Sarah: Women of Genesis: 1 (Women of Genesis (Forge)) Page 32

  “Do you claim that God tells you this?” demanded Abraham.

  “I didn’t need God to tell me this, because I saw with my eyes what is obvious to anyone with any wisdom. But you have blinded yourself, so you can’t see it. Look at how the scarf chafed against Isaac’s cheeks!”

  Abraham looked. Isaac’s face showed two bands of red.

  “He could hardly breathe,” said Sarah. “He could have suffocated. His neck could have been broken. And Ishmael had the gall to tell me he did this so that Isaac wouldn’t wake me. He’s a liar as well as a tormentor. That’s your precious firstborn. Well, Abraham, it’s not really your choice. Isaac will not dwell with Ishmael, nor I with Hagar. They will not inherit together—that is not possible, no matter how you delude yourself. One will inherit, or the other. They will share nothing. They will not grow up to be friends. They will grow up to be enemies. So if you choose to keep Hagar and her son here with you, then I will take Isaac somewhere else with me, and if you try to stop me, I will sneak away in the night. And don’t imagine that you can get your servants to stop me. They are not blind to the truth. They will help me save Isaac’s life.”

  “Save your threats,” said Abraham. “I can hear you without your having to bludgeon me.”

  “No, you can’t hear me, or we wouldn’t have reached this day.”

  “But we have reached it, haven’t we?” said Abraham. He turned from her and headed toward the tent door.

  Sarah ran toward him at once, ignoring the pain in her hips, though the bone ground painfully on bone with each bound. She blocked the door. “Where are you taking my son?”

  “I’m keeping him with me, of course,” said Abraham. “You just threatened to run away with him.”

  “So you’ll steal him from me? You, the one who sees no danger, will steal him from me, the one who would keep him alive? That makes you a murderer.”

  Abraham was even more horrified by Sarah’s words than she was. “You say this to me? After all these years together, you believe I could kill my own son?”

  “I believe you can blind yourself to the truth and leave him exposed so that others will kill him, yes.”

  “And you say this in front of the boy.”

  “What choice do I have, since you’re about to steal him from me. I gave you a choice. You merely take him. You who have two sons, when I have only one.”

  Grimly Abraham lowered Isaac to the ground. “Stay with your mother,” he said.

  Isaac, comforted at last, wandered toward the cushions that he loved to play on.

  “I will never forget the terrible things you said to me,” said Abraham.

  “Nor will I forget that you valued Ishmael more than Isaac, and Hagar more than me.”

  “Put it in words, Sarah. What would you have me do? Kill them because of a boyish prank that went too far?”

  “Send them away,” said Sarah. “I wanted to give Hagar her freedom years ago. Free her and send her away. Give her a tent and put herds and herdsmen under her control. Let her raise Ishmael in plenty, but give him his inheritance now, and make it plain that he will have no more at your hands. And you will never see him again, you will never visit them, or he’ll start to think himself the equal of Isaac, and seek to take what Isaac has out of his hands when you’re dead.”

  “You would cut off a son from his father, and a father from his son?”

  “You keep blaming me,” said Sarah. “But I’m not the one who gagged and tethered your son Isaac, and then mocked his screams of terror. I will see that sight in my nightmares for the rest of my life, if you don’t send them away. I did not cause this. And if you loved Isaac, you would see that I am the one who is wise, and you’re the one who lets love for one son kill another.”

  “If you ever say again, to me or anyone, that I would consent to the killing of my son, you will never see my face again, woman.”

  “Ah. I see. I have become nothing but some ‘woman’ to you. This is how you hear wise counsel. Abraham, the father of multitudes. You condemn me out of your own pride. You accuse me of malice yet refuse to believe in the malice of those who have actually shown it.” Sarah flung the wet, knotted scarf across his chest and shoulder. “Wear it with pride,” she said. “Your precious Ishmael made it for you.”

  Sarah stepped aside and opened the tent flap so he could leave.

  Abraham’s face was terrible with anger as he left the tent. Perversely, Sarah stood in the door and watched how the crowd looked at him. She knew how the story would be told. Whatever came of this, the tales would make Sarah look bad. So be it, as long as Isaac lived.

  Sarah stayed in her tent, playing with Isaac. And even though Isaac tried several more times to suckle, thinking perhaps that his mother would now relent, she remained firm with him. As firm as she had been with Abraham. What my child needs, I will do. And foolish is the father who thinks he can stop his wife from protecting their baby—even from him. God gave us this child by a miracle. But in a world where Cain slew Abel, how dimwitted did Abraham have to be to deny that God’s miracle could be undone because Abraham didn’t have the courage to hear his wife’s warning?

  As for the crowds at the feast, let them chatter among themselves. Eliezer would see to it that food continued to be served until it ran out, and then he would send them all home with the blessings of the household. This quarrel between Abraham and Sarah would be the talk of Hebron . . . for a day. Let them have their entertainment.

