He broke off one of the leaves and handed it to her. “Here,” he said, “taste it. The shepherds like its refreshing taste.”
She nibbled at it and was surprised to find it quite sour but strangely invigorating. “Are there other plants like this?” she asked.
“In every season there are new surprises,” he said. “Now that the rains have stopped, we will see some of the most beautiful ones.”
“Are there flowers in the dry season?”
“You’ll find a few. Some are even my favorites. We’ll make time to go look for them if you like.”
“Oh,” she said, “I’d love that.”
* * *
Actually Rebekah had not found the adjustment as easy as Isaac had assumed. She had taken for granted that the most difficult part of her marriage would be the long journey by camel from Haran to the place where they were camped. She had been totally unprepared for this barren, windswept expanse of sand and low shrub.
She had seen it for the first time when their caravan left Hebron. Coming down from the heights, on a well-worn mountain path, she noticed with pleasure the terraced plots of gourds and grapes, and then the dusty green leaves of the olive trees that bordered the path. However, at a projection of barren rock that rose above the surrounding trees, she was suddenly able to view the desert that stretched before them in every direction as far as they could see.
Every so often jagged, ugly mountains broke the dry, gray loess into sections. There were few trees. She could see a number of acacia trees and a few tamarisk trees, but the dusty palms grew only in clumps near the occasional springs. It was a world of gray rock and dull sand with shrubs and small trees all the same color.
She had been forced to admit to herself that this was not going to be easy. However, all her life she had chosen to look at the bright side of any situation and now was no different.
Then she had seen Isaac coming across the field to meet them, and everything changed. When she saw the admiration in his eyes, the handsome lift of his head, and the strong brown muscles of his arm, she was immediately charmed. She had forgotten all of her fears and was prepared to enjoy her new life in this strange place.
As the months passed Rebekah was surprised at her own happiness. She found Isaac’s delight in her a never-ending miracle and the slow pattern of life in her uncle’s camp much to her liking. There seemed to be few restrictions. She could organize her maids to gather herbs for the evening stew, hunt wildflowers, or single out a sheep as a special pet. She was usually up to enjoy the sunrise over the eastern peaks and in the evening she sat with Isaac on soft goat-hair cushions at his tent door. Together they watched the sun slowly descend and then with a final burst of color disappear behind the distant palms leading to the city of Gerar.
There was only one flaw. Isaac was already forty years old and everyone was anxious for them to have a child as soon as possible. When asked, Isaac always said, “There’s no need to worry. I have my father’s blessing and he was promised descendants as the stars and as the sands of the sea.”
However, when a year had passed and there was no sign of Rebekah’s being pregnant, eyebrows were raised and questions whispered. Abraham had been married to Keturah eleven years and they already had three robust little sons and were expecting another child.
“There’s no reason to be afraid,” Rebekah was heard to say. “I have the blessing of my family. I am to be the mother of whole nations.”
In spite of these reassuring sentiments, some watched carefully to see whether, if this situation continued, Isaac would take another wife or a concubine as his father had done.
When Keturah’s son was born, Keturah cried for joy and Abraham hosted a great party to celebrate. “We will name this child Median because there will be many more,” he said. He was well aware and sensitive to Rebekah’s feelings, but he felt sure that time would give them the child that had been promised. He could barely remember the anguish he and Sarah had suffered over her childless state. It now seemed so easy to produce a child.
Rebekah came to the party but was seen to weep openly when she was given the child to hold. “Let me be fruitful like Keturah and not barren like Sarah my kinswoman,” she whispered.
Several of the women heard what she said and reported to Isaac. He was immediately disturbed. He ordered them to refrain from any mention of children and to see that she found some distraction that would temporarily take her mind off the problem.
Deborah was the first to respond. She had been brought to Nahor’s house in Haran as a young girl to care for Rebekah when she was a baby. “It is better that she be a nursemaid to your little girl than starve in our home,” her mother had said. From that time on she had been an important person in Rebekah’s young life. She was cheerful, rather ordinary, and wise beyond her years. Rebekah could be sure of her total love and devotion.