“He would if it weren’t for me, I know.” Rachel softened then. “He’s told me so.”
“Maybe when you’re married you can take some of the herd and we can go away and begin all over again. Jacob’s so good with animals. He would be a success anywhere.”
Rachel nodded. “Maybe so. We’ve talked about it.”
Bilhah stopped brushing the hair and moved around to where she could look into Rachel’s face. There was no one more beautiful than her mistress! She ran her hand over the smooth cheek. “You’re so pretty,” she whispered. “Jacob is a lucky man!”
The wedding feast had begun, and the camp was filled with visitors. Ziva and Leah worked steadily along with the servants to keep the food cooked. The wedding ceremony was the next day, and Leah’s face was stony. More than once she had thought about leaving, for she could not bear to see her sister’s happiness, and especially not Jacob’s.
Now she turned the spit that held the roasting lamb and, from time to time, sprinkled some spices on it. She remained there, ignoring the shouts and laughter and music that were going on all about her. She knew she was the only miserable person in the place and resisted an impulse to kick the lamb into the fire.
“Leah…”
Leah turned to see her mother approaching. “What is it?” she said.
“Leave that thing to the slave girl. I’ve got to talk to you.”
Leah shrugged, then reached over and pulled the hair of the slave girl who had been hired. “Watch this lamb. Don’t let it burn!” she snapped. Getting up, she moved away to follow her mother. She had no idea what Ziva wanted, thinking she probably had more work for her to do.
Ziva, however, went toward the tent where she lived with Laban. Glancing about as she followed her mother, Leah spotted her father groping after a plump young woman who was laughing at him. “The old goat!” she muttered. “Look at him, Mother.”
“I know. I gave up on him a long time ago. The man is worthless!” Ziva ducked into the tent, and as soon as Leah stepped inside, she turned to face her daughter.
Leah was shocked at the intensity of her mother’s expression. She knew her mother was totally immersed in the worship of her idols, and now when she saw the statuettes displayed in the tent, covered with flower petals and surrounded by burning lamps, she surmised that Ziva had been fasting and praying to them. Her mother normally kept her gods well hidden. “What is it, Mother?” she asked curiously.
“My gods have given me a word.” Ziva’s face was stark, and her eyes glowed fiercely in the lamplight. Her lips were drawn into a tight line, and when she spoke they barely moved—as if another being was speaking for her. This had happened several times in Leah’s memory, and she grew very still.
“What is it, Mother?”
“You must have Jacob. There’s no other man for you.”
“Do you think I don’t know that! I’ve tried every trick to get him to love me,” she said bitterly.
“There is a way. My gods have told me.”
Leah blinked with surprise. “There is no way!” she snapped. “What are you talking about, Mother? Have you lost your mind?”
“No. My gods have told me,” she repeated in a rhythmic manner. “You must take Rachel’s place.”
“Take Rachel’s place? What are you talking about? How can I do that?”
“Listen, daughter. Just before the wedding ceremony, you and I will be with Rachel. We will be dressing her. She will be wearing her bridal dress and a veil—but she will not wear it for the ceremony. You will wear it.”
Leah’s eyes narrowed. There was something different about her mother. Leah really believed in her mother’s gods, although not to the extent that Ziva did. “What are you talking about? How can I do that?”
“I will give her a drugged drink. She will go to sleep almost at once. You will put on the bridal outfit, and it will be you whom I lead out to meet Jacob to become his wife.”
“Jacob’s not a fool. I’m taller than she is. Jacob would know instantly I’m not Rachel.”
“Not if we make him drunk enough, and I’ll see to that. And you can stoop down a little bit. Everybody will be so drunk by that time, nobody will notice.”
Leah listened as her mother spoke rapidly, and slowly she began to see that the plan was possible. “What will Jacob do when he finds out?”
“He won’t know until it’s too late. He’ll take you to his tent, believing you’re Rachel. It’ll be dark. You’ll love him there. He had feelings for you once before, and you can win him back.” Ziva’s eyes glowed. “I know you can please a man.”
