Sarai (Jill Eileen Smith) (38 page)

You know me?
The trembling increased, her senses suddenly sharper, her heart racing with each breath.

“I’m running away from my mistress, Sarai.” There was no reason to lie to the man, though she realized the stark truth of the fact that she could not have lied if she’d tried. The words would not form in her mind or on her tongue.

“Go back to your mistress and submit to her.”

I can’t!
She staggered, nearly losing her footing again. She fingered the dates in her hand but was no longer hungry. Silent protests sprang within her, but she could not voice them. Nor could she glance at the man who seemed much more than a man, or meet his steady, penetrating gaze.

“I will so increase your descendants that they will be too numerous to count.”

Her breath caught, and despite her fear, despite all she had been taught, she boldly looked his way. Suddenly her fear dissolved in the kindness of his smile. Relief spilled over her like showers after a drought, filling her with hope. “My descendants?”

His smiled broadened, its warmth soothing. “You are now with child, and you will have a son. You shall name him Ishmael, for Adonai has heard of your misery.”

Tears filled her eyes at his words. Adonai cared about a slave? He saw her? He knew?

The man’s expression changed, compassion in his eyes along with something she could not define. “He will be a wild donkey of a man; his hand will be against everyone and everyone’s hand against him, and he will live in hostility toward all his brothers.”

The words only skirted the surface of her mind. All his brothers? Which meant either she or Abram would have more sons. Or did he mean brothers in a more general family sense? As it stood, there were no others that could even be named relatives. Abram’s brothers lived far from Canaan.

Canaan. Not Egypt. Where Sarai still lived to torment her.
Go back to your mistress and submit to her . . . You will have a son . . . You shall name him Ishmael.

Ishmael.
God will hear.
And God had heard, had seen her misery.

She lifted her head and looked again at the man who was not really a man. “You are the God who sees me. I have now seen the One who sees me.”

His piercing look told her she had surmised the truth, and the realization sent her to her knees. She planted her face in the dust at his feet, her heart humbled yet filled with overwhelming joy. Though her father, the pharaoh of Egypt, had never noticed her, and her own mother had barely acknowledged her existence, and Abram, the only man she might call husband, had also turned his face from her, there was One who had not only heard but seen.

He had not only seen, but He knew her misery and had promised to bless her and the child in her womb. As though the thought of Him awakened both the child and her hunger, she felt her stomach rumble and kick all at once. She lifted her head, about to ask the man if He wished to share the dates He had offered to her, but He was gone.

Thank you, El Roi, O God who sees me.
For though He had gone from her, she knew He watched her still.

Sarai stood near the edge of the camp between the road leading south toward Egypt and the path heading west where Abram had gone to pray each morning in the ten days since Hagar had disappeared. Worry gnawed her middle, the image of Abram’s wrath playing over and over again in her mind. He’d been angry at her before, but never like this, and never before involving another woman to rival her affections in his heart. The breeze teased the hair away from her face, its cloying warmth oppressive. Would the men find Hagar alive?

A chill worked through her despite the heat, and she toyed with indecision. Abram had sent her to her tent. Lila, in her kindness, had told her that first night that Abram had gone in the direction of the altar and that Eliezer had sent men to look for Hagar. Shame heated her face. The news should have come from her husband, but he clearly had nothing more to say to her until news of Hagar could be found.

She tugged the corners of her robe more tightly against her body and turned back toward the camp. The stones crunched beneath her leather sandals, and children’s laughter grated on her already heightened nerves. She glanced at a group of boys taunting a younger son of one of Abram’s servants. She quickened her pace, marching closer.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice came out harsh, as she intended, snagging the boys’ attention.

They jerked their heads toward her, looking chagrined.

“Go on, off with the lot of you. Go back to your mothers and obey, or I’ll see to it you are put to work cleaning the waste pots!” They scampered away from her, even the boy who had been taunted, leaving Sarai alone again despite the hum of voices nearby.

The thought depressed her. What kind of a mother would she have been? One who protected her child against boys who would hurt him? Absolutely! One who would make sure such children were kept far from her son. She would have done all in her power to keep him safe.

But there was no son to keep safe, not even the son of a maidservant she might adopt. Her shoulders sagged, and she turned toward her tent. Perhaps today would be a good day to work on her more intricate weaving. She no longer had a desire to sew the lengths of cloth they had made into clothes for the coming babe.

A rush of excited voices drew her attention back toward the road she had come from, the road leading out of camp toward Egypt. Moments later, she heard Abram’s voice above the din.

“She is found! Hagar has returned to us.” The joy in his tone sent her spirits spiraling downward. She would give anything to return to her tent and stay there until Abram came to tell her the news. If he would come. Doubt added to the worry twisting inside of her. She would have to face the woman sometime.