  An hour later, someone clapped outside her tent. Thinking it was a servant inquiring about her needs, she called out, “Please bring food for Isaac, but none for me.”

  She assumed that she was being obeyed when no one answered her. But then, a few moments later, someone clapped again.

  “What is it? Come in.”

  It was not a servant at all. It was Abraham.

  Wordlessly he came and sat down on the rug before her.

  If he expected her to speak first, perhaps with an apology, he would have a long, long wait.

  “I told someone to bring food for Isaac,” he finally said.

  “Thank you,” she answered.

  Isaac toddled over and began playing with his father’s beard.

  “I went to the Lord and complained about you,” Abraham said. “I asked him what I should do to get you to stop being so angry and fearful and suspicious and jealous.”

  She bit back the stinging reply that came to her lips. Instead she tried to turn it into a wry joke at her own expense. “You aren’t the first to utter such a prayer to one god or another.”

  “Yes, well, God hears our prayers,” said Abraham, “but he answers more wisely than we ask.”

  “What did God tell you?” asked Sarah.

  “He told me not to grieve because of Ishmael or Hagar. Because I should have hearkened to everything you told me. The Lord’s promise is to come through Isaac, and the only way that can happen is if Ishmael and Hagar leave us now and never come near us again.”

  All Sarah’s fear and anger disappeared in a rush of gratitude and relief. She put her face in her hands and wept. Isaac came to her at once and patted her arm and her ear. “Don’t cry, Mama,” he said. “It’s all right, Mama. You’ll feel better soon.”

  “He’s right,” said Abraham. “We’ll all feel better soon. The Lord promised that Ishmael will thrive. That because he is of my seed, he will also become a great nation. But the covenant is with Isaac. Isaac must remain with me and you. Just as you said. Everything as you said.”

  And then, to Sarah’s surprise, Abraham also wept.

  Isaac turned to his father, then looked back and forth between his parents. “Papa,” he said. “Mama was crying first.”

  “Yes, Abraham,” said Sarah. “You must wait your turn.”

  Abraham laughed through his tears and reached for his little son and held him close. “I wanted to hold both my sons to my heart all the days I have left to me,” said Abraham. “I wanted it too much, I refused to see that it could not happen
. That to hold them both would mean that, in the end, I would lose them both. I will not let my one son destroy his soul by harming my other son. I will send him away as much to save his life as to save Isaac’s.”

  “When will you do it?” asked Sarah.

  “In the morning,” said Abraham. “But now let’s dry our eyes and wash our faces and come out to celebrate with our friends and our household. Today my son was weaned from his mother’s breast, and now comes under the protection of his father.”

  He leaned forward to kiss her. She also leaned toward him, but her back could not take the strain, and she ended up having to catch herself on her hands and her forehead bumped his lips.

  “Ow,” he said. “You’ve lost your aim, old woman.”

  Laughing, they finally kissed.

  “Good!” cried Isaac, clapping his hands. “All better now!”

  They washed and dried their faces, then walked from the tent, each holding one of Isaac’s hands, bound together by the son between them. The feast continued, and even though Sarah knew perfectly well that everyone was gossiping madly behind their backs, and that Sarah would get the worst of it, she was at peace. When it was out of her power to protect her son, God had intervened and wakened Abraham from his complacency. That assured her more than if Abraham had simply agreed with her from the start. For this day’s events showed that God was truly watching over Isaac. He would continue even after Sarah died, and Abraham as well. Other mothers had to live with the dread that their children might die before them. But Sarah had no such fear now. God had shown his hand in her son’s life.

  In the morning, Sarah rose early. She refused to hide in her tent, pretending that what was happening today had nothing to do with her. The gossip would blame her for it no matter what she did, but she would show no shame. She would stand there openly and let it be seen that she knew that she was acting justly.

  Hagar made a terrible scene, hurling accusations at Sarah, saying that she lied, then that she exaggerated, then that Ishmael was innocent of malice, and finally that Isaac was such a brat that someone needed to teach him a lesson because his parents were too old and feeble to raise him properly. By the end, it was obvious that she had years of malice pent up in her heart, and if Abraham had still harbored doubts about this course of action, Hagar’s vituperation must have settled the last of them. This woman could never be allowed near Isaac again, nor could the son she had poisoned with her resentments.

  “I’m a man now,” Ishmael said to Abraham. “I don’t need you or anyone.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Abraham, “I will provide you with herds and servants.”

  “I’m good with a bow,” said Ishmael. “I’ll live by hunting. I don’t need so much as a lamb from you.”

  “You are my son,” said Abraham, “and I’ll provide for you.”

  “If I were your son,” said Ishmael, “you would not let that old woman poison your heart against me and send me away. What is that stupid baby to me? I would never bother to harm him.”

  And those words condemned him, too, as Hagar’s had condemned her, without Ishmael even understanding how much he had confessed by saying them.

