Rebekah (19 page)

She returned his smile with a tremulous one of her own and drank from the cup he offered her.

 16 

Rebekah rose the next morning and dressed quickly before Isaac was fully awake. Dawn had barely crested the horizon, but the other women of the camp would surely be up by now, preparing the morning meal. She glanced at his sleeping form, love for him rising within her. She would work hard, make him proud, and somehow repay the kindness he had shown her from the first day until now.

Lifting the clay urn by the neck, she hoisted it onto her shoulder and slipped beneath the tent’s flap. Pink predawn light bathed the camp in its fresh, new glow. She spotted Selima emerging from the servants’ tent and hurried to meet her.

“At last you are joining us again.” Selima clutched her own clay jar, and the two fell into step as they walked up an incline and traveled a short distance until they at last heard the water of the stream rushing by. “So tell me, mistress, is he everything you thought he would be?” She stopped, her large eyes open, earnest. “Do you love him?” Her expression grew dreamy, and Rebekah laughed.

“You are impossible! I have only known him a week. How can I know all that he is so quickly? Even a wedding week is only time enough to begin to understand one another.” She
knew the words were true but could not stop the smile she had awakened with that morning.

“Oh, come now. I see the way he looks at you. Is he . . . that is . . .” Selima blushed and looked away.

Rebekah laughed again and lowered her jar to the bubbling water. “Some questions are not meant to be answered, my friend. You will just have to wait until Haviv takes you to his tent and puts all of your wild imaginings to rest.”

Selima’s color heightened further, convincing Rebekah that she had guessed correctly.

“Has he stated his intentions toward you?” Rebekah waited for the water to reach the top, then hefted the heavy jar onto her shoulder again, watching while Selima did the same.

“Not in so many words.” A hint of a smile appeared. “But he has seemed quite attentive. I did not wish to say anything until your week had passed, but if he should ask . . .” She met Rebekah’s gaze, her expression uncertain.

“If he should ask, I would happily allow you to marry him.” They fell into step together again, balancing the jars on their shoulders.

“But who will serve you then, mistress?”

“You will, of course. As Haviv serves Isaac.” She glanced at her maid, wondering what thoughts tumbled in her pretty head. “I still have your mother to help me, and I am sure Isaac has servants that will suffice.” She felt almost guilty declaring their stations in such terms, but it was the truth, and she could not pretend otherwise. “But you are free to marry him if he asks for your hand. You have my blessing.”

Selima nodded. “Thank you, mistress.” They walked in silence a few moments, the morning sounds of chirping birds waking the rest of the camp as they approached. “If Haviv were to leave Isaac’s employ someday, would I be free to follow him?”

It was an honest question for a slave, but Rebekah had
never considered Selima a slave, though in fact, her father had purchased both Deborah and Selima when the girl was still an infant.

Rebekah stopped at the edge of the camp to look at her maid, her friend. The thought of ever losing Selima or her mother had never once occurred to her, and she did not like the feelings such thoughts evoked now.

“Would Haviv do such a thing? Has he said as much to you?”

Had Isaac misread his overseer? Did Haviv have no desires to take over the duties of his father once Eliezer grew too old to continue them, especially once Abraham rested with his fathers?

Selima glanced around as though afraid someone would overhear them. “No, mistress, he has not said any such thing. But he is a restless sort, and so I have wondered if he would remain happy here.”

Rebekah looked toward the waking camp, the scent of the fire and the first smells of baking bread reaching them. She breathed deeply, her heart warming to this place, and wished not for the first time that Isaac did not intend to leave at week’s end. But she knew better than to ask him to reconsider.

“Perhaps Haviv is only as restless as Isaac is to return to Beer-lahai-roi and to begin the shearing of the sheep. Men do not like to stay near the tents and have little to do.”

Though Isaac hadn’t seemed to mind being secluded in the tent for a week with her. But a wedding week could not go on forever.

“Perhaps that’s all it is.” Selima giggled as though suddenly taken by a new thought. “He does seem to like me, though.”

Rebekah glanced at her maid and caught her smiling. “Does he now?” They started forward again and made their way carefully down the incline. “Shall I speak to Isaac about this, or do you want to wait to see if Haviv acts first?” It was
within her rights to seek a mate for her maids or give them to her husband as a concubine if she so chose. But Isaac had already said he would not marry her maids. A relieved little sigh escaped her at that thought.

“You would do that for me?”

Selima’s delight brought a pang of regret to Rebekah that she had not considered to ever mention such a thing before.

“Of course.” Rebekah lowered her voice as they neared the central fire. “I will speak to Isaac about it the first chance I get.”

