Rachel (6 page)

Laban strode in from the fields, bone weary and longing for his clay pipe and some of the aged wine he’d been saving for the coming feast. He would lose Jacob by month’s end. For once he wed Rachel, he would be free to leave Laban’s employ and return to his father. While his sons might not miss the man, Laban had seen with his own eyes the difference in his flocks since Jacob took over as primary shepherd in charge of their care. Few lambs had miscarried and the stock was heartier,
stronger, increasing Laban’s wealth. If Jacob were to leave . . . He left the thought unfinished. Jacob couldn’t leave. Not yet. But he had no way to hold him, to keep him in Paddan-Aram, especially when he talked so frequently of Canaan.

He rubbed the back of his neck to forestall a headache, with little relief. As he drew closer to the city gates, he squinted, seeing a lone figure rushing toward him. Farah. He braced himself, already sensing what was to come, the truth he had avoided for far too long.

She approached, her frown deepening as she drew near, and stopped short in front of him, hands on her ample hips. “How can you possibly allow that foolish child of a lesser wife to wed before our daughter?”

“Is that any way to greet your husband after he has worked a long day?” Why couldn’t she sweeten her words as Suri did with honeyed tone and gentle smile? Even the scent of Farah’s sweet perfume, usually meant to entice him, did nothing to soften his sudden ire. “Have you not nagged me about this often enough? What good does it do to remind me of my failures now? Do you think I want to see Jacob take my daughter and return to his father? But there is nothing to be done. I have given my word.”

Farah huffed. “Since when does your word stand for anything?”

He bristled at the insinuation. He kept his word. He only shaded the meaning when the need arose. But no matter which way he looked at this situation with Jacob, he could not find a way to change the meaning of their agreement. “What would you have me do?” There were no men lining up to wed his oldest daughter. He had waited too long, had thought to gain a higher price than she could command, and now there were few her age left in Harran who were not already wed. He could consider the widower Sohrad, but Leah had already scorned the man.

“Give Leah to Jacob instead of Rachel. With her fully veiled
and led to his tent, he will not know the difference until it is too late.”

Laban blinked, not sure he had heard correctly. “You want me to give Leah to Jacob instead of Rachel.” By her look he knew she thought him daft. Her bitter spirit had poisoned him so much over the years that he often forgot how well she understood him. How much alike they were in thought, in craftiness.

“It is a good plan. You know it is.” Farah’s mouth tipped only slightly in a cunning smile.

“Jacob is no fool. He will demand Rachel as well.”

Farah shrugged. “Then give her to him. After Leah’s wedding week. Make him work for you for Leah another seven years.” Her laugh held sarcasm, but her knowing look went straight to his heart.

“What am I supposed to do with Rachel while Jacob lies with Leah in the huppa?”

“Seclude her. Threaten her. Take her away. She will listen to you. You are her father. She has no choice but to obey.”

“My
wife
has no choice but to obey either, but she doesn’t seem bothered by that fact.” What was he supposed to tell Suri then? She would turn against him, toss nettles in his bed. There were ways a woman could ruin a man, head of the family or not.

He looked at Farah, calculating. “You just want to put Suri in her place.”

Farah shrugged again. “It is no matter to me what you do with your concubine.”

“Wife.”

She inclined her head. “She is secondary. Leah is your first daughter of your first wife. You have an obligation.”

She was right about that. He felt the dowry weighing heavily in his leather pouch. Jacob had paid for Rachel.
Give me my wife.
But he had not named her specifically. Just “give me my wife.” He could feign ignorance. He shook his head. Jacob would never abide such a thing.

But the plan could still work. Laban nodded. “Very well then. Bring Rachel to me. Dress Leah in Rachel’s wedding clothes.”

“No need. She has made her own.”

Laban smoothed his face to reveal no response, but his heart kicked over with the sense of one who has just beaten his opponent. He was not the only one who wanted to keep Jacob around, nor the only one who felt the need to keep control of his daughters. It was time he did something to please Farah, and Leah should marry before Rachel. He would simply tell Jacob that was the way they did things here. He would be none the wiser.

But what words would convince Rachel? She held sway over Laban’s actions, and he had given in to her pleading all of her life. How was he to command her to keep silent? He could have Tariq take her to the house in Harran while the feast took place in Paddan-Aram. Or he could bind her and lock her away until Leah’s night ended.

He tasted the bitter gall of the fate that awaited his little girl. What a foolish father he was! But there was no other way to keep Jacob from leaving. There was nothing else he could do.

5

Rachel passed through the courtyard and surrounding grounds where servants worked to transform the place into a flower-bedecked, musical world. Scents of yeast and cinnamon mingled with the smells of cumin, garlic, and fennel. Stews and sweetmeats, bread, and her father’s finest wines had been pulled from his storehouses. Rachel did a little twirl, giggling like a young child, and caught Bilhah’s arm.

“The huppa awaits you, mistress, like a jewel uncovered in the field,” Bilhah said as they hurried on, nearly knocking into a servant carrying an armful of unlit torches.

Rachel stopped to look at her slave girl, a gift her father promised would accompany her into her marriage to Jacob. “I will admit, I am nervous to enter it.” She smiled, her heart doing a little flip. “But come, let us hurry or we won’t be back in time to help with the meal.”

