Chapter 27

Leah sat in her tent and listened to her father carefully. When he was through telling her, she could only shake her head.

"Father, that's not even a plan. It's a desperate excuse for Rachel's fearfulness."

"If you had seen how unhappy she was—"

"Father, I did see. That's why I tried so hard to get her to talk to you."

"Well, she did, and this is where things stand."

"Do you think that Jacob is the kind of man you can put off the bargain by paying him in cattle and sheep? I'll tell you what Jacob will think: If I do what Laban suggests, then in half the stories I'll be the fool who got tricked out of his wedding day, and in the other half, I'll be a man who married Laban's daughter in order to get half his flocks and herds."

"I knew your hearing was unusually acute, Leah, but I never knew you could hear a man's thoughts before he even thought them."

"Father, Jacob will come forward tomorrow expecting to marry your daughter. Instead you're going to come out and renegotiate the bargain. At what point in the ceremony do you intend to do that? And how will he spend the rest of his day? His wedding night? Are you trying to turn the house of Abraham into our enemies?"

"Well what would you have me do?"

"Go to him now. Talk to him. Tell him about Rachel's fears. Tell him what you told her. Tell him everything."

"How will that help our problem, Leah? It won't make Rachel any happier about getting married, and she'll be angry with me for breaking my promise not to speak to Jacob in advance. And Jacob will still be a man who has no one in his bed on his wedding night. Finding out you're being treated like a fool the day before your wedding isn't all that much better than finding out at the wedding. Especially since Rachel might change her mind and go ahead with it and leave Jacob none the wiser."

"That's your mistake, Father. You think you can fool a prophet of God."

Father buried his face in his hands. "I'm not going to force Rachel to marry against her will."

"Be honest with Jacob," said Leah. "He deserves nothing less."

"I wish I didn't see my miserable sons behind this whole problem," said Father.

That came as a complete surprise to Leah. "What do you mean?"

"Why did Choraz come home when he did? I think Nahor or Terah or both of them sent him a message to get here and prevent the wedding."

"Why would they even care?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I set Jacob as overseer of all my household—above them. No doubt they remember the stories of how Jacob tricked Esau out of his birthright. So when he marries my daughter Rachel, and given that my sons are idiots, naturally they'll think Jacob is out to steal their inheritance."

"Then they don't know Jacob."

"They don't know me," said Father. "Because when they were still chasing after harlots in Byblos and gambling away as much of my wealth as I ever put in their hands, I came this close to disinheriting them and leaving everything to Choraz and Jacob and whoever you ended up marrying."

"Father! You couldn't do that to your own sons."

"But I could. Better that than to watch them try to rule a great household when they never bothered to learn anything about how it's done! It doesn't matter now, anyway. I managed to convince them that I meant what I said, and so they've stayed close to home, raised their children, and learned from Jacob how to be good husbandmen. Now they're almost worth leaving my inheritance to."

"Obviously they hate and fear Jacob—they wouldn't be Nahor and Terah if they didn't," said Leah. "But what does that have to do with Choraz?"

"Think about it," said Father. "What can Choraz do that Nahor and Terah have never been able to do?"

"Hold two thoughts in his head at the same time?"

"Very funny," said Father. "He's a man of war. He kills people."

Leah felt the blood pound in her ears. "What are you accusing your sons of?"

"You know them, Leah! Just because that was Nahor's and Terah's plan doesn't mean Choraz ever had any intention of doing such a thing. But you yourself said that Rachel's worries didn't become really awful until Choraz's wife regaled her with stories of just how awful husbands are."

"You mean Choraz wanted her to tell Rachel that he was a brutal husband?"

"It crossed my mind. We all knew Choraz as a sweet and gentle boy, clever and strong, but kind. If his wife was brutalized by marriage, then how could Rachel expect Jacob to be any different?"

"Well, there's the part about Jacob being a prophet."

"And there's the part about Rachel being a frightened girl, and Hassaweh being a glamorous woman of the city."

"So you think Choraz was trying his own method of preventing the wedding?" asked Leah.

"I suspect it. It's possible. And that really galls me. I don't want to force Rachel into an unhappy marriage. But I also don't want Choraz and Terah and Nahor to think they managed to manipulate their father into keeping Jacob out of the family."

"Well, they have, haven't they?" asked Leah. "Rachel's putting off the wedding, according to plan. I'm going to give them a piece of my mind!"

"For heaven's sake, Leah! Right now we're trying to keep open the possibility of the wedding going forward as planned. It won't help anything if you start railing on your brothers about their treacherous intentions."

