children. If Esau attacks one group, the group that is left may escape.” He drew in a ragged breath, then lowered his head into his hands.

  “It will be as you say, my lord,” the steward said. “Do not worry. We will move quickly. The groups will be separated by nightfall.”

  Jacob looked up and nodded, the lines of distress and fear evident in his face. The men left to do his bidding, leaving Rachel beside him. They sat in silence as the women and children slowly gathered around him, aware of the silence, of Jacob’s fear.

  He stood at last, leaning heavily on his staff to address them. “Gather everything and pack the camels. We will move across the river by nightfall.” His gaze took in the group, sorrow gracing his words, his gaze. He turned and walked abruptly to his tent, leaving them behind him.

  The wind picked up, whipping Jacob’s cloak against his body as he walked toward his tent like a drunken man. He lifted the flap, letting his eyes adjust to the dark interior, glad that he had failed to lift the sides at dawn lest his wives and sons see his misery. Lest they taste his fear.

  He stumbled to the cushions and the colorful woven mats that covered the floor, gifts from each of his wives to brighten this receiving room. They had outdone themselves trying to create the finest work for him, and he had gladly praised the work of their hands. Would they live to do so again? To create, to build, to share in his days?

  Oh, God! He couldn’t bear to lose Rachel! And if he thought on it a moment, Leah either. They had become his life, his heart. Even his slave girls Bilhah and Zilpah were his, had borne him children. Would Esau come and destroy all he had been given, all he had built?

  The fear moved through him, a living thing, a snake slithering through the dry places in his soul. Your brother Esau is consoling himself with the thought of killing you. His mother’s words, long thought a distant memory, sounded in his ear like she stood with him in the room. When your brother is no longer angry with you and forgets what you did to him, I’ll send word for you to come back from there. But word had never come.

  Esau is coming to meet you, and four hundred men are with him.

  Four hundred men. The standard size of a band of outlaws or a raiding party. A formidable host.

  He sank to his knees on the mats, suddenly aware of too many aches in his bones. He stretched out his arms before him, his face to the ground. Words formed in his heart, the silent prayers of a desperate man. But he would not keep them silent. He lifted his voice, choking on emotion as he spoke.

  “O Elohim of my father Abraham, Elohim of my father Isaac, O Yahweh, who said to me, ‘Go back to your country and your relatives, and I will make you prosper.’” He paused, seeing in his mind’s eye the angels, hearing again the Voice who had promised. “I am unworthy of all the kindness and faithfulness you have shown your servant. I had only my staff when I crossed this Jordan, but now I have become two groups.” The reality of the blessing sank deep within him, carrying with it seeds of comfort. He rose to a sitting position, hands raised to the tent’s ceiling.

  “Save me, I pray, from the hand of my brother Esau, for I am afraid . . .” He paused again, emotion making the words thick in his throat. “I am afraid he will come and attack me, and also the mothers with their children.” As the words left his lips, the memory of the promise filled him, renewing him. He stood slowly, beseeching yet consumed with a strange sense of boldness.

  “But You have said, ‘I will surely make you prosper and will make your descendants like the sand of the sea, which cannot be counted.’” Surely God would remember. Surely He could be trusted to keep His promise.

  Jacob wiped the tears that had slid into his beard and swallowed hard, his mind working with what to do next. An idea surfaced, filling him with hope. He grabbed his staff, straightened his cloak, and hurried to find his steward.

  Rachel spotted Jacob the moment he stepped foot outside his tent. She set down the water jug she carried and hurried to his side, grateful that Joseph was occupied with his half sister Dinah, helping Leah pack. Though her fear made her want to keep Joseph with her, there was no use worrying a six-year-old.

  “Jacob,” she called to him, grateful that he slowed and waited for her to catch up. “Where are you going? Can I come with you?” She would not say it to him, but she needed to be with him, to see his face, in case . . . No. She could not lose him.

  He looked at her a moment, his expression thoughtful. “I am only going to see my steward. Then I will visit the overseers of each of the flocks and herds. There is nothing for you to do.”

  She tucked a strand of hair beneath her headscarf and gave him a pleading look. “I would be with you. That is enough.”

  “Have you packed already?” His comment held little conviction, and she knew he would appease her.

  “There is little to pack. We have not been here long enough to take everything out of the baskets. Leah and the others had more to do than I did.” She did not suggest that she could be helping them. Not when she knew he needed her, whether he admitted such a thing or not.

  His half smile and the way he took her hand, looping it over his arm, answered her question. “We must hurry.”

  Her grip tightened as he crooked his arm, pulling her along, his staff digging into the earth to aid their going. “What need have you of your steward? I thought you had already sent him to divide the camp into groups.”

  “I am sending Esau a gift,” he said, his breath coming quickly as the ground sloped upward before them. “If he will accept it, I will appease him, and he will spare my life.”

  He stopped at the top of the rise and lifted a hand to shade his eyes against the afternoon’s glare. The hot winds of summer were still months away, but the breeze had a warmer than normal edge to it. She traced the hairs on his arm with her fingers, causing him to look at her.

  “You fear him greatly.”

  He nodded, but the earlier distress did not fill his gaze. “I fear him. And yet I know God has promised me things that cannot be fulfilled if I die, if you all were taken from me.” He swallowed and briefly closed his eyes. “I am finding it hard to trust.”

  She nodded, leaning close to his side. “As am I.”

  He took her hand and continued walking. “From the best of the flocks I am going to give him two hundred female goats, twenty male goats, two hundred ewes, and twenty rams. You can help inspect them.”

  So many. “I would be happy to help. I have not forgotten how to choose the choicest lambs.” She smiled up at him. “You have taught me much.”

  He smiled into her eyes. “Everything I did was for you, beloved.”

  The warmth in his gaze melted some of her fear, and on any other day she would have teased him and coaxed him to chase her among the grasses. But the seriousness of his brother’s visit, a visit she should have welcomed if his family had not been so at odds these many years, kept her from considering such foolishness.

  “I would tell you that I also plan to give him cattle, camel
s, and donkeys from the herds. Each will be sent in its own drove, with distance between them. Perhaps as my brother comes upon each one, he will be more impressed as he goes. He never could turn down a good meal, even if it still walked on all fours.”

  She laughed. “Your brother sounds like a man of many appetites. Let us hope he does not plan to eat the camels and donkeys.”

  Jacob stopped again, scanning the horizon, at last spotting his steward talking to one of the overseers near the flock of goats. “You are right, my love. My brother was always a man of passion, of heated emotions and rash thinking. He came to quick conclusions and could not sit still. It is funny. My father loved him best, yet it is I who am most like my father.”

  She turned her head to better see him against the sun’s setting as he waved the two men closer. “Your father was a quiet, introspective man as you are?” She had seen his ability to laugh and joke with her father and brothers but had also been privy to his silent moods. And she had seen him pray, had seen his tears, as the sheen of the sun’s orange glow now showed them dried upon his cheeks.

  “My father was much quieter than I.” He looked at her, touched a hand to her cheek. “Come, now. Let us prepare the gift for my brother. Then I will take you back to camp to finish packing. I want you all across the river by nightfall.”

  “Will we cross in the dark then?” Already the heat of the day had passed, and she would be missed preparing the food they would eat in haste.

  He glanced at the sky. “Or we will wait until morning.” He seemed suddenly unsure. “I do not know.”

  “Waiting one night shouldn’t hurt.”

  He gave a slight nod as the men approached, then turned to lay out his planned gift before them. Rachel moved to where the goats grazed and began searching for the ones she thought might please the brother she had never thought she would meet. And wished now they never would.