Sarai (Jill Eileen Smith) by Jill Smith

windows, and the heat quickly rose in the stifling room.
    “I trust you do not say much to our inquisitive neighbor?”
    Sarai removed her veil, shaking the combs from her hair. “Of course not. I asked her for a recipe for lamb curry. I smelled it cooking in her courtyard the other day and she let me taste it. I wanted to make it for you.” She stepped closer and placed a hand on his chest, her soft fingers making his blood pump hot and fierce.
    He released his grip on the walking stick and took her into his arms. She leaned into him, and he bent his head until his lips claimed hers. Her lips were honey and cinnamon, her love filling the longing ache in his heart.
    “I’ve missed you,” he whispered against her hair, pulling her down beside him on his bed. “But the time for secrecy has not passed.” His kiss silenced her response.
    She rested against his chest, her even breathing a greater comfort than he could have thought possible. How had he denied her so long? And yet even amid the question, the fear of losing her returned.
    “You did not tell the elders the truth about us, did you?” She rolled onto her side and rose up on one elbow, piercing him with those dark, seductive eyes.
    He shook his head, feeling as though he had somehow failed her.
    “What happens if Adonai sends His promised seed and produces this long-awaited child in me? What will they think of us then, my lord? We cannot live a lie forever.”
    “We should not live a lie at all.” But what else was he to do? “I don’t plan for us to stay here that long.”
    “So we are leaving then?” She sat up, her long, dark hair falling far beneath her shoulders, its thick tresses framing her beautiful face. Her expression clouded. “We cannot force Father to continue.”
    “He should have stayed in Ur.” Silence followed Abram’s comment. “I could send for Nahor to come and get him, to take him home to Ur.”
    “I cannot leave him with Milcah. She never cared for him as I do. He would die too soon, and I would never know it.” She glanced beyond him, her eyes filming, and his heart ached with her pain.
    He drew her into his arms again, his sigh palpable. “Of course not.” He rubbed her back, enjoying the feel of her head against his heart. “When the promised seed grows within you, I will tell the elders the truth. Until then, we will keep our love quiet between us.”
    She placed a hand over her middle, her own sigh deep yet quiet, as though willing the promise to come this moment yet certain it wouldn’t. Surely it was possible . . . surely soon.
    But when she rose to dress and looked down at him still resting among the cushions, he wondered whether El Echad would bless them now amid the lie they were living.

    Sarai waited in the courtyard outside of Lot’s home for Melah to fasten the clasp of her robe while her servant tied the leather sandals to her feet. Lila stood in the street just beyond the gate with Sarai’s two ever-watchful male slaves. Lot’s voice came from inside the house, his tone angry, but his words were indistinguishable. She looked toward the wooden door at the sound of footsteps and moved to the side as he burst into the courtyard with barely a glance at his wife. He nodded toward Sarai, stopping abruptly.
    “I did not see you there, Aunt.” He smoothed his hands along the sides of his robe as though suddenly uncertain what to do or how to act. “Is there something you need?”
    She shook her head, her gaze skipping to Melah’s, catching the soft glint of tears on her lashes. Had they fought? But of course they had. She looked back at Lot, clearing her throat. “I came to accompany Melah to market. The Akitu Festival is next week, and I thought to purchase some spices and games for the children so we might have a quiet celebration in its stead.” Abram would never allow them to participate in the worship of foreign gods, but planning an alternative seemed like a good way to keep her father distracted