She remembered how Father’s camp had been at Haran, during the year after Mother came home, and how Mother had, without really meaning to, stirred up almost constant turmoil, and she was grateful that she and Isaac worked together so well. And it wasn’t just that they didn’t interfere with each other. She respected his judgment; she asked his advice. If he didn’t ask for hers, that was no surprise—after all, he had been doing this work as an adult before she was born. But when she made suggestions to him, he listened, and when he agreed with her, he used her advice and told the people that it was her idea. That had to be part of the reason the women had so readily accepted her—they knew she had Isaac’s respect because he showed it.

She came to believe that besides being husband and wife, they were friends, the way it was said that Abraham and Sarah had been friends, treating each other as equals.

It was as perfect as life ever gets, except that they had no son.

They were in Abraham’s camp to celebrate the circumcision of Keturah’s sixth baby boy, Shuach, when the peaceful course of her life as Isaac’s wife began to turn. She and Isaac were used to these events—it was Keturah’s sixth son, after all, and they left for Kirjath-arba expecting the usual festivities. But to their surprise, a large group of tents and several holding pens for camels and other animals had been erected in a place of honor, so near to Abraham’s tent that it was obvious many servants’ tents had had to be moved to make room. Isaac, Rebekah, and their party stopped on the first high ground that gave them a view of the changes. Deborah and two handmaids—new girls, the original ones all having married or returned to Haran—and the few men needed to bring the lambs that would be Isaac’s share of the sacrifice, his gift to the baby, and his contribution to the feast, all waited patiently while Rebekah waited for Isaac to say something.

Which, of course, he did not do for the longest time.

Finally, as she so often did, Rebekah offered her best thought. “Is it Ishmael?”

“He’s never come to a circumcision of one of Father’s sons since . . .”

He let the sentence dangle unfinished.

“Since your own,” Rebekah said.

Isaac’s silence was his yes.

So she would meet the famous Ishmael and see the brothers together with their father. She knew at once, though, that nothing about this would go well for Isaac. Ishmael had come with style—his tents were new and clean and bright-colored, and from the number of animals he had brought, his gifts would make Isaac’s look paltry.