Rachel (33 page)

“I did not mean to disturb you. I came for Judah.” He had given the task ahead much thought, and after weighing the attitudes of his oldest sons, he had considered nine-year-old Judah to be the one most able to do as he was told without running off distracted.

“Let me get him for you.” She rose, but he stopped her with an upraised hand.

“Don’t trouble yourself. I can get him.” He had rarely entered the sleeping area of his children, and it was early enough that dawn’s pink light had barely grown visible, but he was accustomed to the darkness now.

She nodded. “If you’re sure.” For a moment it occurred to him that she wanted to help him, but he would need her help in other matters soon enough.

“I’m sure.” He moved to the sleeping quarters and found Judah, arm flung over his head, blissfully sleeping. He questioned the wisdom of entrusting a nine-year-old with the task. But he shook the disquiet aside and touched Judah’s arm.

He lifted his head, his light brown hair falling over one eye as he quickly sat up and shook himself. “Abba?” He blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Is it morning?”

“Yes, my son. It is early, but it is morning. I want you to come with me to the fields today. I have an important job for you, but you must come with me now.” He straightened and waited as the boy seemed to consider what he’d said.

At last he nodded and rose, quickly dressed in the semidarkness, and pulled his sandals over dusty feet, hurriedly tying the knots. “I’m ready.” His eager voice gave Jacob pause. How rarely he had singled the boy out to spend time with him. He must remedy that in the future.

Judah hurried to the jar that held a mixture of dried dates, figs, and almonds and filled a small pouch, as Jacob had done in his tent the night before. Leah stood at the tent’s door, and Jacob nodded to her as he passed through. Judah stopped to kiss his mother’s cheek, causing Jacob a moment of guilt that he had not done the same. He stepped aside and waited for Judah to give his mother a parting hug, then walked with his son to the sheep pens.

Silence hung between them, and Jacob decided the boy was still too sleepy to speak. For his part, he tried and discarded a number of comments, finally deciding on none. At last they came to the sheep pens, and Judah entered, went to his favorite lamb, and dug his small fingers into its wool. Jacob smiled at the look of delight on the boy’s face, and when Judah met Jacob’s gaze, the boy’s joy warmed his heart.

“I’ll call them and you follow behind,” Jacob said as he set out for the fields, his staff easing his step as they climbed a low hill, then descended into a lush valley below. He would miss
the fertility he found in these lands where the river ran nearby and the rains came in predictable intervals. Canaan was more prone to drought, and the terrain in parts was more patchy and weak. But Canaan was home, and his heart stirred at the thought of returning.

“Shall I build a fire for you, Abba?” Judah’s young voice brought his thoughts up short. They had come to a place where the sheep could spread out to graze, and Judah stood beside him near a terebinth tree, chewing a date. He spit the pit away from them and gave Jacob a toothy grin.

Jacob smiled and rumpled the boy’s head. “Fires are kept at night, and only when the wind is calm.” He pointed to the leaves above him. “See how they sway? The breeze is too strong to keep a fire safe.”

Judah nodded, his small brows furrowed. “What did you need me to do?”

That the boy wanted to please him made Jacob wonder why it had taken him until now to get to know this child. But images of Joseph surfaced, and he knew why Judah and his brothers had gained less of his attention.

“The task is for later, when the sun is halfway to the midpoint. For now, you can walk with me among the flock and keep watch for foxes or lions.” He touched Judah’s shoulder and guided him to circle the pasture where the animals grazed, giving instructions on how to care for lambs when they were first born, and explaining why only one ram was needed for breeding many female lambs and how the rams would fight if they were together.

“Like Simeon and Levi fight over girls,” Judah said, making a face. “Girls are boring.” He glanced up at his father, and Jacob smiled.

“Girls won’t be so boring when you are older.” He chuckled as Judah stuck out his tongue.

“Not to me! Girls cheat at games and they don’t like frogs.”

Jacob laughed. “No, I imagine they don’t. Especially when you put them in their bed.” He gave Judah a knowing look.

The boy shrugged. “Wouldn’t catch me crying over a frog in my bed.”

The comment brought back memories of the antics he and Esau had played on some of the servant girls in the camp during the few years they had enjoyed each other’s company. How quickly things had gone awry as their interests changed and they became the separate favorites of their parents.

A check in his spirit gave him pause. Did he not favor Joseph as his mother had favored him, as his father had favored Esau? What kind of future awaited his sons with sharing his time? He glanced at Judah, silently vowing to show the boy more attention.

Jacob kept a close eye on the path of the sun as he sat, watching Judah whittling a branch as he had taught him to do months ago.

“Judah.”

“Yes, Abba, I’m here.”

“I want you to run home now and bring your ima and aunt Rachel out to see me. They will need you to show them where I am. Can you remember the path we took?” It wasn’t so far that he could have easily forgotten, but Jacob made him repeat the directions just the same.

“I won’t forget, Abba.” Delight shone in Judah’s eyes, and he ran off to do Jacob’s bidding.

The sun had risen halfway between its starting point and the middle of the sky by the time Judah returned with Rachel and Leah. Jacob greeted the boy, thanking him, and sent him to watch the sheep, far from where Jacob’s words would be heard.

“What’s wrong, Jacob?” Rachel asked, coming closer. Leah held back a pace, but her face held equal concern.

Jacob leaned on the staff in his hand and looked to Leah, then let his gaze linger on Rachel. He drew in a breath, then spoke the
words he had rehearsed in his mind, praying the women would not find fault with them. If they would not cooperate with him, parting from Laban would be that much harder.

