Sarai (Jill Eileen Smith) (36 page)

He stirred as she approached. “Sarai? What are you doing here—and in this heat?”

She drew in a breath and released it, wishing she’d thought to bring a skin of water. She touched a hand to her forehead, feeling the dampness, then lowered herself to Abram’s side. She swallowed.

“Have you come all this way alone? Where are your servants and your water skin? Is something wrong? Is it the babe?” He rose, sat upright, and untied the goatskin at his side, offering it to her. “Drink and then tell me everything.”

She obeyed, though his instant concern for the child made her anger rise another notch. “The babe is fine,” she said after several deep swallows of water. “It is the mother you should be concerned with.”

She searched his face, watching his silver brows draw together. His strong jaw stiffened, and his dark eyes held an expression of confusion. “Explain yourself, Sarai.”

She rested a hand over the opening in the skin, then clamped it over the neck. “The Egyptian thinks she will be held in honor after her son is born. She sees the way you strut about, proud of your parenthood. She thinks to usurp my authority and my place.” She strengthened her grip on the skin to still the sudden trembling of her limbs. She should never have given Hagar into Abram’s arms, and he should not have accepted the gift! “May the wrong done to me be on you! I gave my servant to your embrace, and when she saw that she had conceived, she looked on me with contempt. May Adonai judge between you and me!” She held his gaze, daring him to contradict her but silently begging him to intervene, to do something to make Hagar remember who she was.

Abram stroked a hand over his beard, once dark, now woven in shades of gray. He studied her, but she did not falter, her anger never abating, even beneath the concern in his eyes. A sigh lifted his chest, and he glanced beyond her, then held her gaze once more. “Your servant is in your power. Do to her as you please.”

She startled, not expecting such a quick decision, and yet it was not a decision at all. “You will not speak to her?” She was his concubine. Yet no. In that one statement he had returned Hagar to Sarai’s possession.

“She is yours to deal with.” He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes, the discussion at an end.

“Promise me you will not call her to your bed again.” If Abram would not touch her, Hagar would truly be Sarai’s servant alone.

“I will not bed her again.” Weariness held his tone, and she knew she could not press him further. He had given her what she asked. It was up to her now to make Hagar see that she was not so honorable after all. Her son would be Abram’s heir, but only if Sarai agreed to adopt him as hers. Hagar would remain as she had always been. A slave. Not a wife.

“Thank you, my lord.” She took another drink, then rose to return to camp.

“Stay until the sun moves from its high point.” Abram opened one arm, silently bidding her to rest against his chest. “I will have a servant return with you then.”

She lowered herself back to the earth and searched for a comfortable position beside him. Her racing heart slowed its pace as it kept time with Abram’s breathing. His arm came around her, and she tried to relax, but all she could think about was returning to camp and giving Hagar a severe tongue-lashing. Then they would see just how arrogant the girl would remain.

30

Hagar rose from her pallet, the afternoon shadows along her Egyptian linen tent telling her that she had slept far later than she planned. She had retired to rest after returning to the weaver’s tent to find Sarai gone. Lila had agreed that the heat was too great to continue to work, and since Sarai had undoubtedly done the same, sleep seemed a good choice.

But the babe had made her stay abed too long. She blinked twice and rubbed her eyes, careful not to smudge the kohl, then rose to a sitting position. A flutter in her middle made her pause. She placed a hand over the spot, but the feeling did not return. Had the babe moved? Three moons had passed since she had told Abram her news. Surely soon. She lay down again, willing the feeling to return, barely daring to breathe. Such confirmation would be a balm and a relief to the inadequate sense she carried with her every step in Sarai’s presence.

She waited, counting the rise and fall of her chest. There. Another flutter. And another. With gentle fingers she slid her hand over the spot again and felt her heart give a little kick when the movement came once more. Were these the first signs of her baby’s life? Tears pricked her eyes. Her babe. Hers and Abram’s. And someday the camp would realize the truth. She would see to it.

The flutters fell silent after a time, and Hagar rose slowly, a sense of satisfaction settling deep within. She donned her robe and cinched the belt, though not too tight, and stepped into the cooler warmth of the afternoon light.

“Just how long did you think it appropriate to rest, Hagar? A servant should be about her master’s work, and you have grown sorely lax in yours of late.” Sarai stood in the path, a long, thin branch from a willow tree flexing in her hand.

Hagar blinked, startled at the sight. “I . . . I don’t know what you mean, my lady. I took a rest at midday, as we all do—”

“The rest of us have been up for hours. Preparations for the evening meal began long ago. I should whip you for your tardiness.” A gleam in Sarai’s deep blue eyes told Hagar that Sarai meant her words. But why? What had she done?

“If not for that babe you carry . . .” Sarai let the words drift off, her gaze never leaving Hagar’s. “Don’t think I’m unaware of your interest in my husband. Don’t think I don’t know that you seek to take my place.”

