“I’ve worked for a woman’s hand for seven years, and now you give me different one! You think that’s not bad? I worked like a slave for you, Laban, and you’ve given me nothing! I ought to wring your scrawny neck!”
Laban raised his hand in a frightened gesture, for he had never seen such fiery passion, and he actually feared for his neck. “Listen to me, Jacob, just for one minute.”
“What do you have to say, old man?”
Laban hesitated, then said, “I had nothing to do with this. You’ve got to believe me. It was Ziva’s idea. She and Leah cooked this up between them. I didn’t know a thing about it until this morning.”
Jacob knew that his new father-in-law was capable of lies and deceit and of almost anything else, but somehow he believed the old man. He stared at him bitterly and finally nodded. “All right. It’s done, but I’ll have satisfaction.”
“Look, son,” Laban said and tried to smile, “it’s a custom in our country that the elder daughter marry before the younger ones.”
“But I love Rachel, and everyone knows it. Don’t you feel any sorrow or grief for her? She’s been robbed too!”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“What are you talking about? We can’t undo a marriage.”
“No, but you can take Rachel as your wife as well.”
Jacob stood stock-still. He had been so befuddled with passion for Leah, and then afterward had become so angry with Laban, he had not thought straight. Suddenly he lifted his head. “Yes,” he said firmly, “I must have Rachel for my wife.”
“That’s easy enough. We’ll make the same arrangement we made with Leah.”
Instantly Jacob’s rage rose again. “You crazy old man! You think I’m going to wait seven more years for her?”
“No, no! You can marry her right away. We’ll have another wedding—yours and Rachel’s. In a week you’ll have her for your wife, and I’ll give you Bilhah, her handmaiden.” He smiled shiftily and added, “But you must work for me another seven years.”
Jacob stood before the twisted old man and thought rapidly. He knew he could not go home. He had no other place, and he also knew he must have Rachel. He made an instant decision. “All right. I will work for you seven more years for Rachel, but I claim her as my bride within a week.”
Laban sighed with relief. “It shall be done. Now perhaps you’d better go talk to her. She’s probably in poor shape.”
Jacob entered the tent and found Rachel stretched out facedown on her bed. He knelt down beside her and touched her shoulder. “Rachel,” he said softly, “come up.”
Rachel did not move at first, and then when she turned over, he saw that her face was red with weeping and her eyes were swollen. The sight of her touched his heart, and he said, “Come. Let me hold you.”
“I can’t. You are a married man.”
“Listen to me, Rachel. I knew nothing about this. Do you believe me?”
“Yes, I know,” Rachel sobbed. “It was Ziva and Leah! Oh, Jacob…what are we going to do?”
“It’s going to be all right, Rachel.”
“No, no, no! It’s never going to be all right!”
Jacob saw that reasoning with her was impossible. He pulled her across his lap and held her. With his left hand he supported her and with his right hand he pushed back her silky black hair, then wiped the tears from her face. “Don’t cry, my little moon!”
“How can I help it? My life is ruined.”
“No, it’s not ruined.”
“I hate Leah and that mother of hers!”
“I can understand that.”
“You mustn’t be doing this.” Rachel pushed at him, and her eyes were filled with tragedy.
“Rachel, I’ve loved you ever since I first saw you,” Jacob said quietly. He felt her trembling, and he smoothed her hair with his free hand. “In my sight you’re the most beautiful creature the Lord ever made, and in one week you and I will be married. You and I will be husband and wife.”
Rachel grew absolutely still. Her eyes flew open, and her lips parted. “You…you mean it, Jacob?”
“Of course. I’ve just been talking to your father. It’s all settled. I’ll work for seven more years, but we’ll be married. We’ll have another wedding in a week, and you and I will be one.”
“But what about Leah?”
“She will be my wife too.” Jacob then kissed Rachel and felt a great wave of tenderness. “She will be my wife…but you, Rachel, will always be the Beloved Wife. It’s the title I give you, and you will always be the one closest to my heart.”
