The Gate of Heaven (21 page)

Later that night Rachel went to her father's tent. He had gone to the village, and Ziva was out helping to deliver a child. Rachel knew where her father kept his household gods, for he had always put great stress on his idols. She unfolded them out of the soft leather he kept them in and stood them upright on the shelf. She stared at them for a long time, and her thoughts were thick within her.
Jacob's God hasn't heard my prayer, but maybe my father's gods will. I know Jacob thinks there's only one God. Everyone else I know thinks there are many
.

For a long time she stood there, but she could not bring herself to pray to the idols. Jacob's stories about his father and about his grandfather had sunk deep into her spirit. She had learned to have faith and confidence in the God that had spoken to Jacob.

Finally she wrapped the gods back up, replaced them, and left Laban's tent, determined to trust only the Almighty One.

Days passed, and Jacob said nothing about Bilhah, but Leah seemed to grow more cruel. She made her remarks openly now in front of the family and the servants, continually insulting Rachel for having no children.

Finally the day came when Rachel said to Jacob, “I must have a child.”

“You still want me to take Bilhah and have a child by her?”

“Yes. It will be our son.”

“All right,” Jacob said. “I will do it, but I'm not sure it's wise.”

“It will be wonderful!” Rachel threw her arms around his neck, kissed him, and then ran away to her tent. She found Bilhah churning milk, and when her maidservant looked up, Rachel said, “Bilhah, I have something to tell you.”

“Yes, mistress?”

“I want you to have a child by Jacob.”

“Yes, mistress, if that's what you wish.”

Rachel was shocked at the ease with which Bilhah agreed. “Are you sure? You understand what I'm asking you to do?”

“It's a common custom.” Bilhah shrugged. “I never had any plans to marry, and this will be your child.”

“You understand that clearly, Bilhah?” Rachel sat down and put her arm around the young woman. “You will have the child and nurse him, but he will be
my
son.”

Bilhah was a meek little thing, and she smiled winsomely. “I'm so glad I can do something for you. You've been so kind to me, mistress.”

“Oh, thank you, Bilhah!” Rachel said, hugging her maidservant. “I hope you will bear me many fine sons!”

“Don't get up, Bilhah. I'll get the jug.”

Bilhah, who was heavy with child, smiled gratefully. “You spoil me, Rachel,” she said. “I can do my work.”

“No. You sit still.” Rachel got up to fetch one of the heavy jugs of water that one of the servant girls had brought. She poured the water into a shallow clay dish and began breaking some bread into it.

“It's not fitting for you to do that, mistress,” Bilhah said. “Let me do it.”

“We'll do it together.”

Rachel moved the dish over to where the two of them could mix the lightly baked bread with the water. After it was thoroughly mixed, they would pass it through pottery sieves and set it aside to ferment into a beer.

Bilhah smiled with gratitude, for surely no bondwoman had ever been so carefully treated! Throughout Bilhah's pregnancy, she and Rachel shared Rachel's tent, and as the months passed, Rachel coddled Bilhah and demanded to know every physical sensation the surrogate mother was feeling. Rachel was very pointed with her questions, demanding to know if Bilhah had known when life had first begun in her. Did she feel pain in her back? Was there a craving for anything special she could get for her?

As the child in Bilhah had grown, draining her, Rachel had been happy. She had laughed and played with Leah's boys. She had done Bilhah's work as well as her own. Even such tasks as making cheese and grinding grain, which she had never liked before, had become a joy.

When the bread and water mixture was ready, she stood up and began to strain it, thinking of how close she had gotten to the woman during her pregnancy. There was no jealousy, for Bilhah repeatedly insisted that the child was Rachel's, and the two women had grown closer than Rachel had ever been to her sister, Leah.

“I wonder if your child will be a girl or a boy,” Bilhah remarked. She put her hand on her stomach and said, “Lamah thinks it will be a boy, but Ziva thinks a girl.”

Rachel moved over and put her hand on Bilhah's swollen abdomen. Her eyes widened as they always did when she felt movement beneath her hand. “I hope it will be a boy.” She leaned over and kissed Bilhah, saying, “We will raise him to be a fine man, won't we?”

“Yes. Your child will be the best of all Jacob's children.”

Jacob had walked out to the river with Rachel, and they sat as the afternoon sun went down. The water ran by, making a sibilant whispering along the banks. The sky was a strange turquoise color, and Jacob, always sensitive to such things, mentioned it. “I wish you had a gown of that color, Rachel,” he said. “It would look beautiful on you.”

“I have never seen a dye exactly that color. Maybe we could mix up blue and green pigment and get something like it.” She took Jacob's hand, lifted it and kissed it, and then laughed aloud. “I'm so happy, Jacob. I can't wait until our baby comes.”

