Rebekah (12 page)

“Will you really go with those men and marry your cousin?” Selima’s normally giddy tone was missing from the question, and Rebekah looked into her eyes, reading sorrow in their depths.

“You will go with me, of course. And your mother as well. You need not fear. I would never leave you behind.” She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile but felt a quiver in her middle that would not leave. “I could not go without you.” Did Selima hear the waver in her voice?

Selima took a step closer. “Here, let me help you fold these and put them away.”

Rebekah nodded numbly and moved to assist her. “I wonder what he is like.”

Would he love her as her father had loved her, giving her the same freedoms he had given? Would she love him in return?

“Hopefully he is not disgusting or lazy.” Selima made a face as she tucked the sleeve into place and laid the first garment in Rebekah’s carved wooden chest. “Or has black teeth and smells bad.”

Rebekah laughed. “If his teeth are bad, we shall give him mint for his breath, and if he smells bad, we shall insist he bathe.” Rebekah considered the men she had met over the years, wondering whether Abraham’s son would be like any of them. “If he is lazy, we will find others to do the work. He is certainly wealthy enough to pay his workers.” She placed the garment in the chest. “But I doubt he is lazy. Wealthy men are not lazy.”

“He inherited his wealth from his father.” Selima placed the last garment on top and closed the lid, then sank onto Rebekah’s bed.

“True.” Rebekah removed the earrings first, then set the
pieces of jewelry one by one in a stone, fabric-lined casket. “But he has good men working for him, so he is likely to keep it.” She sat on the bed next to Selima. “I cannot believe I am about to wed.”

Selima put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “You are about to marry a prince after all!”

Rebekah smiled, and her stomach fluttered in anticipation. Though they had not signed an agreement yet, there was no backing out of this now. They had accepted the gifts and given the man their word. It was enough. She would go with Eliezer and his men some day in the near future and marry a cousin she had never met.

“We still have time here, though,” Selima said, “to get used to the idea. Tonight was like the betrothal. You won’t have to leave for at least six months. Maybe even a year.” She yawned and stood. “Shall I get you some food from the cooking room? You should eat something.”

Rebekah’s stomach rumbled now, a mixture of hunger and anticipation. “You could bring me some dates and almonds. I couldn’t eat fish tonight.”

Selima nodded and left the room while Rebekah walked to the window and looked out at the dark sky.

What are you like, cousin of mine?

A thousand thoughts, images of rumors she had heard of her uncle Abraham during her childhood, stories of the Creator speaking to him and calling him to leave his homeland, filled her mind.

Adonai has called you to leave as well.

She stilled as the idea moved through her, seeing again the man who had spoken to her that day on the ridge. Laban’s plans for her had not succeeded. She would be free of her brother’s designs the moment she left home with these men, embracing a whole new adventure. Like Abraham and Sarah had done.

She shivered again, but this time from excitement and even
a hint of joy. She would marry the promised son of her aunt and uncle and move into a new future God was calling her to. She would go in faith and meet this cousin and become his wife.

Laban stifled a yawn as he bid the last of Abraham’s men good night. He turned to head down the hallway toward his private room when his mother rushed toward him and clutched his arm.

“What good fortune this is, my son! My daughter will finally wed a man worthy of her status.” She smiled, and he suddenly noticed the age lines at the corners of her eyes and how drawn her cheeks had become since his father died. “We must start at once to prepare the finest linens and collect wool from the best of your flocks to send with her. The betrothal should last at least six months, but a year would be much better.” She moved away from him to pace the wide room. “We must whitewash the house and store plenty of wine at the next harvest for the feast. Surely Abraham’s son will come to claim her and bring his household to celebrate with ours.”

Laban shook his head, trying to clear the drowsy feeling the wine had produced. “There is plenty of time to talk of these things and prepare for the wedding tomorrow.”

“No, no, you must listen to me now.”

He had never seen her so enthusiastic.

“We must secure the promise from Abraham’s servant to set a day for him to return for her. Normally, if they lived nearby, we could allow him to come with surprise and the sound of the ram’s horn, but with such a distance to travel, we will need to plan, to clear some of the land for their tents.” She leaned in closer. “You must take some of the coins I know you are hoarding and purchase the best quality wines and spices . . . plenty of spices . . .”

Her words ran like rushing water, and Laban blinked hard, awakening to her concerns. She was right, of course. There was much to be done to impress his wealthy uncle.