With a short, passionate cry, Rachel threw her arms around Jacob’s neck and put her face down on his chest. He held her as he would a child and stroked her back. “Don’t cry. We’re going to be happy, and you will always be the Beloved Wife.”
Chapter 12
A flight of dark birds divided the air over Jacob’s head, forming evanescent shapes in a beautiful pattern. He paused, fascinated, and stared up into the sky as it turned crimson over in the west. When the birds disappeared over the horizon, he continued to walk rapidly toward the flock of sheep that fed at the base of a low hill ahead of him. When he was close, he called out, “Hello, Nomar.”
“Hello, master.” A young man approached and stood before Jacob. He was no more than sixteen, but bright-eyed and lean as a skinned rabbit. “Are you a father yet, master?”
Jacob smiled briefly. There was no privacy among the people, and everyone he had met had asked him the same question. “I wasn’t when I left home this morning, but any day now.”
“May you have a beautiful boy and many of them.” Nomar smiled.
“Thank you, Nomar.” Jacob put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. He was the best of his hired herdsmen. The young man had come into the camp one day starved, dirty, ragged, and half dead. Laban had ordered him out, but Jacob had overridden that order and fed the boy. He had made a herdsman out of him and now could see in him the promise of a fine man to come. “How are the sheep?” he asked.
“Four ewes gave birth last night,” Nomar said proudly. “I had to help with one of them, but the lamb is fine. You are richer now, master.”
Not me. Laban is richer. Laban never gave him anything. Still, he did not need to say this to the boy. “When you come in tonight, I’ll have Rachel fix you some special cakes as a reward for helping that new lamb into the world.”
Nomar’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, master. I look forward to eating them.”
“Come in as soon as you are relieved.”
Jacob turned and began jogging toward the hill that lay before him. He wanted to hurry home to Rachel, as he did every day. Life had been hard trying to keep his two wives happy. He loved Rachel more than he could have ever imagined loving a woman. She satisfied the deepest needs of his heart, filling his eyes with her beauty and his ears with her stories and songs. Rarely was she far from his thoughts.
Leah, however, was another story. She still had the power to draw him into bed with her wiles, but since she had become pregnant, she had become difficult to live with. It was impossible for Jacob to conceal his preference for Rachel, and Leah had begun taunting her younger sister with her lack of a child. She did this openly and with scorn, and Rachel had no answer for it. Jacob had taken Leah aside twice already and threatened her sternly that she must never do such a thing again, and Leah had behaved—but only for a time.
These thoughts troubled Jacob as he increased his speed. He was pleased that he had grown tougher and more physically able over the past years at Paddan Aram. He gloried in his strength. As the camp came into view, he saw Rachel’s tent. She had dyed the hides a light sky blue, and anyone coming into the camp saw it instantly. It stood out among the tents for its beauty, exactly as Rachel stood out among women for her beauty. Men’s eyes could not miss the tent, nor did they ever miss seeing the beauty of Rachel.
As he came into the camp, he saw that Rachel was waiting for him. She came running quickly, a
nd when she stood before him, breathless, her eyes were wide. “Leah is with the midwife. Her time has come.”
Jacob forgot everything else and broke into a dead run toward Leah’s tent. He halted by the tent flap, where an old woman was stepping out. “Lamah, how is she?” Jacob said anxiously. “Is the baby here?”
The old midwife glared at him. “Where have you been?” she squeaked. “No time for a husband to be running off!”
“Is the baby here?” Jacob demanded.
“Not yet but soon.” The old woman turned without another word and disappeared into the tent. Jacob fidgeted, unable to stand still. He began to pace, and soon Laban came by and said, “A son, you think, boy?”
“I hope so,” Jacob said shortly. He had little use for Laban, for the old man cheated him constantly. Jacob continued to pace, saying no more, and Laban shuffled away.
The wait was agonizingly long. Four hours after Jacob had arrived, Rachel brought him some food. While he ate she said, “It will soon be over, and you will be a father.”
