Rebekah by Jill Eileen Smith Page B

her mother and sisters-in-law rushed forward. She hugged each one, unable to keep the tears at bay now. They quickly helped her switch back to her traveling robe and folded the wedding robe for the long journey to Hebron.
    When the last goodbye was said, the last kiss accepted and given, Rebekah and her maids climbed onto the backs of the camels. She clutched the saddle as the beast rose, settling herself in for the long ride. The camel lurched as it started forward but soon fell into a steady rhythm. They would not stop for many hours and would not reach Hebron for several weeks.
    She glanced behind her, waving to her family until they disappeared from view, then faced forward. Eliezer’s men surrounded her and her maids, a wall of protection against thieves and marauders. She did not fear for her safety. But she could not help the pang of anticipation that grew with each camel’s step closer to Canaan. She must know more about this cousin she was about to marry. When they sat about the fire later that night, she would ask questions of Eliezer and his son and the other servants. After all, a woman could not go into a marriage without knowing something about the man she was marrying.

    Deborah did not allow herself to breathe deeply, nor did she lose her worry, until the camels came to rest the first night, many hours’ distance from Nuriah’s home. In the hurry of leaving, she had managed to avoid contact with the woman, who had enough things on her mind to keep her sufficiently distracted. Deborah felt momentary relief when she learnedthat she and Selima would accompany Rebekah, but the truth did not fully overtake her until she stood over the fire and smelled the scents of cumin and rosemary coming from the quick lentil stew filling the camp.
    She glanced at Rebekah, whose wide-eyed look told her that she too was sensing the reality of her decision. Deborah stepped beside her and placed a hand on her arm.
    “You made a wise choice to come.” She studied Rebekah’s face, hoping her own need to be free of Nuriah did not somehow show through her expression. But she could not contain the new feeling of joy that had started to rise from a place deep within.
    Rebekah nodded. “I know.” Her head lifted, and Deborah followed her gaze toward the low hill where the camels rested just over the rise. “Have you seen Selima?”
    Deborah darted a look over the camp, her eyes finally settling on the women’s tent. “She is probably in the tent, settling things.” Though now that she thought about it, she had not seen her daughter since they set up camp, when Selima had gone to lay out their bedrolls and deposit their necessary items in the tent.
    “I saw her leave the tent long before the stew was put together,” Rebekah said.
    Deborah glanced at the sky. The sun’s orb suspended halfway between the horizon and its place in the west, nearly out of sight. The spring was more than an arrow’s shot from where they stood, down the embankment where the land dipped away from the camp.
    “If she went for water, she should have long ago returned.”
    Fear sent a prickly feeling up her spine. She looked around, the fear mounting. Where was she?
    “Selima?”
    Deborah turned at the male voice calling her daughter’s name. She glimpsed Eliezer’s son Haviv walking toward them.

    “Why do you seek my maid?” Rebekah’s worry matched Deborah’s. And why was this man looking for her daughter?
    “Is she not here?” Haviv’s brow furrowed, and the concern in his eyes heightened Deborah’s own fear.
    “I saw her leave the tent, and I think she carried the jar to draw water.” Rebekah dried her hands on a piece of linen and hurried to Haviv’s side. “But perhaps she returned and slipped inside again.”
    Rebekah rushed to the tent while Deborah called to one of the men to keep watch over the stew, apologizing for the inconvenience. She hurried after Rebekah, Haviv a few steps behind her, but the tent was dark, as they