Rachel (40 page)

Esau rubbed a hand over the soft curls of his red beard, his lips curved in a slight frown. “What do you mean by all these droves I met?”

Jacob lowered his gaze and kept his tone subservient, as he would to a king. “To find favor in your eyes, my lord.”

“I already have plenty, my brother. Keep what you have.”

Jacob lifted his eyes at Esau’s use of the familial term, reminded yet again of the struggles they had shared, the blessing he had stolen from his brother. He must make some restitution for the injury he had caused Esau.

“No, please!” he said, his tone pleading. “If I have found favor in your eyes, accept this gift from me. For to see your face is like seeing the face of God, now that you have received me favorably. Please take my blessing that was brought to you, for God has been gracious to me and I have all I need.”

“But it is not needed. Despite our father’s choice,” Esau said, the slightest shadow crossing his features before it disappeared in a wide smile, “I have become prince of a large company. I have no need of your gifts, my brother.” His look seemed guileless, but a check in Jacob’s spirit would not let it go.

“I would be pleased and honored if you would accept this tribute, my lord.” Jacob dipped his head in a gesture of subjection, then met his brother’s gaze once more. “Please.”

Esau seemed to hesitate a moment but at last shrugged his shoulders and then lifted his arms wide. “What can I say to this? Yes, I will accept your gift.” He motioned to his men, who turned to retrieve the herds and flocks from Jacob’s servants.

Jacob breathed a soft sigh, still wary yet relieved.

“So then, let us be on our way,” Esau said, turning his attention back to Jacob. “I’ll accompany you.”

Jacob’s heartbeat quickened, but he masked the alarm filling him. “My lord knows that the children are tender and that I must care for the ewes and cows that are nursing their young. If they are driven hard just one day, all the animals will die. So let my lord go on ahead of his servant while I move along slowly at the pace of the droves before me and that of the children, until I come to my lord in Seir.”

“Then let me leave some of my men with you.” Esau’s gaze skimmed his frame, and Jacob knew he had to have noticed the way he leaned too heavily on his staff.

“But why do that?” Jacob straightened, ignoring the pain. “Just let me find favor in the eyes of my lord.”

“You have acquired a limp,” he said, searching Jacob’s face.

“Yes.” Jacob lowered his gaze once more as a servant to his
master, silently pleading for this reunion to end. For though he was grateful to find acceptance in Esau’s eyes, he did not fully trust him. The sooner he could get Rachel and Joseph and the others safely away, the better.

“All the more reason you could use my men to guide you safely through the mountains.” Esau said the words, but they lacked conviction. “But I suppose you have a point. My men would chafe at having to slow their pace to keep up with yours.” He touched Jacob’s shoulder.

Jacob looked up. “Thank you, my lord.”

Esau embraced him once more, kissing each cheek. Jacob, not wanting to slip from the role of servant, did not return the gesture but bowed instead and kissed Esau’s feet. He did not invite Esau to linger, to share a meal, or to spend the night around the campfire.

“Until we meet again, brother,” Esau said, helping Jacob to stand.

“Until then.” Jacob watched Esau turn, mount his camel, and lead his men back toward Seir.

Jacob found his steward and directed his servants to pack their belongings and head north and west toward Succoth. The exact opposite of his brother.

31

T
EN
Y
EARS
L
ATER

Leah stood near the edge of Jacob’s camp and wiped sweat from her brow. The gates of the city of Shechem were less than half a day’s walk from the camp, too close for Leah’s comfort. She had grown used to Succoth, where Jacob had chosen to stay for a time after hearing of his mother’s death. Somehow hurrying to see his father had lost its earnestness as he grieved the woman who bore him. He had even gone so far as to build a home like Leah and Rachel had known in Harran, a house of stones with shelters for the flocks and herds. Things had been pleasant there, and Leah missed the protection of the stout walls and the clay oven he had built for them to bake their bread.

If only they could have stayed . . .

But when a caravan had come bringing Deborah, Rebekah’s old nurse, with news of Isaac’s desire to see him, Jacob’s guilt at having neglected the man had grown into restlessness to continue to travel southward to see his father before it was too late. Deborah had stayed on with them then, though even she had seemed anxious to immediately return to Isaac. If not for the flocks’ mating season, they would be traveling even now, rather than settling again near a city she feared.

She shook her head to dispel the disturbing thoughts. She
had no real reason to fear the inhabitants of Shechem. Jacob had found them most agreeable when he had asked to purchase land near the city. And the women had been kind to her when she shopped in the marketplace.

But their idols and the temple worship had reminded her too much of Harran and the gods her father and relatives had worshiped, not at all like the One Creator God Jacob adored. Not like Adonai, the Lord who had given her six sons.

She twisted the wet rag she had brought, letting the dirty water drip to the side of the path, then rubbed the back of her neck and turned at the sound of her daughter’s voice. “Ima, can I go to the city to the shops? Adi will come with me. We won’t be gone long. I promise.” Her daughter, Dinah, gave her a pleading look, her beautiful dark hair escaping the pale blue scarf she wore that denoted her a virgin daughter of her father. The girl was too much like Rachel and too unaware of her appeal to men.

“It is not safe for women to go alone to town. Not without your father or brothers.” And Adi, a servant’s daughter, was younger than Dinah—no protection at all!

