Sarai

by Jill Eileen Smith

  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.

  What was taking them so long? The child still cried, making Abram groan within. He should know better than to worry. Didn’t all babies cry at birth? He’d heard plenty of them in the camp over the years, Eliezer’s own children being no exception.

  A servant brought him a cup of goat’s milk, and this time he did not refuse. Moments later, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood.

  Sarai emerged from the tent, carrying a wrapped bundle. She approached him and met his gaze. “You have a son, my lord.”

  She offered the babe to him to bless on his knee. He sat again and accepted the child from her arms, but he did not miss the mixture of awe and longing in her dark blue eyes. He held her gaze, wishing the child was hers, yet glad he had not had to endure such cries of anguish coming from this beloved wife. Could he bear such a thing? Yet as he looked into the face of his son, he knew he would want her to experience the same joy, the same love he felt swell from deep within him.

  “Ishmael,” he said, placing the babe across his knees and holding him steady.

  Sarai lifted the blanket to reveal the babe’s fingers. “He is perfectly whole, my lord,” she said, covering them again. “We must keep him warm.”

  Abram nodded, wondering how she knew such things but accepting her appraisal that all was well. He turned his face to gaze down on the child again. “May Adonai bless you mightily, my son. May you live long on the earth and father many sons to follow after you. And may Adonai give you peace.”

  He looked up at the crowd that had been waiting with him in the circle of the campfire. “My son!” He lifted the boy in his arms and stood. “His name is Ishmael!”

  Cheers erupted, causing Ishmael’s cries to begin again. He lowered Ishmael and held him against
his chest. “Perhaps he needs his mother.” He looked at Sarai, reading the pain in her gaze as he handed the boy back to her. “Take him to Hagar.”

  She accepted the boy and turned to go.

  “Sarai.” He stepped beside her and touched her shoulder. “It is time you came to my tent again.”

  She met his gaze, then swiftly looked beyond him. “As you wish, my lord.”

  He could tell by her reticence that his request was long overdue. He must speak with her, comfort her, and reassure her of his great love for her. Perhaps then she would see the babe as the blessing he was.

  He told himself that things would be well now that the babe was safely born. But Sarai’s proud posture as she walked with the boy back to the birthing tent told him life with two women in the same household would not be easy. Trouble lay ahead—he could sense it.

  Sarai entered Abram’s tent as dusk descended over the camp. She had left Ishmael with Hagar and one of the Egyptian servant girls, wanting to do nothing more than fall onto her own pallet and sleep. The birth had exhausted her, and she wondered not for the first time how hard it would be to suffer such anguish. Yet for the joy of a man child, she would go through it. She would die if only to glimpse her own child’s face and kiss his downy head. The thought left a lump in her throat. It was not meant to be.

  Abram stood at her approach, his arm extended toward her. Sudden shyness crept over her despite her exhaustion. She had not slept in his arms since before Hagar’s disappearance over five months before. Why had he called for her now? Had he somehow felt that Hagar would run off again if he showed his favor to Sarai? It made no sense, but she had learned long ago that he was past figuring out.

  “Come in, Sarai.” He stepped closer, and she placed her hand in his.

  The strength of his arms as they came around her brought tears to her eyes. How long had it been since he had held her close? When he rubbed her back and did not release her, she could not hold back the emotions that she’d held in check throughout the birth.

  “It’s all right, dear one. I’m sorry I have stayed so long away from you.” His whispered words held gentleness, and when he held her at arm’s length, he brushed away the remnant of her tears with his thumbs. “Please do not fret or worry over Ishmael’s birth. Hagar gave him birth, but you will be his true mother. You will always be the only woman for me, Sarai.” He bent to place a soft kiss on her lips, and she knew he tasted her tears.

  “I only wish it had been I who had given you such a gift, my lord.” She sniffed back her emotion and blinked hard, willing it away. “You have reason to be proud today.”

  Abram nodded and touched her cheek. “There was a time I thought any man could father a son. Now I know what a gift it truly is.” His gaze would not release hers, until she glanced away.

  “Not every woman can bear such a one. Adonai has chosen a foreigner, while me He has set aside. I am too old for such pleasure now.” She took a step back and turned away from him toward his sitting area. She bent to finger one of the cushions. “The fabric is wearing thin on these. You should have told me. I would have stitched them long ago.”

  Did he think she accused him of neglect? But she did not care anymore. He had his promised son and a woman to raise him. She was nothing more than a wife to him now. A useless wife at that.

  “I do not notice such things.” He came up behind her and touched her shoulder. “Another reason I was a fool to keep your touch from this place. Forgive me, Sarai?”

  His declaration startled and pleased her. She turned slowly and searched his gaze.

  “I thank you for giving your maid into my arms, for allowing her to give us a son.” He placed both hands on her shoulders. “But you are my wife. My only wife. And I love you.”

  She allowed a smile and reached to kiss him. “You are all I have.”

  He took her hands in his and pulled her close, then wrapped her in his arms and kissed her as he used to in the early days before babies and barrenness constantly occupied her thoughts, back when she was young and in love with this handsome prince, certain she held the power to give him anything.

