Rebekah (37 page)

She drew in a slow breath as he appeared in the door of his tent and extended a hand to her.

“Come.” His voice was low, husky, and she obeyed without a word. “Sit. Please.”

She settled herself among the cushions in his visiting area, beyond the partition that separated it from the chamber where he slept. Would he treat her as the sister he claimed her to be? How far would the lie take them? Would he take Deborah to wife to give truth to the king’s suspicions?

But she did not voice the questions.

“I hope you know that I had little choice in the presence of Abimelech.” His look held hers for a lengthy moment, as though willing her to agree, but she could not give the nod of affirmation she longed to. “I was a coward . . . and afraid.”

“You were doing what you had to do to protect your family. No one can fault you for that.” Her eyes searched his. Love for him suddenly filled her, and she knew in a heartbeat that she meant every word. “I saw the way he looked at me, the way the men of Harran used to look. It is not love that guides their words. It is desire, pure and simple.”

“Desire misdirected and greedy, nonetheless, and a danger to us all.” He sighed, but the action seemed strained. “I will tell him the truth when I meet with him tomorrow. If I die, I die.”

“No!” She hurled herself toward him and wrapped both arms around him. “Let him think what he will for now.” She nestled herself against his heart, could feel the steady pounding
in his chest. “In time, after we better know the place and the people, then you can tell him. Why take such a risk?”

“God protected me from my own father. Surely He can do the same from a heathen king.”

“But what if He doesn’t? Your father was commanded to do what he did. This king does not listen to Adonai or care to do what He says.” She scooted closer still until she heard his breath hitch at her nearness. “Please, my lord.”

His arms came around her, and he kissed the top of her head. How long had it been since he had held her thus? Not since the week of Abraham’s death, before their fight about the twins and the angry words that had been flung between them. He rubbed circles along her back, and she felt the tension and fear slip away.

“How can I treat you as a sister? I cannot bear to be apart from you.”

His whispered words thrilled her. Never mind the arguments or the things that remained unsettled. She needed him, and in that moment she knew that she could not lose him, even if it meant giving up the things that had been keeping them apart. Surely they could settle their differences.

“We will have to practice discretion.” She reached up to kiss his cheek, her breath soft against his face. “I can act the part of a sister, if only you do not keep apart from me at night.” She smiled as she met his gaze, a gaze ignited with warmth and acceptance, something she had not felt from him in far too long.

He kissed her, a reminder of all she had missed in his absence. He gently rubbed both of her cheeks with his thumbs and traced a line along her jaw. “I am not sure we are truly safe here.” She heard the uncertainty in his voice.

“As long as you are with me, I am safe.” She spoke to reassure herself as much as him.

 30 

Isaac raised a hand to his eyes, a shield against the glare, and looked with satisfaction on the plowed field. The abundance of the last harvest had surprised him, yielding more than double what he would have expected. How good God was! How small his own faith!

He released a sigh and smiled at the even rows where young men and women of the camp scattered seed from pouches hung at their sides. Pockets of laughter filtered to him from the young men while the girls gossiped between the rows. There would be joy in the camp tonight, a pleasing sound he had grown to anticipate in the years they had lived in peace near Gerar.

He turned to one of three sets of yoked oxen, undid the latches, and lifted the wooden beam from the oxen’s necks, then inspected the wood for any signs of roughness or splintering. Deep male voices grew closer, the familiar sound of his overseer and oldest son. He looked up at Haviv’s and Esau’s approach and set the yoke aside, a sense of apprehension rising at the sight of their matching frowns.

“What is it?” He glanced beyond them to see more men drawing close, his chief shepherd and several servants coming up behind.

“The Philistines have stopped up the wells, even the wells Abraham dug when he lived in these hills. We had to go in search of streams to water the flocks and herds,” the chief shepherd said. “This is not a good time while the females are with young. We need those wells.”

Isaac glanced at the field where the seeding continued unhindered. The rains were not yet upon them. The wadis would be dry until they came, the wells of even greater import. “We will have to unstop them or dig new ones.”

“Which would you have us do?” Haviv asked.

“Unstop the wells my father dug.” Isaac looked to one of the approaching servants. “See to the yoke and oxen. I will have a talk with Abimelech in the morning. Haviv, you will come with me.”

“Can I come too, Father?” Esau’s long legs brought him quickly to his side. “I have not yet met the king, and I would like to.”

Isaac stopped and looked at his son, his memory flashing with sudden fear. “Now is not the time, my son.” He had not yet told King Abimelech the truth about Rebekah. He did not need to complicate matters with another son. “I need you to oversee the servants with the wells.”

Esau scowled at the response, but he did not argue. How much the boy had changed during his time with Ishmael! He was stronger, bolder, and the growth of a man’s beard had fully formed now along his neck and jaw.

