Rachel and Leah (Women of Genesis) (40 page)

“Making me a slave in Laban’s house is all part of the plan,” said Zilpah. “So when a great desert prince carries me off to bear him sons, it will seem all the more miraculous, and everyone will say, It could only have been God’s will that Zilpah lived such a wonderful romantic love story.”

Leah laughed. Too enthusiastically apparently, because now Zilpah was acting hurt.

“Oh, don’t be offended,” said Leah. “The only reason I laughed was because I thought I was the only one who thought that way.”

“So we really
are
both in the center of creation,” said Zilpah sourly.

“Don’t worry. Since we’re both making up stories no one else will see, there’s plenty of room for both of us in the picture.”

“Not a chance,” said Zilpah. “I’m not sharing
my
imaginary desert prince with
anybody
.”

“Well, then, you’re selfish and you don’t deserve to have one.”

Zilpah laughed. “Oh, I
hope
we don’t get the life we
deserve
,” she said. “God wouldn’t be that cruel.”

A
ll morning, all afternoon of the wedding day, the air was filled with the smell of roasting meat for the feast and the sounds of frantic busyness and frolicking children. The boys and girls of the camp could sense the excitement of the adults, and with fewer duties to keep them busy, they acted out what everyone was feeling, going from games to japes to quarrels to tears in moments.

Only a few people realized that there was something seriously wrong with the wedding plans. And the three of them were sitting together in Laban’s tent, arguing and, in Rachel’s and Leah’s case, taking turns crying.

“It isn’t going to work,” said Leah. “Jacob will know it’s me the moment I walk out there.”

“No he won’t,” said Laban.

“What’s the point, anyway?” said Leah. “If Rachel wants
to marry him, then let her marry him. If she doesn’t want to, then why go through a false ceremony?”

“It won’t be a false ceremony,” said Father. “Rachel will stand here in the tent and hear every word. She’ll make the oaths and covenants as surely as if she were out there, and if she decides to go through with the wedding night, then she’ll be truly married to Jacob.”

“Then let her go out and stand there with Jacob herself!”

Rachel wept again. “I can’t I can’t I can’t.”

“Well, if you can’t manage to stand there and say a few words,” said Leah, “you don’t deserve to marry him.”

“It’s not the words,” said Rachel. “It’s
lying
with him. And if I say the words, then I have to … lie with him.”

“That’s just the point,” said Laban. “The ceremony is necessary, but it’s not the actual wedding. You’re not married until you lie together as husband and wife. And then you
are
married, whether you said the words or not.”

“So every harlot in Byblos had a hundred husbands,” said Leah.

“I won’t hear indecency from my daughter,” said Laban sternly. “And I said
as husband and wife
, if you’ll recall.”

“What’s the point?” Leah asked again.

“You’re
trying
not to understand. It’s the
public
ceremony where a refusal to go ahead with the wedding would cause a scandal. So we’ll have that ceremony—no scandal! What happens in Jacob’s tent tonight—”

“What
won’t
happen,” said Rachel miserably.

“Is private. And quiet. No scandal. No public spectacle.”

“Father, there’s going to be a scandal, no matter what you do,” said Leah.

Rachel cried again.

“It postpones the decision,” said Laban.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” said Rachel. “Especially if it was my
sister
who actually went through the ceremony.”

“Oh,” said Laban. “It bothers you that someone else would stand up with Jacob? Even though she’s actually standing in for
you?
”

Leah shook her head. “Rachel, what is it, you don’t want him, but you also don’t want him ever to marry anyone else?”

“I
do
want to marry him. Someday.”

Laban sighed noisily. “So now we begin the whole conversation again, for the third time.”

“Oh, do it then!” cried Rachel. “I want to die.”

“Why not just swallow hard,” said Leah, “put on the dress, and go out there and marry the man?”

“I can’t I can’t I can’t.”

* * *

The piper changed from a jig to a more stately tune as the door to Laban’s tent parted, and Laban came out.

But Laban was alone.

He walked to Jacob, who was already standing under the canopy that had been erected in Laban’s dooryard. The jar of wine stood on a low table, with a rough clay cup for the bride and groom to share. Two small statues also stood on the table—one representing God and the other the great angel of his presence. Jacob looked askance at what some might take to be idols, though Laban had assured him many times over the years that they were nothing of the kind.

Laban had no intention of discussing the statues again now. “A moment’s word with you, Jacob,” said Laban.

Jacob stepped with him toward the door of the tent. “Is she afraid?” Jacob asked. “Let me talk to her.”

“She
is
afraid, but your talking to her would only make her more nervous. You know how it is—the most important day in her life, and she absolutely knows she’s going to do it all wrong and embarrass her. She’s really very shy. It’s part of the reason she’s more at home with the flocks than in the camp.”

“I know,” said Jacob.

“If she’s going to get through this, she has to feel that no one’s staring at her.”

“Everybody stares at the bride,” said Jacob.

“That’s why she begged me to let her use a thick, heavy veil. Like the one your mother used to wear.”

Jacob smiled and shook his head. “If it makes her feel better to pretend that she’s Rebekah in the old story, I don’t mind.”

“She’s been crying all morning,” said Laban. “She’s hoarse. Can’t be helped.”

“Would you please assure her that if she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t have to lie with me tonight? As long as she comes to my tent, the marriage will be complete in everyone’s eyes, and we can take as long as she needs to overcome her fear.”

“That’s very gracious of you,” said Laban. “I’ll tell her you said that.”

Laban returned to the tent.