  “Come sup with me, Sarai. Taste the fruit of the vine, and share in my love.” His words were like a sweet caress, and she allowed him to lead her to his plush cushions, accepting the wine he poured from his own hand. “This is a night to celebrate and remember,” he said, sinking down beside her, cradling a silver chalice between his fingers. He sipped the wine and smiled.

  She returned his smile, wishing she could share his joy, wishing she could tell him all the things that still lay like a troubling wound deep within her soul. But he would never understand, and bringing up her jealousies and insecurities now would only dampen his jubilant mood. No. Better to wait until another time when their old friendship had been fully restored, when the babe was not such a fresh reminder of her failures.

  She sipped the wine and laughed at something he said, praying to the Unseen One that He might yet look with favor on her, and if not give her a child, then at least grant her peace.

  Part

  4

  When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the Lord appeared to him and said, “I am God Almighty; walk before me and be blameless. I will confirm my covenant between me and you and will greatly increase your numbers.”

  Genesis 17:1–2

  “As for Sarai your wife, you are no longer to call her Sarai; her name will be Sarah. I will bless her and will surely give you a son by her. I will bless her so that she will be the mother of nations; kings of peoples will come from her.”

  Abraham fell facedown; he laughed and said to himself, “Will a son be born to a man a hundred years old? Will Sarah bear a child at the age of ninety?” And Abraham said to God, “If only Ishmael might live under your blessing!”

  Then God said, “Yes, but your wife Sarah will bear you a son, and you will call him Isaac.”

  Genesis 17:15–19

  33

  Thirteen Years Later

  Sarai fingered the topaz pendant Abram had purchased from visiting merchants, then fastened it to a chain about her neck. Matching topaz earrings dangled from each ear, and her maid had taken care to weave rose-petal pearls into her dark, silver-streaked hair. The ornaments reflected the changes age had brought, and when Sarai examined the effect in her silver mirror, she could not help but smile. Hagar might have her youthful vigor, but even at almost ninety years of age, Sarai’s beauty remained.

  She placed the mirror on a low table and smoothed the soft fabric of her blue and green robe, forcing her tense muscles to relax. It did no good to think of Hagar in that way. She was not a rival for Abram’s affections. Not really. No, it was the boy Sarai competed with. The boy who was supposed to be hers. But the feelings of motherhood had never managed to surface, and Ishmael had bonded too well with his Egyptian mother.

  She moved past the sitting room of her spacious tent and nodded to a maid who was busy cleaning and straightening from Abram’s visit the night before. That he came to her often just to talk brought some small comfort. They’d grown accustomed to life in these hills. If only Abram could talk of something other than Ishmael.

  The voices of the women drifted to her, and she left her tent, head held high. Today she would join Abram as he greeted merchants coming from Mesopotamia, and she hoped to view their wares as well as hear news of Abram’s brother and family. It had been so long. Was Milcah still living? Even Melah, though she lived much closer, had not been to visit them in years. Time kept marching on, whether Sarai wanted it to or not.

  She spotted Abram standing near the central fire speaking with Eliezer while Ishmael stood nearby. The boy wore the headdress of a grown man now, though at thirteen he still carried the gangly limbs of youth. A handsome boy, he bore a striking resemblance to his mother and carried the same proud tilt to his jaw. The realization prickled, and Sarai felt her muscles tensing again. She rolled her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. If she had her way, Ishmael would not be joining th
em today.

  She marched with determined steps across the compound and stopped within a handbreadth of Abram, waiting for him to finish his conversation. At last he turned to her, but before she could speak, Ishmael came up beside his father.

  “Can I go on ahead with Eliezer, Father?” He averted his gaze from Sarai as though her presence was of no consequence. “I can help with the camels.” The boy did have a way with the beasts, which had gained him respect even among his elders. But his avoidance of Sarai, his adoptive mother, irritated her all the more.

  “Perhaps the boy’s skills would be put to better use following one of the herds today. They can always use an extra hand, and the practice would do him good.” Sarai hid a smirk at the scowl Ishmael sent her way. It was time he learned some respect, and Abram seemed at a loss for how to teach him. And Hagar did nothing but indulge him. He was wild and unruly, and Sarai had grown weary of Abram’s doting on him.

  Abram looked from Ishmael to Sarai and back again, his brows knit in disapproval and indecision.

  “Please, Father. I run with the herds and flocks nearly every day. How often does a caravan come this way? And all the way from Mesopotamia! I could learn much, Father.” The boy placed a hand on Abram’s arm, and Sarai knew the battle was lost. To fight against Abram’s son would be to put herself in a position where she could be shamed before the boy. Something she was not willing to do.

  “It was only a suggestion, my lord. If Ishmael can be of use to you with the camels, then by all means, do as you wish.” She flicked a piece of lint from her sleeve and lifted her chin, making sure Ishmael knew by her look that his father still had her ear. She knew what wars were worth winning, and this was not one of them.

  Abram met her gaze, his look telling her he knew she meant more than she had said. He turned to Ishmael and put an arm around the boy. “Very well, my son. Run along and catch up with Eliezer. But mind you, stay close and listen to everything he says. Only help where you are needed. It is better to listen in silence and learn.”