Rachel and Leah (Women of Genesis) (24 page)

“So I think that means you should go,” said Zilpah.

“I have work to finish,” said Bilhah. Whereupon she walked back to the low table and resumed the copying. Though she suspected that once she was no longer Leah’s handmaiden—and that was surely what would happen—no one would think it a worthwhile use of her time, to come to Jacob and write for him.

But if I can make my writing small enough, I might be able to get work in the city, helping some scribe with his copywork. Of course he’d have to hide me indoors, so no one would imagine that he was using a woman to do a man’s work. But it would be honorable work. I could earn enough to pay my way. I wouldn’t be dependent on the whims of some desert lord’s daughter.

She knew, even as she planned her plans, that it would never work out that way. Hadn’t she already seen how impossible it was to go back to the city alone? And the letters she was learning to write so small were not the kind they used in the city, where it was cuneiform or the Egyptian syllables that the scribes all used. She would have to start learning all over again. No one would hire her for
that
.

I’m trapped here, where I have no useful skill even now. This is the only one I had, and now Leah will see to it that I
never have a chance to write again. It will be Zilpah who helps her with her studies. And I’ll be hauling water or weeding the garden and probably doing even
that
work so badly that Reuel will urge Laban to send me away, and Laban will only keep me on out of pity.

It was a bleak vision, but Bilhah did not let herself cry. Tears would keep her from seeing the letters she was making, and that would not do. This might be her last hour of writing for Jacob, and she was determined that he see that she would have been able to do the work.

She did not even look up when she heard them emerge from the tent, Zilpah helping Leah limp to the opening in the dooryard. No one said anything and soon they were gone.

Bilhah expected then that Jacob would come to her, take away the papyrus, the book, the table, the brush, the ink.

Instead he went back into his tent and she was able to keep working for another hour, and then another, until at last he came back out and looked at her work and said, “Better.”

“Thank you.”

“Now it’s time for me to go, and I can’t leave the book out here in the open.”

“I’ll be careful with it,” said Bilhah.

“It’s not you I fear,” said Jacob. “There are those who might think it worth stealing something as precious as this book. Do you have strength to prevent them?”

“No one in this camp,” said Bilhah. “They’re all honest.”

“Like your cousin was?” said Jacob.

She couldn’t argue with that. She watched him reroll the book with despair. This is the last time, she said silently. Farewell, O holy words of God.

It was only then that she realized that she hadn’t the
faintest idea what were the words she had spent the morning copying. They had gone from her eyes to her hand without imprinting themselves on her memory. It was as if even this morning’s work had been taken from her, like the ink that faded so the papyrus could be written on again.

Maybe it’s a sign from God, she thought. Proof that he doesn’t think me worthy of this work. His words can’t be held in a mind so small and poor as mine.

Only then did she let herself shed tears, and by that time Jacob was carrying the scroll and the table back inside his tent; so he didn’t see, and she wasn’t shamed.

J
acob was troubled, Rachel could see that. He still did his work well among the animals—his hands seemed to know how to untangle wool, where to find a burr or a thorn, the tendon whose soreness caused a young ewe to limp. She tried to learn from watching him, but after all these months she could only conclude that there were things God whispered to him. Or maybe it wasn’t God, maybe it was just the animals themselves whose secret inner voices were revealed to him. This is my complaint, touch me just there and I’ll be healed.

But today he paused between animals instead of briskly moving on to the next. And instead of bantering with her, he was silent.

Rachel didn’t mind his silences. He was a man of thought, and she knew that if she jabbered into his stillness she might break something, some inner thread that he was weaving into an idea. She had her own stillnesses, didn’t she? And alone
among men, he seemed to be untroubled by the silence of women.

So she showed him the same respect and said nothing. She did not even sing, as she usually did when alone with the lambs—her voice stilled them, but Jacob’s hands did the same, and so her songs were not needed.

Only when it was noon and time to eat did he seem willing to talk. He had long since established the idea that when they ate out in the open, in the midst of work, he had no qualms about eating with a woman. Rachel dealt with this by sitting with him and conversing, but claiming not to be hungry until his meal was over. She would not let him be criticized for eating with a woman, even if the line she drew was a pretty fine one—for when his food was put away, she would bring out her own and eat in front of him, utterly without modesty. Let them talk about that, if they must, those gossipy shepherds! He would be her husband, she was betrothed to him, and so his word would be her law, not their sense of scandal!

Jacob gave thanks to God for the bread and cheese and wine, but then, instead of slicing off a wedge of tart ewe-cheese, he looked at Rachel and said, “What do I do about Leah?”

“I don’t know,” said Rachel. “Has God given you the power to restore her sight?”

“No,” said Jacob. “And don’t think I haven’t asked.”

“Then has God given you the power to soften her temper and make her more patient in her affliction?”

“That’s the kind of thing that God lets us do for ourselves.”

“Then what you can do about Leah is the same thing all
the rest of us do—avoid her when we can, and tread lightly when we must go near.”

“But that breaks my heart. She wants so desperately to be a good person.”

“I’m not stopping her,” said Rachel.

“But am I helping her?” said Jacob.

Rachel appreciated the way he took the burden back on himself, instead of asking if
she
was helping her sister. Still, Rachel would not accept his generosity. “I’m
not
helping her,” said Rachel. “We used to be great friends, but once people started talking about how ‘beautiful’ I am, it soured things between us. I can’t help what other people say, can I? I think
she’s
beautiful, but if I say so, she thinks I’m speaking out of pity. There’s really nothing I can say at all, most of the time, so … we barely speak.”