Leah stood as still as a statue. “Yes,” she whispered, “I can certainly please him.”
“We will do it, then. Afterward, no matter what Jacob says, you will be his wife. He can’t change that.”
“What about Rachel?”
“She could have had a dozen men in the past seven years. You know how they’ve come swarming around her.”
“Yes,” Leah said bitterly, a glitter in her eyes. “I know exactly how that is.”
“Come. We will do it together, daughter. You will have your man.”
Suddenly Leah laughed. The sound was hard and metallic. “Yes, I will have a husband, and I will make him love me!”
Jacob found Rachel outside her tent, and he pulled her around to the back, out of sight of the celebrating wedding crowd. “This is the last time I’ll see you before we’re married,” he said, embracing her. “I wanted to tell you one more time how I adore you, Rachel.”
“Do you, Jacob?” She put her arms around Jacob’s neck and kissed him. She was delighted when he held her so tightly she could hardly breathe.
Jacob said hoarsely, “You’re the only woman for me, Rachel. I could never love another.”
“Go now before they see us. In a few hours you can have all of me that you want.” Rachel suddenly giggled. “Does that please you, Jacob?”
“Yes, but I doubt if I could ever have all of you that I want.”
Rachel kissed him again, shoved him away, and then ducked into her tent. She was pleased he had found this opportunity to tell her one more time of his love before they were married.
The sound of singing and music filled the air as the wedding celebration reached a climax. Everyone gathered around Jacob, waiting for the coming of the bride. Jacob’s eyes were slightly unfocused, for he had accepted all the flagons of wine that had been offered him, including several from Ziva. He had been surprised at this, for the old woman had been bitter toward him for years. She had wanted him to marry Leah and had never been pleasant. But on this day she had smiled at him while handing him a large cup of wine, saying, “May the gods bless you and your bride!”
He had drunk it down, then when she poured him another, had asked, “You’re not angry with me, Ziva?”
She had merely laughed, but there had been a strange and troubling glow in her hazel eyes.
Now the wine was catching up to Jacob, and he knew he was on his way to being totally drunk. No way for a bridegroom to act, he thought, but then he heard shouting and looked up to see that the bride had come from her tent. Hands grasped him and pulled him toward the center of the crowd, and voices were whispering suggestions into his ear for the wedding night.
He stood across from his bride, who was clad in a colorful gown with a heavily embroidered veil completely covering her face. His head was spinning now, and he had to make an effort to remain upright.
The ceremony was brief, and it included the bride circling the groom three times in one direction and then three times in the opposite direction. Jacob tried to watch her but became dizzy as he swiveled his head. He fell backward but was caught by the men behind him. He laughed foolishly and tried to concentrate on the rest of the ceremony.
Finally all was over, and he found himself beside his bride. He grasped her arms, and while a song went up, he staggered toward the tent. He managed to make it inside, but when he turned to his wife, he found his lips were numb�
��so numb he could barely speak.
“Rachel…my…” He began to sway, and then he felt hands guiding him. The tent was dark except for one oil lamp, and he said, “Lemme see…your face!” But she simply turned and blew out the lamp. She didn’t speak but began to remove his clothes. He fell back onto the bed, crying out hoarsely, “My bride…my Rachel!”
Chapter 11
Jacob stirred from a sound sleep as the pale morning light slipped through the small opening of his tent and touched his face. As consciousness returned, his senses took over, and he heard the distant barking of a dog and the faint babble of voices in the camp. The aroma of roasting meat piqued his hunger, but an overriding aroma puzzled him as he lay in that twilight state between sleep and wakefulness. At the same time he threw his arm out and encountered something soft and yielding. Awareness came with a rush, and he drew himself up on his elbow and opened his eyes as he twisted around. By the pale light he saw a woman’s back—smooth, strong, and unmistakably feminine.
