Rebekah (38 page)

Isaac lowered his gaze to the tiles but did not offer a word of defense, as there was none to give. Silence settled in the room, broken only by the scratching of the scribe’s tools on clay and parchment. A sharp clap of the king’s hands seemed sudden, though only a moment had passed as Abimelech called on a servant standing nearby.

“Yes, my lord king,” the servant said loud enough that it caused Isaac to look up. But the anger he expected to see in the king’s face had smoothed into an unmistakable mask of disdain.

“Spread the word to every man living anywhere near Gerar, saying this: ‘Anyone who molests this man or his wife shall surely be put to death.’” The king once more held Isaac’s gaze. “Go in peace.”

Isaac bowed low. “Thank you, my lord king. May you live forever.”

Relief spread through him in a rush the moment they rejoined Rebekah, Deborah, Selima, and Jacob in the portico. At last the truth was made known.

He took hold of Rebekah’s arm, all thoughts of water rights forgotten.

“What do you plan to do about the wells? We dig them out only to find them filled in again. And the quarreling has almost come to blows.”

Haviv stood at Isaac’s side as two servants hefted the heavy stone from the mouth of a well that Abraham’s servants had dug when Isaac was a boy. Back when water rights and living among the peoples of the land had seemed far less complicated to his innocent eyes.

He stepped closer once the stone was removed, half hoping to see the steps that led to the spring below. But unsettled earth filled the cavity to the rim.

“We have enemies among the king’s herdsmen.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw and leaned more heavily into the staff he had stuck into the earth. In the months since his last visit to the king, the protection he’d enjoyed had not appeared to extend to his servants or shepherds.

“The men are jealous of your successes. God has blessed you mightily. You can’t deny it.” Haviv’s tone held a hint of pride, as a man might feel for the success of his friend.

“I don’t deny it.”

God had promised blessing because of his father’s faithfulness. Was he merely the recipient of another’s merit? Was the faith of his father earned or given in grace?

“So what do you propose we do?”

The bleating of sheep sounded in the distance, and Isaac looked toward the hills, where he spotted his chief shepherd leading the flocks away from the stopped-up well in search of existing water. The thirsty animals could not wait until water was found beneath their feet.

“We will do as the shepherds are already doing. We will move to another area and try again.” Isaac turned away from the earth-filled well and headed back toward the camp. “In the meantime, I will talk to Abimelech again and see what can be done.”

But the following day, as he waited once more in the receiving chamber of the Philistine king, the answer did not please him.

“Move away from us. You have become too powerful for us,” Abimelech said.

Isaac bowed low, then rose, suddenly aware that in a different set of circumstances this king should be bowing to him. But the thought did not cheer him. What he possessed was a gift; whatever blessing he carried, something another had earned.

“I am sorry to have worried you. My men are no threat
to yours.” He dipped his head, acknowledging the authority of the man. “But to put your mind at ease, we will pack up and leave within the week.”

He left the king’s presence, sensing the man’s relief, albeit relief mixed with an animosity that he could not hide beneath the shadow of the crown he wore.

Isaac met Haviv, who waited just inside the doors to the receiving chamber. The two walked in silence along Gerar’s thoroughfare, past merchant stalls now quiet with the midday sun, and through the Philistine gates to the valley beyond.

“That was unexpected,” Haviv said when they were a safe distance from the guards and walking through the fields toward their camp. “I thought he was going to toss us into the streets with that glare he does so well.”

Isaac smiled at Haviv’s attempt at humor, but he could not shake the sobering feeling that always accompanied change. “I think he was angry and afraid of us. Though I fail to see how two lone men posed any threat to him.”

“He was probably thinking about that small army of men you have trained that could attack his town at your word.”

Haviv’s sarcasm elicited a chuckle from Isaac, lessening his unease. “We will move from the valley back toward Beersheba, where my father once lived. There are wells along the way that we will dig again, but we will take our time getting there.”

They neared the copse of trees that provided a protective barrier to the tents on the other side along the valley floor.

“If I may ask,” Haviv said, “why not move directly there, away from the king’s territory?”

Isaac rested his staff in the dirt and looked beyond Haviv toward the west and the town they had just left. God had blessed him here, had told him to stay and not move to Egypt. “I must seek Adonai’s will before we move too far. Who knows but it might yet be His plan for us to stay in the area
where my father’s wells were dug? We will move in that direction, and I will seek His face.”

Haviv nodded, his expression one of acceptance. “It will be as you say.”

They returned to the camp to break the news to Rebekah.

Rebekah bent over the loom, her fingers deftly working the threads. The pattern of four stripes repeated itself, with the yellows and whites like streaks among the thicker reds and blacks. Esau would be pleased with the design, as it was an exact copy of one worn by a passing wealthy merchant on his way north, though he would not appreciate the care and skill she put into making it just so. He never noticed the things she did for him, not the way Jacob did. He was too busy running after foreign women and taking his weapons into the hills to hunt.

