Rachel (38 page)

Esau is coming to meet you, and
four hundred men are with him.

Four hundred men. The standard size of a band of outlaws or a raiding party. A formidable host.

He sank to his knees on the mats, suddenly aware of too many aches in his bones. He stretched out his arms before him, his face to the ground. Words formed in his heart, the silent prayers of a desperate man. But he would not keep them silent. He lifted his voice, choking on emotion as he spoke.

“O Elohim of my father Abraham, Elohim of my father Isaac, O Yahweh, who said to me, ‘Go back to your country and your relatives, and I will make you prosper.’” He paused, seeing in his mind’s eye the angels, hearing again the Voice who had promised. “I am unworthy of all the kindness and faithfulness you have shown your servant. I had only my staff when I crossed this Jordan, but now I have become two groups.” The reality of the blessing sank deep within him, carrying with it seeds of comfort. He rose to a sitting position, hands raised to the tent’s ceiling.

“Save me, I pray, from the hand of my brother Esau, for I am afraid . . .” He paused again, emotion making the words thick in his throat. “I am afraid he will come and attack me, and also the mothers with their children.” As the words left his lips, the memory of the promise filled him, renewing him. He stood slowly, beseeching yet consumed with a strange sense of boldness.

“But You have said, ‘I will surely make you prosper and will make your descendants like the sand of the sea, which cannot be counted.’” Surely God would remember. Surely He could be trusted to keep His promise.

Jacob wiped the tears that had slid into his beard and swallowed hard, his mind working with what to do next. An idea
surfaced, filling him with hope. He grabbed his staff, straightened his cloak, and hurried to find his steward.

Rachel spotted Jacob the moment he stepped foot outside his tent. She set down the water jug she carried and hurried to his side, grateful that Joseph was occupied with his half sister Dinah, helping Leah pack. Though her fear made her want to keep Joseph with her, there was no use worrying a six-year-old.

“Jacob,” she called to him, grateful that he slowed and waited for her to catch up. “Where are you going? Can I come with you?” She would not say it to him, but she needed to be with him, to see his face, in case . . . No. She could not lose him.

He looked at her a moment, his expression thoughtful. “I am only going to see my steward. Then I will visit the overseers of each of the flocks and herds. There is nothing for you to do.”

She tucked a strand of hair beneath her headscarf and gave him a pleading look. “I would be with you. That is enough.”

“Have you packed already?” His comment held little conviction, and she knew he would appease her.

“There is little to pack. We have not been here long enough to take everything out of the baskets. Leah and the others had more to do than I did.” She did not suggest that she could be helping them. Not when she knew he needed her, whether he admitted such a thing or not.

His half smile and the way he took her hand, looping it over his arm, answered her question. “We must hurry.”

Her grip tightened as he crooked his arm, pulling her along, his staff digging into the earth to aid their going. “What need have you of your steward? I thought you had already sent him to divide the camp into groups.”

“I am sending Esau a gift,” he said, his breath coming quickly as the ground sloped upward before them. “If he will accept it, I will appease him, and he will spare my life.”

He stopped at the top of the rise and lifted a hand to shade his eyes against the afternoon’s glare. The hot winds of summer were still months away, but the breeze had a warmer than normal edge to it. She traced the hairs on his arm with her fingers, causing him to look at her.

“You fear him greatly.”

He nodded, but the earlier distress did not fill his gaze. “I fear him. And yet I know God has promised me things that cannot be fulfilled if I die, if you all were taken from me.” He swallowed and briefly closed his eyes. “I am finding it hard to trust.”

She nodded, leaning close to his side. “As am I.”

He took her hand and continued walking. “From the best of the flocks I am going to give him two hundred female goats, twenty male goats, two hundred ewes, and twenty rams. You can help inspect them.”

So many. “I would be happy to help. I have not forgotten how to choose the choicest lambs.” She smiled up at him. “You have taught me much.”

He smiled into her eyes. “Everything I did was for you, beloved.”

The warmth in his gaze melted some of her fear, and on any other day she would have teased him and coaxed him to chase her among the grasses. But the seriousness of his brother’s visit, a visit she should have welcomed if his family had not been so at odds these many years, kept her from considering such foolishness.

