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

silently thanking Nannar for the empty back alleys as she hurried home to find Lot and Abram.

    Sarai sat limp and cold, unable to get warm despite the summer heat. Abram paced the length of the sitting room, his brows drawn low, his scowl hiding the worry she knew he felt. The door to their father’s bedchamber opened, and a wiry, shriveled man emerged, the only physician not feasting and celebrating with the rest of the city.
    “How is he?” Abram stood a head taller than the physician and looked twice as fierce. Sarai placed a hand on his arm in comfort.
    “Very frail,” the man said, craning his neck to meet Abram’s gaze. “In truth, my lord, he hasn’t much time. By all the gods, it is surprising he still lives at all. How old did you say he is?”
    “A hundred twice and five years.”
    “Ah, that explains many things. By the look of him, I would have thought him a younger man.”
    “We are blessed to carry age well.” Abram appeared to at last notice Sarai’s hand on his arm and reached to tuck it closer, bringing her alongside him. “There is no hope for him then?”
    The man shook his head. “His breathing—very shallow. And his life pulse beats so slow I can count to three before I feel the next.” He adjusted the pouch holding his instruments and straightened his bent back, though it seemed to make little difference. “I will come again tomorrow, but you will be calling the mourners before I get here if my guess is right.” He moved past them before Abram said a word in response.
    Sarai looked at her husband, the shock she felt keenly evident in his dark eyes. “He seemed well this morning,” she whispered, again wondering what had happened during the parade to bring such a thing upon him. Only Melah could tell them, and she, for once, wasn’t talking.
    Abram nodded. “We should go to him.” He spoke to the room more than to her, and when he moved forward, he did not let go of her arm but coaxed her to follow.
    They entered the room, where dark stuffiness greeted them. “Is that man trying to make things better or worse?” She quickly crossed to the window and threw open the dark shutters to let in the afternoon light. Her father would be in the depths of Sheol soon enough; he didn’t need the darkness to take him there.
    When she turned back from her task, she found Abram kneeling at their father’s side, his large hand encasing Terah’s equally large but thinner, veined one. “Father, can you hear me?”
    She crept close, kneeling beside Abram, searching their father’s weathered face for some sign of movement. Not even his eyes fluttered, and when she looked at the thin sheet covering his chest, she saw no movement. Was he already gone? A lump settled in her throat, and she swallowed hard against the threat of tears. Not yet. Oh, please, not yet.
    As if he could read her thoughts, Terah’s lips moved. Sarai leaned close until her ear nearly touched his mouth. His chest barely lifted, his breath too shallow against her cheek.
    “Promise.” His voice faded, and Sarai struggled to understand his meaning.
    “Father, you must save your strength—”
    “Keep.”
    She lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were open now, his gaze firm, taking her in. But in a heartbeat they closed again, the moment of intensity gone.
    Abram’s hand moved to touch Terah’s throat, searching for the life pulse. He waited, bending low to listen for a breath. At last he leaned back and shook his head.
    Sarai stared at Terah’s face, waiting, watching to see if Abram’s assessment proved true. What had he meant? That she must keep her promise to Abram, the promise she had made to Terah when he agreed to the marriage? Or to trust El Echad’s promise to bring about what she could not? She stood, meeting Abram’s gaze, certain he had not heard their father’s final words.
    “He never gave you the blessing.” She wished Terah’s thoughts had been directed to his son rather than to her