Fear clutched at Jacob’s heart as he nudged the pack animals along. He knew they must hurry, but to get to his father’s camp began to seem impossible. It could be that in the very act of hurrying, they would bring on some disaster. He struggled to remember how far it was to the Oaks of Mamre from the fortress of Jerusalem. Perhaps, if we cannot get that far, then dear God, let us at least make it to Ephrath.
They passed a cluster of small, stone houses and were told the place was called Giloh. The women stood in their doorways staring at them with wide, troubled eyes. They had heard that the wife of the wealthy prince was already in labor. No one threw stones at them, and even the dogs didn’t bark as they passed by onto the high plane above the village.
They were encouraged when at last they began to catch glimpses of Ephrath in the distance. “If we can just get to the city and find proper lodging,” Jacob urged, “there is a well on the north side and many caves where we could find shelter if there is no room in the inn.”
They had not gone much farther before Jacob ordered them to stop. “We must let Rachel get down and rest a bit,” he said, mopping his brow. There was a small cave nearby, and he decided this was the only suitable place for her to rest.
Leah came forward and took charge. She first checked Rachel to determine her condition, and then quickly ordered the men to go to the well and get as much water as possible.
Jacob didn’t move. He looked at her with alarm and then frustration as he said, “You sound as though you think the child will be born here.”
Leah didn’t even look at him but kept helping Rachel get as comfortable as possible. “That’s right,” she said. “This child is on its way and it is not going to be easy.”
Rachel didn’t seem to hear her, but Jacob did. He grabbed Leah’s arm and pulled her away, demanding, “What do you mean? She can’t have a child out here by the road.”
Leah impatiently tried to pull away. “We can’t control that,” she sputtered. “We can only make the best of things.”
Jacob pulled her around so he could look at her directly. “Is she … is she in any trouble?” he asked, cringing as Rachel gave a piercing cry.
Leah whirled to look at her sister and pulled away from Jacob. “The child’s not positioned right, and that means plenty of trouble.”
Jacob lunged forward in a desperate effort to help Rachel, but Leah pushed him back. “There’s nothing you can do but pray and see that the boys get water and build a fire. Now, go! We’ll do the best we can.”
As Leah turned away, Jacob saw red blood spurting like a fountain and he fled a short distance away and sank down on an outcropping of rock. He was far enough away that he could barely see what was happening and could not hear what was being said. “Oh, God of my fathers, take pity on Rachel,” he cried over and over again. Then burying his head in his hands, he pled, “Don’t be angry that she carried off the idols. She doesn’t understand. She wants a child, that’s all she wants. She just wants a child.”
Time passed and he grew more anxious. Something was wrong. In desperation he cried, “Why Rachel? You can have Leah or Bilhah or Zilpah, but not Rachel, not my only love Rachel. Don’t take Rachel. Rachel’s my joy, my life. Take anything I have, but not Rachel,” he pled desperately.
It seemed that hours had passed when Leah motioned for him to come. He hurried down and knelt beside Rachel. He tried to hide the shock of seeing her so pale and weak. He searched her face and then looked at Leah and the women, seeking reassurance that she was all right.
He felt a gentle tug on his sleeve and saw that Rachel wanted him to see the child. For the first time he looked at the bundle she held. He had seen so many round, red faces with tufts of curling, black hair; he didn’t expect to feel anything unusual. “I’m calling him Ben-oni, son of my sorrow,” she whispered with difficulty as she studied his face to see if he understood.
“Ben-oni,” he repeated puzzled.
“I’ll not be here to enjoy him,” she said with a catch in her voice. She bent her head and with a terrible tenderness kissed the dark curls.
Seeing how much she treasured this tiny token of their love, Jacob looked again and was surprised at the surge of emotion that choked him so he couldn’t speak.
They called Joseph and he came and knelt beside his mother, all the time struggling to keep from crying. Rachel was now too weak to speak, but she moved Jacob’s hand so that it covered Joseph’s, then with tears dropping onto the dark curls of the sleeping child, her head fell forward, her hand loosened, and they knew she was gone.