She released a tightly clenched jaw and leaned back, examining the robe taking shape beneath her hand. The work was good. The garments would be Esau’s best, and she would keep them with her when he did not need them. He would surely ruin or misplace them if they were left with him.

She looked up at the sound of birdsong, her heart lifting as it always did when she expected Isaac’s mimicked tunes. But disappointment quickly replaced her hope of seeing him. It was just a bird after all.

Why did she still cling to a memory? He rarely whistled such tunes for her now, though he surely still did so when he went out to the fields or spent time with the sheep. Wistful longing accompanied that thought. She had not been to the fields or followed him into the hills since the day they had set foot in Gerar so long ago. The fear of being found out as husband and wife had caused a loss of much-needed privacy and too little time alone. Even now that the truth was known,
he did not come to her as he once did. If only he were not so stubborn . . .

She fingered the threads, mentally counting the rows. The robe was nearly half done, and when it was completed, she would present it to Isaac to give to Esau. Perhaps then he would believe that she loved Esau too.

A sigh formed within her, and she slowly let it out and looked through the open sides of the tent toward the hills, toward Gerar, where Isaac and Haviv had gone early that morning. The mist of dawn had long since lifted, and the women of the camp had settled into their normal daily routines, though Deborah had yet to join her at the loom. Selima needed her mother to help with her children more than Rebekah needed her help with the weaving. But she did not enjoy the loneliness such times afforded.

She straightened, rubbing the small of her back, then chose another color to weave into the warp. Male voices made her look up again, and this time she spotted Isaac coming toward her. She jumped up from the low stool where she had been sitting and hurried into the sunlight.

“You are back so soon! Did the king accept you? Are the water rights secure?”

She had overheard the discussions, the arguments Isaac and Haviv had raised during many an evening meal. Even Jacob had given an opinion she thought fair, but Isaac seemed only interested in hearing Haviv’s comments. Esau had been off doing as he pleased.

Isaac took hold of her elbow and gently guided her back into the weaving tent, out of the sun’s glare and out of earshot of the servants in the camp. “Order the servants to pack our things and be ready to leave in three days. We are moving away from here.”

How familiar this conversation. She lifted a brow in question. “But what of the wells? I thought now that we have
grown to such a large company, the king enjoyed our protection.”

He studied her a brief moment. “The king is the one sending us away. He feels we are no longer protection but a threat.”

“A threat?” Her gentle husband a threat? Ridiculous!

“Yes.” He glanced beyond her, as though searching for something to convince her.

“If the king says to go, we will go. There are better places to live, in any case.”

He gave her a quizzical look, and she struggled to understand the thoughts behind his dark eyes. “Is there something more, my lord?”

He shook his head. “Have you seen Esau?”

A bitter twinge pierced her that he should desire to leave her so quickly to go off in search of his favorite son. “Jacob is in the camp, but I have not seen Esau.” Let him be reminded that he had one son he could count on to be nearby, to do his bidding.

Isaac glanced beyond her, but she did not miss the firm set to his jaw. “Tell Jacob to meet me near the donkeys. And send a servant to find Esau.”

“He is probably off in search of a wife.”

The boy cared not a whit what she thought of his exploits. Perhaps this move would be good for him, get him away from the foreign women of Gerar.

Isaac looked thoughtful, but there was a sternness in his gaze she did not like, one he had turned her way only when they had argued about the twins.

“Perhaps it is time we seek a wife for him then.”

“He is barely twenty!”

“The age does not matter if the man is ready.”

“Esau is not responsible enough for such a thing.”

“And I will not expect his mother to coddle him and keep him from the life God intends if he is ready to bring a bride
into the camp.” His words were firm, and she did not miss the challenge in his gaze.

“I do not coddle him!” she hissed, glancing beyond him, fearful the servants would overhear.

“No, you reserve that for Jacob.”

The stinging words felt like a slap to her cheek. She flushed hot, and his dark eyes pierced hers. When had he grown so angry with her? Is that what he really thought? She would admit to enjoying Jacob’s desire to live near the tents, to come and go with the sheep rather than spend days away in the hills hunting in the wild. His malleable spirit had allowed her to train him, to teach him all he must know to be ruler of the camp one day. But of course Isaac resented this.

“I do not coddle Jacob either.” She finally spoke, but the words were barely above a whisper now.

Isaac stared at her, then shook his head as though the whole discussion were a frustration to him. “I thought we were past this. I did not come here to argue again. Just send for Esau and start packing. Be ready to leave in three days.”

He turned and walked away from her without a backward glance, leaving her feeling like a child who had been severely chastised. She put a hand to her burning cheek, grateful to be alone in the tent, to recover from the shock of all of Isaac’s words.

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