A fine sweat broke out all over his body, and he realized he was holding her too tightly—yet her own arms were tight about him. Finally Jacob lifted his head, his breathing shallow. Leah did not move back but still leaned against him. She put her hand on his cheek and whispered, “My! There must be many women saddened because you left your home.”
“Why, not at all!” he said, surprised at her suggestion.
“Oh yes. You can’t lie about that, Jacob. You’re a strong man. You’re able to stir a woman.”
Jacob said nothing, but his throat tightened as she smiled and ran her hand down his cheek.
“I’ll have to be more careful with you, Jacob. A woman has no protection against a man with your power.”
Jacob was not greatly experienced with women. He felt a surge of pride at her assessment of him and at the desire in her eyes that assured him that she was—for herself, at least—speaking the truth. He had never before had a woman say things like this to him, let alone had a woman kiss him like this.
It was only when they heard someone calling Leah’s name that she stepped back. “I’ll see you later,” she whispered with a promise in her voice that stirred him again.
“Get out of that bed before I drag you out!”
Ziva reached down and grabbed Laban by the hair. He cried out with pain as she shook him, but she was relentless. “Get out, I say!”
Laban had been in the village until late last night and had come home blind drunk. He had a splitting headache and now protested, “Turn loose of my hair! You’re killing me!”
“You need killing! What do you mean staying out carousing—no doubt with a woman.”
“No. That’s not so.”
“You were gone for three days with those drunken friends of yours. What do you think is happening to the stock?”
“Lomach and Benzar are taking care of them.”
“Those loafers! They went off as soon as you left.”
Ziva’s words awakened Laban at once. In a panic he said, “What about the stock?”
“Jacob’s been taking care of them. He hired two men.”
“Who’s going to pay for them?”
“You are, you old fool! They’re your cattle, aren’t they? Now, get out of bed!”
“I need something to eat.”
“Then fix it yourself!”
Ziva argued more out of habit than for any other reason. She had long ago lost any illusions she might have had about Laban. He was a shiftless, drunken man—selfish, lecherous, and greedy to the bone. She knew he was afraid of her and well he might be. He had beat her once shortly after their marriage. Determined never to be humiliated by him again, she waited for him to go to sleep that night, then poured boiling water over his bare chest. It had left huge blisters that had taken weeks to heal. Since that day she had dared him to touch her, but he never had.
Now Laban stumbled around getting his clothes on, and when she put a bowl of porridge before him, he ate it with trembling hands. His head felt as if someone were driving huge thorns through it, and he endured her nagging until he finally said, “What’s my nephew doing now?”
“Why, he’s enjoying your gracious hospitality,” Ziva said sarcastically. “He’s been doing the work you should have been doing.”
“Well, he needs to work. I can’t just feed that fellow forever.”
“He’d better stay, then. He knows more about animals than you and your worthless sons or anybody else I know.” Seeing his bowl was empty, she dipped out another huge spoonful of the porridge and slapped it into his bowl, then reached down and pulled his head up by the chin. “You’d better wake up, Laban. If you don’t do something soon, we’re going to lose everything.”
Laban could not answer but sat there intimidated. When she removed her hand and turned back to her work, he drew a shaky breath. She’s right, he thought bitterly. Somebody’s got to take hold around here. Those two sons of mine are worthless. He might have added that he himself was worthless, but he would never admit that.
Suddenly Ziva turned and said, “I think he ought to marry Leah.”
“Marry Leah! Why, Mehor would kill him! You know that.”
“He doesn’t own her, you know. Besides, if Mehor marries our daughter, he’ll take everything you have.”
Laban argued faintly, but he knew that Ziva was right. She was always right about things like this, and finally he heard her say, “Leah despises Mehor. You ought to tell that beast to leave her alone.”
“Are you crazy!” Laban shouted. “He’d kill me! You know how he is when anybody crosses him. He goes into a blind rage.”
“Well, you’ve got to do something or we’ll be beggars.”
The cool breeze was delightful after the heat of the day. Overhead the clouds were rolling along lazily like huge, fluffy sheep. Jacob watched them for a time, then continued on his way toward the camp. He had been out treating some sick animals and wondered why in the world Laban had let the herds get into such a terrible state. There was so much to be done, and neither Laban nor his sons seemed to care anything about it.
He heard a cheerful voice behind him and turned to see Rachel skipping toward him. She had a delightful way of running in a childlike fashion. He almost never saw her walk. She either ran or skipped or danced—always in motion. Now the sun highlighted her black hair in a way that pleased him. She came up to him and said, “Are you going home?”
“Yes, I am, Rachel.”
“Come on. I want to show you my special place first.” She took his hand and chattered constantly as she half pulled him along. Jacob smiled down at her, for she was, indeed, the most cheerful element in Laban’s camp. He could not understand how she kept such a happy spirit and decided she must have inherited it from her mother. She got nothing at all, it seemed, from Laban, and at times Jacob even wondered if Laban were truly her father.
Finally Rachel stopped beside a small stream that made a crook like an elbow around some small trees. Their shade sheltered the two from the sun, and she pulled him down to sit beside her.
