Sarai (Jill Eileen Smith) (44 page)

Sodom was surely far behind them by now, Melah suspected as Zoar grew closer, sitting at the crest of a low hill up ahead. Kammani and Ku-aya had already reached the ridge encircling the city and suddenly slipped from view. Panic filled her, but she told herself to calm down. Lot was somewhere still behind her. But as she strained to listen, she could no longer hear his heavy breaths. Fear rushed over and through her as a loud roar from the heavens drowned out all other sounds. Sweat beaded her brow and trickled down her back, and her heart beat wildly from the exertion.

Was Lot still behind her? What if he somehow got caught up in whatever was making that awful noise?

Don’t look back.

“Lot?” She called his name, keeping her face forward, but the sound of her voice was extinguished in the thunderous roar coming behind her.

Sarah turned toward a sound in the distance and walked closer to the edge of the hill, standing at the tree line overshadowed by a towering oak. Thunder boomed, an angry storm, yet the leaves barely rustled overhead. Fear fluttered near her heart. Abraham had told her what God had said about Sodom’s coming destruction, but she had held out hope that He would find ten righteous people there to save the city.

Clouds congealed over the plain, the darkness blocking the dawn, hovering as though waiting to act. Had God found no way to save them? What of Lot and Melah and their daughters? Why had they ever chosen to live in such a vile place?

In an instant the pointing finger turned on her, and she realized with stark clarity that she and Melah were not so very different. If not for Abraham’s faith in Adonai, if not for his strength of character and unwillingness to always give in to what others wanted—even her—they could be in Lot’s situation. If Abraham had been as weak as Lot, she could be standing in Melah’s sandals.

The clouds darkened further to billowing smoke, and in an instant, fire fell from heaven like a thousand lightning strikes all pointed to one spot. Horror filled her at the sight of Sodom’s shining city snuffed out and turned to smoldering ash before her. She closed her eyes, but she could not shut the image from her thoughts. All of those people destroyed! Fear swelled in her middle, and she opened her eyes again, shading them with a hand from the bright flashes, knowing deep within her that she was no better than they. In truth, she had been controlling, fearing, despairing, never truly trusting.

Oh, Adonai, why have I not believed?

She turned to face the altar again, unable to watch the fire and yellow smoke raining down on Sodom and Gomorrah and the lush beauty of the Jordan plains.

Don’t look back, beloved. Trust and believe.

The words came softly in her ear, like the touch of a father’s gentle hand. Emotion clogged Sarah’s throat, and she fell to her knees, her heart yearning, seeking, surrendering.

I will stop looking back, Adonai. I want to believe. Please help me to believe.

Don’t look back!

Melah heard the command in her head and forced one foot ahead of the other. Still no sign of the girls, but if she called to them, they would be forced to look back, exactly what they’d been told not to do.

“Lot!” Yet she could still barely hear her own voice above the roar. His heavy breathing was no longer close. He’d grown lazy and carried too much bulk these past few years. What if his heart had died within him as he ran? He could be lying on the road behind her.

The deafening roar blotted out all thought, making her head throb harder with every step. She couldn’t do this. Yet the ridge was just ahead.
Lot!
She must know, must see what was happening to her home, to her husband.

Don’t look back!

Perhaps it was just a suggestion. One little glimpse should not matter. Most rules were not meant to be kept explicitly, were they? She stopped, waiting, listening. If Lot touched her, she would know all was well with him.

She waited, counting her heartbeats. But his touch did not come, and the smell of sulfur overpowered each breath, choking her.

Just one look.

She glanced quickly behind her, glimpsing Lot’s face before it disappeared and blackness enveloped her.

Lot looked in horror at Melah’s back, seeing her as if time had slowed, noting every movement from her head to her shoulder to . . . The rest of her body had not had time to finish the turn when their gazes connected, and she transformed from the Melah he loved into an unmoving pillar.

“No!” He raced forward, throwing his arms around the pillar, feeling only the gritty sense of salt beneath his touch. “Melah, no, no, no!”

He fell to his knees at the base of what had once been her body and rocked with the force of the clamor in the distance behind him. Tears streamed down his face, not just for his wife, but for the choices that had led him here. If only . . . There were so many things he could have done differently, done better.

Oh, God, what will I do without her?

Don’t look back
.

The angel’s words rang in his ears, for he knew without a doubt they could not have been mere men. Why hadn’t he been stronger, taught his wife and daughters and sons-in-law the truth? Why had he kept silent when the city grew so corrupt? Why had he stayed?

He stumbled forward, weeping the rest of the way up the ridge, knowing that while Melah did not listen and looked back, he could not afford to do so.

Tears streamed unhindered down Sarah’s cheeks, but she made no attempt to wipe them away. She spotted Abraham near the place where the land sloped toward the valley and walked toward him, her heart full. She slipped her hand in his as they both surveyed the destruction of Sodom.

“Do you think Lot and Melah are safe, my lord?” She leaned into his strength, grateful all over again for the faith of this man. The faith that had saved them from Sodom’s fall and so much more.

“Adonai promised to save the righteous. He would not force them against their will.” He looked at her then. “I hope so, beloved. But I do not know.”

She nodded, the heaviness settling over them. She recalled the frustration she’d felt toward Melah’s misguided faith, but in that moment all she could feel for her niece was deep concern. She loved Melah. She did. Despite everything. “I hope so too, my lord.”

Abraham released her hand and pulled her to him. She rested her head against his chest, feeling his breath. “The smoke is like smoke from a great furnace.”

She nodded, overcome with sadness. “So much beauty gone. The plains were so well watered, so green with life.”

He sighed, and she knew his own grief went too deep for words. There was nothing to be said. Adonai had revealed Sodom’s sin to Abraham, sins of pride and arrogance, of gluttony and selfish ease, of neglecting the poor and needy, leading its people to commit detestable acts of immorality and violence.

“Let’s go home,” he said, turning her away from the sight. They would long remember Sodom’s destruction, but they did not need to glory in it. Better to remember their own sins and keep faith with Adonai.

The thought brought a smile to her lips as Abraham’s hand slipped into hers and they walked side by side past the altar, back toward the camp. Adonai had promised her a son by this time next year. Joy filled her. This time, at last, she would believe Him.

37

O
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EAR
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Abraham stood in the center of his tent, the side flaps opened to allow the members of the camp to gather near and watch this momentous occasion. His son, Sarah’s son, rested in Eliezer’s arms, balanced on his knees, while Sarah and Lila stood close by to watch. The miracle still amazed him, that Sarah should bear him a son in his old age. Who would have thought? Yet God had promised.

He picked up a flint knife from a low table to his right, his gaze sweeping the crowd before coming to rest again on his wife and son. The child squirmed in Eliezer’s lap, and Abraham could not stifle a soft chuckle that the boy had already brought them so much joy. And now their joy would be complete as he made his son of promise a son of the covenant as well.