Sarai (Jill Eileen Smith) (4 page)

He placed a hand over his chest and looked from the two perfect animals to the heavens. He would sacrifice the one most like himself. The one who represented his own penchant for straying. Decision made, he pulled a dagger from his side and slit the animal’s throat, then cut it up, burned its flesh on the altar, and worshiped.

Sarai stood at the threshold between the food preparation area and the courtyard of her home, hands fidgeting with her sash, gaze darting between the servants and the distant path. Abram should have been home by now. Scents of onion and garlic mingled with the aroma of roasting fowl, filling the house. Clanking bowls and the chatter of servants, so familiar this time of day, helped dispel the memories of her afternoon. An afternoon she would not soon forget, whose regret still lingered with each beat of her heart.

She patted her thigh where the carved image had lain in its pouch at her side, reminding herself that she was free of it now. She had tossed the accursed thing into the fire the moment she’d returned home, vowing never to go near a foreign temple again. Why then did she still feel so restless and carry such a weight of guilt?

Annoyed with herself, she turned to observe the servants at work preparing the evening repast. A distant
clop-hobble
, the distinct sound of her father using his walking stick, grew closer. He appeared at the threshold of the cooking rooms.

“Late again, is he?” Terah moved a step back toward the hall and motioned for her to follow him into the courtyard. He slowly lowered his body to the stone bench and patted the seat beside him. “Sit, daughter. You must not worry so. He’ll come.”

“Of course he will.” Sarai walked to the edge of the court and peered down the path Abram always took from the sheep pens, then joined her father. “One of the animals must have gotten lost again, or he and Lot got to talking.” Her nephew could outtalk a woman and often engaged Abram in conversation about El Echad, the One God. But the more likely scenario was that a lamb had gotten caught in brambles or stolen from the flock by a lion or a fox. In his quest to find it, Abram might not show up until nightfall.

She toyed with a smile, seeing in her mind’s eye her strong husband leading his sheep, rescuing the lost, disciplining the wayward. Her favorite lambs had always been the ones bent on straying. Perhaps they reminded her of Abram’s younger days before his visit with their ancestor Eber when he learned of El Echad. And before she had tamed his restless spirit after he took her to wife.

“What are you smiling at, Sarai? Do you see him coming?”

She had almost forgotten her father’s presence. She looked again at the path, and indeed, he was coming toward her, a lamb draped across his shoulders. No doubt his favorite ewe. He treated the animal like a pet, even letting it eat at their table. Another reminder of how much he needed sons.

The thought darkened her spirit, the image of the temple to the goddess mocking her. But she wouldn’t think of it now.

She turned to face her father. “He is coming.” She patted his knee, then stood, lifted her skirts, and hurried through the gate to meet Abram on the path.

She stopped a few paces from him, shaken by the intense look on his face. “What is it?” Her jeweled hand moved to her throat, brushing the soft fabric of her robe. “Something has happened. Tell me, please.”

Abram stood looking down at her, his eyes bright. He set the lamb on the ground beside him, patted its head, then took Sarai’s hands in his. “Adonai Elohim spoke to me today.” A look of awe and humility filled his bearded face, and she longed to cup his cheek with her hand to somehow transfer the joy in his eyes to hers.

“How do you know? Did he speak aloud?” A tremor passed through her. She knew this God of Abram’s was real, and He terrified her.

Abram nodded, tightening his grip on her hands, his dark eyes ablaze with excitement. “He called my name. He told me to leave my country, my family, and my father’s household and go to a land He would show me, that He will make my name great and make me into a great nation, and that in me all of the families of the earth will be blessed. He promised to bless those who bless me and curse those who curse me.” His look bored into hers, then softened. He released one hand and cupped her cheek. “To make me a great nation means He will have to give me a son, Sarai. We will have a child yet. Adonai promised.”

Sarai’s stomach dipped as he drew her into his arms. She blinked away the sting of tears, grateful beyond words that she had not heeded Melah’s advice, had run from the gods of her people. Abram’s God would provide him an heir. She would bear a child after all!

She felt Abram’s hand rubbing circles along her back. “Will you come with me, Sarai?” He whispered the question as though he were suddenly uncertain.

She pulled back from his embrace and touched his face. “Of course, dear husband. I am bound to you in all ways. Where would I be without you?” She smiled at him, pleased to see the joy return to his gaze.

He bent his head and kissed her, a passionate, lingering kiss that awakened her senses. Perhaps this God would indeed grant her a son if Abram’s sudden ardent affection were any indication.

She giggled at her own humorous thoughts as Abram lifted his mouth from hers. “Supper awaits you, my lord, unless you were planning to help Adonai’s promise come to pass before you fill your belly.”

His stomach rumbled in response, and they both laughed. He patted his middle even as he wrapped one arm around her waist. “You do tempt me, dear wife,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear.

