Rachel and Leah (Women of Genesis) (36 page)

I already feared it, thought Rachel. I didn’t know why, but I feared it. I knew that I didn’t want to get married.

“What is it?” said Bilhah. “You never cry.”

“Why do I have to get married right now?” said Rachel.

“Not for weeks yet,” said Bilhah.

“Why can’t I wait?”

“But you’re nearly nineteen years old.”

“I’m not ready,” whispered Rachel. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

“What did Hassaweh say to you?” asked Bilhah.

“Nothing.”

“You weren’t crying before, and then she visited your tent and I come in and you’re weeping like … like …”

“Like a baby.”

“Like a widow,” said Bilhah.

“She told me about marriage,” said Rachel.

“The most she could have told you about is
her
marriage,” said Bilhah. “She doesn’t know anything about how
yours
will be. Nobody does. Except why shouldn’t it be wonderful? Is there a better man in the world than Jacob?”

Rachel couldn’t explain, because she’d have to repeat the awful things that Hassaweh had said, and it would shame her even to say the words.

“I’ll tell you then, in case you haven’t noticed,” said Bilhah. “Jacob is wise and noble, faithful and holy. And he’s also a master of men—they’re eager to follow him, they
love
him. And strong enough that even the bulls don’t argue with him.”

Yes, even the bulls and stallions fear him, obey him. What
chance have I, then, if a man like that decides he wants to make use of me harshly, the way Choraz uses Hassaweh?

But she said nothing. Instead she fled into her inner chamber and sent Bilhah for water, so she could wash her face before she left her tent this morning.

“I came because Choraz is looking for you,” said Bilhah. “He wants to see you.”

“I don’t want to see him,” said Rachel. “Not right now, I mean. Not till I’ve washed.”

“All right,” said Bilhah.

But Rachel didn’t hear her going away.

“Are you still here, Bilhah?”

“Lady Rachel,” said Bilhah. “Please don’t believe everything that woman says. She doesn’t know you or any of us. She’s a stranger, and she’s made you cry.”

“Thank you for your counsel,” said Rachel. “Now please fetch me water.”

Now she could hear Bilhah leave.

She’s right. It’s all lies. For some reason, Hassaweh wants me to fear the whole idea of marriage.

Or she wants to warn me.

Or make me fear Jacob.

I don’t fear him. But marriage, I fear that. What if I … become like Hassaweh? Like Asta or Deloch?

Or what if I simply die, as Mother did? As Bilhah’s mother did?

What if Mother died because she wanted to? Because married life, even with a good man like Father, was so awful?

Why can’t things stay as they are?

B
ilhah knew she had to do something. Talk to someone. She had never seen Rachel so upset. If only she could talk to Jacob about it. But what could she tell
him
about Rachel? Didn’t Jacob see her every day? Wasn’t he blessed with the spirit of Wisdom? He must already know what was wrong. Or else it was the will of God that he
not
know. Either way, what could Bilhah say to him?

Oh, Jacob, in case you haven’t noticed, Rachel is working herself into some kind of frenzy over the idea of marrying you. Zilpah noticed it first, and I certainly noticed it today. Yes, she weeps at the thought of marrying you. You didn’t detect this in your conversations with her for hours every day? Well, aren’t you the unobservant one.

Of course he knew.

So it would be all right. Bilhah didn’t have to do anything about Rachel, except encourage her.

Even as she reached this conclusion, she knew it was false. She could feel it—an emptiness inside her that told her that she
knew
she had to do something.

Was this how the spirit of Wisdom whispered to a woman like Bilhah? Would the voice of God seem like hunger? Indigestion? Not likely.

And yet here she was in front of Laban’s tent.

“He’s busy,” said the woman who was waiting at the door.

Bilhah almost walked away. “He’s always busy.”

“He’s talking to Choraz.”

“How much could they have to say to each other after being apart for nine years?” said Bilhah. “I’ll wait.”

“I’m ahead of you in line,” said the woman.

“I can see that.”

“Tell me what you want to see him for.”

“I have to confess something to him.”

The woman leaned in, pretending not to be eager. “What?”

“I’ve been minding my own business so much, it’s starting to cause trouble in the camp.”

It took the woman a moment to realize that it was a rebuke. “Aren’t you the clever one,” she said dryly.

They waited in silence for a long time. Now and then, there was a burst of laughter from inside the tent. But Bilhah couldn’t make out any words.

Finally the woman stood up. “Some of us have too much work to do to spend the whole morning waiting outside Lord Laban’s tent.”

“I’m doing my work right here,” said Bilhah.

“What work are
you
doing?”

Bilhah grinned at her.

The woman smiled sourly. “Oh. Yes. Minding your own
business. And to think I’ve missed so many chances to be amused by your wit.”

Bilhah waited alone for a little while longer, when she was wakened by someone’s foot prodding her.

“Oh,” she said, sitting up. “I fell asleep.”

“So that’s it,” said Nahor. “And here we thought you were dead.”

Terah grinned at her. “Unless you spent the night here.”

“She must have stayed up all night doing her work,” said Nahor. “How else would she have time to take a nap in front of Father’s tent?”

Bilhah said nothing, but looked right into their eyes, looking first at Nahor, then at Terah, then back to Nahor. Apparently they found either her silence or her gaze disconcerting, because they gave up and went inside.

Bilhah meant to stay awake, but either Nahor and Terah spent only a few moments inside the tent or she dozed again, because they seemed to emerge right away, Choraz with them.

“Look, Choraz,” said Terah. “We’re so prosperous here that Father can afford to feed girls who just lie about in the shade of his tent.”

