David and Leah first met at the wedding reception, where the groom introduced them in the vague area near the back of the room where men and women hesitantly mingled with each other, the dancing, of course, being divided by gender. David congratulated her on being related to the groom.

Leah twitched nervously. She was not accustomed to speaking to men alone, and the groom had been distracted by another guest, leaving the two of them an island unto themselves in the noisy room. “I heard you spoke brilliantly earlier,” she said.

David was accustomed to receiving compliments, but he had not been trained to say thank you. “I see people have a lot to learn around here,” he proclaimed, glancing to the side as though someone far more interesting had appeared behind her. Then he looked at her, as if suddenly noticing that she was still there. “What’s your name again?”

“Leah,” she answered, smiling until her face ached.

“Ah, Leah,” he murmured, letting what Leah assumed was a scholarly expression settle over his clean and handsome face. “Leah and her sister Rachel. In the Book of Genesis, Rachel is the wife of Jacob that everyone remembers, the one he waited and worked for for fourteen years, having been tricked into marrying her older sister Leah before he could add Rachel as his second wife, the one he really loved. But who was Leah really? Rachel barely had any children, a measly two. But Leah had six children, including Judah, the direct ancestor of King David and King Solomon and, someday, the Messiah. Rachel may have been beautiful, and there are always beautiful people who steal the show. But Leah stayed devoted to Jacob to the last, without even the support of his love. Think of what it says in the Book of Proverbs—‘Grace is false, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears God, she should be praised.’ Leah, not Rachel, she’s the one for me.” He grinned at her.

Leah smiled again and blushed. Something about his little lesson made her feel uneasy, but with the wedding musicians blaring in her ears she couldn’t pinpoint what. It wasn’t just the suggestion that she wasn’t beautiful, but something else. Still, she clearly couldn’t add anything to what must have just been an example of his scholarly commentary, though everything he said had been easy stuff, straight from the bible—things that a woman could understand. Besides his supposed genius, there was something appealing about David. He had a way of speaking that made you draw closer to him, a way of stepping back in order to make you step toward him, a way of teasing the air in front of him with his fingers until you found yourself wishing he would run his fingers along your arms. Desire, that was. Leah’s older sister had whispered it in Leah’s ear.