“I hope so.” He lifted his head and heard another muted cry from Leah. She had not cried out much, but every time he heard her moans, Jacob had wiped the sweat from his brow. He hated to see anyone suffer. Now he handed the tray back to Rachel, and as he did, he heard his name called. He turned to see Lamah coming out of the tent, beckoning him. “Come in, Jacob.”
Jacob instantly turned and went inside, leaving Rachel to stand there staring after him. She felt a keen pang of loneliness at being left outside at such a time and knew this was something she had no part of.
As Jacob entered the tent, he saw Leah lying on the bed with the baby within the crook of her arm. He walked over and looked down at the tiny red face, the little eyes pulled together, and then the child broke into a loud, squalling cry.
Leah said, “I have borne you a fine boy, husband. Hold your son.”
Jacob reached down and picked up the baby. Holding the morsel of life in his arms, he felt his heart swell with pride.
“His name is Reuben,” Leah said. “That means ‘behold a son.’”
Leah reached up and took Jacob’s hand, and he squeezed it and knelt down beside her. “He’s a fine son, wife.” He leaned over and kissed her.
At the invitation of the midwife, Rachel came into the tent at that moment. Jacob and Leah did not even look up as their attention was solely on their new son and each other. Rachel stood watching the tableau before her, and it went straight to her heart. Tears came to her eyes, and she choked back sobs. Whirling, she left the tent without congratulating the new parents. She went to her own bed and fell on it, deep sobs racking her body. She pushed her face into the pillow, muttering, “He will love Leah more now that she has given him a son.” Grief overwhelmed her, and she wept long. Finally she rolled over on her back and looked up toward the roof of the tent, as if she could see heaven above. “Oh, God,” she wept, “what have I done to displease you that you have given me no child?”
Chapter 13
As Rachel slapped a waterlogged garment on a flat rock and pounded it with a smaller stone, she heard a sound and lifted her head. A fish had broken the surface of the small stream, making a widening ripple. The sunlight sparkled along the water lapping at the rocky banks, and in the distance a long line of mountains cast a sharp, jagged shadow against the flat land. The breeze stirred the scrub bushes along the bank, and the plants at the water’s edge gave off a musty, pungent odor.
Rachel turned quickly at the noises the boys were making as they played a game nearby on a flat piece of ground. She smiled as she watched them, thinking how different each of Leah’s four sons were. Not one of them resembled the other. They had been born one after the other, and Rachel had learned to love them—but not as if they were her own, for Leah would not allow her to get that close to her sons.
Arching her back to relieve the strain, she slipped her feet into the water, enjoying the coolness of it, and continued to watch the boys. She had made them a ball out of soft leather, stuffed with dried straw and sewn together with sheep-gut twine. She had taught them several games with it, and now they were playing one that they called Keep the Ball, which consisted of one of the boys grabbing the ball and trying to keep the others from taking it away from him.
As she watched, Reuben, the largest and the oldest of the brothers, made a wild grab for the ball. He was a rather clumsy boy and not swift in thought, but he was good-hearted and gentle nonetheless.
Simeon, the second-born, was as lean and quick as Reuben was large and clumsy. He had snatched the ball and laughed as Reuben made an ineffectual grab at it. He shoved Reuben backward so that the larger boy stretched headlong on his back, and then Simeon laughed and shouted. There was a cruelty in this boy that Rachel hated to see.
The third member of the quartet, Levi, was short and stocky with black hair and dark eyes. She expected him to lose his temper, for he often did. In this he was like Simeon and also in the fact that he could be cruel at times.
A shout went up, and Judah grabbed for the ball. Rachel smiled, for Judah was a miniature edition of Jacob—the same chestnut hair and warm brown eyes, not overly large but quick and strong. He was the best of the boys in Rachel’s opinion, and she watched fondly as he snatched the ball away from Simeon and tore out as fast as his little legs would take him, pursued by the other three.
As the boys ran off and their voices grew fainter, a mixture of regret and grief filled Rachel. These were not her boys, and as she watched and listened to their play, a sharp sadness touched her, a pang that hurt deeply.
“You cheated!” Simeon shouted and shoved Judah backward. The smallest of the four went sprawling in the dirt, but he jumped right up, screaming, “I didn’t either cheat!”