“I would tell you that I also plan to give him cattle, camels, and donkeys from the herds. Each will be sent in its own drove, with distance between them. Perhaps as my brother comes upon each one, he will be more impressed as he goes. He never could turn down a good meal, even if it still walked on all fours.”

She laughed. “Your brother sounds like a man of many appetites. Let us hope he does not plan to eat the camels and donkeys.”

Jacob stopped again, scanning the horizon, at last spotting his steward talking to one of the overseers near the flock of goats. “You are right, my love. My brother was always a man of passion, of heated emotions and rash thinking. He came to quick conclusions and could not sit still. It is funny. My father loved him best, yet it is I who am most like my father.”

She turned her head to better see him against the sun’s setting as he waved the two men closer. “Your father was a quiet, introspective man as you are?” She had seen his ability to laugh and joke with her father and brothers but had also been privy to his silent moods. And she had seen him pray, had seen his tears, as the sheen of the sun’s orange glow now showed them dried upon his cheeks.

“My father was much quieter than I.” He looked at her, touched a hand to her cheek. “Come, now. Let us prepare the gift for my brother. Then I will take you back to camp to finish packing. I want you all across the river by nightfall.”

“Will we cross in the dark then?” Already the heat of the day had passed, and she would be missed preparing the food they would eat in haste.

He glanced at the sky. “Or we will wait until morning.” He seemed suddenly unsure. “I do not know.”

“Waiting one night shouldn’t hurt.”

He gave a slight nod as the men approached, then turned to lay out his planned gift before them. Rachel moved to where the goats grazed and began searching for the ones she thought might please the brother she had never thought she would meet. And wished now they never would.

30

Jacob finished the last bite of flatbread and wiped the crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand. He stared into the fire, mesmerized by the sparks licking the air as though ever grasping what was just out of reach—much as he had done most of his life. “Heel grabber” was what the adults in his life had called him, and he had been struggling to overcome the name and its implications ever since.

The gifts for Esau had been quickly selected and were on their way south toward the mountains of Seir, where Esau now lived, to intercept him as he made his way north to Mahanaim. Rachel had convinced Jacob to wait until morning to cross the river, but as he stared into the flames, he could not shake the sudden restlessness, the need to have things settled now. And as he looked up at the sound of his sons bickering and his wives rushing to get the little ones to bed, he realized he could not wait—whether they liked it or not.

He glanced at the slice of moon overhead, joined now as it was by stars too numerous to count, reminding him again of the promise. God would take care of him. Surely He would. Jacob chided himself over the doubt that lingered as he gripped his staff and pushed to his feet, no longer as weary as he had been when he had first heard the news of Esau’s coming. He stepped
from the shadows of the fire and walked toward the women’s tents. Leah emerged, carrying a basket in her hands.

“Are you ready to cross the river?” he asked.

“I thought we were waiting until morning.” At the sight of Leah’s tired expression, Jacob hesitated.

“I would rather we do so tonight.” He questioned the wisdom of his urgency for a moment, but her smile put him at ease.

“We are ready to move at your word, my lord. Let me call the children to help finish loading the camels.” She waited for his approving nod, then hurried to do as she’d said.

“We are going tonight?” Rachel’s voice made him turn, and he braced himself for her opposition. But she too seemed accepting. “I will get Joseph then.” Her smile did not reach her eyes, but in the dim night’s shadows, he could not tell her thoughts. She hurried from him as well, and he went to find his steward.

With the help of his men, the women and children would be across the narrowest part of the river within a few hours. Then he would face the struggle he sensed within. One he would gladly have avoided if not for the weight upon his heart and the knowledge that he could not face his brother until he faced himself.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Rachel’s dark eyes searched his face, her fingers clasped in his.

He shook his head, lifted her hands to his lips, and kissed her fingertips. The last of his possessions had crossed over on the final camel’s back, and in the clearing beyond the river’s edge, the men and women were quickly setting up a makeshift camp for the night. A fire already glowed in a circle of stones, and torches illumined the perimeter where the women and children would sleep.

“You will be safe here,” he said, his gaze shifting from the camp to her. “I will join you on the morrow.”

“You have nothing to sleep on, no cushion for your head.”
Her lip curled in a slight pout, which quickly faded at the look he gave her.

“I slept with a stone for my pillow at Bethel, beloved.” He glanced toward the river a short distance from them and released her hand. “It is not sleep that I need this night.”