"What if the wedding does go forward? Will Nahor and Terah decide to go ahead with their original plan?"

"Of course not," said Father. "They never had the stomach for murder. That's why they sent for Choraz. And Choraz isn't about to kill his sister's husband. He became a warrior, not a monster."

"I have a headache, Father," said Leah.

"So do I," said Father. "In fact, I have three or four of them, all at once, pounding around in my head, trying to get me to drown myself in a bucket of water for relief." He stood there for a moment longer, though. Leah thought it was just because he was in pain. "Choraz won't hurt the husband of his sister," he said thoughtfully. "I suppose that would apply to the husband of any sister."

"He only has two," said Leah.

Father chuckled and left the tent.

It was only later, as Leah was busy working with Zilpah on the winter blanket she was hemming to give Rachel as a wedding gift, that it occurred to her what Father might be planning.

But it was absurd. Father couldn't possibly think that Jacob would put up with a substitution of one sister for the other.

Nor would I allow it! Just because I've curbed my temper for the past few years doesn't mean I don't still have one.

It would solve half of Father's problems, though. Jacob would be married to Laban's daughter, right on schedule. Not the daughter he wanted, but a daughter's a daughter, yes? And from the moment Jacob accepted the substitution, he would be Laban's son-in-law, so Choraz wouldn't raise a hand against him. It would all be accomplished—and Rachel wouldn't have to marry right now, just as she wants.

At least that's how Father might see it. He might even imagine that, with Leah having spent most mornings in Jacob's dooryard for so many years, they might have fallen in love with each other.

Well, think again, Father. It's all study and teaching in that dooryard. Not like the tender little idylls of love that Jacob and Rachel enact most days out in the hills.

And Rachel would never sit still for it, either. It's one thing to delay the wedding and quite something else to have Jacob marry someone else. Just propose it, and Rachel will be out of her tent and drinking the wedding cup with Jacob as originally planned.

Then it dawned on her. No, no, Leah, you fool. That is Father's plan.

"What are you smiling about?" asked Zilpah. "How crooked your hemming stitch is?"

"It's not crooked, it's straighter than yours," said Leah.

"You're not smiling because your stitches are straight, either," said Zilpah.

"I was smiling because I think my father has figured out a way to make sure Rachel overcomes her fears and marries Jacob tomorrow."

"Is she still upset over whatever nonsense it was that Hassaweh told her?"

"You know she is, Zilpah," said Leah. "Since you're the champion collector of gossip in the camp."

"I'm glad my talents are appreciated," said Zilpah. "But at least I have the virtue of telling the gossip only to you."

"What do the people in the camp think is going to happen?"

"They think Laban is going to make sure his daughter keeps her promise to Jacob. Even though he spoils her terribly, they can't imagine that he'd shame himself in front of the whole world by backing out of a wedding promise."

"Father would never make Rachel do anything," said Leah. "Or me, either."

"Yes, well, remember that they all think of Laban as very strong and fierce when he's angry. They think this is the sort of thing that will earn Rachel her father's wrath for the first time in her life."

"They certainly guessed wrong about that."

"And yet you're smiling because your father has figured out a way to get Rachel married after all."

"That's right," said Leah. "The only question is whether I'm willing to play my part in the game."

"Are you?"

"No," said Leah.

"Then you're free to tell me what the game is," said Zilpah.

"There's no game. Just a little seed of an idea in Father's head. But I intend to pluck it out before it sprouts."

"Can I watch?"

"If you can see through tent walls."

"I'm left out of all the best gossip," said Zilpah.

"Sorry to inconvenience you."

Zilpah laughed. "You just hemmed the blanket to your apron."

In consternation, Leah picked up the blanket's edge. Her apron didn't come with it. "You're such a liar, Zilpah."

"Oh, weren't they sewn together? Foolish me."

"Just remember, in the dark I sew much better than you."

"Yes, but in the light you sew exactly the way you do in the dark."

"Everyone has their own special abilities," said Leah.

They went back to their work, content with their easy camaraderie.

As Leah worked, though, the thought kept preying on her. What if Father really does intend to try to get Jacob to marry me instead of Rachel? And what if Rachel really is so afraid of marriage that she goes along with it, for the sake of keeping the promise?

Would Jacob accept me?

Would I accept Jacob?

In all these years, she had never allowed herself to think of Jacob that way. If such thoughts arose, she stifled them as quickly as possible. He belonged to Rachel. God had brought him here for Rachel to marry, and for Leah to have the scriptures. There was a clear wall between the two roles of disciple and wife, and Leah was happy with the side of the wall she dwelt on.

