Rachel (7 page)

“I am going to have to alter my agreement with Jacob,” Laban said, his voice suddenly hardened stone, a tone she had only heard from him when he was angry or implacable.

“What are you talking about—alter your plans?” She clasped suddenly trembling hands in front of her, willing them to be still. “You cannot even think to go back on your agreement. He has paid the bride-price!” Her voice had risen in pitch, and she could feel the anxiety rising within her.

Laban nodded and stepped closer, placed a hand on her arm. “No, no, I am not going back on my agreement, dear child. He has paid for a wife from among my daughters, and I intend to give him that.”

His words swirled in her head, but she quickly caught his meaning. “He paid for me, Father. Not just any wife.”

“It is not fitting that you marry before your sister.”

“My sister is not betrothed. You cannot make me wait until she is. Jacob will not wait.” The shaking grew within her at his look.

“Jacob will not have to wait. But I am afraid, my daughter, that you must wait a little longer.” He stepped away from her and crossed his arms over his ample middle, his expression brooking no argument. But argue she must!

“What do you mean?” Anger surged, heating her blood. “I am to be wed this night.”

“Leah will take your place.”

Reeling, she took a step back, stumbling in her sudden weakness. Her father caught her arm to steady her, but she shook it away.

“What do you mean, Leah will take my place?” Her words were hoarse, as though they had been driven over rough sands.

Laban walked to the tent’s door and looked out, as if assessing whether they were still really alone.

“What’s the matter, Father? Are you afraid Jacob will return to his own tent and find you plotting his ruin?” As he turned to
face her once more, she met his gaze with a determined one of her own. “You cannot do this.”

“I can and I must. And you, my daughter, will accept my decision.” He walked closer to her, his tone firm, his expression unmoving.

“And if I don’t? One word from me, from my mother, from anyone, and Jacob will know of the ruse. Leah will be ruined. Is that what you want?” Why would Leah even agree to such a thing? Jacob would surely notice the difference between the two of them once he removed the wedding veils. Leah was similar in height and build to Rachel, and her hair was dark, though not quite as dark, but surely one look into her eyes . . . Leah would not look at Jacob, not share the intimate looks Rachel and Jacob had already shared. He would notice immediately . . . Surely he would notice . . .

“Your sister loves Jacob. She is willing to take the risk.”

The words rocked her. Jacob loved her, Rachel, and she him. Leah should not have even looked in Jacob’s direction, knowing he was bound to her sister. Was Leah so hateful?

“Was this her idea?” The words tasted sour on her tongue.

Laban shook his head. “You must not blame your sister.”

“How can I not? You are telling me that she is to wed my husband!” Her voice shook as the words rose in volume again. “What of me? I am to just sit by and watch?” Tears rose so quickly they blurred her vision.

“You do not have to watch, dear child.” His tone was placating, soothing, but she would not accept his comfort. “Give Leah her wedding week. Then I will give you to Jacob as well.”

“It is my wedding week! This is my wedding everyone is planning, and Jacob is expecting me!” She choked on the words. “How can you do this to me?”

“Leah is the firstborn daughter of my first wife. I cannot let you wed ahead of her.”

“Then why didn’t you give her to another years ago? Why
give her
my
husband? I want to get away from her, not be forced to live with her the rest of my days!” Emotion rose so strong it took her breath. Never had she hated another human being with such force as she did her father and her sister in that moment.

“I should have. This is why I told you it is I who am the fool. And now we are at a point that something has to be done or your sister will never wed. I cannot put Jacob off another year while I look for a man to wed your sister. He might take you in dishonor and leave Paddan-Aram.” Laban bobbed his head as if he somehow expected his words to placate her.

“Jacob would never dishonor me. Though you seem to have no trouble doing so.”

She felt the sting of his palm against her cheek, startling her, bringing sudden tears. She placed a hand over the heated flesh. Never had he struck her!

“My child,” he said, his tone no longer placating. “I am your father. And while you may not like my decisions, you are still my daughter and you must live by them. It is by my good graces that you will marry Jacob at all. Yes, he is a close relative, but you are the youngest of my children. It is not fitting that you marry before the oldest.”

He shifted from foot to foot and glanced once more at the tent door, a look of sudden discomfort crossing his face. “And though it pains me to hurt you, Rachel, the truth is, sometimes in life things don’t go our way.” He raked a hand over his beard and scratched at the stubble. “Tonight we will celebrate, and Jacob will drink too much wine, and I will lead Leah to the huppa beneath the wedding veils. You will stay in your room. Tariq will guard you, lest you think to somehow thwart my plans.”

He reached a hand to touch her flaming cheek. She flinched, but he grasped her shoulder and held her firm. “I would not mar this beauty, my daughter, but I will not hesitate to have you bound and silenced if you do not promise me this moment that you will accept my decision. Do you agree to keep silent?”

Tears blinded her from clear vision, but she nodded, knowing in that moment that her father had the power to do as he wished. She had always known it at some level, but never in such a personal way. What joy could he possibly get in destroying the most important day of her life?

“Let Leah wed Jacob after me. Just please don’t take this day from us.” Jacob would be crushed when he discovered the ruse.

“Jacob would never accept her willingly. No. This is the only way.”

