“I wish I had known you were coming, Brother,” said Isaac. “All I have are the small gifts I brought to honor the baby. My hands are empty when I greet my elder brother.”

Those were loaded words. It might even be taken as an affront, calling Ishmael the elder brother when it was Isaac who had the legal status of firstborn son. But after only the barest moment of hesitation, Ishmael beamed and hugged Isaac again. “I need no other gift than to see my brother and know that he’s glad to see me.”

Then Ishmael turned to Rebekah. “By Ba’al’s left nostril, is this what you married?”

It was an appalling statement that left Rebekah completely confused. Here in Abraham’s own camp, he swore by Ba’al. But then, he did it in a way that was more mocking than real. And how was she to take his impersonal reference to her?

“This is my wife, who was given to me by God,” said Isaac, putting his arm across Rebekah’s shoulders.

“God has a good eye for women,” said Ishmael.

Did he mean it as flattery, and was simply inept at it? Or was it a calculated blasphemous insult? Rebekah had no idea what was intended, and so had no idea how to respond.

Except, as Mother had shown her, it was never wrong to be courteous. Affixing Ishmael with her best imitation of Mother’s killer smile, Rebekah approached him and raised a hand in greeting. “I grew up hearing the name of Ishmael in my father’s house. I’m honored at last to meet a legendary man.”

“Gossips, that’s all they are, the people who spread those tales. Do you know that I’ve already heard tales about you?”

Here it comes, thought Rebekah. “I hope some of them, at least, are kind.”

“Oh, they all are. The stories I’ve heard compare you with Sarah—Isaac’s mother, you know, the runaway priestess and all that.”

There it was, the comparison with a woman who, for many years, was thought to be as barren as sand.

“I’m honored that anyone might think I resemble Abraham’s wife.” There, let him chew on that for a moment—a public reminder that Sarah was Abraham’s wife, and Ishmael’s mother was never more than a concubine. Not even that much, really. Sarah’s servant, and no more.

“I hear Sarah was beautiful when she was young,” said Ishmael, seemingly undaunted. “There’s even a story that you’re so beautiful that when Isaac took you to Gerar and he did that same business that Father did with Sarah in Egypt—you know, saying you’re his sister, and then all of Gerar is cursed until King Abimelech finds out that you’re married and so on and so on.”

“I’ve never been to Gerar,” said Rebekah.