“She
is
lovely, when she isn’t sullen,” said Jacob.

“How would you know?” said Rachel.

He looked at her, startled.

“Oh, that
is
wretched of me, to say such a thing, but honestly, who
ever
sees her anymore when she’s not sullen?”

“There were times, as she was learning to read, as she was first hearing the words of the books, that she was not sullen. And other times, too. When I can see in her face that she is, truly, the sister of the woman I love.”

“I’m not a woman, I’m a girl,” said Rachel. “I don’t have to be a woman for seven more years.”

“You sound as though it’s something to be postponed as long as possible.”

“Isn’t it? Will a great prince of the desert allow his wife to go out among the shepherds and look after the lambs? No one
lets a wife have the kind of freedom I have here, as a daughter.”

“No one lets a daughter have the kind of freedom you have here, either. And while we’re on that subject, I’ve seen
you
get your way as surely as Leah gets hers.”

That was completely false, and irritating, too. “Well, if you think I’m just as nasty as Leah—”

“I didn’t say that,” said Jacob. “I said you’re just as good at getting your way. Your method is completely different.”

“I don’t have a method,” said Rachel. “I just ask if I want something, and sometimes Father says yes and sometimes he says no.”

Jacob laughed. “Well, that explains why you keep doing it right in front of Leah! You have no idea, do you?”

“No idea of what?”

“Watch me,” said Jacob.

He slid down from the rock he was sitting on, so that, seated on the ground, he was looking up into her eyes. But instead of raising his head to look at her forthrightly, he lowered his head, so he was looking up at her from under his eyebrows. Suddenly a man who had been manly was transformed into something … cute.

“Rachel,” he said softly. “Do you know what would make me really happy?” His voice was small and sickeningly sweet.

“I don’t do that!” she said.

He just grinned.

“Why do you want to marry me then, if I’m so
repulsive!
”

“It’s not repulsive when you do it,” said Jacob. “It’s only repulsive when a grown man with a beard does it. When
you
do it it’s absolutely charming. Well, a little childish, too, but as you said, you
are
still a child.”

She leapt to her feet, embarrassed and angry. “I can see that you really hate me!”

His face at once grew solemn. “I only tell you the truth because I know you’re the kind of person who hates flattery. Besides, it’s not a flaw in you, and I’m not criticizing. If you think such a way of acting is wrong, then stop doing it—but don’t blame me for seeing what you do.”

“But I don’t do that,” said Rachel. “I hate girls who do that. I never treated you that way!”

“No, you never did,” said Jacob. “And it’s a good thing, too, because it wouldn’t work on me. But you talk to your father that way all the time.”

She sat back down. She thought about it. “Not as obviously as
you
made it look.”

“No—but not as subtly as
you
seem to think.”

“Father must think I’m horrible.”

“Your father gives you every blessed thing you ever ask for, that he can possibly, decently give. You make him
glad
to give you your way. While Leah, who does the same thing with tears and petulance, makes him sad as he gives in to her. And it’s not just his daughters. Laban thinks he’s master of his house—and he
is
the master of his servants, all the men and women. But his children, he indulges them all shamelessly. I haven’t met the youngest boy, Choraz, but from what I’ve seen, Laban has done a much better job with his daughters than with his sons.”

Rachel dared not answer. She knew better than to criticize her brothers. If Father died before she was married to Jacob, she would be under their rule. She feared them in a way she had never feared her father.

“I don’t mean to criticize them,” said Jacob. “And that has
nothing to do with what’s worrying me. Not that your brothers don’t worry me.”

“What’s to worry about? Father likes you better than them.” Which was the obvious truth. Jacob probably hadn’t seen it, but Rachel knew quite well just how disgusted Father was with his two eldest boys. Choraz was the only son he was really proud of, which was why he sent him away, to get Choraz out from under the influence of Nahor and Terah. She could not remember Father ever looking at either of them with the same admiration and affection he showed when he looked at Jacob.

“What worries me about your brothers is how worried they are about
me
. They think I’m here to steal their inheritance by marrying their father’s favorite daughter.”

“I’m not his—that’s just….” But she couldn’t finish the sentence, because it would not have been the truth.

“What worries me is Leah,” said Jacob. “She’s put herself in a box. She wants to learn the scriptures, but now she’s rejected Bilhah as her maidservant—”

“That’s just foolish! Bilhah is the only one of the girls who has the patience to … you know.”

“Put up with her, I know. But Bilhah is not in bondage, and she has a right to study the scriptures on her own. This morning was the first time she ever did, because Leah was pouting about something and didn’t come to my dooryard. So I set Bilhah to work copying. And I’m not going to stop letting her work at that, either. Because I know that’s what Leah wants—to shut Bilhah out. And that’s simply wrong.”

“Well, now you get to find out just how stubborn Leah can be. Because she can keep a pout going forever.”

“It won’t make a difference to me.”

“Just wait till she gets Father upset about how you and Bilhah are treating her.”

“Just
you
wait till you see how little difference that makes,” said Jacob. “Bilhah
will
keep up the copywork and the studying because she has a talent for it and because it’s clear she loves the words of God and understands them. The way my mother always did.”

“But that’s no way to run a camp, letting servants pick and choose what jobs they’ll do!”

“She isn’t picking and choosing,” said Jacob. “It’s only an hour or two, and not every day. Besides, what other duties does she have, now that Leah refuses to have her?”