Rebekah (15 page)

Rebekah’s heart did a little dance within her as she waited for her camel to kneel, her eyes on the man in the field moving toward them. She lifted her leg over the camel’s hump and walked toward Eliezer, who had dismounted his camel as well.

“Who is that man in the field coming to meet us?” She stole another glance, seeing he had stopped for a brief moment and then started walking again.

“He is my master,” Eliezer said, smiling down at her.

She nodded, then pulled her veil across her face and secured it behind her ear, leaving only her eyes visible. Heat crept up her neck, and her heart skipped a beat at his approach. How handsome he was! Dark hair poked beneath a striped tan and blue turban, and his beard held strands of gray mingled with the black. Dark eyes probed hers as he drew near, and the hint of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. She lowered her eyes, certain he could see her cheeks flaming beneath her veil.

“Isaac, my lord, how good it is to see you!” Eliezer stepped forward, and Isaac clasped the man’s shoulders and kissed each cheek, treating the servant as an equal, a friend, rather than the servant that he was.

“I see you have had a prosperous trip.”

At Isaac’s words, Rebekah looked up again, hearing the rich timbre of his voice and seeing the twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes, we have. Adonai Elohei Abraham, the Lord God of your father Abraham, has given us great success.”

Rebekah stood with hands clasped in front of her, listening as Eliezer recounted the tale he had shared with her brother of how God had answered his prayer at the well. She watched Isaac’s reaction, unable to take her eyes from him, satisfied that he seemed taken with her as well in the way he kept glancing over Eliezer’s shoulder to look at her, approval in his eyes. Relief filled her when at last the report had finished and Isaac seemed pleased.

She sensed Deborah and Selima at her sides, the three of them silent, waiting. At last Isaac broke away from Eliezer and approached.

“We will set up camp here tonight, then tomorrow we will begin the journey to Hebron where my father Abraham lives. Does that seem reasonable to you?”

She grew warm under his intense look, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

He smiled, holding her gaze but a moment longer, then gave a little bow and backed away. She released her breath only when she realized he had gone to unload her camel. She hurried to help him, undoing the basket holding her robes and tunics from the leather straps that held it to the camel’s saddle, while Isaac took her goat’s-hair tent from its binding.

Tucking the sack under one arm, he offered a hand to take the basket from her. She reluctantly obeyed, then turned to remove the water jar and blankets from their clasps. She felt his presence beside her and glimpsed him watching her.

“You will not need the jar in the desert. There is no well or spring to draw from. But you can bring it if you like.” He started forward, then motioned for her to walk beside him. “Come.”

She fell into step with him, noticing the easy way he walked over the uneven ground, his stride sure, his posture relaxed.

“Did you enjoy the journey?” His question lifted her attention from watching each step among the spiny plants growing here and there in the field.

She nodded. “Yes, my lord. I have never done anything quite so bold.”

He laughed. “Well, I for one am glad that you did.”

She smiled, relieved at his pleasure. “I was only surprised that my uncle did not send his son on the journey with his servants. My family would have enjoyed the chance to meet you.”

Isaac looked at her for a long moment, then he turned to watch the path once more. Had her comment offended him? Her heart skipped a beat, and she feared she had.

They continued several paces in silence until at last he stopped to face her once more. “My father’s God told him to leave the land of his birth. He did not want his son to visit there and face the temptation to stay in Paddan-Aram.” His look held a hint of sorrow. “He did not know that such a thing would not have been a temptation.”

“Perhaps your father feared what he did not know.”

His look grew thoughtful. “If my father knew me, he would not have feared. My father obeys Adonai. He does not always trust his son.” He turned forward again, the only sound that of their sandals crunching dry earth and the voices of servants behind them.

They walked in silence until they reached Isaac’s tent. He stopped a good distance away, several paces between his tent and where he set hers. Would he call her to him this night? Marriage customs normally dictated a betrothal, which by the gifts already given her had been accomplished back in Paddan-Aram. Would Isaac wait for a formal wedding ceremony? It was within his right to claim her even now, but
surely he would wait until they reached Hebron and she was introduced to his father.

Did Isaac resent his father?

She helped him unroll the tent and pound the pegs, stretching taut the ropes.

“I will leave you to prepare the evening meal,” he said when they finished. He gave a slight bow and held her captive with the strength of his gaze. “I am glad you came.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She wondered that her voice worked at all, so intense was the air that pulsed between them. He wanted her. She could read it in the subtle wink he gave her as he touched her shoulder. The contact made her knees suddenly want to give way. “I am glad I came too.”

His gentle pressure on her shoulder was his only response, and then he released her and walked back toward his men.

The journey to Hebron took two days, and Rebekah chose to walk with Isaac part of the way, hoping she could learn more about him. He seemed to enjoy her company, and he pointed out various plants he had discovered along the way.

