Each Sunday, we will be running a series of extracts from books written by Barbadian, Caribbean, or international authors. We will also, from time to time, bring book reviews. Today we feature Out Of The Ashes, a novel by Linda Jones. Jones is the founder of Women of Worth, a ministry devoted to the spiritual, emotional and physical needs of women. She is the author of several books, including What Aileth Thee, For This Child I Prayed, and Great Gifts To Give Your Children.
My name is Leah; but I guess you could call me “the desperate housewife”. Desperate, yes, because I hankered like a puppy after the love of a man, my husband, who never loved me and refused to even try to love me. I sat and watched daily, in agony of soul, as he showered his love and attention on another woman. I made an absolute fool of myself. Here is my story:
Most little girls love their daddies: for them, he can do no wrong. That’s how I felt about mine. I loved my father, Laban, and he could do no wrong, but there was a dark side to him, which I soon discovered.
He was a cheat and a schemer. Greedy and selfish, he never thought of anyone else’s welfare but his own. He betrayed my love and trust in him, when for his own selfish gain he forced me into a marriage to a man who he knew desperately wanted to marry my sister. Daddy betrayed me and deceived Jacob.
He tricked Jacob, giving him the impression that it was the love of his life, Rachael, whom he was marrying. On the evening of the wedding, Jacob did not realise that his bride was not the beloved Rachel, because Eastern brides wear veils and in the poor light of the honeymoon suite, he did not find out until the morning light. I had no choice in the matter and I felt like a consolation prize.
One can only imagine the scene next morning when Jacob realised what his uncle Laban had done to him, that it was me and not his beloved Rachael whom he had married and tenderly made love to that night. He was horrified and absolutely outraged and made no secret of it. All my family members could hear the ruckus.
Jacob ranted and raved about how his uncle Laban could have done that to him. I shrank on the inside; I felt used and totally embarrassed.
I was not beautiful and fashionable like Rachael, but I was the firstborn and in our tradition the firstborn had to be given in marriage before the others. My husband did not love me; rather he was repulsed by me. His heart and desire was for Rachael and he worked for my father for seven years in order to marry her, and then stayed on for another seven years working for him.
What a relentless love; he laboured for seven years as if it were seven days! She was his all- consuming passion; I meant absolutely nothing to him. In those years before they married, I had him physically, but emotionally his heart belonged to Rachel. When they finally got married, year after year I played second fiddle to my sister, sharing the same husband but knowing that I was despised and rejected by him and by her. The pain was unbearable. My sense of self-worth was shredded.
In hopes of winning my husband’s affection, I bore him child after child, hoping that somehow he would like me, if not love me. However, all my many desperate attempts failed and I was left frustrated, feeling used and abused time after time. He had no room in his heart for me. To aggravate an already unbearable situation, my sister and I envied each other. I envied her because she had the love of the man I craved, and she envied me because she was barren and wanted to give him children like I could. What a comedy of errors!
A comedy of errors indeed! I was unloved but fertile, but my sister was well loved but barren. This was not much comfort for me; I wanted to be loved and respected and admired, and who doesn’t?
I would watch longingly and jealously at how Jacob admired Rachael; the hugs and the touches, the laughter, the closeness they shared; all of this just deepened my sense of loneliness, pain and desperation. Oh, how my heart ached! Many nights I cried myself to sleep. I would pray that somehow God would turn this man’s heart to me, even just a little bit. All that I had to give my husband, that he wanted, was my body and I used it as a bargaining chip.