“This is my special place,” she said.
“It’s very nice. It’s cool here. Do you come a lot?”
“Oh yes. Every chance I get. Nobody else knows about it but you.”
“I feel very honored that you’d share it with me, Rachel.”
Rachel turned to face him. Her teeth were white as milk, which was unusual for anyone in this country. Her eyes were clear, and the blue was prominent today, he saw. They seemed to change color from time to time, and he was fascinated by them.
“What do you do when you come here all alone?”
“Oh, I sing and make up stories.”
“Why don’t you tell me one.”
“Really? Nobody else wants to hear them.”
“Well, I do.”
Rachel had a vivid imagination and told a story about a huge bear that was about to devour a beautiful young woman. But he was killed by a strong warrior who drove a spear all the way through his heart.
“And did the warrior marry the young woman?”
“Oh yes! My stories always end happily.”
Jacob laughed softly. “That’s a good story. I like it.”
“Oh, I know lots more.”
Jacob sat there, letting the fatigue from the day’s hot work drain out of him. It was the quietest and most peaceful moment he’d had since coming to Laban’s camp. Finally Rachel turned to him and said, “Are you going to marry Leah?”
“Would you like it if I did?”
“No, because you’d be dead.”
“Dead! What do you mean by that?”
Rachel’s eyes were large, and she put her finger on her lips. “Mehor would kill you. Don’t even talk about him. He’s awful!”
“But he’s going to marry Leah, or so I hear.”
“You’d better stay away from Leah when he’s around. The last time he was here one of the young men flirted with Leah, and Mehor just grabbed him and beat him half to death
.”
“Well,” Jacob said, a bit ill at ease, “I’d better leave her alone, I suppose.”
“It would be best.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll wait until you grow up, Rachel, and then I’ll marry you.”
Rachel gave him an insulted look. “I am grown up! I became a woman four months ago.” She stood to her feet, and he scrambled to stand beside her.
“I’m sorry,” Jacob said quickly. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
Her moods changed quickly, and she smiled and shook her head. “Come on. Let’s go back home. I’ve picked some fresh figs, and you can have them dipped in honey.”
“That sounds good to me.”
Four days after Rachel’s warning about Mehor, Jacob came back from the herds to find the man had arrived in camp. He had no doubt who he was, since the burly man towered over Leah. “He’s big as an ox!” Jacob muttered. He would have left, but the man turned and demanded, “Who is this?”
Leah said, “This is my cousin Jacob. His mother is my father’s sister. He’s from Beersheba.”
Mehor released Leah’s arm and came over to confront Jacob. “You come for a visit?” His voice was rough, but no rougher than his appearance. He towered over Jacob too, and Jacob thought he was the largest man he’d ever seen. His eyes were a murky brown, his hair unkempt. But the most spectacular thing about him was the pads of muscle that covered his body. His hands were large, and now they were clenched as he placed them on his hips.
“Yes,” Jacob answered, trying to keep his voice steady. “As Leah says, Laban is my uncle.”
“Are you staying long?” The question propelled out of the burly man’s lips.
Jacob cleared his throat. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Mehor stared at him, then looked suspiciously at Leah. “You know I’m going to marry Leah.”
“So I’ve heard,” Jacob said.
Mehor stared at him. “Who told you that?”
Leah came forward and said, “Leave him alone, Mehor. He’s tired.”
Jacob was relieved to see the man turn away and follow Leah.
Rachel had been watching, and she came to whisper, “Don’t have anything to do with him.”
Mehor was walking away, but he kept casting glances back at Jacob. “See that you don’t have anything to do with that fellow.”
“I’ll do as I please, Mehor. You know that,” Leah said boldly.
“If you do—”
Leah laughed at his threat. She was fearless. She looked up at him and said, “You think I’m afraid of you, Mehor?”
He grinned at her. “No. You’re not. You’re the only one who isn’t. I guess that’s the reason why I’m going to marry you.”
“That’ll be a long day coming.”
“It will come, though. You might as well get ready for it!”
Mehor stayed for two days, and during that time Jacob carefully avoided him. He took Rachel’s warning seriously, and not only hers—Laban himself had muttered, “Stay away from that man. He could kill you with one blow.”
“There’s no reason for that,” Jacob had insisted.
“He doesn’t need a reason,” Laban said grimly. “He’s like a mad bull when he loses his temper.”
Late on the afternoon of the second day of Mehor’s visit, Jacob had gone down to water the cattle. It was the quiet time of evening, the time he liked best. He was sitting there thinking about his mother and wishing he could see her and his father too, for he found that he missed both his parents. He blocked Esau out of his mind, except for those times when they were children before the enmity had come between them.
“Are you daydreaming, Jacob?”
Jacob turned quickly to see that Leah had come silently down the path.
“I guess I was,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“What a rude thing to say! I came to see you, of course.”
Jacob stared at her and could not help remembering the kiss they had shared in his tent. “Where’s Mehor?”
“Oh, he’s on his way home. I’m glad of it.”