“No! I never—”

“Ha! You never what, Hagar? I heard you talking with your Egyptian friends, those maids who have served you since my husband took you to his bed. Well, no more. You will serve me as you ought. You will not sleep with my husband again, and your son, if it is indeed a son, will be mine, not yours. Do you understand?” Heat spilled from Sarai, her bearing pure anger.

Hagar took an involuntary step back while raising her hands in supplication. “I meant no harm, mistress. I merely did as you asked of me.” She could not believe Abram would allow his wife to treat her this way. She carried his child! The child he had longed for all his life. The child Sarai could not give him. What was wrong with her?

“You are an ungrateful, selfish wretch.” Sarai lifted the branch as though to strike.

Hagar covered her face and crouched lower. “Please, don’t hurt me! I felt your babe move today.” She waited but a moment, peeking through half-closed eyes.

Sarai let the branch fall to her side. When she said nothing more, Hagar slowly stood.

“I thought you should know. About the babe, I mean.” Her heart beat fast, and she couldn’t stop the sudden thickening in her throat. She could not cry. Not here. Yet she could not seem to help herself.

Sarai still did not move or speak, and Hagar lowered her gaze, emotions warring within her. Sarai wanted a servant? All right then. She would be the servant even her mother had thought her to be. The thought brought with it seeds of despair, and she covered her face with her hands, looking away to hide her tears.

“Don’t cry about it. So the babe moved. Good. At least that means it lives. Too many do not.” She moved the dirt in her path with the toe of her sandal. “Now go. Help grind the grain for the evening meal.”

Hagar turned to obey, glancing back to see if Sarai watched her. When the woman moved in the other direction, Hagar let out a breath and hurried away, desperate to get hold of her racing emotions. Had Sarai truly overheard her comments to her Egyptian friends? She had not meant to sound superior to Sarai, had she? But a check in her spirit told her that was not the whole truth.

She needed Abram to come to her aid, to intervene, to give her back her rightful place that Sarai had so quickly stripped from her. But as the evening waned and she saw Abram with Sarai, saw the way he no longer looked in her direction, she knew she had lost him. He had given in to Sarai’s complaints without notice or thought to her feelings. She was nothing to him. As she had always been.

Tears filled her eyes, and her stomach turned to stone. She put a hand to her mouth and ran toward the trees. Grief won as she found a spot among them, bent to the ground, and lost what little her stomach had left in it.

Sarai stood at the entrance to her tent a week later, her ears attuned to the sounds of the bustling camp. Abram had long since headed for the fields, and the servants had cleared away the remnants of the morning repast. She had ordered the Egyptian maids dispersed throughout the camp, far from where they could mingle and plot ways to side with Hagar. The less strength Hagar derived from the outsiders, the better.

She crossed both arms over her chest as the breeze fanned her face, her stomach a mass of tangled knots. Why had it come to this? She had liked Hagar when they’d met in the pharaoh’s palace nine years before. And choosing her to carry the son she could not bear had made perfect sense back when she had made her decision. Hadn’t Adonai given her this woman to be their second chance at having an heir? But oh, she had not realized, had not imagined how hard it would be to share Abram with another. And she had not expected Hagar to lift her chin in such arrogance against her.

She walked from the tent’s opening, her jaw clenched as tight as her fists. She spotted Hagar talking with Lila, her head bent as though sharing some secret. Anger surged through her at the sight, her loathing for the woman a tangible force. Her feet carried her like wings.

“What are you doing here, Hagar? My pallet needs airing and my pots need cleaning. Get to work.” She felt a twinge of triumph at the woman’s shocked expression, then turned to face Lila, dismissing Hagar without another look.

“Yes, mistress.” The brittle tone in Hagar’s voice made Sarai whirl about and strike Hagar’s cheek.

“You will address me with respect!” Her blood poured hot through her veins, and she could not slow her racing breath. How dare Hagar flaunt her sarcastic arrogance! Seething, Sarai took a step closer until Hagar cowered and slipped to her knees.

“Forgive me, my lady.” Hagar lifted a hand over her head as though to ward off a blow.

Sarai looked down at the woman, but even her subservient posture brought little satisfaction. “Get busy. And don’t let me catch you resting until every last chore is done.”

“Yes, mistress.” Hagar scooted backward, then rushed off before Sarai could say another word.

“She did not mean to offend you, Sarai.” Lila spoke softly at her side, and Sarai turned to face her again.

“Will you side with her too? Is there no one here who understands my plight, who sees the way she disdains me, the way she plots to take what is mine?” She searched Lila’s expression, reading a mixture of concern and pity in her gaze. “I gave her my husband, and she would take all I have. Has she taken you as well, Lila?” She hated the sudden hurt in her tone, wishing she could mask the pain.

Lila touched her arm and squeezed. “Never! You know you are like a mother to me, Sarai. Hagar could never take your place.”

Sarai’s heart twisted yet again at the word
mother
, knowing it was a kindness she did not deserve and an honor she would never truly know. She swallowed, longing to pull Lila close. “Do you care for Hagar?” She couldn’t bear to know, and yet somehow she must.