JACOB and Rachael

It was a long night until tomorrow.
In the thick dark it seemed as though a lifetime might have passed. The air was heavy with our breathing and our trying. Trying to make lovers of strangers. But, how strange itself to have misplaced the crashing passion that had driven us to this night. How strange the sensation of sinking, of falling back and looking up, of helplessly falling back. The rift, it seemed, had come again and with power.

"Rachael, please, you have to tell me what's wrong. Just, what is it? I thought you...I thought we...I just don't understand what's happened here. Where has all the passion gone? Why this distance? Is it that you all of a sudden afraid of me? What something have I done wrong?"

"No, Jacob. It's not you. It's me, I just need time. I love you, Jacob, but you have to understand, you're the only man I've ever looked at to love and to desire. And my guess is that you must have known many of the women who follow the trade routes. You are practiced in these arts while I have to confess that I know nothing about how to love you. But, I promise, tomorrow I'll be better. Can you wait? Can you be patient as I grow to be more like you?"

"Rachael, whose heart is sweeter than honey!" I do love you, too. You are my wife now, this night and for always. We'll work together at our love 'til it blossoms full with beauty like the rose. It's what He has planned for us, I can see that."

The strength of our marriage had been sealed but the flower of our love had yet to open and so we gave ourselves to sleep, nothing more succeeding to stir the bed to action. But, before sleep, she said it again. And again and again that night:

"Tomorrow, I'll be better."

I slept a fitful night's sleep waiting on the tomorrow. I dreamed that I was falling, backward into a deep chasm.

In it, I discovered the meaning of the rift.