Rachel (19 page)

Jacob’s arm tightened, and Rachel could feel the muscle flex beneath her grip as they crested the rise and descended out of sight of the camp to the dip in the land where the sheep pens stood. She studied his profile, watching the way the morning sun angled against his cheek, and saw the changing expressions in his dark eyes.

“What did she say to you?” She forced the question through clenched teeth, knowing yet hating the answer that was sure to follow.

He glanced at her but said nothing, continuing on until they reached the pens. She released her grip, and he nodded to the servant boy who had been awaiting Jacob’s arrival. The boy took off running, hurrying back to her father’s house for the morning meal, his gait gangly and awkward in its youth. Jacob looked away from her toward the sheep.

“Is she with child? Is that what she told you?” She knew she should wait for him to reveal it to her, but she could not bear his silence. “Please, Jacob, do not keep this from me.”

He looked at her then and nodded. “Yes.” He glanced beyond her. “I’m sorry, beloved.”

She watched him a moment, but he would not meet her gaze. “Does this please you?”

An impatient sigh escaped him. “But of course it does. What man doesn’t want many sons?”

She turned then and hugged both arms to herself. The morning breeze lifted the scarf slightly away from her face, its gentle warmth mocking her in its kindness.

“Please don’t do this.” He touched her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Do you not think I wish it were you?” He dipped his head until his gaze met her lowered one. “I would give a year’s wages to have the son be yours, Rachel. You know this.” He traced a finger along her jaw. “Please do not take away my joy.”

His joy? How could he think such a thing could bring joy? Tears born of anger she could not release sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry. I cannot think that a son of my
sister
could bring you joy.”

He tilted his head, looking heavenward, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Rachel, please.” He closed his eyes as though trying to rein in his impatience, then met her gaze once more. “Try to see this from more than your perspective. Try to be happy for me too.”

She blinked and wiped the tears away, willing the anger to abate, longing to give in to the rage and the hurt. To flail her arms and beat against his chest with her fists . . . But he would not understand. To react in such a way, despite her feelings, would only stir his wrath and perhaps drive him once more into Leah’s arms. She could not risk such a thing.

She swallowed and took a deep breath, offering him a conciliatory smile. “I am pleased for you, Jacob. I . . .” She looked beyond him, unable to continue.

He stepped closer and pulled her against him. “I know.” He kissed the top of her head and held her, but she would not allow herself to weep. The bleating of the sheep beside them reminded her that he would never get the sheep to the fields if he did not start soon.

“You must go if you are to find pasture before the sun reaches its glaring point.” She stepped back from his embrace, and this
time her smile was genuine. “You will have our neighbors stealing the best spots if I keep you here much longer.”

He released a long-held breath and gave her a relieved smile. “Come with me.” He grasped her hand, intertwining their fingers for a brief moment. “It will do you good to be away from Leah for the day.”

Emotion swelled again at his thoughtfulness. She did not appreciate this man the way she should. Hadn’t he worked for her seven years, patiently waiting? And now he was working seven more for Leah, all the while waiting for Rachel to give him a son, never angry with her or disappointed that she had failed again and again. How was it that she could not see his love? Had jealousy over her sister blinded her so greatly?

“I would love to come with you,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Thank you.”

He smiled then and released her, turning to lead the sheep out of the pen to the path that led to distant fields and the well where they had met so many years ago. She waited until the last lamb trotted through the gate, then followed him.

15

Rachel hurried along the path to her father’s house, heedless of Leah’s calls to her from her tent, anxious to get away. She would die if she had to spend one more day with her sister, working at her side while the woman’s belly swelled and she cast that constant look of pity in Rachel’s direction. She had become the brunt of Leah’s scorn since the day Leah told Jacob the news of this third child. The thought of Leah being so blessed tormented Rachel’s every waking moment, and she could not bear another day. She must do something . . . Surely there must be something she could do.

Her heart pounded as she neared her father’s courtyard, her feet scuffing the loose stones and then stopping abruptly when a stone caught between her foot and leather sandal. She lifted her foot and flipped the offending piece to the path, then rushed past the servants in the courtyard to search out her mother. She found her with Farah in the weaving room.

“Rachel! What is wrong?” Her mother set the shuttle aside and rose, hurrying to Rachel’s side.

“Has something happened to Leah?” Farah’s question caught Rachel up short, feeding the anger and hurt growing within her.

“Your daughter is fine.” She managed the words through clenched teeth. “Though you might tell her to keep her pity to herself. She may carry Jacob’s child, but it will be the last
she carries if she keeps flaunting herself at me.” She faced her mother then, turning purposefully away from Farah. “Can we take a walk?” She lowered her voice, though Farah could still hear. She did not need Farah telling Leah all that was in her heart.