“Do you see the large flowers on that plant there beside the stream? Most flowers in the desert are small, but this one puts out large blossoms.” He looked at her. “Do you know how it draws enough water to produce such impressive beauty?”

Her stomach fluttered, and she wondered if he spoke only of the flowers. He smiled and pointed to some large yellow blooms dotting the banks of what would normally be a dry wadi but now flowed with water from the recent spring rains. She looked where he pointed.

“Perhaps its roots go deep into the ground?” She had no idea if such a thing were true, but she warmed to the way his eyes shone as he spoke to her.

“I would have thought so too.” He wound the donkey’s
reins over his other hand, stepping closer to her. He leaned in as though his next words were a secret between them. “Until I studied the plant and dug into the ground around it. Do you know where it derives its nourishment?”

She shook her head, fascinated by the sparkle in his passionate dark eyes. “I have no idea.”

His look held hers for the space of one, two, three heartbeats, and she sensed his growing fondness of this time with her. “The plant with the larger flowers steals its water from the smaller plant beside it. Do you see the smaller white flower?”

She followed the length of his bare arm to its fingertips, then past it to the flowers a short distance away. “Yes.” Her words were a whisper.

“The smaller flower is hosting, feeding the one that takes from it. So the stronger host ends up looking weaker and becoming weaker because the second plant takes all the good from it.”

“Does this not kill the smaller flower?”

Isaac shook his head. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? But if the bigger killed the smaller, it too would die. Instead, the bigger keeps the smaller alive just enough so that it might live.”

She smiled. “You draw much pleasure from such study.” The thought pleased her.

“Yes. And I hope you might do the same.” She grew warm at the intimate way he looked at her, and the deep tones of his voice drew her.

“I would like learning such things if you teach me.”

He looked as though he might take her hand, but held back and simply smiled. “Such a thing would give me great pleasure.”

He walked on, and she fell silent, already recognizing his penchant for introspection. They continued in companionable quiet until the sounds of an encampment grew close.

“We are here,” Isaac said, stopping a moment to look at her. “This is my father’s camp. You will meet his concubine Keturah and her six sons, along with the rest of the household. You will be mistress over Keturah, but take care not to use that against her. She will not take kindly to it.” He paused but a moment, and she wondered if he could read the worry in her gaze. “Do not concern yourself with her too much. We will not live here long.”

The servants and camels came to a stop behind them, waiting for Isaac to lead the rest of the way into the camp, whose black goat’s-hair tents were visible just over the rise.

Isaac stepped closer, cupping her shoulder, his touch this time sending little sparks through her. “We will meet my father and hold a feast to celebrate your arrival. Then you will come into the tent of my mother.” He paused, turned her to face him. “And become my wife.”

His words turned her middle to warm liquid, and her heart quickened its pace.

“Tonight?” she managed through a suddenly dry throat.

He gave her arm a gentle squeeze, his look tender. “Tonight.”

She nodded, suddenly wishing he would kiss her but knowing for certain that he would not do so until he had brought her to his mother’s tent.

He stroked the veil near her cheek with one finger. “Do not fear me, Rebekah.”

She lowered her eyes, feeling a swell of sudden emotion. “I won’t, my lord.”

She heard him sigh and lifted her head to look at him once more.

“Come,” he said at last. “Let us go and meet my father.”

 14 

Rebekah’s hands trembled, and she fumbled with the lapis lazuli necklace that Isaac had given her that afternoon after they had briefly met his father, Abraham, and Abraham’s concubine Keturah. Music of harps and flutes and the steady beat of the wedding drum filled the air outside her tent, making her nearly drop the precious piece.

“I can’t do this.” She held the strand of jewels out to Deborah, who took it in steady hands and clasped it behind Rebekah’s neck. “I did not expect to be so nervous.”

Deborah turned Rebekah to face her and cupped her cheek, coaxing her gaze upward. “There is every reason for you to feel so, my dear child. But none of them is valid. Not with the way Isaac looks at you. He will be a kind and gentle husband. Trust me in this. I know of what I speak.” Deborah’s dark eyes glinted with a memory Rebekah could not share, but she sensed that her nurse’s past was not nearly as kind to her as her present.

“Was your husband . . . was he . . .” She could not finish the sentence, her words stopped by the shake of Deborah’s head.

“It is not worth discussing. Not on your wedding night!” She straightened Rebekah’s multicolored robe and the mantle over her head. “Are you ready for me to place the bridal crown over the veil?”

Deborah would clasp the fabric beneath the crown, encasing her behind the veil. Rebekah would see only through a slit where her eyes would be visible, a bride awaiting her unveiling by her husband. The thought made her palms moist, and she could not find her voice.