Authors: Roberta Kells Dorr
In the few moments left she stiffened her resolve to make the most of her situation. She knew what Abram longed for and what Sarai expected. Sarai undoubtedly intended to manage everything. I must learn to be patient, she thought. I must not alienate Sarai.
There was much raucous banter back and forth, and then she heard Abram’s voice. “You needn’t make so much of this,” he said with laughter in his voice. “I’m no young buck.” Hagar heard the sounds of the boisterous men fade away as they headed back to the fire. Abram did not immediately lift the tent flap, and she wondered if he was dreading the encounter. Well, she thought, this is my time and I will make the most of it.
Abram had let himself be drawn into this whole plan because Sarai wanted it so much. Now that he was actually facing his familiar quarters, knowing that a strange woman was inside, he wanted to turn away. To make matters even worse, she was a young woman, an Egyptian, and apparently just as headstrong as Sarai. Then again he remembered her as she had looked with her hair blowing around her, wearing the golden crown, and leading the maidens in a dance to welcome him home from fighting the Elamites. She would no doubt have expectations. Egyptian expectations. He suddenly felt very old and inadequate. How had he been talked into this?
It wasn’t just Sarai. It was also the Elohim. He had made promises, and Sarai was going to see that they were fulfilled one way or another.
Abram fingered the fringe on his cloak, looked back, and saw that the men had stopped to see if he was going into his tent. He knew it would be the subject of interest from now on. Surely this was nothing but foolishness. Elohim and Sarai were to blame. Why did everything have to be so difficult?
He lifted the tent flap and stepped inside. He was surprised to see the young woman sitting so demurely. There was almost a shyness about her. He had remembered her as rather brash and confident. Maybe she wasn’t as sure of herself as she had seemed. It gave him a feeling of confidence. It even made him interested.
He walked over to her and sat down. When she didn’t move or turn to look at him, he gained courage. He lifted her chin so he could look in her eyes. She made no move to push him away or rebuff him, and so he unfastened the edge of her veil and let it fall so he could see her face. It was an ordinary face, but the eyes were hypnotic. He looked at her mouth and then back to her eyes. Something about the eyes fascinated him. He had a fleeting thought that he must not let her cast a spell on him. She must know all sorts of Egyptian magic, and he was a man of simple tastes who didn’t want to be jarred out of his comfortable situation.
He realized that it would be easy to be aroused by her. He rather liked the soft, young curve of her cheek, and the hand that lay on her knee was slim and inviting.
He reached out and ran one finger around the place where her wrist was exposed. She didn’t move away but instead turned and looked at him with a slight smile. “My lord,” she said. Her voice was soft, even tantalizing, the way she said “my lord” with her Egyptian accent. “In Egypt such things as this take time. We must feel comfortable with each other.”
Abram studied her face for any sign of rejection. There was none. She seemed young and vulnerable. “How does an Egyptian go about feeling comfortable?”
He could see she was pleased with his question. She even turned toward him with an eager, expectant look. “It’s really very simple,” she said. “We must share our thoughts. We must get to know each other. We must talk.”
That made him feel a bit nervous. Sarai usually wanted to talk because she was displeased about something or she had something she wanted him to do.
What could this mysterious woman want? Men and women didn’t talk. They weren’t interested in the same things. What could she possibly have in mind? Abram was intrigued. He had never imagined a woman to be concerned about such things. “You must show me,” he said with a hint of a smile. “What questions do you have?”
“Well, for instance,” she said, “you are wealthy, but you live simply, why?”
Abram studied her face and saw that she was serious. She seemed interested. “I have been a trader and have lived in cities, but I find them not to my liking. Life is not simple in most cities. People become grasping, greedy, and often even evil when they are no longer close to God’s growing things.” He paused for a moment. “Do you like our way of life?”
Hagar looked down and toyed with the fringe on her skirt. “I miss some things,” she said, “but I’ve learned to like it better than living in the palace.”
“What do you like?”
“The silence, peace, time to do things, to really think.”
Abram was surprised. He was used to Sarai, who was always accusing him of thinking too much. “When one like you has time to think, what do you think about?” he asked.
“Mostly all the foolish, headstrong things I’ve done that have gotten me in trouble.”
Now Abram was really interested. “What, for instance?” he asked.
She told him of her life in the palace and answered many questions about her father, the great Pharaoh Amenemhet, until the wick had grown short in the alabaster lamp. The celebration around the fire had died down and finally stopped. Hagar looked around. “The hour is late,” she said. “I must go.”
Abram was perplexed. “But I thought …” he said.
“Oh, we must see more of each other. I will go to my tent now, but if you wish to see me tomorrow night, I’ll come.”
“And tomorrow night, what will we do?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“Getting a child is like planting a seed,” she said. “If it is to grow strong, the ground must be prepared. In Egypt, the Nile covers the land, laying down rich silt, then recedes. Only then does the farmer sow his seed … and it always grows.”