Joy flooded Jacob as he thought of his wedding night. He could barely remember the wedding and berated himself for drinking too much. He remembered how Ziva had forced several cups of wine on him, which had strongly affected him and clouded his mind. Despite his hazy memories of the ceremony, he did remember very well reaching out for his bride. And as the thought of their lovemaking came to him, his face flushed. His hand lovingly ran down the silken flesh beside him, and leaning forward, he whispered, “Rachel…?”
The woman turned over, and Jacob stared—unable to believe his eyes. He drew back his hand as if he’d been burned and gasped, “Leah!”
Leah smiled slowly and lazily, her eyes half lidded. She leaned against him and put her arms around his neck. “Yes, it’s me, husband. It’s your bride.” She kissed him fully on the lips, and despite the confusion that held Jacob, he was still aroused by her touch.
Pulling back and pushing Leah away, Jacob gasped, “What are you doing here? Where’s Rachel?”
Leah did not lose her smile. She was satiated with love, and her voice was uncharacteristically soft and silky. “I am your bride, Jacob. I love you.”
Jacob shook his head and sat straight up, trying to think. He looked around the tent hoping to find Rachel there, and then Leah sat up too and put her arms around him. When he turned to face her, still unable to speak, she said, “I’ve always loved you, Jacob. You’re the only man I ever loved. I know you loved me once and you still do deep down.”
Jacob said, “What have you done, Leah?” Jacob’s voice was angry, and his eyes glinted. He ripped her arms from around him as they clung to him and then understanding dawned. “You’ve done something with Rachel. You took her place in the wedding, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did, and I’m not ashamed! I’m the oldest daughter, and older daughters marry before younger ones. Besides, she can’t stir you like I can.”
Jacob’s world had suddenly turned upside down. He stared at her and said, “You know that I love Rachel.”
“You’re a man,” she said. “You can love the woman who satisfies you, and she would never be able to.”
“That’s a lie!” Jacob shouted. He started to get up, but Leah caught him and clung to him. He struggled with her, but she was a strong woman. “Let me go,” he said.
“No. I’ll never let you go.”
“I won’t be your husband!”
“You are my husband,” Leah whispered. “Don’t you remember last night?”
Despite himself, Jacob remembered very well—as clearly as he had ever remembered anything—the night he had spent with this woman. True, he had been half drunk, but she had pleased him in ways he had never dreamed of.
“You are my husband, Jacob.” Leah’s voice was insistent, and her strange hazel eyes seemed to swallow him. She pulled at him, saying, “You are my husband. I made you happy last night. You know I can make you happy for a lifetime.”
Jacob tried to resist, but she pressed against him and whispered, “Come, husband. Love me. I’m your wife.”
And then Jacob felt himself unable to resist. He hated himself for being so weak, but in response to her pleas he found himself reaching for her. He thought of Rachel, but only for a moment, for Leah was whispering his name, and he came to her as she fell back.
Ziva saw that Rachel was waking up. She had stayed in the tent with her all night and now during the morning, and as soon as Rachel’s eyes opened, she saw her confusion. “Are you awake, Rachel?” she asked.
Rachel was wearing a simple undergarment, what she’d had on under her wedding gown. Now she looked down and cried out, “What? What…?” She could not finish, and she looked at her stepmother. “Where’s my wedding dress? Where am I, Ziva?”
“I must talk to you, Rachel. Here, put your clothes on.”
Rachel slipped into her robe, trembling. “Where’s Jacob?” she cried.
“Listen to me, Rachel,” Ziva said. “Something has happened, and you’re going to have to learn to accept it….”
Rachel listened, stunned, not able to take it in. Her stepmother ended by saying, “So Leah is Jacob’s wife.”
White-hot anger surged through Rachel. “You drugged me, didn’t you? You and Leah did it!”
Ziva did not deny it. “Yes, we did.”
“You’ve robbed me of my husband!”
Rachel flew at her stepmother, striking out at her, but the old woman was strong and quick. She grabbed Rachel’s wrist, and her voice crackled with energy. Her strange eyes, so much like her daughter’s, seemed to hold Rachel. “Now, you listen to me, Rachel. It was not something I wanted to do.”
