Sarai (Jill Eileen Smith) (33 page)

Hagar let her hips sway as she moved from delivering Abram a plate of flat bread and cheese and a mug of spiced wine, a favorite of her people. She tossed a glance over her shoulder to see his reaction to her, and hid a smile that his gaze followed her with obvious interest. Though far older than she, the man looked twenty years younger than his actual age. His skin was not mottled or thin as some of the ancient ones in Egypt had been. His step held vigor, and in the short week sharing his bed, she had come to care for him.

She moved to the campfire, her shoulders straight, a lightness to her walk she had not felt in years. Tonight she would show Abram an Egyptian dance she’d been perfecting in the privacy of her tent, to perhaps endear herself to him in ways Sarai could not.

She smiled as she bent to stir the fire. Sarai had not shown her face at the morning meal, and though the first week of Hagar’s new marriage was over, she knew Abram would not so easily set her aside until she had conceived. If Abram’s God smiled on her, she could remain the favored wife for months to come.

She looked up at the sound of voices, spotting Sarai and Lila talking together. She tensed at sight of her mistress. But no. Sarai was no longer her mistress. In giving her to Abram, Sarai had forfeited her right to rule over her. Abram was her master now, as well as her husband. The thought lifted her chin, though it did little to ease the tension as Sarai moved gracefully toward Abram and settled on a rough-hewn bench beside him.

Sarai’s head bent toward Abram’s, and the two were caught up in a familiar camaraderie Hagar had witnessed many times during her years with them in Canaan. She looked away, feeling like a jealous wretch and an unwanted intruder.

“You can’t expect to take her place.” Hagar’s hand jerked at the sound of Lila’s voice, causing the fire stick to send burning embers out of the protective stone circle. She hurried to stomp them out with a sandaled foot before turning to see Lila watching her.

“I would never expect such a thing.” That she’d had those same thoughts only irritated her more. Her expressions were surely not so easy to read. She’d spent years masking her true thoughts.

Lila shrugged. “You’re in a difficult place. Once you conceive, he won’t need you anymore. Sarai will make sure of it.” Lila’s smile was less than reassuring. “I just wanted to warn you not to let yourself grow proud around here. Jealousy is a cruel thing.” She turned and walked away before Hagar could offer a word of protest.

She watched Lila leave, then glanced across the fire to Abram and Sarai once more. He stood, offered Sarai his hand, and tucked it beneath his arm as they walked away from the tents toward the fields. His head tipped back, and he laughed at something Sarai said, the two of them lost in each other’s company.

Hagar’s gaze followed them until they disappeared beyond the trees, a sinking feeling settling deep within her. She could not join them. She was not welcome near Abram when Sarai was at his side, and it went without saying that Sarai was not happy with her decision to send Hagar into Abram’s arms.

But hadn’t that been her decision in the first place? How could she now shun Hagar when she was the one giving herself to save their future?

Anger rose within her, swift and hot as the fire fanning her face. She tossed the stick to the side and grabbed her skirt in both hands, lifting it as she stormed off. She walked on toward the open spaces past Abram’s tent, where the altar of God stood. Abram had offered many lambs on this spot, to what purpose she could not imagine. If he had done everything as his God intended, why did they need her? Sarai should have already borne his child.

Her long legs led her past the altar toward the cliffs looking down over the valley below, toward Sodom, where Lot and his family and servants had gone. Would she have been better off with them?

Wind tugged at her scarf and cooled the heat still pouring into her face. She brushed the hair from her mouth, surprised at the hint of moisture on her cheeks. But she could not deny the emotion that surged through her, even admitting to a handful of tears.

Life was so completely unjust. And the gods of her people had long since failed her. Did Abram’s God care that Sarai had put her in this situation? Did Abram care for her at all? Or was she just an object, a tool for them both to get what they wanted?

She tilted her gaze toward the blue expanse of sky, wishing she knew how to entreat the Creator to give her a home with a husband as well as a son. Was that too much for a daughter of Pharaoh to wish for? But no, she was a daughter no longer.

She brushed the drying dampness from her cheeks and turned back toward the camp, her anger only slightly appeased. She would practice the dance of her people until she had perfected it, and tonight, if Abram called for her, she would make him want her for herself, not just what she could do for him. If she could endear herself to him, she could wedge herself between him and Sarai and ensure a place for herself and her child in the future.

Abram kissed Sarai good night, defeat settling in on him like a sodden cloak. He did not look back as he slipped from her tent, all too aware that she would spend the night in misery, probably weeping into her pillow. He should never have agreed to her plan to take another wife, even a secondary one. But the deed was done now, and he couldn’t just send Hagar away. Not without giving the woman a chance to conceive.