He placed a hand on his mother’s stout shoulders, forcing her to stop pacing. “I will speak to the servant in the morning and secure from him what he plans to do. He may not want to wait a year—perhaps six months?”

“Ten months. We cannot accept less.” She turned a decisive look on him, and he acquiesced with a nod.

“Ten months.” He kissed her cheek. “Now settle down, Ima, and let me sleep.”

The scent of toasted wheat rose from the griddle as Rebekah cooked flatbread for their guests the following morning. Deborah and Selima worked beside her while Laban’s wives chopped dates and mixed them with water to cook into a syrupy mixture. Her mother bustled about, setting platters of cheese and olives on the low table. Several of Eliezer’s men had begun to trickle into the sitting room, where Laban already waited.

“Shalom, peace and health to you, my brothers,” Laban said, standing to greet Eliezer. “Come, eat and make your heart light.” He motioned to the places they had taken the night before.

The men did as Laban requested, and Rebekah set before them a plate of the hot flatbread and a jar of warm date syrup.

“Send me on my way to my master,” Eliezer said.

Silence followed the comment, and Rebekah stumbled, clutching the pillar between the two rooms for support. Her heart quickened its pace. So soon? The implication was clear that she would accompany him.

She slipped into the cooking room, out of sight of the men, to listen. Her mother moved past her to stand along the wall of the sitting room with a full view of their conversation.

“Let the girl remain with us ten days or so, then you may go,” Laban said.

At the distinctive sound of her mother clearing her throat, Rebekah peeked back into the room where the men sat at the table.

Laban glanced at their mother, then looked back at Eliezer. “In truth, we will need at least ten months to prepare for a proper wedding celebration.” He gave the servant his most charming smile, the one she had seen him use to coax even his enemies to bend to his will. The one he had used on her to convince her he had her best interests at heart, when in truth, he continually put her off to serve his own selfish ends.

Eliezer shook his head. “Do not detain me, now that Adonai has granted success to my journey. Send me on my way so I may go to my master.”

Laban looked clearly troubled, his glance skirting from Eliezer to Nuriah. Rebekah saw the distress in her mother’s eyes, making her own heart constrict. Once she left with the servant, she would never see her family again. Could she bear such a thing?

Her mother stepped closer to Laban, surprising her, and bent low toward his ear, but her words carried to Rebekah behind them. “We cannot possibly send her away so quickly! Is there to be no wedding? You cannot let them.”

As her mother’s only daughter, could she deny the woman the chance to dance and sing and meet her daughter’s new husband?

Laban put a hand over their mother’s where it rested on his shoulder. “We must do what is best for Rebekah, Ima. If this is of Adonai . . .” He let his words trail off.

Her brother Bethuel walked into the sitting room at that moment, his presence filling the archway. “Let’s call the girl and ask her about it.”

Laban and her mother looked up, startled at Bethuel’s
comment. It was not like him to speak ahead of Laban or to assert his opinions so decisively. But Rebekah warmed to him now, knowing that he of all people cared what Adonai thought and what was best for her.

She waited several heartbeats, the room heavy with silence.

At last Laban cleared his throat, quelling their mother’s response with a look. “Very well. Ima, go at once and bring Rebekah.”

Her mother backed away, her chin lifted in defiance. “She is standing in the cooking area, listening. Call her yourself.”

Bethuel spoke up. “Rebekah, please come into the room.”

She suppressed a smile that he did not wait for Laban yet again. She smoothed the fabric of her robe, feeling the heat creep into her face as she walked. She stopped near Laban’s side, opposite Eliezer.

“Will you go with this man?” Laban asked.

His look told her he wanted her to refuse, to side with their mother and stay the ten months needed to make all of the preparations, to secure all of the things she must have for her new home. A bride should not go to the house of her husband empty-handed. But this was no ordinary betrothal, and she knew with one glance at Eliezer and by the accompanying peace in her heart that she dare not stay. Such an opportunity might not come again. If Abraham should die before she could return, everything could change. She felt an urgency in the air, despite the disapproval of her mother and Laban.

She took a deep breath and glanced from one brother to the other. Bethuel’s smile and nod of encouragement lifted her spirits, reinforcing her courage, assuring her that her decision was right.

“I will go,” she said, meeting the servant’s gaze.

Her mother’s desperate cries followed her words.

 11