“You did too!” Simeon retorted. His small, close-set eyes flared with anger. “You grabbed the ball when I wasn’t looking!”
“That’s fair!” Judah said. He was an even-tempered boy, even sweet most of the time, but Simeon was a bully, and Judah felt he had to stick up for himself. The two boys began to argue, and finally Simeon snatched the ball and struck Judah in the face. Judah cried out, “I’ll tell Rachel on you!”
“Go on and tell her! She’s nothing anyway!”
Judah was on his feet, his eyes flashing. “Don’t you say anything bad about Rachel!”
Simeon laughed. “She doesn’t have any sons! She’s no good for anything.”
Judah could not bear to hear anyone verbally abuse Rachel, which Simeon often did and even Levi did on occasions. With an angry cry, Judah threw himself at his brother, and the two rolled in the dirt. Judah was getting much the worse of it. The other two simply watched, although Reuben had concern in his eyes.
Suddenly Rachel was there pulling the two boys apart. They were covered with dirt and Judah’s lips were swelling.
“Shame on you!” Rachel cried. “Brothers shouldn’t fight like this. You ought to love each other.” She glared at them, and Simeon avoided her eyes. She had a fair idea that the fight was his doing, but she asked, “What’s this all about? What are you fighting about?”
“Simeon said something bad about you.”
“You shut your mouth, Judah!” Simeon cried furiously. “You’re nothing but a talebearer!”
Judah started to answer angrily, but Rachel put her hand on his shoulder. “That’s enough, Judah.”
Judah blurted out, “He says you’re not good because you don’t have any children!” He looked up, his eyes filled with pain. “Why don’t you have any little boys, Rachel?”
The question went right to Rachel’s heart. She had heard this kind of talk often enough from Leah and knew that Simeon had been absorbing it, as had his brother Levi. “God hasn’t given me any little boys, Judah,” she whispered.
Simeon was still furious. “God blesses those He loves with children!” he said, then turned around and ran away. Levi followed him, but Reuben came closer and put his arm around Rachel. “Don’t you pay any attention
to them, Aunt Rachel. They’re just soreheads.”
“That’s right. God does love you, and I do too,” Judah said. He threw his arms around her, and Rachel held him tightly, her eyes blinded with tears. She could not speak, her throat was so tight, and the two boys held on to her as she fought back the tears.
Jacob stumbled into camp, his strength drained. He had been off caring for the sheep for two days. He had slept little and had only a few pieces of cold meat to eat, bringing his temper near the snapping point. He stopped long enough to take a drink of water and wash the grit from his face. When he stopped he saw Laban lying in the shade, asleep. A nearly flattened wineskin was beside him, and Jacob knew the old man had been doing nothing but sleeping and stupefying himself with wine. Anger washed through Jacob at the sight. He set his teeth, then stalked over to Laban and leaned down, shouting, “Get up!”
Laban startled awake and sat up at once, confusion in his eyes. He rubbed his face and tried to speak, but his tongue was furry. “What…what is it? What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” Jacob said with scarcely concealed fury. He bit off the words, and they struck against Laban with all the force of arrows. “I’ve been out for two days working to keep your flocks and your herds. I haven’t had anything to eat, and I haven’t slept.”
Laban quailed beneath Jacob’s glare and rubbed his hand across his face. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, you should have gotten some help.”
“Help? What do you know about help? All you do is sit here and stay drunk all day long.”
“Well, Lomach and Benzar, they—”
“Those no-good, worthless sons of yours! I’ll tell you where they’ve been. They’ve been in the village, drunk and consorting with harlots—like always!”
Jacob’s raised voice was drawing the attention of the camp. He became aware that Leah and Rachel and everyone else within hearing distance had stopped their work and were staring at him. He did not often lose his temper, but now it was gone, and he grabbed Laban’s thin arms and pulled the old man to his feet. “You listen to me! You’re going to lose everything if you don’t make those worthless sons of yours work!”
The Gate of Heaven Page 12
