The Gate of Heaven (13 page)

Rachel looked up into her sister's face. Rachel was intensely curious about the details of marriage. Having grown up around animals, she knew only the fundamentals of such things, and now she said, “Tell me how you can know if a man would be a good lover.”

Leah sat down and pulled the girl beside her. “All right. First of all you have to be sure that he looks at you with something in his eyes.”

“With what, Leah?”

“He has to want you like a thirsty man longs for water. You have to see it in his eyes.” Leah continued to speak, and soon they were giggling. They were close friends despite the difference in their ages—more like mother and daughter, really—and Leah had a genuine affection for Rachel. As she spoke, she knew someone had to enlighten the girl, and her mother, Ziva, was not likely to.

Rachel listened avidly as Leah spoke on. She was in that time of youth when thoughts of love and marriage both drew her and frightened her. A woman was born to be with a man—she knew that much—but which man? And what would happen after the marriage ceremony? Would she be able to please her husband? And how does a girl know about such things? As she pondered her sister's instruction, she began to think of Jacob in ways she had never before thought of a man.

Even as the two young women were giggling and talking, Laban was speaking to his two sons, Lomach and Benzar, who had come in late from the fields. They were both dark complected and short and stocky as their mother had been. Laban had been barely out of his teens when he had bargained for the woman, and she in turn had given birth to the boys within two years.

Now Laban was telling them of Jacob's arrival, and like their father, they were suspicious of strangers—even family.

Lomach, the more talkative of the two, shook his head. “I don't like it,” he said. “We don't need him here.”

Benzar opened his mouth to agree, but Ziva suddenly appeared. The three lived in fear of her and did not know why. There was something in her strange eyes that repelled them, and each of them were sure that if they crossed her, their throats would be cut.

Ziva stood looking down at the three, her lips curling with disdain. “The man's got sense.”

“How do you know that? He just got here,” Laban barked.

Ziva did not deign to argue. “Mind what I tell you. He's got sense, and we need some of that around here.” She looked at her husband, for whom she had lost respect years ago, and at the two dark men, who were lazy drunkards like their father. “He's got more sense than the three of you put together, and if somebody doesn't take hold here, we're going to lose everything! He's got sense,” she repeated. “He stays!”

As Jacob awoke one morning after a month in Laban's camp, he found himself longing for his home back in Beersheba. The intensity of his desire was not unlike that of a starving man craving food.
Maybe I can go home if I return the birthright to Esau….
The thought lingered, but then bitterness gripped him as he realized that the word of his father was binding, and Esau would never accept such a simple solution anyway. Jacob knew his brother well, and as the sunlight entered through a fissure in the tent, throwing down a pale beam that struck his face, the reality of his situation overwhelmed him with grief. In his time with Laban, the old man had proved to be stingy beyond belief. True enough Jacob had not starved, but Laban's hints that it was time for Jacob to earn his keep were getting plainer each day.

At a swishing sound by the tent flap, Jacob turned to see Leah enter.

“Are you awake?” she asked, and leaning down, she touched his cheek—half playfully and half seriously.

“Yes, I'm awake.” Jacob arose and shoved his feet into his sandals. “I didn't mean to sleep so late.”

“I like to sleep late myself,” Leah said, smiling. She had a way of holding him with her gaze that affected him deeply. It was as if her eyes had some sort of magical power! He knew that predatory animals had this ability to fix their prey with such a stare that they could not move. He did not know if this was what Leah was doing—he only knew that her presence was both subtle and powerful. It was not so much what she said as the inflections of her voice. She had a way of moving her shoulders and torso that struck him as being an invitation—but to what, he could not be sure.

“Will you tell me something?” Leah said slyly.

“Why, of course.”

The corners of her broad mouth were turning upward into a smile, and her wide eyes seemed to envelop him. “Rachel tells me that when you first met her, you gave her a kiss. Is that true?”

“Why…I suppose it is. Just greeting a kinswoman, you know.”

“Well, am I not your kinswoman too, Jacob?” The voice was low-pitched, even lower than Leah's normal voice, her tone intentionally beguiling. “Don't I deserve a greeting from my cousin?”

Jacob felt uncomfortably stirred by her voice and by the way she held herself before him. He had never before known a woman who could issue an invitation in such a manner. He took her by the shoulders and started to kiss her on the cheek, but she turned her head so that her lips were waiting instead. He put his arms around her and felt her lips on his. It was like nothing he had ever experienced! It was like falling into a softness he had never known, closing about him and shutting out all reason. He felt her hands behind his neck pulling him closer, her soft body pressing against him, and he gave in to the ravishing sweetness without so much as a thought as to what Laban might think about the situation.