“Of course, my child.” Suri took Rachel’s elbow, tossing an apologetic look Farah’s way, then led her from the room.

“You didn’t need to act so congenial to her,” Rachel hissed.

“Yes, I did.” Her mother’s look held censure.

“She should make her daughter curb her tongue!”

“No mother has ever been able to do such a thing.” Concern crossed her mother’s face as she guided Rachel through the halls to the outer courtyard and beyond, the opposite direction of Jacob’s tents. “What is this about, Rachel?”

Tears threatened and she looked away. Her mother’s arms came around her shoulders, then turned her into a full embrace. “Oh, my child. Jealousy is such a terrible taskmaster.” She patted Rachel’s back. “Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t bear it anymore, Ima. She sits there at the grinding wheel, stretching her belly until it sticks straight out in front of her, patting it incessantly, and glancing my way with that pitiful look she has, but I just know she is laughing inside. She mocks me, Ima. As if it is my fault that I am barren.” The word
barren
on her tongue tasted sour, and she felt suddenly sick. She placed a hand to her mouth and pulled away. She waited, drawing in slow breaths, until at last the queasy feeling passed.

Her mother’s touch on her shoulder made her turn. “Come. Walk with me.” Suri pointed to the tree line some distance away, and Rachel obediently followed. “First off, dear child, you must understand that when a woman carries a child and sits long hours at the grinding stone, her back grows stiff. The bigger her belly swells, the harder it is for her arms to reach the handle to turn the stone. So she stretches. So what? You arch your back when you stretch and your belly sticks out. It is natural. You
will have the same trouble someday.” She rubbed her work-worn hands over Rachel’s younger ones.

“But she flaunts herself at me.”

“And you know this because she looks at you with pity? How do you know it is pity? Perhaps it is gas and she is grimacing. You do not know what is in a person’s heart.” Her mother’s tone held too much accusation, her excuses for Leah unconscionable.

“You mock me as well. I thought you would understand.” Rachel was used to her mother’s straightforwardness, but she did not expect it today. Did not appreciate it today.

“I do not mock you, my child. But you have been married nearly three years and still you are fighting with your sister. You must stop this foolishness. You will destroy Jacob’s house if you don’t.” They were halfway to the tree line now, but Suri stopped and placed both hands on Rachel’s shoulders. “You must stop thinking so much of yourself. Think of Jacob, of his children. Be a good aunt to them and Jacob will love you for it. And if that is too hard for you, find another way to accept your state.”

“But what can I do?” She heard the petulance in her tone as she searched her mother’s dark exotic eyes so like her own. “You shared my father, but at least you had sons of your own. Why does God keep them from me?”

Suri crossed her arms over her chest. “Who am I that I should know the mind of God? Perhaps He makes you wait to teach you to trust Him. Is that not what Jacob would tell you?”

She squirmed under her mother’s scrutiny, not liking the direction of the conversation. Her mother had come to believe in the One God after listening to Jacob speak so often of Him. Laban did not care what his wives believed, as he embraced all gods, including the Creator. Leah had been the first to accept the singular teaching, and Rachel had soon followed. But she did not understand Him. And she did not like His ways, not if they meant she would bear no sons.

“Jacob would tell me he does not know why I must wait.” She looked away. “What should I do, Ima?”

Her mother cupped her cheek and sighed. “Give Jacob your maid. Then whatever child is born to her can be born on your knees. The child will belong to you.”

She startled at the words, searching her mother’s face. “Why would I do such a thing? It is already impossible to share him!”

“Do you want a child or not?”

“Of course I do!”

“Well then, since you have had plenty of Jacob’s time and your sister’s fertility to prove the problem lies with you, there is only one way for you to have sons. Give the man your maid.”

Rachel stepped back, stung.

“Or you could keep waiting.”

No, she couldn’t. Could she?

“But I can’t . . .” She put a fist to her mouth and turned away, walking ahead of her mother to the trees.
Oh, God,
why is this so hard?
Was she being too hard on Leah? At least Jacob was having the sons God promised him. Did it matter whether those sons came from her?

But she wanted children! She wanted to suckle a babe at her breast, to kiss a cheek so soft and pure, to gaze into eyes like Jacob’s and know the babe was the product of their love. Surely she could wait for that. Hadn’t Jacob’s own mother waited twenty years? She would just find other ways to deal with Leah in the meantime.

She stood a moment, composing herself, then turned back and met her mother coming toward her. “I can’t do it, Ima. Not yet.”

Suri nodded, her look holding far more compassion than it had held when Rachel arrived in the weaving room. “Dear, dear child. How hard it is to love a man as you do. How hard to hold the strength of a love such as his.”

The words brought tears again, but she merely nodded and brushed them away. If not for Jacob’s love, she would be lost.
But if not for Jacob’s love, she would not want so badly to please him. Love cost more than she had ever imagined.