A few minutes later, he emerged again, this time with the bride on his arm. A veil of white wool covered her head, but it must have been transparent from the inside, because she walked surefootedly until she stood beside her husband to be.

Laban himself performed the ceremony, since he was the
priest of his household, as well as its master. He poured the wine into the cup and then prayed over it, asking the blessing of God upon his daughter and this good man that the Lord had brought to her. He slipped the cup under the veil for the bride to drink, and then gave it to Jacob, who drained the rest of the wine.

Then she walked three times around him, not led by anyone, showing that she chose of her own free will to make this man the center of her life. If she trembled and stepped with exaggerated care, that was only to be expected—rumor had it that the poor girl had been crying all week in fear of this very ceremony. Or of
something
, if the cruder rumors were to be believed.

“The cup that seals our marriage,” said Jacob, “will never serve wine to any lips but ours.” He dashed the cup to the ground, and it broke into shards, which he then ground into the earth with his sandaled foot, until the pieces were too small, too mingled with the dirt, for anyone to attempt to reassemble them.

When all the words were said, all the rituals acted out, Jacob turned to her and softly said, “That wasn’t so bad, was it, Rachel? Now can’t you let us see your lovely face?”

“Please no,” she whispered. “Please.”

She stumbled. Laban at once sprang to her side. “I told you,” he whispered to Jacob. “She’s so frightened she can hardly stand up. Everyone looking at her—that’s what frightens her
most
.”

“Then won’t it be hard for her to be shown to the guests at the feast?” asked Jacob quietly.

“Maybe she’ll work up the courage to come let you show
her off at the feast. But if not, then she’ll come to your tent tonight.”

Jacob chuckled. To his bride he said, “Whatever you want, my love.” And to Laban, he added, “I hope your wine is good and strong, so the guests will
think
they saw both a bride and groom at the feast.”

Laban laughed, too, then helped his trembling daughter back to the tent.

I
nside the tent, Rachel helped Leah pull off the veil and remove the dress. Both of them were weeping, as silently as possible, while they did it.

“So who is married to him,” Rachel finally whispered, when the dress was off. “You or me?”

“You or no one,” said Leah.

“It
should
be you,” said Rachel. “I don’t deserve him. I didn’t even have the courage to …
You’re
the one who’s strong enough to … He’s a prophet, you’re the one who knows the scriptures.”

“You’re the one who saw him in a vision,” said Leah.

“You’re the one who was born to be a prophet’s wife,” said Rachel. Though her words could hardly be understood, her voice was so distorted by her weeping.

“I wasn’t born to be anyone’s wife.”

“He’s going to be so angry at me tonight,” said Rachel.

“Not if you go to him as his true wife. You said the words here inside the tent, didn’t you?”

“But I didn’t walk around him or drink the wine,” said Rachel.

“Go to him tonight and lie with him,” said Leah. “Every married woman in the world has done it.”

“I’d go to him as a coward and a deceiver,” said Rachel.

“I think
I’m
the one who just deceived him.”

“Only because I’m such a coward.”

“Between the two of us,” said Leah, “we make one completely wretched woman.”

Rachel began to laugh in the midst of her crying. “We’re not even good enough to be
bad
by ourselves.”

“We probably didn’t even fool anybody,” said Leah. “How hard will it be for them to figure out that Leah wasn’t there to watch her own sister’s wedding?” Then she gave a short, bitter laugh. “Though come to think of it, it probably won’t surprise anyone at all. Poor miserable older sister, shamed by having her beautiful younger sister married before her, can’t even show her face at the wedding.”

“Well, you
didn’t
show your face,” said Rachel. Which set off another bout of quiet but slightly hysterical laughing.

They huddled alone in the tent for a long time. Not until the feast was well under way did their father come to them.

“Well, that’s done,” said Laban.

“Done?” asked Leah. “You mean people actually believed it was Rachel?”

“Of course,” said Laban. “You’re the same height. Your voices sound alike.”

“Not very much,” said Leah.

“Nobody said a thing,” said Laban. “Except to cluck their
tongues about how shy Rachel is. And you’re just as happy to be missing the feast, since there have been more than a few jests from your brothers about a wedding night spent with a bride dressed in a thick woollen curtain.”

“Thank you for telling us that, Father,” said Leah. “But just between us, I think that having no bride at all will make his wedding night even more inconvenient.”

Rachel’s answer was to bury her face in the rugs.

“As for that,” said Laban, “I have a plan.”

“I hope it doesn’t involve me any further,” said Leah.

“It involves you completely,” said Laban. He glanced at Rachel and then smiled thinly at Leah. “We’ve had a wedding. The question of exactly who got married is still up in the air. So here’s my thought. Rachel isn’t ready to get married. But her older sister is.”

“Am I?” said Leah.

“So tonight, I’ll take my veiled daughter to Jacob’s tent,” said Laban. “If Rachel wants to be the daughter under the veil, so be it. But if she doesn’t, then Leah will go in and offer herself. If Jacob accepts her, then we’ve followed proper custom and the older daughter is married first. How can anyone make a scandal out of that?”

“Jacob won’t accept me,” said Leah. “I’m sure he’ll be very kind about it, but he’ll send me away.”

“Ah, but that’s why my plan is so brilliant. He’ll see that
I
did everything I could to keep my promise, including sending him my older daughter, whose value he and I both know better than any other men alive.”

Leah held her tongue.

“So he can’t be angry with me,” Laban went on. “He can’t be angry at Leah for offering herself in her sister’s place. As a
sort of sacrifice. How can the son of Isaac complain about
that?
And he can’t be angry at Rachel, because
she
can’t help being so afraid. No shame, no scandal.”