Rachel and Leah (Women of Genesis) (3 page)

The woman’s lecture did the job—and to avoid the chance of giving offense to Leah, who could apparently hear like the gods, Bilhah didn’t mention Leah at all after that, to anyone. She also avoided her, because it was so strange to know that Leah could see her and not see her at the same time. Once, though, when Bilhah was alone out at the women’s private booth, she tied a scarf across her eyes and tried to do everything just by the feel of it. She found she made a tangle of her clothing and kept fearing that she’d step in something awful and after only a few minutes she took off the scarf and looked around gratefully and vowed never to be envious of Leah, even if she was the daughter of Lord Laban, and a lady.

Big as the camp was, however, there was no way to avoid someone forever, and on a particular day in the rainy season, almost half a year after Bilhah arrived, she was in the garden
plucking beans when Leah started up another row, pulling weeds from the pepper plants.

Even though she wore her veil and was far at the other side of the field, Leah waved to her. “I know you,” she said. “You’re the mysterious cousin.”

Cousin? Not
Leah’s
cousin. And there was nothing mysterious about Bilhah.

“Noam used to talk about how his cousin was a great artist in colored tiles,” said Leah loudly.

Bilhah did not know what to say to this, especially with Leah shouting it over such a distance. Well, not shouting, really, but her voice was pitched so that it carried, and Bilhah was sure that she could not answer without her words being heard all over the Padan-aram.

“It’s all right that you don’t want to talk about it,” said Leah. Then she rose up and walked down the row until she was parallel with Bilhah, and only a few steps away. “I can weed beside you as easily as I can weed across the field from you.”

“Yes, Lady,” said Bilhah.

“Please call me Leah.”

“I’m Bilhah.”

“I know,” said Leah. “And you’re a free girl, not a servant.”

“I can’t tell that it makes any difference,” said Bilhah. “Without money, there’s no freedom anyway.”

“God will punish Noam for what he did,” said Leah matter-of-factly. “So you don’t have to worry about that.”

“I don’t care about punishing him,” said Bilhah. “I just wish I had my papa’s money back. He didn’t save it all those years to give it to Uncle No.”

“Well, if it’s any comfort, you can be sure that Uncle No doesn’t have it any more, either,” said Leah. “The reason he had to sell himself to my father was because he’s the worst gambler who ever lived, and what he doesn’t lose at gaming he gives to bad women.” Then Leah giggled. “I’ve never met a bad woman, so I don’t know why men give them money.”

“I saw a lot of them,” said Bilhah. “They paint their faces and call out rudely to farmers and travelers.”

“What do they say?” asked Leah.

Bilhah blushed and said nothing.

“You’re blushing,” said Leah.

“I thought you couldn’t see,” Bilhah blurted. And then, mortified, she said, “I’m sorry, Lady.”

“I can’t see very
well
,” said Leah. “But I know that when people blush, they hold still and sort of dip their heads in a certain way, and you did that, even though you’re plucking beans.”

“So you didn’t see me blush,” said Bilhah.

“I see more than I see, if you know what I mean,” said Leah. “Most people don’t see the things I see, because they don’t have to. And call me Leah, please.”

“Nobody calls you by name, Lady,” said Bilhah.

“I know, and that’s why I wish you would.”

“But if one of the older women hears me, she’ll slap my face, and if one of the girls hears me, she’ll tell.”

“Then call me Leah when nobody else can hear.”

“Yes, Lady.”

Leah giggled. Bilhah realized that Leah’s giggle was more about embarrassment or frustration than about amusement. So she decided not to be offended, because Leah wasn’t actually laughing at her.

“I came out here to see if I would like you,” said Leah, “and I do.”

“Thank you … Leah.”

“Because I was talking to Father and I said, If the tilesetter’s daughter can’t work with the animals, then let me have her, and he said, Be sure you like her well enough to have her with you day after day.”

Bilhah had nothing to say. The whole idea of this girl saying to her father, “Let me have her,” as if Bilhah were a puppy or a lamb—no one would have spoken of her that way in Byblos. And even here, that’s how they talked about servants, not about free women. So even though Leah remembered that Bilhah was free, she still thought of her as someone she could ask her father for.

“You don’t want to stay with me,” said Leah.

“I didn’t say anything,” said Bilhah.

“I know,” said Leah. “You caught your breath and held very still, and now your heart is beating fast and I think you’re angry with me, but I don’t know why.”

“I’m not angry, Mistress,” said Bilhah.

“I’m not your mistress,” said Leah. “You’re free.”

“But you can ask your father to let you ‘have’ me.” The words escaped before she could stop them.

Leah was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I meant only that I need help, and since you aren’t good with animals, you’d be the best choice to help me, since I can’t work with them either.”

“What do you need help with?” asked Bilhah.

“My eyes aren’t getting better. It hurts to read. If you could read aloud to me.”

Bilhah laughed. “I can’t read,” she said.

“But I thought you kept the counts for your father.”

“I kept them, yes,” said Bilhah. “In my head. It’s not as if we had all that many customers.”

“Well, then,” said Leah, “we’ll begin with me teaching you how to read.”

“But that’s for priests and priestesses, and scribes in the market,” said Bilhah.

“And it’s for the girl who stays beside me all the time, reading for me, and being my helper for any task that needs good eyes.”

“If that’s what Lord Laban wants me to do,” said Bilhah, “then I’ll do it, because I want to earn my place here, and it’s shameful that I can’t help with the animals as the other girls do.”

“Everyone knows you’re not lazy,” said Leah. “You can’t help it that you never feel sure around the beasts. They
do
keep moving and when they step on you, it isn’t funny.”

“I’ll work hard at learning to read,” said Bilhah.

“I want you to learn very quickly, because it’s almost time for my sister to come home.”

