Now she realized why it bothered her so much. It was a lie between a son and his father. And she had no patience with people who told lies to the ones who trusted them most. “The way my father led me to believe my mother was dead, because it made things a little easier to explain?”

Isaac frowned. “I think your father’s story made things easier for himself, while my story made things easier for my father.”

She wasn’t letting him off so easily. “And therefore easier for you, too.”

Isaac thought for a moment, then got up as if to leave.

Suddenly all her words to him came back to her and she realized how awful she had been. “Wait, Isaac, please, I wasn’t calling you a liar.”

Isaac stood there, saying nothing.

“All right, I was, but I was wrong. It’s not the same thing at all.”

“Rebekah, I have work to do. Let’s not make a quarrel out of this. Whether you like what I said or not, my purpose was to make things easier for you.”

“Please don’t go, Isaac. I won’t quarrel. I really—what I want is to know what you meant by saying that your father felt—what did you say?—hurt and confused. I never saw that.”

“I did,” said Isaac. “I know him, so I know what it looks like.”

“All I ever saw was him being stubborn. And disdainful of both of us.”

“Rebekah, my father is a kind man. A loving, generous man. But this whole business with children—it frightens him. It’s the most important thing in life, having children, raising them. And he thinks he didn’t do a very good job.”

“That’s what makes me furious with him! He says it right in front of you, as if you were a terrible disappointment to him.”

“I wish he wouldn’t do that,” said Isaac. “But it’s not as if it’s a secret. People have only to meet Ishmael, and then meet me, to know that any father would be disappointed that I was the heir, and Ishmael was not. Ishmael has the strength to hold on to what he’s been given.”

“To the cattle, yes. The sheep, the men with swords, the things, yes.”

“It’s how the world measures a man, Rebekah. It’s as unfair as the way the world measures women according to the children they’ve produced. My mother was a great woman before she gave birth to me. You were the best woman alive even before these boys were born.”

She waved his flattery aside. “But a prophet of God shouldn’t measure his son the way the world does. No father should.”

“How did this become about me?” asked Isaac. “And why are we discussing this?”