The lamp had been set on the exposed dirt where people wrote things to Father. Pillel handed her a stick polished smooth by the grip of many hands. But Rebekah wrote nothing, for she knew that Pillel and Laban would have already discussed the issues with Father, and she dared not speak until she knew where Father stood.

“Ezbaal will let you serve God. A generous man, I think,” said Father. “His women gave him a good report of you. He asks to marry you, and I have said—”

“No!” cried Rebekah. Could he possibly have given consent already, without speaking to her first?

He could not hear her, but he could see her face and knew what she said. “I have said that I will find out what is in your heart. You will find no nobler, braver, richer, stronger man in the world than this one. But now that I am faced with losing you, I find that it’s a bitter thing indeed to watch you go. No man has had a better daughter, and I will feel impoverished and lonely without you in my camp.”

“Then you’ll be happy,” she wrote, “for I won’t marry him.”

“What?” asked Laban. “Have you lost your mind?”

Pillel said nothing, but she could feel his contempt for her just the same. Pillel believed that everyone should fulfil his role and keep to his place—certainly he did—and he had no use for those who refused, as she was refusing.

“Rebekah, you have to marry sometime,” said Father. “You have children of your own to bear, your own household to govern now. I’ve kept you here too long.”

Her previous words were still there in the dirt, and now she added, “Because he will never let me raise my children to serve God.”

Father’s expression darkened. “Ah, God, now in my old age thou sendest my own words back to me.”

Rebekah did not know what he was talking about. “What?” she wrote.

Grimly Father shook his head, and then spoke carefully, choosing his words. “When I was a younger man, I thought I would be another Abraham. I learned to read the holy writings, I felt the birthright like an angel leaning over my shoulder. I could not tolerate the slightest impurity—wasn’t it vital that I prepare my household to be the dwelling place of the Lord?” He interrupted his own story and looked at Rebekah. “The way you are now. So sure that you know what the will of God must be.”

Rebekah wrote in the dirt: “I know what you taught me.”