Isaac watched Esau turn and stalk off after the servants and breathed a relieved sigh.

“The women might like a chance to visit the markets while we visit the king,” Haviv said as they entered the camp. “It has been months, and Selima pesters me about needing new pots since a few of ours have cracked with daily use.”

“What is wrong with the pots we make here in camp?”

“Apparently, the Philistines use different dyes in the designs
or etchings along the top. I don’t know. She claims they make sturdier tools than we do too.”

Isaac stopped near the line of tents, his thoughts churning with indecision, with what to say to the king. “I don’t think this is a good time.”

Haviv nodded his acceptance, but the following morning Isaac changed his mind when Haviv arrived with Selima and several maids in tow.

“They asked if you might reconsider. If the group is large enough, they should be safe.”

Rebekah looked to him, pleading, and Isaac shook his head in defeat.

“I thought you did not like Gerar.” He glanced at Rebekah as he bid Jacob and Deborah and several male servants to join them to increase their company.

“I don’t. The men are uncivilized and crass.”

He released a frustrated breath. “Then why do you come?” Could the men in his employ, could his son, protect her?

“Because there are goods there we cannot make ourselves.” Her smile made all his arguments turn to dust. “Besides, after living so long untroubled, surely we are safe.”

He did not agree but did not argue.

“Outings are always enjoyable when my men surround me.” She took his arm and sidled close. She did not mention Esau’s absence, and he did not ask her why. Graver issues stretched before them now. Issues of water rights and grazing lands.

The markets teemed with life, and the reason became clear the moment they set foot in the main square. Heavy-laden camels and donkeys blocked the intersection that led to the Way of the King, and Isaac immediately regretted his timing. But there was no turning back now.

They made their way past the stalls, weaving in and out of a large Syrian caravan, swarming market stalls, and vagabond children darting around the legs of the buyers and sellers, trying to snatch whatever they could to feed their too-thin bellies. He must do something soon to see that the children were fed, to make sure his kindness actually reached them and not their greedy guardians. The thought troubled him, as so many vices of Gerar often did, and he knew he would not rest until he sought a solution.

The sweaty smell of too many bodies mingled with that of spices and camel dung, familiar and pungent, assaulting his senses. He grasped Rebekah’s hand and pulled her close, a protective feeling washing over him. He motioned the group to follow as he maneuvered his way, finally breaking through the crowd to start the trek along the main thoroughfare. The streets of paved stone burned with the heat of the late morning sun, and the number of people thinned out the closer they drew to the palace gates.

“I should have known better,” he said, bending close to Rebekah’s ear. “The crowds are not safe. I cannot leave you women with only one young man and a few servants to guard. You will stay with me.” He squeezed her hand and released it.

She nodded and offered him a smile that warmed him. “When you finish with the king, you can take me to the stalls. A woman does not come all this way only to have the delights of Damascus denied her.”

He laughed at the way her mouth curved just slightly into a pout. He touched her cheek, letting his fingers trail a line along her jaw, his gaze lingering. “How can I argue with such a request? Of course, you will have your fill of merchants and goods from Damascus once I convince the king to give back the wells his men have stolen.”

The thought grew heavier with the reminder of why they had come, and now he had the added worry of having brought
the women and Jacob when they had no safe place to wait. But the palace gates rose before them now, and Haviv stepped closer.

“The women and Jacob can wait in the portico beneath the shaded columns. I will speak to one of the guards to make sure they are not disturbed.”

Isaac examined the ornate columns, where all manner of carved beings stood guard over the heavy oak doors, and limestone benches with clawed feet lined the walls beneath the overarching roof. “It appears we have no other choice.”

His heart beat faster as they approached the seated guard to state their business. The man seemed to regard Jacob, assessing his height and strength, then assessed the two male servants, and finally glanced at the women, pausing too long to study Rebekah. He lifted a brow and looked at them with curiosity, but he said nothing as he motioned to the bench near the doors, where they would wait.

“Follow this man.” The guard pointed to another armed sentry, and within moments Isaac and Haviv were escorted inside, announced without fanfare, and presented to the king.

“Why did you deceive me?” The king’s question brought the blood rushing to Isaac’s head.

“Deceive you, my lord king?” He waited, searching for a reason for the hostile glare piercing through the king’s adornments.

“She is really your wife! Why did you say, ‘She is my sister’?”

Isaac swallowed hard. How did he discover the truth? But he did not voice the question. Whether it was right or not, the time had come.

“Because I thought I might lose my life on account of her.” Who could cross the king and live?

The fire in Abimelech’s eyes did not lessen. “What is this you have done to us? One of the men might well have slept with your wife, and you would have brought guilt upon us.”