Rachel (31 page)

“I don’t know what we can do to help Jacob,” Rachel said once she was satisfied that Joseph was within a safe distance.

“We should do something to make Father think twice before changing his wages again. Something he would find painful.” Leah lowered her voice, half amazed at her own rebellious thoughts. “That is, if there was such a thing.”

“The only things he cares about are his pipe, his beer, and his gods.”

“His gods most of all. He paid a hefty price for those images, and some are as old as Tariq. Ima said that Father bought them when Rebekah still lived here, long before Jacob or you and I were born.” Leah tucked her combed wool into Rachel’s basket, brushed the lint from her robes, and stood. “I can’t see what we could possibly do to his gods that he wouldn’t discover. Then our husband would have to pay for whatever damage we did, and it would take us even longer to leave this place.” She called Dinah to her. “I must change her and start the grinding.”

Rachel stood as well and took Joseph’s hand as they headed back to their tents. “You are right, of course,” she said in parting. “I just wanted you to know.”

Leah’s heart warmed as she held Rachel’s concerned gaze. Perhaps they would be closer now. At the very least, she was glad
she was the one Rachel had included. No one else loved Jacob like Leah did, and perhaps Rachel was finally coming to see that.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Rachel nodded, then turned her attention to what Joseph was saying. Leah watched them but a moment, then hurried with Dinah to her tent, wondering what she could do to her father’s gods to make him think twice about hurting Jacob.

24

Jacob sipped his barley beer, watching the crowds of men—workers and sons of Laban—enjoying the fruits of their labors after a successful sheep shearing. Laughter and the swell of voices drowned out the sounds of the fire crackling in the pits and in the tall sconces that cast long shadows on the walls.

Jacob moved along one of those walls of the courtyard now, catching patches of conversation as he headed to where Bahaar and Laban’s other sons sat with full plates before the fire. He stopped at the sight of Rachel coming toward him from the cooking room with a large flask and held his cup out for her to refill it.

“Did you notice the difference in the sheep this year?” Jacob turned at the sound of Tariq’s voice. “Jacob’s sheep were heartier and stronger than our father’s. Does anyone besides me see a problem with this?”

Jacob slid into the shadows and pulled Rachel with him, holding a finger to his lips. He cocked his head to better hear and glanced around, hoping he was not noticed.

“Jacob has taken everything our father owned and has gained all this wealth from what belonged to our father.” The voice belonged to Rustam, son of Laban’s concubine Refiqa. Murmurs of agreement followed the comment.

“He took only what our father agreed to pay him.” Jacob recognized Bahaar’s voice, his heart lifting to find one supporter among his brothers-in-law. “Though it is curious that he has done so well while our father’s flocks have clearly weakened.”

The skin prickled on Jacob’s arms. Perhaps not so supportive. He glanced at Rachel, whose wide eyes told him she had heard and feared for him, for them. Surely Laban’s sons would not harm him. But as the voices continued to argue and agree, Jacob forced himself to pull away. He drew Rachel into the house, into one of the inner rooms, and shut the door.

“I want you to take Joseph and go home,” he whispered, afraid even the birds of night might hear his comment and repeat it to Laban or one of his sons.

“But I will be missed. There is still so much food to prepare and pass to the men—” She cut her words off at his touch on her shoulder.

“You heard your brothers, beloved. They suspect me of cheating them.”

Rachel nodded and took his hand. “They will not harm us here, Jacob. We cannot just run away. My father will be slighted if you send all of us to our tents and leave his celebration.” She released his hand and touched his forearm. “They have had too much to drink. By morning they will forget everything.”

He didn’t agree. She had not worked beside them shearing the sheep, had not seen the malevolent glances his way when they thought he would not see, when one of his sheep came before the shearers. But now was not the time or place to fully express his concerns, his fears.

“You are right, of course.” He touched her cheek. “But as soon as you are finished, I want you to leave. I will send Leah shortly after you. The children are young and must be put to bed. No one will argue that.”

Rachel looked at him a moment, considering his request. “I
had thought to check on my mother before we go. To see if she needs anything.”

He gave a slight nod. How could he refuse her anything? Especially when Suri’s health had continued to decline. “Go to her as soon as you can, then take Joseph and leave.” He knew he was probably being overly protective of them, but he could not shake the feeling of unease in his gut. “You will go?”

She nodded, her dark eyes holding him captive, her smile erasing some of the fear troubling him. “I will go, Jacob. I think you worry too much.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “But I will leave as soon as I’m able.”

He drew in a breath, though the action did little to soothe him. She picked up the flask she’d set by the door, and he followed. He would go back to the fire and give them warning of his approach, lest Laban’s sons suspect he had overheard them. Then he would see how they acted in his presence.

Rachel’s heart beat too fast as she walked to the fire where her brothers and half brothers sat talking among themselves. She approached Tariq, making her presence known, and was satisfied when the conversation shifted to concerns over the wheat crop rather than further discussion of her husband. She moved from man to man, refilling their cups, resting a pointed look on Bahaar. He glanced beyond her, but she read the guilt in his eyes. He did not appreciate Jacob’s success any more than the others, but at least he felt some type of remorse for his comments.

