Rachel (11 page)

The excited chatter behind him turned swiftly to bickering, until at last Jacob stopped and called Rachel forward. He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, setting out again a short distance ahead of the others.

“Can you at least try to get along with her, beloved?” His words came out sharper than he intended, and he drew in a slow breath, trying again. “That is, I had hoped this day would be one of delight for us. Can we make the best of a difficult situation?” He gave her a sideways look, watching her expression.

She looked ahead, avoiding his gaze, a soft pout on her full lips, her look contemplative. At last she faced him and smiled. “I will try, my lord. But I have seen the room you had set aside for me. It is not nearly large enough for four women.”

He nodded. Ran a hand through his hair. “I have thought of little else since we awoke this morning. I will clip the goats this very day and insist your father sell me the hair for more tents. It is the least he can do.” Though Laban might find it amusing to see him living in a household of women with no peace. One never knew how the man would act or what he was thinking.

They crested the low hill and found Jacob’s tent standing as it had been, waiting for them, beckoning them home. He lifted the flap and ushered the women into his receiving area, past the partition to the opening in the wall that led to the second chamber. Leah entered after Rachel and stood just inside the opening as though trying to rearrange things in her mind.

“If we move your mat to that wall, there will be room for mine here.” She pointed to the opposite wall. “Our maids can sleep between us.” It left little room for movement, but he felt a measure of relief that they could work something out.

“We will trip over each other in the night, and where will we store the looms and other articles once we retrieve them from our father’s house?” Rachel crossed her arms, her mouth a grim line.

“We can make it work if we try.” Leah’s tone held a hint of condescension, reminding him too much of Esau.

“We can try all we like, but it is still too crowded.” Rachel’s petulant response made him turn from the women and walk out of the tent. He understood. She deserved better, but it would help if she made more of an effort.

He grabbed his staff from just inside the tent and headed for the sheep pens. Let them deal with the situation and argue without him. For his part, he would confront Laban with the problem this very night and borrow some of the tents they used in the fields with the sheep. He would not be forced to live with a houseful of bickering women! Laban had thrust this upon him. It was up to Laban to make it right.

Rachel stood at the door of her own tent a month later, shading her eyes against the glare of the setting sun. Bilhah stirred the stew over the open fire on the hearth just outside the tent’s door, while Leah’s maid Zilpah lifted the fresh bread from the clay oven. Leah had gone to visit her mother that afternoon, and Rachel had hoped her sister would remain, giving her one meal with Jacob alone. But one glance at the door to Leah’s tent told her that she would not be so fortunate. Leah stood in the door but a moment, then crossed in front of Jacob’s tent that separated them and joined her.

“Are you planning to keep him to yourself again tonight?” Her tone accused, and when Rachel met her gaze, the pale eyes flashed.

“He will eat with us, and you can speak with him if you must.” She turned away, looking to the hills for some sign of Jacob.

“As it has been since the day we wed. Surely you can spare him one night in a month.” The comment came out more pleading than angry, giving Rachel a twinge of guilt. Jacob had stayed away from Leah even when Rachel’s time had come upon her because Rachel had requested it. He hadn’t thought it fair but had listened to her argument. Hadn’t Leah deceived them both? Didn’t she deserve to pay for ruining their plans, their life’s happiness?

She whirled, facing Leah. “You are fortunate Jacob allows you to stay with us at all. You don’t belong here.”

“He is my husband as much as yours.” Leah held Rachel’s gaze but a moment, then glanced in the direction of the path Jacob would take. “And in case you have forgotten, I am the first wife here.”

“You are a usurper. You have no rights unless I allow them.” She turned then, shaking, and quickly walked away up the hill. Leah would surely complain to Jacob now and lay Rachel’s words before him. She must explain herself before Leah had the chance. She could not allow him to show favor to her sister.

As she crested the rise that overlooked the sheep pens, she saw him counting the sheep as they passed under his rod into the fold. She smoothed both hands on her skirts, her heart suddenly skipping a beat, uncertain. Jacob would not wish to be greeted with complaints. She must find a way to word her request without seeming to cause strife between them.

He looked up at her approach, a smile reaching his tired eyes.

“You are home,” she said, looping an arm through his and reaching one hand to pet one of the lambs.

“And glad to be here.” He pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “I had to rescue two lambs from a pit. One broke a leg in the fall.” He pointed to a lamb with a bandaged leg resting quietly in a secluded corner of the pen.

“Were they being chased?” Sheep would naturally flee a predator.

“They were chasing each other and paid no attention to my call. The pit came upon them unaware, and before I could reach the first, the other had gone in after it.”

“The one beneath, did it survive?”

He nodded, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Just barely. If I had not seen it happen and had to find them later, the younger one underneath would have suffered more than a broken leg. Of course, they fought to get out, and it took all of my strength to lift them to safety.”