Bitterness rose within her at the flippant way he said the words, as if he had calculated every possibility and chosen the only one that Jacob could not fight. “Jacob is getting a bargain then—two brides for the price of one,” she said. Though Jacob’s seven years had already produced double what need be paid for a wife. And she would be saddled with Leah for the rest of her life.

“Jacob will work for Leah as he did for you.” Her father’s self-assurance rocked her.

“What are you saying?” He had succumbed to delusion if he thought Jacob would stay here a moment longer than he had to. She wouldn’t let him! If they could not escape Leah, then at least let them escape this man who would ruin their life’s happiness in one selfish act.

“If you were worth seven years, Leah is worth as much. It is only fair.”

It took every bit of her strength not to strike him. But her stinging cheek and his grip on her arm stayed her hand.
You don’t know the meaning of fair.
But she could not say the words. She knew her father, knew what he was like. He just wanted Jacob’s free labor for as long as he could get it. They would never prosper if every bit of Jacob’s wages went to pay for her sister!

Truth dawned with the thought. “You are doing this to keep Jacob from returning to Canaan.”

Laban released his grip and shrugged. “It is part of the bargain. I cannot simply give your sister to him for nothing. She is
already risking life with a man who will not love her. I cannot make her feel as though she is worth nothing.”

He sounded so magnanimous. But she knew the real reason. “You could have just asked him to stay.” But Leah was part of this mess. It was Leah’s desires he was caving in to. Farah must have been behind it too.

“The hour is late, and I would have your word, my daughter. Can I trust your silence, or will you force me to take it from you?” He tipped her chin to look into her eyes. She could not lie to him.

“You have my word.” But as he walked her back to the house, taking the long way to avoid any servants who might see her weeping, her mind whirled with some way to warn Jacob. If she could get word to Bilhah or her mother,
someone
, perhaps things could still go in her favor.

6

Jacob’s pulse quickened as he stood in the center of his tent and allowed Laban’s servant Raheem to dress him. Rachel’s scent still lingered in the air, and he knew by one quick glance into her side of the tent that she had been there. He fidgeted with the sash until Raheem took it from him and knotted the belt at his waist. Rachel would undo the knot and he would remove her veils. Soon. They would at last be one.

The thought made his blood pump like fire through his veins. He had waited so long. Oh, how he loved her! And yet seven years seemed like nothing to him now. She was his life! And he would shower her with every gift he could find for the sheer joy of spending each day with her. And one day soon, perhaps once the little ones came, he would return to his father and show him with pride the woman who had captured his heart.

He followed Raheem through the tent’s opening and looked out across the field where Laban’s house glowed like the noonday sun. Lanterns coated in pitch sat low to the ground, illuminating the huppa at the edge of the family courtyard. Music of flutes and lyres and the occasional beat of the wedding drum floated on the evening air. Laughter from the wedding guests rose with the songs praising the bride’s purity.
Rachel.

He followed the scents and sounds, his eyes searching, until at
last he narrowed the search and found his bride. She was sitting on a raised dais, completely covered in veils so thick he could see nothing. Even her hands rested beneath the folds, hands he had come to love, not only for the foods they prepared or the tunics they mended, but for the long fingers and hennaed nails. His Rachel’s love of beauty made her paint the nails and the skin of her feet in patterns of leaves and flowers and the smallest lambs. How he longed to touch the hennaed patterns along her ankle and . . . He shook his head. He would not think of it now. Not until . . .

He drew a breath as they approached the courtyard’s edge and a trumpet signaled his arrival. Laban’s plump form burst from among a crowd of guests, his flushed face like a man who had already partaken of too much wine.

“Jacob, my son. You are here at last! Come. Come.” He wrapped a beefy arm around Jacob’s taller frame, stretching to encase him in a warm embrace. “Come and eat and drink.” He led Jacob to a table spread with foods both salty and sweet, delicacies that he would enjoy more after he had been with Rachel. But he could not voice the request. Patience. Restraint. Had he not waited seven years?

“Come, Zilpah, bring a flask and fill the bridegroom’s cup.” Laban’s voice boomed the short distance to where the servant stood, and at his command she hurried closer and thrust a silver goblet into Jacob’s waiting hands. “Drink, my son.” Laban lifted a cup of his own and drank, then motioned Jacob away from the bride’s dais to join his sons and the men of the city, who had come for a feast with more food than Laban had spared at sheep shearing time.

Jacob glanced over his shoulder at his waiting bride, then reluctantly followed, a dumb sheep to the slaughter, allowing Laban to dictate his every movement, drinking the sweetest of wines as had ever touched his lips until he was not sure he could hold another drop. The bright lights and scents of male bodies mingled with
the scents of rich meats and spiced breads. But in all of the feasting and laughter, the throb of the wedding drum lingered, and one glance toward the bride’s dais told him Rachel still waited.

I am
coming, beloved. Soon.

Another cup of the sweet wine. He tilted it too far, spilling a drop onto the smooth courtyard stones. Ribald comments followed, until at last Laban stood.

“Your bride awaits you, my son. Wait here while I escort her to the huppa.”

Jacob’s pulse had grown sluggish with more wine than he was used to, and he swayed as he stood. Two of Laban’s sons, Melcher and Darab, appeared at his sides, steadying him, while Laban trotted off to the dais and took his daughter’s hand.
Soon. I’m coming, Rachel.