“You don’t care for him, I take it.”
“Of course not. Who could love a beast like that?”
“Everyone says he’s going to marry you. That’s what he himself says.”
“I’ll never marry him!”
“I’m glad to hear it, but making him believe that might be difficult.”
The two stood talking of other things, and Leah questioned him about his home and family.
For some reason he didn’t understand, Jacob began to tell this woman things he had kept bottled up. He even told her about his robbing his brother of his birthright and finally of the blessing of his father. When he had finished, he said, “I wish I’d never done that. It was wrong.”
“Don’t be sad, Jacob.” Leah put her hand on his arm, and he turned quickly to face her. “All of us do things that are wrong, but we can’t change what we’ve done.”
“I wish I could.”
“But you can’t.” She stepped closer, and he smelled the fragrance of the musky perfume she sometimes wore. “We can’t change what we are.”
“Oh, but that’s not true.”
“Of course it is! I am what I am—you are what you are.” She stopped and searched his eyes. “Don’t you like me as I am, Jacob?”
Jacob felt the pull of this woman, and he was powerless to resist her. He put his arms around her and kissed her, and she clung to him. The kiss lingered but ended suddenly when Jacob heard a savage cry.
He wrenched himself backward and saw Mehor running toward him. The big man’s face was red and contorted with rage. Jacob started to protest. “Now, look—I didn’t mean anything by this!” He heard Leah crying out, “Mehor, leave him alone!” But then the man was on him. He saw a huge fist coming at him, and then a wrenching pain followed. He felt blood running down his face and his body falling backward. Then everything went black.
Leah threw herself on Mehor, who was kicking the unconscious Jacob in the side and head. She put her hands across his face and clawed him with her nails. When he cried out and threw her from him, she scrambled to her feet. “Leave him alone!”
“I’ll leave him alone when he’s dead!” He turned and kicked him again. “I’ll kill him if he’s here the next time I come! You tell him that!”
“Get away from here, and don’t ever come back!”
“I’ll come back, and when I do, he’d better not be here.”
Mehor whirled and lumbered away, and Leah went down on her knees. Jacob was totally still, frighteningly so. His face was battered, and blood flowed over his eye and out of one ear. Leah thought for one sickening moment that he was dead, but then she saw his chest moving. She pulled him up and held his head against her breast and began crying, “Jacob—Jacob!” And as she held him there, she knew only one thing. She had to have this man. She had to!
Chapter 9
Everything was cloudy, obscure, the objects before him hidden behind a fog. Then a faint glow caught his attention, like a cat’s eye gleaming in the dark. He struggled to see through the haze—then everything seemed to clear. It was like the wind blowing a fog away, and the light proved to be a candle with the flame flickering wildly, then standing straight up in a sharp tear shape.
He tried to breathe, but the pain in his chest felt like a sword piercing him clean through. He tried to speak, but his dry, cracked lips and swollen tongue stopped the words he attempted to form, and he closed his eyes in frustration.
“Jacob…can you hear me?”
The voice came from somewhere over his head. He opened his eyes to see a woman’s face. She stood between him and the candle, and the tiny light created a corona of brightness around her hair. He felt a hand resting on his face, and he tried again to speak. “Rachel…is it you?” he managed to whisper.
“Yes. How do you feel?”
Licking his lips, Jacob moved his shoulders cautiously. Slivers of pain sliced through his ches
t, and he stammered, “I…I…feel terrible!”
“You’ve been very badly hurt.”
He carefully raised his hand and found a roughness over his eyebrow. Someone had sewed him up, he understood, and then opening his eyes wide, he said, “How long…have I been here?”
“You were hurt yesterday. It’s night now.”
Jacob tried to move, but again the pain smashed against him. “What’s wrong with my chest?”
“I think some of your ribs are broken.”
“Could I have a drink?”
“Yes. I’ve got it right here.”
Jacob lay flat on his back and heard the delightful sound of water tinkling from a large vessel into a smaller one, and then her hand was behind his head.
“Try not to move,” she said. “Just lift your head.”
Obeying her, Jacob felt the cup against his lips. He guzzled at the water, spilling some of it so that it ran down the sides of his lips and onto his chest. He enjoyed the wonderful coolness along his tongue and in his throat. “That’s good!” he said.
Rachel moved to fill the glass again, and as she did, Jacob’s memory returned. “I…I thought he was going to kill me.”
“I think he would have if Leah hadn’t stopped him. You’re going to be all right, though. You won’t feel as much pain after a while.”
Jacob tried unsuccessfully to smile. “Good. I’d hate to feel this bad for the rest of my life.” She had moved to one side now, and he could see her face more clearly. Her features were outlined by the yellow halo of light from the candle, and she reached out and touched the side of his wounded head. “You were unconscious all the time Ziva was sewing you up. She’s very good at such things. You’re going to have a scar, though.”
Jacob sighed deeply. “I’ve made a fine mess of things, haven’t I?”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Rachel insisted. “It’s that Mehor! I wish somebody would kill him!”
The Gate of Heaven Page 9