She stood up, adjusted her mantle, and with one quick movement moved to the opening in the tent and was gone.
Abram was too astonished to move. Of all the things he had anticipated, that was not one of them. As a man and tribal leader, he was the one who always dismissed people or called them to his tent. He had to admit that he found her entertaining. He wanted the encounter to last much longer and he felt cheated. For a brief period he mulled over her questions. How strange she was! How stimulating! He had not imagined that a woman ever thought of such things. As he pinched the flames out in the lamp, he smiled to himself and wondered what the next night would hold.
Early the next morning Sarai hurried to Abram’s tent, pulled back the flap, and tiptoed in. She stood looking down at him and pondered the oddness of it all. He was fully dressed and the Egyptian was gone. She frowned. Is it possible that things did not go well between them?
“Abram,” she said, holding the bowl of steaming groats under his nose. “Abram, where is the girl? What happened?” When he responded with only a sleepy groan, she pressed on. “Where is Hagar?”
Abram sat up and took the bowl from her, obviously enjoying her impatience. He took a sip and looked at her anxious face. “Nothing happened. I barely touched her wrist, no more.”
Sarai’s face clouded. “Then she is not pregnant. The child is not even conceived yet?”
“That’s right.”
“Does she have more demands?”
“No, no. She just says these things can’t be hurried,” he said, reaching out to her.
Sarai jerked away, her eyes flashing, her mantle twisted out of shape, and her mouth a hard line. “So,” she said, “what did the two of you do?”
“She just wanted to talk. She said we must get to know each other before we go about getting a child.”
“Oh, how hateful!” Sarai spat the words out. “First, she must have the bride’s tent, then Warda must be brought and a celebration planned, now she wants to drag this whole thing out for her own enjoyment. I won’t have it.” She strode around the tent, going back and forth like an angry panther.
“Now, now, Sarai,” Abram said. “I thought you would be glad that nothing really happened. All we did was talk.”
“Talk! What was there to talk about? To get a child doesn’t take talk.”
“Sarai,” Abram said patiently, “I don’t really know what to do. This isn’t something I planned. I’m doing it mainly for you.”
Sarai saw that he was sincere and so she came over and knelt beside him. “Abram,” she said with all the anger suddenly gone out of her voice, “promise me … promise me on your dead father’s name and beard that you will do your best to finish with this business tonight.”
Abram took her two small hands in his and looked in her eyes. “Sarai, we have no choice but to do what the Egyptian wants until we get the child. You wouldn’t want me to offend her, would you?”
Sarai agreed reluctantly. More than anything she wanted the child. “Of course, you must humor her. Just don’t let her manage things.” With that she turned and left the tent.
T
hat night, just as the moon was coming up, Abram sent one of the old women in the camp to bring Hagar to his tent. Before he heard footsteps he smelled the faint odor of patchouli and knew it was Hagar. He settled back, leaned casually on the armrest, and waited for the tent flap to be drawn. Suddenly she was standing in the opening, drenched in moonlight, and smiling as though she was pleased to be there. He rose slowly and took her hand. It was soft and small; the nails were clean and well-shaped. She studied his face, and Abram wondered what she was thinking.
When they were seated, he leaned toward her and asked, “So, my Nile beauty, what are we to do tonight?”
To his amusement she laughed. Her laughter was unaffected, but displayed a hint of nervousness. That put him at ease. He waited while she arranged her sash and straightened the fringe on her shoulder. “Tonight, again we must talk,” she said, tilting her head and looking at him sideways. “There are still many things we need to understand.”
“And when will we … ?” he paused, not knowing how to put such a delicate matter into words.
“Oh, that will come quite naturally at the right time.”
“And what is left to be talked about?” he said, displaying some impatience.
“My lord,” she said, “I want to know about the Elohim you worship. Sarai says you have never seen Him, and yet He has talked to you and made promises.”
He swung around quickly to face her. He expected to see some slight mockery in her eyes or a superior toss of her head. Instead he saw eager anticipation. He hesitated, and when he spoke, it was with restraint. “He is the Creator God,” he said, “the sustainer of all life.”
“No, no,” she said. “That is not what I am interested in. I want to know about the promises. Sarai said He had made promises.”
Abram was immediately disappointed. She was interested only in a
God who could promise wonderful things and bless those who worshiped Him. “He has made promises,” he said hesitantly, “but as yet I have received nothing.”
“Yet you don’t doubt?”
“No,” he said with an abruptness that was intended to close the subject.
She ignored his hint and asked, “You can’t see your God. How do you know He is there?” She leaned back and studied him intently.
“I feel His presence. He talks with me.”
For a moment she twisted the tassel of fringe on her mantle and then said slowly and thoughtfully, “Your God, is he a God for Egyptians or just for your people?”