  Abraham longed to embrace his son and reassure him, Sarah knew that, but Ishmael’s and Hagar’s rage had made that impossible. Instead he stood with his arm around Sarah, holding Isaac with his other hand, and watched silently as Ishmael and Hagar were mounted on sturdy donkeys for the journey.

  Eliezer and three trusted men rode with Hagar and Ishmael, leading pack animals that held a tent and supplies to last them for weeks. Once the new camp was established, far to the south, they would return and lead the herds and servants of Ishmael’s inheritance to join them.

  That was the plan.

  But by noon Eliezer was back. Sarah sat with Abraham in her tent door when he came to tell what happened. “They ran off,” he said. “Hagar kept saying that she knew my job was to kill them in their sleep, that you would never allow Ishmael to live. It didn’t matter how I denied it. When we stopped to rest in the heat of the day, she went to relieve herself and apparently she and Ishmael had planned something, because neither of them returned and by the time we realized it, we couldn’t find them in the rocks.”

  “That’s dry land,” said Abraham, “and Ishmael has never learned the wells in that part of the country.”

  “I know,” said Eliezer. “I came back to get help in searching for them. In that country we could come within ten paces of them and never know they were there. They could fall from a cliff and cry for help and we’d never hear them. And they could pass ten paces from a spring and never know it was there.”

  Abraham nodded.

  “How many men should I take with me?” asked Eliezer.

  “None,” said Abraham.

  “But they will surely die,” said Eliezer.

  “No they won’t,” said Abraham. “When Hagar ran off into the desert, before Ishmael was even born, the Lord sent an angel to look out for her. I have God’s promise that Ishmael will be the father of a great nation. I will trust God to take care of my son in the desert.”

  Eliezer loved Ishmael, and couldn’t help the tears that came to his eyes. “Father Abraham,” he said, “may I search by myself?”

  “Eliezer,” said Abraham, “this is what you will do. In all your wanderings on my behalf, you will someday hear rumors of where Hagar and her son are living. And you will go to them and take the herds that belong to them, and the tents and implements of their household. They will be kept separate from that which Isaac will inherit, and when the time comes, you will deliver into Ishmael’s hands all that we have kept in trust for him.”

  “And if I never find them?” asked Eliezer.

  “But you will,” said Abraham. “Because Ishmael is my son, and you are my true steward, and you will do for my son Ishmael all that I would do for him. Just as you will watch over my son Isaac and help him grow into a strong and good man who serves God, even if I die before he is grown, even if Sarah dies while he is young.”

  Eliezer bowed his head, and two tears dropped from his eyes onto the ground. “I will do all that you command, Father Abraham.”

  “I tell you, it is three sons I have had in my life, and not two,” said Abraham.

  Then he took Sarah into his embrace, while Isaac played with straw soldiers beside them.

  Chapter 24

  Sarah lived longer than she ever thought she would. She saw her baby Isaac turn into a boy, and then a stripling man with the first touch of beard upon his chin, and then put on the strength of a man, his arms more massive than Abraham’s had ever been, his legs sturdy as young tree trunks, and Sarah remembered then how her father had looked when he was still a young man, and she was his daughter in their house of exile in Ur-of-the-North. See how my father is alive in my son, how the blood of the kings of Ur-of-Sumeria is mingled with the blood of the Hebrews. The two men I loved most in my life, the two who taught me all that I know that is worth knowing, and my son shows me the body of my father and the face of my young husband.

  For Isaac’s face had become the face of the desert traveler who stood filthy in her father’s courtyard, for whom Sarah drew water so he could wash his feet. The young man who had come to entreat for Qira to marry Lot, and who ended up promising to marry Qira’s little sister, a child promised to the goddess, without even asking her if she wanted him to come back for her.

  That was the man that Isaac had become, a quiet man, who studied all that Abraham had to teach him out of books, and learned from Abraham’s wisdom all there was to know about the care of animals and the leadership of a great house. There was no task so heavy that Isaac could not do it, once he set his back to it; no idea so difficult that Isaac could not grasp it, once he set his mind to it. From the body of an old woman like me came a man like this, Sarah thought in wonder. And from the loins of that old man, Abraham. And she laughed again to think of it, just as she had laughed when the holy men came to tell Abraham that he and Sa
rah would yet have the child of promise.

  If God himself had a son, thought Sarah, surely he would be like Isaac.

  “Why are you laughing, old woman?” said Abraham.

  “Why do you begrudge me, old man?” said Sarah.

  “I keep checking, to see if you’ve gone dotty on me,” said Abraham. “There are signs, you know.”

  “The first sign is that you keep checking for signs of dotage in other people,” said Sarah.

  “Ah, that’s what I’ve always loved about you, the way you show such unfailing respect for your masterful husband.”

  “Everyone says so,” said Sarah. “It’s my best remaining quality. Now that my breasts hang like empty sacks.”

  “Your breasts were never your best quality,” said Abraham.