The thought caused a slight quickening of his step, but his heart still carried the weight of Sarai’s pain. He’d spent the day trying to console her, and the action had wearied him. Now she expected him to take Hagar to his tent without thought of Sarai’s emotions or the frustration such actions caused? He was a man, not a god.

He kicked a stone a short distance from Sarai’s tent, bruising his toe, and cursed softly. Hagar’s tent had not been moved from the servants’ quarters, a situation he should remedy but had no strength to tackle. In truth, he had no desire to walk in that direction, but Sarai would question him on the morrow, and dealing with her frustration would stretch the limits of his patience, which was already too thin.

He spotted Eliezer and Lila across the compound. Eliezer had their youngest daughter perched against his shoulder, fast asleep, while Lila had hold of the hand of the other girl, their two sons racing circles around them. Something akin to heartache pierced him. Such a contented man Eliezer was—such a family to be proud of.

Abram turned about quickly, unable to bear the scene despite the fact that he had watched the man with his wife and children every night for years. What had changed?

He drew in a deep sigh and set out for Hagar’s tent. Perhaps Sarai was right. Maybe Hagar could give them the son they craved. Unless . . . what if he was somehow to blame? Could his body be as dead as Sarai’s womb? He had never taken another wife to prove otherwise. Doubt filled him, slowing his step. If Hagar did not conceive soon, it would make the promise completely impossible.

Quickening his pace, he crossed the compound to the servants’ quarters. He needed Hagar tonight. Not only for the promise but for his own vindication. Otherwise, fatherhood for him was truly too late.

28

Hagar bent over a clay pot in her tent and emptied what little remained within her from the night before. Sweat beaded her brow and her stomach rumbled, though how she could feel hunger after repeated mornings of illness, she did not know. She sat back and collapsed against the cushions, plush replacements of the type she was used to—gifts from Abram. She’d been more than grateful for his kindness to her, and half certain she had begun to win his affection, if not away from Sarai, at least in part toward her. Would that favor increase when she told him about the babe?

She had yet to confirm her suspicions with the camp midwife, but she knew as every woman knows deep within her. There had been no need to sleep apart from him the first month, and now as her cycle should have approached again, the morning sickness had come upon her. She would have no need of separation this month either.

Sounds of the women calling to their children amid the normal daily chatter filtered to her through the thick curtains of her new tent, another gift from Abram. She no longer slept in the servants’ area but had her tent pitched not many paces down the row from Sarai’s—enough to show Sarai’s status as first wife, yet affording her a measure of respect just the same.

She fingered the cushioned fabric, telling herself to rise. It was time to break her fast, and if she could manage it, today was the day she would tell Abram her news. She closed her eyes, envisioning the scene. She would take food to him in the fields and share their joy beneath the shade of one of Mamre’s great oaks. He would surely embrace her and set her at his side publicly during the evening repast. And in days to come, when her son was born, he would give her the full status of wife, not just concubine. Was it too much to ask? Too much to hope for?

Her stomach rumbled again, and she forced herself up from the cushions, chiding herself for her foolish girlhood dreams. She was married to a prince, but the man would never give her the recognition or affection he gave Sarai. The thought threatened to churn her stomach again, so she shoved it aside. She donned a fresh tunic and stood before a bronzed looking glass, fearing she might appear listless, her skin sallow from the illness. Pleased that she didn’t look as bad as she feared, she rubbed red ochre into her cheeks and darkened her eyelids with kohl, something she had not done since coming to live with Abram and Sarai in Canaan.

At last satisfied that she looked presentable, she lifted her chin and walked, head held high, to join the women. She passed Lila setting a jar of water in a hole made to keep it from tipping, and thought momentarily about stopping to ask her opinion about the babe. But Lila was not the camp midwife, and Hagar did not want Lila to tell Sarai her news before she had a chance to tell Abram.

She moved on with a silent nod when Lila looked her way, then paused where the servants were making griddle cakes, no longer able to keep her hunger at bay. She snatched one from a plate and bit off an end, feeling a sense of remoteness toward the life she had once lived at these women’s sides. The soft grains nearly melted in her mouth, relieving the hunger. She grabbed two more from the plate, along with a square of goat cheese, and walked toward the central fire where Abram sat eating with Eliezer.

Hope sprang to Hagar’s heart at the smile he offered her as she drew near. The lines around his eyes softened as she took the seat he motioned to—the one Sarai normally occupied. She sat on the edge, listening, as he resumed his conversation with Eliezer.

“Word has it things have not improved in Sodom, though Lot’s servants have indicated he has no plans to move away. Apparently, his wife will not think of returning to a life living in tents.” Eliezer’s voice droned on, and Hagar only half heard his words. She had long ago accepted the nomadic life, though most people would prefer living in houses of stone in walled, protected cities. She could hardly blame Melah for her choice, though she would not want the violence she heard went on in Sodom and its neighboring cities.