“Why did you do it, then?” Rachel cried.
“I did it for my daughter’s sake. You are a lovely woman, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Men have been coming for you ever since you were fifteen years old wanting to marry you, but they haven’t wanted Leah as a wife. No suitable men have sought her.”
“But Jacob loved me.”
Ziva ignored this. “You can find another husband. One richer than Jacob. But my Leah can’t.”
As Ziva spoke, her eyes bright with passion, Rachel felt herself giving in. She had never been able to stand against this strong old woman, and she knew that what she was saying was true. No matter how evil the deed had been, it was done. Leah was Jacob’s wife, and nothing could change that.
She collapsed on the bed and began to sob. Ziva stood over her, and the fierce intensity of her eyes softened. Her shoulders sagged, for she loved this girl in her own way. She had practically raised her after Rachel’s mother had died, but Leah needed her and Rachel did not. She leaned forward to touch the girl with a show of compassion but then stopped short. She drew her hand back and said in a practical voice, “It’s done, Rachel. The best thing you can do is to accept it and move on with your life.” She watched the weeping girl and shook her head slightly. Her mouth compressed as she thought, She’s a good girl, but good people get hurt in this world. She turned and walked away, wondering if Rachel would be able to survive this blow.
“What…? Stop that!” Laban came out of his drunken slumber with his head splitting, gasping and clawing at his face. “What have you done?” He looked up to see Ziva standing over him. She had a wide-mouthed jar in her hand and had thrown the water in his face. “I’ll kill you!” he shouted.
“Shut your mouth, old man,” Ziva spat back. When he reached out for her, she lifted the jar in both hands and cried, “I’ll break this over your head if you come any closer!”
“No! What are you doing? What’s wrong with you?”
“Listen to me, Laban….”
Laban pulled himself together and listened—not comprehending at first—and then when the truth of what Ziva had said broke in on him, he stared at her. “Leah is married to Jacob?”
“Yes. It’s done, and there’s nothing to do about it.”
“Why did you do this, you foolish old woman?”
“Leah needs a husband, and she loves Jaco
b. You know she’s never loved anybody else.”
Laban stared at his wife. “You know what you’ve done? Mehor will kill us all!”
“No he won’t,” Ziva replied grimly. She cackled suddenly, a harsh laughter coming from her thin lips. “I’ve taken care of that.”
Laban struggled to his feet, still wiping his face. He was dripping with the water she had thrown over him, and he stared at her in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s one man meaner and tougher than Mehor, and that’s his father. I went to him and bribed him. He’s been paid, and Mehor will do whatever he says.”
“What did he say?”
“He said if his son bothered any of our family, he would break his head. He’ll do it too—and maybe worse. You know what a vicious old goat he is. Like a bear.”
Laban took that in slowly and then nodded as he stroked his scraggly beard. “Well, that’s good. I’m glad he’s out of our way. The man always frightened me.”
“Listen to me now—you’re going to have to talk to Jacob. He’s going to come to you, and you need to get ready for him.”
“You mean he’s going to kill me?”
“Don’t be foolish—any more than you can help. He’s not going to kill anybody, but he’s going to be very angry.”
“Well, you talk to him.”
“I would, but the world is run by men,” Ziva said bitterly. “Now, listen. This is what we’ll do, and this is what you must tell him….”
Laban was well prepared for Jacob’s visit, but if he had not been, he might have collapsed immediately, for Jacob rushed into his tent with his eyes burning. Laban said nothing at all as Jacob shouted and ranted and raved. Once he even started for Laban as if to choke the life out of him, but Ziva had taught her husband well, and he simply sat there saying nothing until Jacob’s fury began to subside. “You crazy old man! You’re all crazy! Your wife is worse than you are.”
Laban tried to put a word in. “Listen, Jacob. This isn’t all that bad—”
The Gate of Heaven Page 11