Bilhah looked up into Choraz’s eyes. He studied her for a moment, then stepped back inside the tent.

When he came back out, Laban was with him.

“Choraz says you’re worried about something, Bilhah,” said Laban.

Bilhah looked again at Choraz and gave him a wan smile. “Thank you,” she said.

Choraz nodded and led his older brothers away from the tent.

“Come inside, Bilhah,” said Laban.

Sitting just inside the tent, it took Bilhah only a few moments to tell her concern. What Zilpah had said about Rachel not knowing what she needed to know, and then Rachel crying after talking to Hassaweh.

“She’s afraid of the marriage, sir,” said Bilhah. “And when I encourage her, it does no good.”

“Because you’re not married,” said Laban.

“Hassaweh’s married, and she made it worse.”

“An interesting woman, this wife of my son Choraz,” said Laban.

“Sir, you must talk to her. What if she doesn’t want to marry Jacob?”

Laban looked at her as if she were insane. “My promise is given.”

“I know,” said Bilhah. “But if she’s terrified, would you force her to go ahead?”

“What’s to be terrified about? People get married all the time.”

“She never saw her own mother and father as husband and wife,” said Bilhah. “So what marriages has she seen? The marriages of servants, of course. Do you think that will reassure her?”

“Her brothers are married,” said Laban dismissively.

Bilhah said nothing, while she let Laban realize what he had just said.

“Well, I suppose that isn’t very reassuring either, is it,” said Laban. “Nothing wrong with the girls, though—they have lots of babies.”

“And they and their husbands are constantly quarreling. And it’s well known that your sons used to go to Byblos and—”

“In Byblos they conducted business,” said Laban coldly. “Or do you listen to idle gossip?”

“Does Rachel?”

Laban sighed. “She knows that Jacob is a better man than Nahor and Terah.”

“But is he a better husband? She’s afraid, sir. Talk to her. Or would you have her weeping all the way through her wedding?”

“And talking to Hassaweh didn’t help?” said Laban hopefully.

“Made it worse, sir.”

He touched his forehead and sighed. “What can a man do, when women decide to have a fit about something? She’s always been a sensible girl till now.” His voice suddenly got louder. “For seven years, she couldn’t figure things out? Now suddenly it’s time to panic?”

“I don’t know if I’d be any different, sir,” said Bilhah. “It’s one thing to know it’s coming far in the future. Something else when it’s coming in a few weeks.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Unless you can get her calmed down first,” said Laban.

“If I thought I could, I wouldn’t have bothered you, sir.”

“Leah was always the problem child,” said Laban. “Not Rachel.”

“Maybe now it’s Rachel’s turn,” said Bilhah.

“Why did God make her so beautiful, and not make her desire marriage?”

But Laban seemed to be asking God, or maybe just himself. Bilhah didn’t attempt to answer.

L
eah knew that something was wrong, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. Everything seemed normal. Choraz was home, of course, which made some difference, but it wasn’t as though he was actually around. During the weeks before Rachel’s wedding he was out with his men—and Nahor and Terah—visiting all the outlying herds and flocks.

Likewise, Hassaweh made sure she was the center of attention whenever she felt like it, but that didn’t interfere with Leah’s life in any noticeable way. And Hassaweh seemed to have provided Asta and Deloch with someone new to resent, which meant that they left Leah and Rachel alone.

Mornings, Leah and Zilpah and Bilhah spent together in Jacob’s dooryard, copying and reading. That was still a peaceful time, as it had been almost from the start. In the seven years that Jacob had been here, Leah had heard every word of
every book, and now they were well through the second pass, with Bilhah making yet another copy.

As for Leah herself, during those hours she lived in the world of Adam and Eve and Seth, Enoch and Zion, Noah and his family, Shem and Melchizedek, Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah. She no longer listened to the words of the Lord in a desperate search for some message to herself. Now she understood that the Lord said to his children in every age whatever they needed to know, whatever they could bear to hear.

What I need, he will tell me. Meanwhile, I’m still learning how to follow his path. Still trying to get control of myself so I can be his true daughter and servant.

She knew she was coming closer than ever before.

So … why was she so ill at ease? What was it that worried her and woke her in the morning, to lie there brooding in the darkness?

When the Lord didn’t answer her questions, she decided he meant her to figure things out herself. So she began paying more attention to what went on around her. There was, of course, the normal amount of tension between Bilhah and Zilpah—the two of them never really understood each other, and why should they? Leah had long since figured out that neither one of them was a servant by nature, and both of them seethed sometimes at the course of their lives. But she could do nothing to solve that, except to treat them both fairly, and study the scriptures with them in hopes that God would bring peace to their souls.

Jacob also seemed to be preoccupied, but from what Leah could sense—the times he stiffened or grew more alert, the way he turned away when something disgusted him—she
knew exactly what was bothering
him
. Choraz’s homecoming worried him. Well, that wasn’t hard to figure out. Jacob knew that Terah and Nahor resented him, and Choraz’s arrival shortly before Rachel’s wedding couldn’t be mere coincidence. Choraz had been sent for, and it had something to do with Jacob.

But Leah knew that Jacob had nothing to fear from Choraz. He might have become a man of warfare, but he was still Choraz, and he would do nothing to harm the man that Rachel loved. Besides, if Choraz did take it into his head to try to do battle with Jacob, he would soon find out how the Lord strengthens the arm of his servant. Wasn’t Jacob the man that the Lord had shown a vision of heaven? A man who had seen the angels going to and fro between heaven and earth had nothing to fear from a mere soldier, however bloody his sword. The only way Choraz could kill Jacob or drive him away would be if God wanted it to happen.