Rachel by Jill Smith Page B

you. Go!” He laughed as Jacob turned and moved toward his tents.
    As he crested the rise, he saw that most of Laban’s family filled the area in front of the tents, near the central pit where a fire blazed. Voices floated to him, and he paused a moment, taking it all in and searching for Rachel. Where was she? Surely she would not hide in her tent during the blessing of his son.
    He slowly moved closer, his heart aching and joyous, an all-too-familiar mingling of opposite emotions.
    “There he is at last!” Leah’s mother, Farah, emerged from the crowd and hurried toward him. “We have been waiting,” she said when she drew closer. “Leah is anxious to see you, for you to see your son.”
    Jacob nodded, meeting the woman’s triumphant gaze, and he knew in that look that she was glad it was her daughter who had given Jacob an heir, the first sign of his strength, and not Rachel.
    “Come.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Bless your son.”
    He followed like an obedient ewe, accepting the well wishes of Laban and his sons, then followed Farah to Leah’s tent. Still no sign of Rachel.
    “You cannot touch her or you will be unclean,” Farah was saying. “But you can speak to her and hold the babe.”
    “Am I not supposed to bless the babe outside, in the presence of witnesses?”
    Farah stopped at the threshold. “You can do that after you see Leah.”
    He glanced around, still searching. He looked back at Farah. “Is Rachel in the tent?”
    Farah could not hold his gaze but looked over his shoulder into the distance. “I assume she is in her own tent. I have not seen her.”
    Jacob touched Farah’s arm. “Why did she not help her sister with the birthing?”
    Farah looked at him then, and he caught the slightest flicker of indecision pass over her expression. A deep sigh escaped. “I would tell you that Rachel had no desire to be here. But the full truth is that Leah did not want her company. So they have not spoken, and Rachel is not here.” She crossed both arms over her chest, and the crowd stilled as though listening to their every word. “You must do something to make them get along, Jacob.”
    Her comment raised his ire. “Me do something? I cannot control their jealousy. And I will remind you that we would not be in this situation if things had been done as I requested.”
    Farah shook her head. “No, but we cannot undo the past. And Leah has given you a son where Rachel has not. So come, see your wife and son.”
    Jacob stood still, warring with indecision. At last he turned and found a seat near the fire. He did not care what Laban said or did to him. He would see Leah in his own time. “Bring my son to me,” he said at last.
    Farah looked from Jacob to Laban, then moved closer to her husband. “This is not right, my lord.”
    Laban puffed on his pipe and looked from her to Jacob, then back again. “The man can do as he wishes with his wife,” he said. “Bring him the boy, and let me see my grandson.”
    Farah’s expression darkened, but she did not protest. She turned and went into Leah’s tent, then returned with a swaddled bundle. She approached Jacob and held the sleeping boy out to him. “His name is Reuben.”
    He has seen my misery. Jacob took the boy and looked into his face, his heart pricked with sudden guilt. Whether he visitedLeah or not, she had sent him a clear message. She was miserable, and her son would be a constant reminder as to why.
    “She said,” Farah continued, “‘surely my husband will love me now.’” She spoke loud enough for the entire company to hear.
    Jacob’s face grew hot. He could not conjure love from nothing. Love was a feeling, a passion, a deep caring, bringing with it purpose and a desire to protect from all harm. Love drew him to Rachel to spend time with her, to grant her every desire. When it came to Leah, he had no love left to give. Rachel used it up, pulled it from him, and wrapped herself in it, creating a tight bond between them.