Jacob squeezed Rachel's hand. “I like to see you happy.”

“You always did.” The two sat there quietly, not speaking. It was a time of peaceful contentment. Jacob loved to come to this place, for the strain of working with the large herd he had developed drained him of strength. He had made a peace of sorts with Laban, and in return the old man had forced his sons to do more of their work. They were still lazy louts, but at least Jacob received some help.

“Jacob, will you love me better after I give you a son?” Rachel asked.

“No.”

Rachel turned toward him, her lips open and a hurt look in her eyes. “You won't? But I thought—”

“Love isn't like that, Rachel.”

“But I don't understand.”

Jacob was a thoughtful man. He sometimes got an idea and would meditate on it for days. It so happened that this particular subject he had given long thought to. He stroked Rachel's hand for a time as he considered what to say. “I don't think we love people for what they do for us. We love them for who they
are
.”

Rachel loved it when Jacob spoke of what was in his heart. “Tell me some more about love. You're an expert,” she teased.

“I
am
an expert! And I have a likely subject to experiment with.” He put his arm around her and drew her close. “I don't think we can make love conditional, Rachel. It's like this. If someone says I will love you only if you will do these things for me, then that's not true love. That's an
if
kind of love. Conditional, as I said. I think true love is when we love someone without any
if
s. No matter what they do or how they disappoint us, we love them anyway.”

“That's so sweet,” Rachel said. “But those we love do disappoint us.”

“I didn't say they wouldn't, but we love them anyway. Not for their faults but in spite of them.” He laughed and hugged her closer. “I'm sure you love me in spite of the fact that I snore at night.”

“You sound like a bear!”

“And how many bears have you heard?”

“Well, you sound like what I
think
a bear would sound like. But I see what you mean, and it's a lovely thought.”

“I've considered it carefully.”

“You're the only man I know that thinks about things like that.”

“I believe my grandfather did. I wish you could have known Abraham. There was nobody like him, Rachel.”

“I think you must be like him.”

“Oh no, he was a big, tall, fine man. Strong as an ox.”

“I don't mean that. I mean, I think he must have been kind and loving as you are.”

“I hope I am like him. My father's a loving man too. Much quieter than my grandfather. He's a thinker.”

“Like you,” Rachel said. “And your son will be the same way.”

“Well, I hope he'll be larger than I am.”

“I don't care about that as long he's good and loving.”

The two sat again quietly, and after a while, Jacob said, “Sing me one of your songs, Rachel.”

Rachel seldom had to be begged. She loved to sing, and most of the time she made up her own songs. But this time she sang an old song she had heard from someone else. It was about a woman longing for her lover to come to her. She lifted her voice and sang softly but with a clear, sweet tone. When she was finished, she reached over and kissed Jacob on the cheek. “There,” she said. “Now you sing one for me.”

The birth was as simple as a first birth can possibly be. Bilhah felt the pains coming on, and at once Lamah, the old midwife, and Ziva had taken her to a special tent used for birthing. The maidservant groaned as she squatted on the birthing bricks, with Rachel standing right behind her. It was as if the two women were sharing the pains. Rachel fancied she could feel each contraction, and her face grew tense, and she cried out even as Bilhah did.

The baby came so quickly that all four women were astonished. The boy was delivered and the cord severed; then Lamah gave the baby to Rachel. Joyfully she held the squirming bit of humanity in her arms. Rachel helped wash the blood from the baby's body and checked to see that he was unblemished, then quickly put the child into Bilhah's arms.

Bilhah kissed the baby's head, and almost at once he began to nurse. “Your son is beautiful. What will you name him?” Bilhah whispered.

Rachel's voice was triumphant as she cried out, “God has vindicated me; he has listened to my plea and given me a son. I will call his name Dan.”

Jacob had been waiting outside, and Ziva went to get him. When he came in, his eyes went not to the child but to Rachel. He smiled at her and saw her eyes filled with tears. “Your son is named Dan,” she said, picking up the baby and handing him to his father.

Jacob, who loved all babies, passed his hand over the infant's head. “A fine boy,” he said. Then he looked at Rachel and said, “Now you will have a baby of your own to care for.” He bent down and passed his hand over Bilhah's head. “You have done a fine job,” he said quietly. He had learned to have an affection for Bilhah and always showed kindness to her. He saw tears fill her eyes, and she took his hand and kissed it.

Jacob straightened up, and Rachel came over to him. They stood looking down into the face of the infant, and Jacob said, “I always wonder about the future of babies. Will he be strong? Will he be a warrior? Will he be a good man?”

“He will be a good man,” Rachel whispered. She ran her hand over the baby's head and smiled. “We will see that he is.”