“Of course,” Laban said.
“I don’t want Rebekah to leave. I never wanted Abraham to leave.”
Laban was not surprised. “You want Rebekah to marry Nazzim?”
“No, no, not that old man,” Nahor said, thumping his cane on the hard packed earth. “The old idol must do better.”
Laban chuckled. “He’s smiling in there. What does that mean?”
Nahor came close enough to whisper, “He’s about to show us how strong he is.”
For a moment there was silence between them as they thought of all that might mean. Then Laban turned and headed for the stairs. “We’ll see,” he said. He went back up the stairs to the roof, lay down on the straw mats under the grape arbor, and pondered the situation. After rehearsing all the facts in his mind, he came to the conclusion that this time there was no way the God of his uncle Abraham could win. It was obvious the old goat-man favored Nazzim, and it was only a matter of time before Nazzim would come to claim Rebekah. No matter how clever this Eleazar might be, there was not enough time for any plan he might devise. Laban shifted to a more comfortable position, but he could not sleep.
E arly the next morning Eleazar woke his men and ordered them to prepare the camels for departure. This did not take long and they were soon gathered for the repast Bethuel and Laban had promised them. The sun was just coming up over the roofs of the nearby houses and somewhere over the far wall a rooster began to crow. One of Laban’s shepherds knocked on the courtyard door and handed in a kidskin container of fresh goat’s milk, while fresh bread was passed around with chunks of tart smoked cheese. The men ate with relish and then sat silently waiting for Eleazar to tell them what they were going to do.
Eleazar ate calmly and with unusual deliberation. When he had finished, he turned to the three men of Rebekah’s family. “It’s obvious to me that we must leave immediately. I have accomplished all that my master commanded.”
Rebekah’s mother stood in the shadows, and when she heard what he intended to do, she let out an anguished cry and rushed forward. “Please, I beg of you, let my daughter stay with us awhile. It’s so far to Canaan. We may never see her again.”
Eleazar answered slowly, “Do not keep me. I understand your concern. I wish it could be an easy matter. However, you have seen how my way was prepared, and now it is clear to me that the time has come to return to my master.”
Then Bethuel, who saw the wisdom of the man’s decision, stood up. “We must send for Rebekah,” he said, “and let her decide.” With that he led the men of the family to the visiting room and sent the mother to bring Rebekah.
When they were by themselves, Laban said, “This seems to be very wise. If they linger even a short time, Nazzim will be down on us with his men like a pack of wolves.”
“But if she goes with him, old Nazzim will never forgive us,” Bethuel said.
“When Nazzim hears what we have tried to do, he may decide not to marry Rebekah just to punish us,” Laban admonished.
“You were so eager to marry her to Nazzim. Why have you changed?” Nahor’s voice was thin and petulant.
This silenced them for a few moments while Laban thought about the strange events that had conspired to change his mind. He had been influenced by the gifts, but it was more than that. He found it hard to put this feeling into words. Finally glancing around as though to be sure only his father and grandfather were listening, he whispered, “It’s Abraham’s God, Elohim. He seems to be able to arrange things. It somehow frightens me to go against His will.”
“So it is agreed that we will leave it to Rebekah to decide,” said Bethuel.
“She’s not shy like some,” Nahor said. “She knows what she wants, and if she doesn’t want to go, she won’t. She probably won’t want to go, especially not in such a hurry.”
Laban resumed his most crafty look, usually reserved for dealings in the market. “You must see how brilliant this is,” he said. “If she decides to go, we’ll blame it all on her, and by the time Nazzim hears about it, she’ll at least be a day’s journey away.”
There was a soft knock on the door, and when Laban opened it he saw his mother standing with his sister in the shadows. Laban drew himself up, and with a voice that suddenly sounded unusually kind and conciliatory, he welcomed them into the small reception room.
Rebekah stood looking around the room with amazing composure. In just these few hours she had gone from the carefree, fun-loving daughter to a confident young woman who could make difficult decisions.