She looked up as Jacob approached the men, their smiles forced but half welcoming before she moved to stand in the shadows, listening. Her brothers made room for Jacob to join them, but the air was tenser now, and the jokes carried barbs that seemed especially sharp. Rachel stood near, her hands clenched tight about the flask, and for the briefest moment wished for
the sling she used to carry when she shepherded the sheep in the fields. But she wouldn’t really use such a thing against her own kin. Still, she couldn’t help the protectiveness that rose within her for Jacob and for her son.

She hurried away, wondering where Joseph had wandered off to. Jacob’s earlier distress suddenly filled her with worry. She must tell Leah and take the children back to the tents. Perhaps it was time for them to leave her father’s household and travel to Canaan as Jacob had long hoped. Jacob’s contract with her father would be completed at month’s end, and her father had done nothing to make any of them want to stay even a week beyond. She stopped near the outer courtyard searching for her son, spotting Leah’s older boys playing games with Bahaar’s children. Would they truly go and leave this all behind?

Thoughts of her mother surfaced, bringing a sense of loss. Her stomach twisted in an uncomfortable knot. How could she leave her when she was so ill? And how could she live without her? Or bear another son without her aid? To leave her behind . . . But her mother could never come with her. Her father would hunt them down to bring her back.

She worried her lower lip, her anxious thoughts racing ahead of her feet as she hurried through the house searching for Joseph. There were too many rooms and too many children. She should have told him to stay close to her. But at six years old, he could hardly be expected to hang on to her robe and ignore time with his cousins.

She found Leah in one of the sleeping rooms holding Dinah, Issachar and Zebulun and Joseph already sleeping on cushions beside her. “There you are. I expected them to be playing with their cousins.”

Leah glanced up. “They held races in the field behind the courtyard and nearly fell asleep eating their meal.”

“Let me help you take the children home.”

Leah shifted Dinah’s sleeping form onto her shoulder. “We
should have taken them long ago,” she said, exhaustion lining her face. “These feasts wear me out.”

Rachel bent to coax the boys awake and took Joseph and Zebulun by the hand while Leah took hold of Issachar’s. They moved quietly through the house, passing Farah in one of the halls.

“Have you seen your mother, Rachel? She’s asking for you.” Farah glanced at Rachel, then looked at her daughter. “Let me help you. Are you taking them home?”

Leah handed Dinah to her mother and took Zebulun’s hand from Rachel’s. “Shall I take Joseph for you?”

“No, he can come with me. We won’t be long.” She left them and took a side hall to her mother’s room, where she found Suri lying on her mat. Rachel hurried to her side. “Are you in pain, Ima?”

Her mother’s face looked pale and drawn, but she shook her head and offered Rachel a weak smile. “I am well, my daughter. Just tired. So very tired.” She looked from Rachel to Joseph, and her smile widened. “Come to see me, dear child.”

Joseph, still groggy from a full day of work and play, climbed beside his grandmother, his touch gentle as if he sensed her weakness. She pulled him near and stroked his soft dark hair. “Such a beautiful boy you are, Joseph. Yahweh has great things in store for you, my son.” She kissed the top of his head, and Rachel’s heart stirred with a mixture of joy and pain. Joy over her mother’s blessing and pain over the fear that she would soon lose her.

“Can I get you anything, Ima?” Rachel wanted to linger but sensed that her mother needed rest. “Shall I call for your maid?”

Suri shook her head. “No, child. Seeing you was all I needed. I fear I wore myself out trying to help until Farah shooed me away.” Her gaze traveled beyond Rachel, and Rachel turned to see if someone was there, but they were alone. “Go now, Rachel. Take Joseph home.” She kissed Joseph’s cheek then, and Joseph crept closer to Rachel. Rachel bent to kiss her mother’s sallow cheek.

“I will come tomorrow, Ima.” Surely a good night’s sleep would make things right.

“Tomorrow,” she said, her voice drifting off.

After a few moments, when she saw her mother’s even breathing in the soft rise and fall of her chest, she took Joseph’s hand and left the room. They made their way to the main sitting room of the house, then toward the outer courtyard, passing her father’s shrine to his gods as they went. Rachel paused at Joseph’s tug on her arm.

“Why does Sabba Laban keep images, Ima?” He no longer sounded sleepy, and a grave frown creased his young brow. “Abba says we are to worship only one God, Elohim.”

She squatted beside him to better meet his gaze and kept her voice low. “Abba is right, my son. Sabba Laban should not keep these.”

“Then why does he?”

“He thinks they bring him good fortune. And one day he will pass them to his heir, the son of his choosing, as his inheritance.” Her father had long believed that the passing of his gods to his oldest son, or whichever son he deemed most worthy, would pass down the riches and blessings he had enjoyed in his life. Jacob had scoffed at the idea, and Rachel had agreed.