A fine sweat broke out all over his body, and he realized he was holding her too tightly—yet her own arms were tight about him. Finally Jacob lifted his head, his breathing shallow. Leah did not move back but still leaned against him. She put her hand on his cheek and whispered, “My! There must be many women saddened because you left your home.”

“Why, not at all!” he said, surprised at her suggestion.

“Oh yes. You can't lie about that, Jacob. You're a strong man. You're able to stir a woman.”

Jacob said nothing, but his throat tightened as she smiled and ran her hand down his cheek.

“I'll have to be more careful with you, Jacob. A woman has no protection against a man with your power.”

Jacob was not greatly experienced with women. He felt a surge of pride at her assessment of him and at the desire in her eyes that assured him that she was—for herself, at least—speaking the truth. He had never before had a woman say things like this to him, let alone had a woman kiss him like this.

It was only when they heard someone calling Leah's name that she stepped back. “I'll see you later,” she whispered with a promise in her voice that stirred him again.

“Get out of that bed before I drag you out!”

Ziva reached down and grabbed Laban by the hair. He cried out with pain as she shook him, but she was relentless. “Get out, I say!”

Laban had been in the village until late last night and had come home blind drunk. He had a splitting headache and now protested, “Turn loose of my hair! You're killing me!”

“You need killing! What do you mean staying out carousing—no doubt with a woman.”

“No. That's not so.”

“You were gone for three days with those drunken friends of yours. What do you think is happening to the stock?”

“Lomach and Benzar are taking care of them.”

“Those loafers! They went off as soon as you left.”

Ziva's words awakened Laban at once. In a panic he said, “What about the stock?”

“Jacob's been taking care of them. He hired two men.”

“Who's going to pay for them?”

“You are, you old fool! They're your cattle, aren't they? Now, get out of bed!”

“I need something to eat.”

“Then fix it yourself!”

Ziva argued more out of habit than for any other reason. She had long ago lost any illusions she might have had about Laban. He was a shiftless, drunken man—selfish, lecherous, and greedy to the bone. She knew he was afraid of her and well he might be. He had beat her once shortly after their marriage. Determined never to be humiliated by him again, she waited for him to go to sleep that night, then poured boiling water over his bare chest. It had left huge blisters that had taken weeks to heal. Since that day she had dared him to touch her, but he never had.

Now Laban stumbled around getting his clothes on, and when she put a bowl of porridge before him, he ate it with trembling hands. His head felt as if someone were driving huge thorns through it, and he endured her nagging until he finally said, “What's my nephew doing now?”

“Why, he's enjoying your gracious hospitality,” Ziva said sarcastically. “He's been doing the work
you
should have been doing.”

“Well, he needs to work. I can't just feed that fellow forever.”

“He'd better stay, then. He knows more about animals than you and your worthless sons or anybody else I know.” Seeing his bowl was empty, she dipped out another huge spoonful of the porridge and slapped it into his bowl, then reached down and pulled his head up by the chin. “You'd better wake up, Laban. If you don't do something soon, we're going to lose everything.”

Laban could not answer but sat there intimidated. When she removed her hand and turned back to her work, he drew a shaky breath.
She's right,
he thought bitterly.
Somebody's got to take hold around here. Those two sons of mine are worthless
. He might have added that he himself was worthless, but he would never admit that.

Suddenly Ziva turned and said, “I think he ought to marry Leah.”

“Marry Leah! Why, Mehor would kill him! You know that.”

“He doesn't own her, you know. Besides, if Mehor marries our daughter, he'll take everything you have.”

Laban argued faintly, but he knew that Ziva was right. She was always right about things like this, and finally he heard her say, “Leah despises Mehor. You ought to tell that beast to leave her alone.”

“Are you crazy!” Laban shouted. “He'd kill me! You know how he is when anybody crosses him. He goes into a blind rage.”

“Well, you've got to do something or we'll be beggars.”

The cool breeze was delightful after the heat of the day. Overhead the clouds were rolling along lazily like huge, fluffy sheep. Jacob watched them for a time, then continued on his way toward the camp. He had been out treating some sick animals and wondered why in the world Laban had let the herds get into such a terrible state. There was so much to be done, and neither Laban nor his sons seemed to care anything about it.

He heard a cheerful voice behind him and turned to see Rachel skipping toward him. She had a delightful way of running in a childlike fashion. He almost never saw her walk. She either ran or skipped or danced—always in motion. Now the sun highlighted her black hair in a way that pleased him. She came up to him and said, “Are you going home?”