Read Rachel and Leah (Women of Genesis) for Free Online

Father’s joking was very funny. Usually, in fact, his jokes were just a little bit cruel, though he probably never meant them to be hurtful.
    “Listen, Rachel,” said Father. “I won’t have you telling people you see things and hear voices. Either they’ll think you’re some kind of priestess and you’ll start getting pilgrims and petitioners—and I won’t stand for that!—or they’ll think you’re crazy—”
    Leah gave a tiny hiccup of a laugh at that, which of course Father didn’t hear but Rachel did.
    “And I don’t think,” said Father, “you’d like to be known as Laban’s crazy daughter.”
    “But what if it
is
from God?” said Rachel.
    “It isn’t,” said Father.
    “How do you know?”
    “It’s obvious. First, when God wants to tell somebody something, he speaks clearly. There’s never any doubt. Second, you’re a woman. There’s no reason God can’t talk to a woman, but who would listen to her? So God gives visions to men so that others will pay attention to his message. Third, you even said it yourself, the vision was all wrong. Visions from God don’t
lie
, so if it wasn’t like what happened with Rebekah, then your dream wasn’t from God.”
    Father was very convincing.
    “Was her vision from the Evil One?” asked Leah.
    “Her vision was from her own imagination,” said Father. “She thinks she hears the name of Rebekah, she dreams but the dream gets it all wrong, the way dreams do. It means nothing, but if she blabs about it to everybody it will damage her reputation and mine as well. So, Rachel, you will not tell anyone about this dream or any other dream you get. Except me. If there’s ever a clear message of some kind, then tell me at once.”
    Later, Leah reassured Rachel that this meant Father secretly believed in her vision. “Why would he want you to tell him, except that he believes?”
    “I never get clear messages,” said Rachel. “So I’ll never tell Father about it. So that’s all over. I hope I don’t have any more visions like that, now that Father has commanded me not to tell anybody.”
    “You can tell me.”
    “Father said not.”
    “I already think you’re crazy,” said Leah. “So what harm can it do?”
    But Rachel never told Leah another vision, because the next day when Leah was irritated that she couldn’t go along to watch the shearing of the sheep—too many knives flashing for a weak-eyed girl to be leaning in for a closer look, Father said—Leah’s retort was, “I may not see everything, but at least what I
do
see is
real
.”
    That’s how Rachel knew that Leah hated her visions. So as far as Leah heard of it, Rachel never had another.
    And she didn’t have many. Most of the time, the visions she saw were empty nothings. The voice only came now and then, and she only understood bits and snatches, and shenever saw that particular dream again. She rarely thought of it, and when she did, she couldn’t even remember what anybody looked like, so what was the point? Mostly she tried to ignore the things she saw that weren’t actually real, and when she did see the patterns she’d dispel them as quickly as possible, and when she did hear that voice—the man or the woman, either one—she’d look for somebody to talk to.
    But on this day, returning with the flock she and four older boys and Old Jaw had been grazing up in the southwestern hills, the voice came back to her and would not go away.
    She was leading the way—nobody remembered paths better than Rachel, and Old Jaw was always content to lag behind, “watching for strays,” as he said. The dogs knew their business—they were keeping the flock together, right behind Rachel. So there was nothing in front of her except grassy hills and the unmarked path that she knew from childhood on, leading to the little well about four miles south of Father’s settlement.
    “What’s the hurry?” called one of the boys—a particularly stupid one who was always showing off for