Jacob never stalked anything, but he seemed to have a natural affection for the herding animals and the beasts of burden. He was riding kids as if they were full-grown asses when he looked too small even to climb onto one, and when he adopted a runt puppy or a sick lamb, it always thrived under his care.

They were both remarkable boys, and there were stories to be told about both of them. But it bothered Rebekah more and more that Abraham and Isaac only told visitors the stories about Esau, especially reveling in the tales of how headstrong and daring he was—never disobedient or foolhardy, though in Rebekah’s view those were the more appropriate terms. The boy’s mouth was still full of childish mispronunciations, and he had already learned that when he disobeyed his mother or did something breathtakingly dangerous, Mother would be full of rebukes, but Father and Grandfather would laugh about it later as they told the tale again and again.

“You’re encouraging him to be rebellious,” said Rebekah to Isaac. “The more you laugh at his antics, the more he thinks that by disobeying me, he’s pleasing you.”

“He’s a good boy,” said Isaac. “He has to be brave. He has to think for himself, trust his own abilities.”

“Don’t you care that he could die doing some of the things he does?”

“The Lord will watch out for him,” said Isaac.

“Why do you think that?” said Rebekah. “Because he’s the heir? Because in case you didn’t notice, the Lord sent us two boys. Did it never occur to you that he did that because we might well need a spare?”

“He is constantly watched over,” said Isaac. “You see to that, and I don’t interfere. He can hardly breathe without some woman’s voice saying, ‘Don’t do that, Esau, don’t go there, little Edom.’”

“Like your mother used to do with you.”

“My mother never had to,” said Isaac. “I would never have dared to do the things Esau does. He’s going to be a great man, like his grandfather.”

“More like his uncle,” said Rebekah.

“We’ll make sure he grows up loving the Lord. After all, he doesn’t have Hagar breathing poison into his ear every day the way Ishmael did.”

“He’ll become the man he thinks you want him to be,” said Rebekah, “you and your father.”

“Exactly,” said Isaac. “What do you want to do, turn him into another Jacob? Puttering around after his mother as if he were attached to you at the ankle?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re making the boy weak. Always hugging the animals and crying when they’re hurt.”

“As, for instance, the time Esau threw stones at a puppy until he blinded it.”

“A dog that slow is no use to us anyway,” said Isaac.

“I can’t believe you said that.”

“Oh, of course that was wrong, and didn’t I punish Esau for it?”