But what if, what if, what if? What if Jacob said to Father, This must be the will of God? What if he said, in all these years I've come to see Leah as she really is. She's become a true disciple. She is the wife that the keeper of the birthright of Abraham needs as his companion. She'll help me to teach our children the law of God and all the stories of scripture. I welcome her as my wife. Rachel's fears were sent to her by God, for truly I came here to be Leah's husband. For Rachel can marry anyone, but only I have seen Leah's true worth and only I am her proper helpmeet.

The story she was spinning out in her mind was so sweet to her that it filled her eyes with tears.

And then she forced herself to remember that none of this was possible, that neither Jacob nor Rachel would ever go along with such a thing, and hopes like this were vain.

Even admitting that she hoped to marry her sister's husband filled her with shame, both for the disloyalty of it and how pathetic it was. Such a tragic figure I've already become. Yes, children, your great-aunt Leah was secretly in love with your grandfather Jacob, and she spent all her life wishing that he had loved her instead of Rachel. Could there be any more miserable life than that, to be pitied by every generation of her family, forever?

The thought made her angry, and so the tears stopped.

"Well, I'm glad that little summer shower is over," said Zilpah.

"What are you talking about?" said Leah.

"I'm not blind. I know tears falling on a blanket when I see them."

"I was thinking about how much I'll miss my sister after she's married."

"Oh, that's such a lie," said Zilpah.

"I really allow you far too much freedom in the way you talk to me."

"It's Jacob you'll miss."

That was so dead on the mark that Leah wondered for a moment if she had inadvertently spoken her thoughts out loud.

"For seven years you've listened to the scriptures in his dooryard every morning," said Zilpah. "When that stops, it's going to change your life a lot more than losing the sister who was always out in the hills somewhere petting the animals."

Ah. So Leah's heart had not been so transparent after all. "We've read all the books twice anyway," said Leah. "It's time to spend my mornings doing something else anyway."

"Like repeating them from memory?"

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you been memorizing them?" asked Zilpah innocently.

"Not ... memorizing them. But I think about them, yes."

"And say them over to yourself. Over and over. Your lips even move when you sew."

"I never really thought about it," said Leah. "Perhaps I have memorized some passages."

"I thought you were doing it on purpose," said Zilpah. "So you could always have your own copy of the holy books with you even after Jacob leaves with Rachel."

"I wish I had been doing that," said Leah. "Now all I'll have is a few passages, and those I probably remember all wrong."

"I'd wager you have the whole thing in your head, every word."

"No doubt. The problem is getting the words back out of my head in the right order."

"Now, really, tell me," said Zilpah. "What were you crying about?"

"I'm as bad as Rachel," said Leah. "I don't want things to change, and they're going to. Everything's going to be different, and I wish I had faith enough to trust what the Lord whispered to me—that everything was going to work out according to his plan."

"Oh, you can be sure of that," said Zilpah. "Since everything always works out according to the will of the ... of the Lord."

Leah knew she had been about to say, by habit, "the will of the gods." Leah was never quite sure just how much of a believer Zilpah had become, even after years of studying the scripture alongside her and Bilhah. But she didn't make an issue of it.

"What worries you," Zilpah went on, "is whether you and the Lord will agree on what happens to be best for you."

"Oh, I'm much more pessimistic than that," said Leah. "I think the Lord is controlling what happens to Rachel and Jacob very, very carefully. But I don't think it makes a bit of difference in his plans what happens to me. I think he already changed my life in the only way that matters, and so he's done with me until it's time for me to die."

"Well, I'm glad you're so content with the knowledge that you're not the center of creation," said Zilpah. "It would be so crowded if both of us tried to occupy that spot."

"Oh, yes, God is building all his plans around you," said Leah.

"Making me a slave in Laban's house is all part of the plan," said Zilpah. "So when a great desert prince carries me off to bear him sons, it will seem all the more miraculous, and everyone will say, It could only have been God's will that Zilpah lived such a wonderful romantic love story."

Leah laughed. Too enthusiastically apparently, because now Zilpah was acting hurt.

"Oh, don't be offended," said Leah. "The only reason I laughed was because I thought I was the only one who thought that way."

"So we really are both in the center of creation," said Zilpah sourly.

"Don't worry. Since we're both making up stories no one else will see, there's plenty of room for both of us in the picture."

"Not a chance," said Zilpah. "I'm not sharing my imaginary desert prince with anybody."

"Well, then, you're selfish and you don't deserve to have one."

Zilpah laughed. "Oh, I hope we don't get the life we deserve," she said. "God wouldn't be that cruel."