“I see that your father’s attitude toward me is not what it was before,” he said, gauging their reaction, “but the God of my father has been with me.” At their mutual nods, he released a breath and continued. “You know that I’ve worked for your father with all my strength, yet your father has cheated me by changing my wages ten times.”

“He is despicable,” Rachel said, her beautiful mouth forming a scowl. “He wanted you to fail.”

Jacob nodded. “Perhaps that is true. However, God has not allowed him to harm me. If he said, ‘The speckled ones will be your wages,’ then all the flocks gave birth to speckled young, and if he said, ‘The streaked ones will be your wages,’ then all the flocks bore streaked young. So God has taken away your father’s livestock and has given them to me.”

“God has been very gracious to you,” Leah said, her look thoughtful. In that moment, he thought her almost beautiful.

“He has.” He glanced at Rachel again, relieved to see the eager light in her eyes. “In breeding season,” he said, glancing to where Judah petted one of the smaller ewes, still thankfully out of earshot, “I once had a dream in which I looked up and saw that the male goats mating with the flock were streaked, speckled, or spotted. The angel of God said to me in the dream, ‘Jacob.’ I answered, ‘Here I am.’ And He said, ‘Look up and see that all the male goats mating with the flock are streaked, speckled, or spotted, for I have seen all that Laban has been doing to you.’” Jacob paused but a moment. “Then He said, ‘I am the God of Bethel, where you anointed a pillar and where you made a vow to Me. Now leave this land at once and go back to your native land.’”

Jacob searched each face before him. “Will you come?” When they both spoke at once, he felt a heavy weight lift from his chest.

“Do we still have any share in the inheritance of our father’s estate?” Rachel asked, taking one of his hands.

“Does he not regard us as foreigners?” Leah stepped forward and took the other. “Not only has he sold us, but he has used up our bride-price for his own gain, payment that belonged to us and to our children.” Bitterness tinged her voice, surprising him. He expected her loyalty to reside with Laban.

“Surely all the wealth that God took away from our father belongs to us and our children,” Rachel added. Her own tone matched Leah’s, and he wondered how often the sisters had discussed the situation outside of his presence.

“So do whatever God has told you,” they said in unison.

Jacob pulled them close, holding both of them to him as he had never done before. “Thank you,” he whispered, kissing Rachel’s forehead, then Leah’s. “Begin packing things for the journey, but do not alert anyone in Laban’s household, not even your mother.” He looked at Leah. “Laban cannot know we are leaving.” He released his hold, and they stood before him again.

“When will we leave?” Rachel tucked a strand of loose hair beneath her headscarf.

“Your father departs at the end of the week for the far pastures to shear his sheep. We will go while he is away.”

“So, a week?” Leah fidgeted with the sash at her waist, clearly anxious to be off and starting already.

“A week,” Jacob said. “I will speak to my steward to ready the camel’s packs and gather food for the journey. We will store it far from the house and the camp. When the day comes, we will load the camels and come for you.”

“We will be ready,” Rachel said, stepping forward to kiss Jacob’s cheek. “You are doing the right thing,” she whispered in his ear.

She hurried away then, and Leah looked at him for an awkward moment as if trying to decide if she should offer him a kiss as well. In the end, she turned and hurried after her sister.

26

Rachel folded the half-woven tunic she was making for Jacob and tucked it into one of the camel’s saddlebags along with her wool, spindle, and distaff, the last items to add to packs she had been filling for days. Joseph’s small robes and tunics were already tucked in with her clothing and everything they could spare, all packed neatly in camel cushions and saddlebags and hidden in the dark corners of the tent, lest someone from her father’s household come to call and notice something amiss.

She glanced up at the sound of voices outside her tent, quickly set the bag aside, and peered into the darkness, relieved when she recognized her sister and Zilpah. Dawn was still many hours off, the perfect time to slip away unnoticed, before the women of her father’s household awoke to travel to the well and begin preparations for the morning meal.

“Are you ready?” Leah’s soft whisper held anxiety, urgency.

Rachel nodded. “I put the last items in the bag just now.” She looked toward the sheep pens where the earth rumbled beneath camels’ hooves and the soft murmurs of men’s voices drew near. Bilhah emerged from her tent, and the men came forward to load the camels.

Jacob stopped before them and looked from one woman to the next. “Are you ready to go?”

“We have only to wake the children,” Rachel said, glancing at Leah. They would eat a meal of unleavened bread and dried fruit as they traveled, stopping only when necessity forced a rest.

“Good. Come. I will show each of you to your camels and those of your children. You can bring your packs and set them nearby. The men will fasten them securely.” Jacob took Rachel’s hand and led her to the first camel, motioning for Leah and his two concubines to follow. “You and Joseph can ride together. If it becomes too difficult, I will take him from you for a time.” He released her hand, and she was glad of the clear night and the moon’s glow, which allowed them to see.

“I will go get my things.” She turned to leave, but he caught her arm. She looked at him, curious.

“We must keep the children as quiet as possible. Don’t wake them until all is packed.” She saw the worry in his eyes, reminded of several conversations they had had that week.

“Do not worry, my lord. My father is three days’ journey away, as are my brothers. We will be far from here before anyone can tell them we are gone.” She had reassured him of the same thing twice before, but her words could not shake the fear from his gaze. She touched his arm. “It will be all right.”