JACOB and Rachael

I worshipped her with my body. And somehow I knew that it would be my body, our bodies that would lead to trouble. I mean, there was a certain heat between Rachael and I that I had never known. When we came near our bodies and our souls locked together and ...and, well, you know, our souls touched. Her eyes were deep pools of palpable desire and future happiness. Her touch drowned out the din of the unimportant world. Rachael and I were nearly inseperable.

But somehow at the wedding there appeared a rift. A small rift, but a rift.

Laban had prepared the tents in lavish fashion for his means. It seemed to me that Rachael and her mothers and sisters had planned the whole thing in advance of my ever coming. Relatives and neighboring families poured across the sands with food and gifts and banquets and music. The women put on their colorful gowns of linen and lace, silks and satins flowing in time to their delicate strides. Musicians plucked their drawn strings to our delight while singers lifted melodies of praise and worship to God. Our union would be blessed by the holy men and we would live in dedication to Him. I wanted to celebrate with my new bride.

But first things, first. We had to celebrate with all of those who had come from such distances and were determined to make a day of it long into the night. I only barely remember the many words that were spoken from the Holy Books or the many good blessings that were offered. I only remember seeing her, Rachael.

Her veil was exquisite. It was the color of the clouds dusted lightly with cinnamon and brushed in butter. It stretched as an angelic crown around her head above the rich auburn curls flowing to her shoulders. Close folds of a sheer cloth covered her face creating at once mystery and exciting passion. I could see only the darkness of her eyes as she fixed them intently upon me.

"Clack, clack, clack, clack." It was the sound of the guests knocking their wine cups. It mean that Rachael and I should face each other as we were once again blessed and toasted. I think it was to be Laban first of all.

"Well..." he began, "I'm not really good at this, but, well... I guess that Jacob and Rachael have listened to God..."

Yes, we had. I turned to Rachael standing next to me and raised my cup. As she raised hers in response we stepped together and I took her arm around mine, our inner elbows touching so that she drank of hers and I of mine in a symbolic embrace. Yet at that moment a strangeness entered. Her gaze turned away. We drank together under Laban's blessing, yet it was not me that she was looking at, but someone or something else. She seemed to feel uncomfortable in the embrace.

"Is this right?" she asked of no one in particular.

It was a rift. A small one, but a rift.