Sarai by Smith Jill Eileen

Author:Smith, Jill Eileen [Smith, Jill Eileen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Sarah (Biblical matriarch)—Fiction, Women in the Bible—Fiction, FIC027050, Bible. O.T.—History of Biblical events—Fiction, FIC042030, FIC042040
Publisher: Baker Book Group
Published: 2012-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

Lot savored the fermented juice, then replaced the cap on the flask and let it hang from his belt. His tension eased only slightly as he took in the view of the lush Jordan Valley. Melah’s comments of a few weeks before had taken root, and he could not shake the desire to move away from his uncle completely and live among the plains.

He ran a hand over his face, turning at the crunch of stones. “Thank you for coming, Uncle.” He greeted Abram with a kiss to each cheek. He waved a hand toward the valley below. “Is it not beautiful?”

“Yes, Nephew, it is.” He touched Lot’s shoulder. “But beauty is not always a sign of good. The people of the plains—I have heard rumors.”

Lot turned to face Abram. “Rumors mean nothing unless they are true. I have heard there is much good in the cities—culture, art, music, and much more.” He ran a hand over his beard, choosing his words. “I am thinking of taking Melah for a visit.”

Abram gave him a curious look as he glanced toward the plains once more. “Is Melah asking for such a thing?” He moved to the tree line and settled among the lush grass. The sun hung low in the west, the colors behind them casting an orange glow over the shaded cliff.

“She has mentioned it once or twice.” Though in truth, it was the memory of her words and the silent pleading looks he had endured ever since that made the desire become his own. “But I agree with her.” He settled beside his uncle, fingering the flask but ignoring the desire for more.

“If you have already decided, my son, then why did you call me here? You are not asking my advice, and you do not need my permission.” Abram’s expression held concern, his dark gaze unwavering.

Lot looked away, heat filling his face, whether from shame or anger he could not tell. “I thought . . . that is, you are the head of our households. I thought you should know.” He lifted his chin in a show of confidence he did not feel and met his uncle’s gaze. “You have no objection then?”

Abram stroked his beard, looking toward the darkening valley. “I do not think it wise. I think you will open yourself up to temptation you do not need and danger you need not fear. Has Egypt taught you nothing?”

The reprimand felt like a slap to the face, and Lot squirmed, pressing both hands to his knees. “Egypt made me wealthy. Egypt taught me that Adonai is indeed powerful. But Sodom is not Egypt. They do not steal men’s wives, especially pregnant ones.” He cringed at his petulant tone, hating the shadow he had caused to pass through Abram’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Uncle. I didn’t mean—”

Abram held up a hand. “Nothing to be sorry for, my son. I only hope you fear the right things.” He stood then, leaning heavily on his walking stick. The years since Egypt had aged him, and Lot wondered at the foolishness of clinging to promises at Abram’s age.

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