Their arms were loaded with stacks of linens Rachel would soon need after her wedding week. Jacob had told her he would be out in the fields today, and she could start to arrange her side of the tent whenever she liked. Warmth heated her cheeks at the familiar way he had looked at her and the intimate kiss that followed. Tonight they would be together as man and wife. Her pulse quickened at all that she knew awaited her in the marriage
tent, things her mother had intimated and the servants had teased her about since the night Jacob announced his desire to lie with her.

They approached the black goat’s-hair tents at the edge of her father’s fields just over the hill, Rachel’s hope rising with each footfall. The flaps were down to protect Jacob’s meager belongings from being swept away by high winds or taken by greedy passersby, though in truth, he had little to take. His efforts had gone into paying her father for her hand in marriage. Together they must work to build Jacob’s house until it rivaled her father’s vast estate.

She lifted the flap and let her eyes adjust to the semidarkness. Little light, even the bright light of the morn, passed through the black goat’s hair, but they wouldn’t be here long enough to light a lamp. There was too much yet to do to prepare for the feast and the wedding guests who would be arriving by nightfall.

“Will we really leave for Canaan soon?” Bilhah’s question caught her up short. Rachel lifted the lid on a carved wooden chest that her father had delivered to Jacob’s tent on her behalf and filled it with the tunics and sheets that she and Leah had labored over in strained silence. A sigh escaped as she took Bilhah’s stack of loincloths and undergarments and tucked them neatly out of sight. How glad she would be to get away from Leah!

“As soon as Jacob feels it is safe to return, yes.” She touched the carved wood of the lid as she lowered it, feeling the smooth craftsmanship beneath her fingers. They would have to leave such a chest behind or fit it onto an oxcart to transport. But she couldn’t fault her father for the gift. He knew how much she loved beauty.

She moved from her side of the tent, the room Jacob had partitioned off for her, and entered the spacious open room where they would eat and entertain guests. Colorful rugs of various stripes covered the floor, and cushions lined the tent walls. A fire pit sat in the area marked off as a courtyard outside
the tent’s door. In the cool of the evenings they would be able to sit by the fire or under the awning and gaze at the stars, as she had often done in the fields with the sheep.

“We should get back, mistress. Your mother said we would leave soon for the river to wash.” Bilhah stepped to the side to allow Rachel to exit the tent first. Rachel took one last wistful look at the place she would soon call home and stepped into the bright light of day.

She blinked as her eyes readjusted, then looked back toward her father’s house, where smoke slowly rose from cooking fires and young boys turned spits, sending the succulent scents of roasted lamb in her direction. But her heart did a little flip at the sudden movement coming from the direction of the stables. She would recognize her father’s portly form even with the field between them. And he was coming straight toward her.

“What could he want, mistress?” Bilhah had been with them long enough to recognize her father’s agitation. “Do you think something has happened?”

A lump formed in Rachel’s throat as myriad possibilities formed in her thoughts. Had something happened to Jacob? She once heard of a woman whose betrothed husband drowned in the Euphrates the night before they were to wed. He had been laughing and imbibing and had slipped into the river whose current was high and running too fast at that time of year, and his witless friends tried in vain to pull him out before it was too late. But no, Jacob would not imbibe in the daytime, and the only friends he could name were her own brothers. Besides, he was with the sheep . . . unless a lion or bear had come upon him unsuspecting . . .

“I’m sure my father is just worried and wondering where I’ve run off to.” Though her father should not even be thinking about such things. Her mother was the one who had warned her to hurry back. “You go on ahead and tell my mother I am coming. I will see what my father wants.”

Bilhah nodded, probably not the least sorry to leave her with Laban, for Rachel knew her father intimidated the poor girl, who was as insecure as Leah but not nearly as prickly or opinionated.

As Bilhah left her, Rachel moved away from Jacob’s tent and met her father at the edge of the courtyard, accepting his kiss. “What has you so agitated, my father? Is something wrong? Is it Jacob?”

She looked into her father’s eyes, searching, but he would not meet her gaze. “Jacob is fine,” he said, obviously to appease her. He motioned her back toward Jacob’s tents. “Your mother told me you were here. Are you alone?”

“I sent my maid back to the house. Yes, except for you, I am quite alone.” A niggle of fear crept along the back of her neck. “What is so urgent on my wedding day, Father? My mother is waiting to take me to the river.”

Laban did not speak as he lifted the flap and motioned for her to precede him into the tent. Darkness settled once more, and Rachel blinked, adjusting to the dimness. She whirled on him, arms crossed. “Why are we here? What have I done?” He had chastened her but a few times in her girlhood, but today of all days she did not deserve to be singled out with such obvious alarm and concern.

“You have done nothing, my child. It is I who have been the fool.” He looked at her then, his brow creased with sorrow. “But I am afraid it is you who must bear the consequences of my foolishness.” He looked away and walked farther into the room. “I should not have given in to you so often as a child.” He slowly turned. “If you had been more obedient, less spoiled, it would make what I am about to tell you easier to bear. Though you must know that it pains me to tell it, despite what you think of me.”

The fear took wing inside of her. “Speak plainly, Father. Please. I cannot bear such riddles, today of all days!”

It was then that she saw the rope swinging loosely from his side. Her father fingered it, and her heart skipped a beat at the commanding look in his eyes.