“Your sister?”

“Rachel,” said Leah with a sigh.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” But then Bilhah realized that she
did
know, without realizing it. Because there had been comments one time about how beautiful Laban’s daughter was. Leah didn’t seem particularly beautiful to Bilhah, but she had assumed that was just the way people talked about the daughter of the lord of Padan-aram. But if there was a sister, then …

“Oh,
she
must be the beautiful one,” said Bilhah.

And now, because it had been pointed out to her, Bilhah
noticed how Leah didn’t just blush, she also froze and her head sank down a bit into her shoulders.

“Not that you aren’t pretty,” said Bilhah.

“Oh, Bilhah,” said Leah. “That’s what everyone always says. ‘Not that you aren’t pretty.’”

“You
are
pretty,” said Bilhah. “You have a nice face. And you smile very sweetly, and your teeth are good.”

“But Rachel is beautiful,” said Leah.

“I don’t know,” said Bilhah. “I heard them talking one time about how beautiful Laban’s daughter was, and it was only when you mentioned having a sister that I realized …”

She realized there was no good way to finish that sentence.

“You only
heard
about my sister and you knew that I couldn’t possibly be the beautiful one.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bilhah. “I keep giving offense but I don’t mean to. I just …”

“You just can’t help seeing what you see.”

“It’s your eyes,” said Bilhah. “You squint when the veil is off, and even when it’s on, you cock your head oddly to see, and you lean in close to look, and it doesn’t make you pretty, it makes you …”

“Strange,” said Leah.

“Tender-eyed,” said Bilhah.

“And my nose is too big,” said Leah.

“No it’s not,” said Bilhah.

“Everyone always talks about how perfect and tiny Rachel’s nose is. And when they praise something about Rachel, they always mean ‘compared to Leah.’ So my nose must be big or misshapen. Or both.”

“Your nose isn’t unusually big,” said Bilhah. “I mean, nobody would stand you on your head to catch rain with it.”

“Tell me the truth,” said Leah.

“You look like your father,” said Bilhah. “He’s a handsome man. And you’re a handsome girl. And he has a nose that is as strong as his face.”

Leah covered her face with her hands. “Oh why did God have to make me so ugly!”

“I swear, Lady, you aren’t. You really are pretty, and strong, and good, and you can’t help it that you have to squint.”

“You’re the first person who ever admitted to me that my nose was big.”

“I didn’t!” cried Bilhah. “I said it was strong.”

“You said I looked like my father and he has a
beak
.”

“It doesn’t hook under his chin, if that’s what you mean!” said Bilhah. “And yours isn’t as big as his. Yours is proportioned to your face. Noses aren’t beautiful on anybody. They always stick out in front no matter what you do. Oh, Lady, I didn’t mean to make you unhappy.”

“I know. I told you to tell the truth.”

“But I always say things too …”

“Clearly.”

“Rudely,” said Bilhah. “I’m too blunt.”

“Blunt as my nose,” said Leah.

“I like your nose,” said Bilhah. “It’s the same size as mine, and I think I’m as cute as can be.”

“Well, you aren’t, you know,” said Leah.

“My papa always said so, and so did his customers and the shopkeepers.”

“But not recently,” said Leah.

“So now you’re getting even with me for what I said to you.”

Leah laughed—only it wasn’t that nervous giggle this time. “No, I’m just telling the truth! Because that’s how it is with all of us. When we’re little, we’re all as cute as can be. Especially if we talk very well and we’re clever beyond our years when we’re still small. Oh, you’re the cutest little girl! Oh, aren’t you the smartest little child!”

It was a perfect imitation of the way older people had always talked to Bilhah, so she couldn’t help but laugh.

“But then we turn ten,” said Leah. “You’re ten, aren’t you?”

“Almost twelve now,” said Bilhah.

“Ten is a very ugly age in girls,” said Leah. “Girls all look like colts for about three years. Except Rachel, of course. She just got
cuter
.”

“Colts are cute,” said Bilhah. She refused to believe that her father had been lying to her. She was as beautiful as her mother.

“Colts are awkward and bony and it’s not how a girl wants to look.”

“So I’m awkward and bony?” asked Bilhah.

“I don’t know,” said Leah. “I can’t see that well.”

“You see everything.”

“I see that you duck your head a little and slump when you walk, so you aren’t used to being as tall as you are, and you trip sometimes just walking along, which means your feet are bigger than they used to be.”

“I’m just clumsy.”

“Not when you’re picking beans you’re not,” said Leah.

What were they arguing about? Leah couldn’t see very well, and yet she was insisting that Bilhah wasn’t pretty. “So
is this a test?” said Bilhah. “If I admit I’m ugly, you’ll choose me to be your handmaiden?”

Leah giggled. “No, silly, I can’t have a handmaiden till I’m married, or old enough to be married, and I’m
not
. I mean, I suppose in the city, rich girls might have handmaidens from the time they’re born, but not here. Everybody works here, and so a girl doesn’t need a handmaiden until she needs help dressing in very difficult clothing and needs somebody to carry away her rags and wash them.”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

“No,” said Leah quickly. “Well, I suppose so, but I’ll carry
yours
away and wash them for
you
when you’re in your time apart, so it’ll be a fair trade.”

“No you won’t,” said Bilhah. “Your father would never stand for that. And I won’t mind. As long as
you
know that I’m a free woman, I won’t mind acting the servant in the eyes of others.”

“Don’t you see?” said Leah. “I don’t want a servant. I want a … a
friend!
”

An ugly friend, thought Bilhah. And the word Leah had been about to say was not
friend
at all. So she knew she wasn’t being kind when she said, “Isn’t your sister your friend?”

Leah giggled. It didn’t sound as though she was amused. “Rachel is the chosen daughter of God.”