She laughed lightly again, then noticed their father slowly coming toward them. “I don’t think our father will wait for us.” She kissed his cheek. “He’s put off eating, waiting for you, and the food is past ready. But of course, he didn’t know you were so unexpectedly detained.”

She took two steps forward, expecting Abram to join her. When his feet didn’t move, she halted, not wishing to depart his embrace. Her mind was still reeling with all that had happened. Was it true? Would she indeed bear a son of the promise?

“The voice did not detain me long. The sacrifice did.” Abram’s words carried tenderness. And perhaps a hint of regret?

She faced him again, her back to their father. “What sacrifice? Did your God require a sacrifice greater than the one He has already requested? Isn’t it enough to leave our family, our father, our inheritance, our friends? What more could El Echad want?”

Abram cupped her cheek again, studying her, then his gaze skipped to some place behind her. “Blood sacrifice was handed down from the days of Noah, to make atonement for our sins. Our ancestors Eber and Nahor both taught this to me, though our father has not done so. Adonai Elohim did not ask it of me, but I knew in my spirit it was the right thing to do. I sacrificed one of the rams to Him.”

Sarai looked away, her gaze catching a glimpse of Abram’s pet, the spotless lamb he favored. There were only a few perfect sheep in the flock, and even fewer rams. The only spotless one she knew of . . . She looked into his face again, surprised when his gaze met hers so intensely.

“Which ram?” She needed to know. Yet she already did.

He took her hand in his and turned her away, walking them both toward Terah.

She forced him to stop. “Which one, my lord? You must tell me if I’m to follow you.”

His gaze darkened ever so slightly. “Did you not just tell me you were bound to me in all ways? Following me should have nothing to do with which ram bore the sacrifice.”

She recoiled at his tone, suddenly irritated that he should use her own vows against her. He didn’t have to remind her. Didn’t she always obey his commands? Didn’t she even today obey when she didn’t sacrifice to the goddess? She didn’t need his reminder. She needed him to tell her he had chosen a ram she didn’t care for in the least. Not one she fancied.

“I chose the one most like me,” he said at last. “There were only two choices, and he represented my sins better than the other one.”

“So you would spare your favorite and sacrifice mine.” The words came out more bitter than she’d expected. Selfish male! What man had ever looked out for a woman above himself? She turned away from him, about to stalk off.

He caught her arm. “Sarai.” His voice, both gentle and commanding, beckoned her to pause. She let him slowly turn her to face him. He grasped both her hands in his again. “I saved this one”—he glanced at his pet, then looked back at her—“for you. If we are to seek the Lord’s favor, we must both offer Him our best. They will both shed their blood to cover our sins. I will take you to the altar first thing in the morning.”

His words pierced her conscience, humbling her. She lowered her gaze, undone. “I’m sorry, my lord. I’ve misjudged you.”

He tipped her chin toward him. “It is an honest misjudging. We must each part with everything we love. Except each other.” He kissed her again, then took her hand and called to the ewe who would give her life for Sarai in the morning.

3

“If your God told you to go, then you must go.” Terah leaned heavily on his staff and sat down on the bench beneath the parapet along the perimeter of their roof. He took time to settle his bulk, gave a short cough, then looked at Abram. “I will go with you.”

Sarai’s feet stopped a pace behind Abram’s as he walked across the roof, her breath catching at his words. Abram’s God had told Abram to leave his father’s household. But of course, they couldn’t leave Terah behind. Who would care for him in his old age?

“Are you sure you are up to travel, Father? I would not expect you to leave all you possess to join me. Surely Nahor will welcome you, especially now that he will inherit my land portion.” Abram sat on the bench opposite their father and crossed his long legs at the ankles. Sarai sat next to him, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.

“Do you think me so old that I cannot ride a camel across the desert, my son? It will be good for me to move about more. These bones get too stiff sitting all the time.”

Abram opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it again, clearly at a loss. Sarai glanced from one man to the other. Did Abram actually expect to talk their father out of something once his mind was made up? By the look in his eyes and the set to his jaw, their father had come to an immovable decision much quicker than she’d anticipated. How was that possible after so many years living in one place? She herself was still reeling from the enormity of what such a move would mean. And yet a little thrill passed through her. Was it true? Would she finally bear a son?

She would go to the ends of the earth with Abram if it meant she could finally keep her vow.

“You can’t possibly expect to travel alone, just the two of you. You will need provisions, servants, and your flocks. What would you eat without their milk and cheeses? You will need their wool to warm you. And Lot will join us, of course.”

Abram stiffened at their father’s announcement, then let out a long, slow breath. “Lot may see things differently, Father.”

A feeling of relief flooded her, and she scooted closer to Abram. As if he sensed her need of him, he put one arm around her and drew her to his chest. She liked Lot well enough, but she would almost be glad to leave Melah behind—a constant reminder of all she did not have.