Sarai (Jill Eileen Smith) by Jill Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

would further explain himself. But it would not be said in the intimacy of the dark at his side. He would not risk sharing her bed here. Any hope she had possessed of making a home, of resting at length in this place and re-creating what they’d had in Ur, was gone.
    Abram stepped around her to the guard’s side. “The woman is my sister and nursemaid to our father.”
    The guard lifted a brow even as his eyes roamed her features, what little he could discern from her disheveled, dusty, veiled appearance. She lowered her head, her submission to Abram an outward obedience, knowing it was what he expected to keep her safe. She should be grateful. He was only doing what was best for both of them. But her grip tightened around the leather reins in a vain attempt to curb her rising anger, to squelch the poisoned seeds of bitterness settling in her heart.

5
    Abram jabbed his walking stick onto the hard-packed earth of the overcrowded and confining streets of Harran’s marketplace. He passed a baker’s stall, his stomach rumbling with the mixed scents of yeast and cinnamon and honey, knowing that if he had any sense, he should take some to Sarai as a peace offering. He paused a moment to glance into the stall, but was in no mood to wait behind three cackling women with small children hanging onto their skirts.
    He hurried on. Children scampered out of his way, his stick making an added thwack to every step but doing little to release his mounting aggravation. How was he supposed to care for his father and obey his God at the same time if his father was too frail to continue on? Why hadn’t the man stayed behind with Nahor? Hadn’t Adonai told Abram to leave his father’s household?
    Guilt filled him. He came to an abrupt stop and lifted his gaze to the cloudy sky. Am I doing the wrong thing? He’d told the elders they planned to stay and live among the people for as long as it took until his father was well enough to travel. Their open acceptance should have warmed him, but mingled among the hospitality was a hint of greed, and Abram knew that these people would not accept his beliefs in Adonai Elohim. He almost told the truth about his marriage to Sarai, but decided they could live secretly as man and wife without the whole city having to know. She would remain his father’s daughter in their eyes. It was safer this way.
    He blinked against the sun as it spilled from behind a cloud. His heart calmed, listening for some response, some relief from the guilt he now bore, but it found none. When he looked again at his surroundings, he recognized the house where they were staying, the place that had already become too familiar. Sarai stood in the courtyard talking over the brick wall with a neighbor, her friendly demeanor and beautiful smile dispelling his foul mood. At his approach, she turned, her smile fading behind a careful mask. She dipped her head, then walked swiftly toward him and kissed his cheek.
    “Brother,” she said, her voice void of emotion, her mood obviously unchanged. “I trust your day was productive.”
    He looked down at her, his heart constricting. Despite the head covering, her thin veil revealed a full mouth and dark blue eyes full of longing. He stifled a groan and turned her toward the house, his hand at the small of her back, gently urging her forward. “How is Father?” He glanced at the neighbor and nodded his greeting. The woman’s sharp eye worried him. The last thing he needed was a meddlesome gossip living beside them. Perhaps he could find a house closer to the city wall, a larger home, further from nosy neighbors.
    “He seems better since we have settled, though I fear he is still too weak to travel, my lord.” She turned to face him the moment he closed the door. “What did the elders say?”
    He placed a finger over her mouth to still her questions, then took her hand and tugged her toward his private quarters, shutting the door behind them. He closed the shutters over the