“You must be exhausted.” She stroked a tendril of hair from his eyes. “Come and eat and rest yourself. The food is waiting.”

He smiled down at her and cupped her cheek. “I am hungry for more than food.” His lips brushed hers, the touch so gentle it sent shivers of delight up her spine.

She wrapped both arms about his neck. “Then you must take your rest in my tent and let me feed you sweet dates and apricots after the meal.”

He laughed. “My little shepherdess.” He glanced once more at the sheep, and she could tell he was silently finishing the count.
“Your brother Bahaar is supposed to stand guard here tonight.” He looked toward her father’s house and then turned to scan the surrounding fields. “You have not seen him?”

She shook her head. “He is always a late one. He will come, though.”

He hesitated. Normally he did not leave the sheep alone with none to guard. “Perhaps I will wait for him.” The fold had no door but the shepherd, though he had blocked the way with stones set as pillars in an emergency.

“I will bring food to you here and we will wait together.”

He looked at her, relief and gratitude twin expressions in his dark eyes. “Thank you.”

She reached on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “If my brother does not come, I will get a blanket and we will spend the night together here under the stars.”

A smile lit his face, and she turned, hurrying back down the hill. He had made no mention of Leah, nor would he miss her. They would have their night together without her sister after all.

Leah stirred the stew and worried her lower lip, trying to decide whether or not to pull the pot from the fire. Rachel had gone over the rise to find Jacob and had been gone longer than she expected. Surely they were at the sheep pens and would soon return together to join the rest of them for the evening meal, as they often did. But when Rachel appeared running down the hill without him, then gathered up food and drink and walked again toward the sheep pens without a word to her, Leah’s spirits sank. Rachel would keep Jacob to herself no matter what lengths she must go to, and there was little Leah could do to change the situation.

“You must eat something, mistress.” Her maid Zilpah held out a platter with warm flatbread to dip into the stew. “If he returns, you don’t want him to find you pining for him. Eat,
busy yourself. When he sees all of the good you do for him, he will soften his heart toward you.” She offered Leah a reassuring smile, but Leah found it impossible to return it.

“He will not return. Did you not see the blanket draped over Rachel’s arm?”

“Perhaps she wanted to soften the ground where they would eat.” Zilpah shrugged her round shoulders and lifted her pointed chin, her gaze looking beyond Leah to her father’s house. “Would you like me to fetch your mother, mistress? Or get you something else?”

Leah looked from the low hill where the sheep pens stood, where Jacob and Rachel would likely spend the night together under the stars, to her father’s house, where she could find comfort. But she had already spent the afternoon listening to the advice of her mother, who told her to be more forceful in handling Rachel, to speak to Jacob about her rights as his first wife. Rights Rachel insisted belonged to her and Leah had no strength to deny. One look at Jacob each day told her that her mother was wrong. The guilt of what she had done to Jacob and to Rachel grew with each passing day, and she was crushed by the realization that if Jacob did not come to her again, she would never bear a child and would die a barren widow in her husband’s house because he did not love her and, in fact, wanted nothing to do with her.

“No, Zilpah, thank you.” She stood, letting the wooden stirring stick rest against the clay pot. “I’ll be in my tent.” She was not hungry, and it would do little good now to wait for Jacob to come striding over the rise with Rachel on his arm. If he did not spend the night with her in the field, he would spend the night with her in her tent, and Leah could not bear to think of what they might do there. If she had the strength, and if she thought it would not simply delight Rachel further, she would pick up her tent and move it far from Jacob’s and Rachel’s.

But she could not quite bring herself to deny the kick over
her heart at the thought of losing him. And as she lifted the flap and slipped into the darkened interior of her tent, she heard again her mother’s words of that afternoon.

If
you want him to notice you, you will have to
speak to him. Remind him of his duty to you
as your husband. If you do not, I will have
your father remind him for you.

The words were no idle threat, and her mother would make good on them soon if Leah failed to act. But she quailed at every thought of getting past Rachel’s anger to Jacob. Jacob defended Rachel at every turn.

Then you must
speak to him alone.
But the only way to do so was to go out to the fields and find him while he was out with the sheep. And if she did so, she would have to be discreet, lest Rachel guess her motive. If she would have honesty with her husband, she would have to once again circumvent her sister.

Jacob kissed Rachel goodbye the next morning, picked up the lamb with the broken leg and draped it over his shoulder, then called the rest of the flock to follow him to greener pastures beyond Laban’s fields. How he loved that woman! She had a way of making him feel more than just good. He felt alive when he was with her. The stars seemed closer, the food tastier, the wine more satisfying. Life with Rachel was nearly perfect, if not for the shadow of Leah’s tent that rose with the sun across his path each morn.