She moved in the direction of the growing crowd, grateful that they parted at her approach. She lifted her chin, denying the sea of emotions wavering within, and stood before Abram and Hagar.

“So, you have returned.” She kept her voice even and her gaze on Hagar, unwilling to let Abram sense her turmoil.

Hagar bowed low and prostrated herself at Sarai’s feet, startling her. “Mistress,” she said, her face to the dust, “I am your servant.”

Sarai looked from Hagar to Abram, but her husband’s expression told her that Hagar’s actions were her own. He had not prompted them. Did he agree with them? Or had his opinion of Hagar changed in the ten days she had been absent from their lives? She waited a moment, trying to read his thoughts, but he only shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest, a clear signal that Hagar was still her maid to do with as she wished. The thought brought a small sense of relief. He still trusted her, was giving her another chance. Perhaps she had not ruined their relationship after all.

“Where have you been, Hagar?” Sarai gentled her tone, not wanting to scare the girl off again.

Hagar did not move or lift her head. “I had determined to go back to Egypt. But at the spring on the road to Shur, the angel of Adonai met me there.”

Awe tinged her words, and Sarai’s heart skipped a beat, jealousy filling her. Adonai had sent an angel to speak with a slave when He had never once given her any reassurance of His promise?

“The angel told me to return to you, to submit to you, mistress.”

The news took Sarai aback. “The angel spoke of me?” Her heart beat with sudden fear. Had Adonai condemned Sarai to this slave? Yet no. He had told Hagar to return and submit to her.

“Yes, mistress. He said I would have a son and was to name him Ishmael.”

Abram cleared his throat, causing Sarai to glance up toward him. He motioned toward Hagar still kneeling in the dust, indicating Sarai should bid her rise. Heat warmed her face that she had not thought of it first, that her husband should have to suggest it in front of so many witnesses. She gave a slight nod to him.

“You may rise, Hagar.”

The girl slowly leaned back on her heels. Before Abram could do so and shame her further, Sarai offered her a hand to help her up. But when she glanced at him again, she read only approval in his eyes.

“Come, let us get you something to eat. Then you can tell me more about what the angel said to you.” She turned and walked ahead of Hagar, fully expecting her to follow, silently relieved when she did. She was not ready to embrace the girl or allow her back into Abram’s arms, but she knew if she intended to keep peace in her home and in the camp, she would have to treat Hagar with more respect. She was going to bear Abram a son, and Adonai’s visit to the girl told Sarai that perhaps she had done the right thing in giving her to Abram after all.

32

The soft breezes of fall accompanied birdsong in the early dawn as Hagar’s cries split the sounds in two. Abram strode outside the birthing tent, pacing first one way, then the next. Would the child never be born? The women had crouched around the girl all last afternoon and through the night, yet still he waited for his son to come forth from the womb.

His son. Had a word ever held such joy?

He glanced at Eliezer where he sat on a log bench near the fire, breaking his fast with bread and figs and soft goat cheese. Abram had tried to eat, but as with the wine Eliezer had begged him to drink last night to ease the waiting, Abram refused. What if he was needed to help? And yet what could a mere man do? The women had shooed him far from the tent’s door several times. Even Sarai had not come to speak with him, to ease his fears.

A rueful smile tugged his mouth. He had not been fair to Sarai these past few months, and the rift in their relationship was taking its toll. She’d been kind to Hagar after her return. The least he could do was welcome Sarai back into his confidence. He winced at his own hard-heartedness, recalling the wistful looks she often cast his way. How foolish of him to punish her for something Adonai had surely long since forgiven.

More cries came from the tent, some like soft moans, while others wrenched his heart. He turned at a touch on his arm.

“You will not wait long now, my friend.” Eliezer smiled, his expression that of a knowing father. “Her cries are coming more often and sharper.”

Abram ran a hand over his ragged, dusty beard. He’d hurried in from the fields two days ago at the first sign of Hagar’s travail and was in dire need of grooming. “I would ask Adonai why women must suffer so to bring children into the world, but I already know the answer.”

“If only Mother Eve had not tasted that fruit.” Eliezer chuckled and drew Abram to sit with him on the bench.

“Of course we can blame the women, but they would remind us Adam could have told his wife no.” Abram laughed, his tension easing.

“When have men ever been able to say no to their wives?” Eliezer’s smile widened at the musical sound of a baby’s cry. “And when has a sound ever been so welcome, my father?” He patted Abram on the back.

Abram’s heart quickened its pace, and he jumped up from the bench, but Eliezer stayed him with a hand on his arm. “They will bring the babe to you, Abram. It is the duty of men to be patient.”

Abram sank back down, but his anxiety did not lessen. Until he held the boy, counted his fingers and toes, looked into his face, he would not be at ease. He shifted, wanting to pace again, but forced himself to relax.