The Sons of Isaac(45)

She tried to smile but instead quickly turned her head away so he could not see her eyes filling with tears. It was then he saw the clumps of herbs and weeds, the gourds that were strewn around with vile black potions dried in them. The smell was no longer the sweet fragrance of jasmine or sandalwood but some rancid, putrid odor that almost choked him. “What has happened?” he said, peering into the darkness as he tried to assess the situation. “This is like the cave of some fearful witch.”

At that she pushed him away and scowled. “I’ve tried everything. All these awful potions to drink or eat or be bathed in.” She flung out her arms in a gesture of helpless frustration. “It’s no use. I can’t do even the simplest things that other women do so easily.” At that she crumpled down among the cushions and sobbed great wracking sobs that tore at Isaac’s heart. He had never seen her cry like this before, and he couldn’t imagine what had brought about such disaster. His lovely, smiling little wife had somehow been deeply hurt, and he meant to get to the bottom of it.

“Is it me? Have I done anything to hurt you?” She couldn’t speak but shook her head. He became more frantic as he asked, “Has someone hurt you?” Again she shook her head but sobbed even more wildly.

He sank beside her and held her tight while he spoke soothing words, brushed back her hair, and tried to see her face. “Tell me, you must tell me what has happened,” he insisted. She shook her head but could not answer.

In a veritable frenzy Isaac shouted for Deborah. The old woman must have been standing just outside the tent, for no sooner did he call than she appeared. “What has happened to my wife? Who has hurt her so?” he stormed.

Deborah had never seen Isaac so agitated. She stood speechless, not knowing what to say.

“Come, come,” he said. “Why has she been eating all these strange things, and what is this terrible odor?”

At that Rebekah pulled away from him, and without bothering to straighten her mantle or wipe the tears from her cheeks, she blurted out, “I’ve been drinking ugly potions, gathering rare herbs, boiling foul smelling ointments, and still I’m not with child.”

“My lord,” Deborah said, coming to her defense, “she has indeed tried everything. Even the Egyptian cures.”

“Egyptian cures?”

“Ishmael’s wives brought me special gifts when they heard of my trouble,” Rebekah said.

“What sort of gifts?” Isaac asked.

“Some giant beetles called scarabs. They were dried and you mix them with lentils.”

“Beetles! Why beetles?” he said.

“They are believed to have strange and wonderful powers,” Deborah said. “At the beginning of the wet season, they suddenly appear and then they disappear when it’s dry. They say that when they’re eaten, they can make a person live long or become pregnant.”

“They also brought huge frogs to eat.” Rebekah made a grimace of distaste.

“You ate frogs?”

“An old Egyptian woman from Gerar told us these large frogs will always bring children,” Deborah explained.

“I only ate the legs,” Rebekah said. “Then someone told me not to eat them anymore or my children’s eyes would bulge out.”

“I don’t understand.” Isaac looked puzzled and confused.

“My lord,” Deborah said, “these special frogs are called matlametlo. They hide in the root of a bush in drought and come bursting out when it rains. The Egyptians believe these frogs can bring new life.”

“I thought we agreed we’d wait for Elohim to give us a child,” Isaac said finally.

For a moment there was silence as both Rebekah and Deborah realized that Isaac could not understand their frustration. He seemed so sure. He apparently had no doubts that at the right time Rebekah would fulfill the promise and become pregnant.

“It’s quite obvious to me Elohim’s a God for men, not a woman,” Rebekah interjected gently. “I’ve prayed and waited twenty years and nothing’s happened.”

“My mother …” Isaac began.

Rebekah jumped up. “I’ll not suffer as your mother did. I can’t endure a Hagar. I’d rather die.”

“Who has even suggested a Hagar? I’ve never considered taking another wife.”

“I know what will happen if I can’t have a child.”

“We must be patient and wait.”

Rebekah ran to the sleeping mat rolled out in the corner and, kneeling down, drew out the small, carefully wrapped packet. Then coming back to kneel beside Isaac, she said, “Here’s what women depend on who want children.” She unwrapped the packet to reveal the small image of the fertility goddess of Ur.