The end of the week came too soon, and Rebekah rose before dawn to make sure the last of their items were packed for the journey to Beer-lahai-roi. She and Selima had already been to the river to fill the goatskin sacks with water, and Isaac began taking down their tent as the first rays of pink brightened the eastern sky. She hurried now, baking flatbread over the three-pronged camp stove, then tucking the cooled loaves into sacks for the journey. They would eat as they walked or rode the distance from Hebron, south through the Negev to the oasis at Beer-lahai-roi.

“So you are finally going.”

Keturah’s sullen tone brought Rebekah’s head up. During their stay in Abraham’s camp, Rebekah had sensed the woman’s dislike.

“I’m sure we will return again not too many days hence.” She busied herself tucking the last of the loaves into the leather sack, then folded it closed. She lifted the hot oven from the fire and set it on the stones to cool. “I am sorry we cannot stay longer.”

She met the woman’s gaze but looked quickly away, pushing down the sudden anger that flared at her mocking look. She had done nothing to earn the woman’s resentment, and
she would not allow Keturah’s bitterness to cloud the last few moments she had in Abraham’s camp.

“If you will excuse me, I must finish packing.” She hurried off, away from Keturah’s scowl, taking the bread and oven with her. She found Selima among the donkeys and handed her the items to pack.

“Are we almost ready?” Rebekah asked.

Something in Keturah’s manner had made her suddenly anxious to leave, though she wasn’t sure what could have prompted the woman to act so sullenly. Ever since Isaac had returned from a hunting trip with Keturah’s two oldest sons, Keturah had seemed eager for the week to end and for them to go.

“We are just waiting for the tents, mistress. Will we not break the fast with Master Abraham before we depart?” Selima secured the oven into one of the donkey’s saddlebags and came to join her.

“Isaac did not want to take the time. We will eat on the road. He hopes to arrive in Beer-lahai-roi within two days.”

They walked together back toward the area where Haviv and Isaac were rolling up the last of the goat’s-hair tents.

She smiled when Isaac looked up, his tan turban held in place by the blue cord she had given him. It was just one of the many little gifts she planned to bestow on him from her weaving skills. There had been no time to make them before her marriage, but now she had a lifetime to give gifts to him.

“We will say our goodbyes and leave soon.” He glanced at her, then at the sky.

She nodded and turned at Abraham’s approach. Isaac hefted the tent in his arms and went to secure it to one of the donkeys’ backs. Rebekah hurried to Abraham and knelt at his feet.

Abraham touched her bowed head, then helped her to stand. She took his hand and kissed it.

“Thank you, my father. I will miss you.” A pang of regret filled her at the sadness in his gaze. “But surely we will return soon. And you must travel to visit us.”

Abraham squeezed her hand, pulling her close into a fatherly embrace. Emotion rose at his touch. The faint scent of garlic clung to his skin as his strong arms held her. How she missed her own father in this moment!

“I will miss you too, Daughter. But my son has work to do, and he is restless to be off.” He held her at arm’s length, then released her.

“You must tell me more about your wife Sarah and Isaac when he was a boy next time we visit. I want to know everything about him.”

He gave her a quizzical look, his white brows drawn together. Then a look of understanding dawned, and he nodded toward Isaac, who walked among the donkeys, checking to see that all was in readiness. “My son will have to tell you some of that himself,” he said. “There are some things in a man’s past that may take him a lifetime to share.”

The look he gave her made a shiver run through her.

“Are you willing to wait for him to speak, my daughter?”

She nodded, though she wondered if her actions betrayed the lie in her heart. She did not want to wait a lifetime to understand her husband, to know what made him fall silent and introspective, to understand what had happened to cause the strain between father and son.

“Perhaps it will not take a lifetime.” She offered the words on the altar of hope, knowing by Abraham’s look that her hope was flimsy at best.

He patted her shoulder as they both turned to walk toward the waiting donkeys. “Be patient, my daughter. It is all we can do.”

She looked at him, realizing that he too waited for Isaac to come to terms with his past. To perhaps forgive? To be
reconciled to the life they had now, the life that was obviously not the same as the one they had known when Isaac was a boy? But Rebekah knew that one could not go back and relive what was past. One could only move on from where they were today.

“Thank you for seeing us off, Father.” Isaac came up beside her and met his father’s gaze. “We are ready to leave.” He looked at her and tilted his head in the direction of the waiting caravan.

“Yes, my lord,” she said to Isaac, then bowed to Abraham once more. “Shalom to you, Father. Until we meet again.”

“Peace be upon you both.” Abraham rested a hand on her head again, then transferred it to Isaac’s.

Isaac embraced his father, kissing each cheek. “We will soon return,” he said, taking Rebekah’s hand.

Abraham nodded his acknowledgment, but she did not miss the hint of moisture in his eyes. Would he live to see them again? She prayed so.

But as Isaac turned her toward the donkeys and the men and women waiting to join them, excitement filled her. They were heading off to start their new life—together as husband and wife.