“Then let Joseph take me.” Dinah and Joseph had remained close despite the distance between Joseph and Leah’s sons. Distance brought by Jacob’s constant favoritism toward Rachel’s only child. Leah felt the muscles clench in her jaw. She forced herself to take a long, slow breath.

“There is no need to go to town. When your father plans a trip or if one of your brothers has need to go there, then we will consider going along.” She looked at Dinah, ignoring the girl’s curled lip and the tiny scowl lines between her eyes.

“You never let me do anything exciting. Why must my brothers always go with me? I’m old enough to watch out for myself. And I can run faster than Joseph or Issachar, and they can almost catch a fox.” Dinah crossed her thin arms over a well-developed body and met Leah’s stern gaze.

“
Almost
does not count. Even foxes get caught in traps. You
do not know what traps await you in a foreign city with foreign gods.” Leah touched Dinah’s cheek, but the girl flinched and turned away. At fourteen years she should be betrothed to a worthy man, a man who could put that restless spirit to good use raising his children. Maybe then she would realize the anxiety she brought to Leah with her bent toward adventure and even a hint of rebelliousness. If only her father would listen and find a suitable husband for the girl.

“I don’t care about the foreign gods, Ima. I want to shop in the marketplace, meet the women, maybe talk to girls my own age.” She glanced at her servant Adi, a girl three years younger.

Leah studied Dinah’s dark, brooding eyes. “If you have questions of womanly things, you can talk to me or to your aunt Rachel.”

“I don’t have questions. I just want to explore, to meet girls my own age.” Dinah glanced toward the city gates seen easily in the distance, her look full of longing. Leah inwardly cringed at the desire in her eyes, wanting to pull her back, rein her in as she would one of the young donkeys, praying her daughter would not be as stubborn as such an animal.

“Will you take me to their festival?” Dinah’s question held a hint of accusation, her small mouth pursed, so much like Rachel’s. Half of the young men in the camp had turned their heads at the sight of her. How much worse would it be in a town full of uncircumcised heathens?

“You should want no part of such a festival, my daughter.”

Her sons had brought rumors on their return from occasional visits to the city about the heathen practices that went on during those festivals—the way the virgin girls danced and how the men of the city would capture the virgin of their choice, whisk her away to their place, and take her as their bride. She had nearly cuffed Simeon’s ears when he had laughed at the rites and suggested he wouldn’t mind participating. The last thing she needed was for him to bring home a captive Shechemite
bride, some unsuspecting young maiden who would not want to leave her homeland, who would expect to be captured by a man from her own city. She shook her head, wondering not for the first time where that boy’s thinking came from. Levi was no better. Sometimes all six of them made her want to shake them, but in the next breath she could hold them close and lavish her love on them. They might not have Jacob’s favor, but they would surely have hers!

“I don’t see what’s so wrong about it. The girls dance in colorful costumes until their lover comes and steals them away to his house to be his bride.” Dinah pressed her hands to her heart, her head tilted to the side, eyes closed, as if the idea were some pleasing, happy tale. “For some of the poorer girls, it is a way to be wed without a dowry.”

“Who told you such things?” Why on earth had Jacob settled them so close to the town? “The men who take their bride in such a way may keep her as a slave or a concubine, not a wife.” Her voice rose as she fought to talk some sense into the girl. “You are the daughter of a prince, Dinah. You do not want this, and you should not think it a good thing.”

“Bilhah and Zilpah are slaves, and Abba cares for them quite well.” Her comment stopped Leah’s breath.

“So you would rather be a slave?”

Dinah rolled her eyes. “Of course not. But I don’t see why I couldn’t go to watch. You could come with me, Ima.” Her pout turned to a pleading look that Leah often had trouble resisting. The girl could coax the wool from a sheep without shearing it.

“We will speak no more of this, Dinah,” Leah said, forcing sternness into her tone. “You will not go to the city without your father or a brother, preferably two. I will not risk it.” She placed a hand on Dinah’s shoulder and beckoned Adi to follow, leading them back toward camp, her heart picking up its pace as her irritation shifted to the all too familiar fear.

“You worry too much, Ima,” Dinah said in quiet challenge.

Leah closed her eyes and drew in a slow breath. She would keep her temper in check, though the girl seemed to know exactly how to exasperate her.

“Oh, and Abba has called everyone to a sacrifice. He built an altar and said to come find you.”

Leah tsked. “Why didn’t you say so at once? All this foolish talk of festivals.” If Jacob had sent for her, she must hurry. She lifted her skirts and motioned each girl to hurry along.

“And Aunt Rachel is sick again. She was asking for you.”

So much to happen in the few minutes she had slipped away from the camp? They had barely finished the morning meal. Why couldn’t Jacob and Rachel have said something to her there? But she squelched the thoughts. Rachel had complained of illness often of late. Could it be? Was she again finally with child?

Leah’s own womb had closed several years ago, and Joseph was already sixteen years of age. Could Adonai have blessed Rachel with another after all this time?

Leah’s steps slowed the slightest bit as the thought hit her. She was not sure she was ready to hear whatever Rachel had to tell her. Her sons already competed with Joseph for their place in Jacob’s life. Another son of Rachel’s would put them even further from Jacob’s heart.

Her pulse fluttered, and her stomach twisted uncomfortably. She glanced at Dinah skipping ahead of her now, unaware of the power of her beauty. How long could Leah protect her?