Andrew stood for a long moment, surveying the house before him. It was not in his tastes. Then again, neither were any of the others around him. He missed the familiarity of their house by the Praetorium, the stark beauty of Jerusalem’s hillsides. And yet he was glad they were here. They had returned to their home for a few days before setting sail, and it had been so. . . empty. The general had made sure everything there remained safe and secured, but it was still not the same. There was no laughter there anymore, no smiles, no wisdom. Instead, there was only that aching hole that Cleopas had left. The concern for Abigail. The stale smell of dried tears and hopelessness.
Things had improved over the months. He would never argue with that. Ester’s recovery was almost full; there was still a shadow of sorrow in her eyes, and he suspected that would never abate entirely. But there was a light there, too. He was glad they had stumbled across the gathering of the disciples, that they had heard the one called Peter teach the crowds; so many of their questions were answered, and with the answers came the peace Ester had been searching for. Three thousand others had believed with them that day. The very thought brought a smile to Andrew’s lips. The temple leaders had tried to quiet them, had forbidden the name of Jesus to be spoken, but it was no use. The word spread like wildfire, and churches were springing up all over Judea.
They were not in Judea anymore. With a sigh, Andrew took the last few steps to the imposing door of the edifice and knocked. Seconds later the door opened, and a slave stood before him, impassivity written on his face.
Andrew decided at first glace that he did not like the man. But he smiled anyway. “Greetings, my friend. I am Andrew, in service to Ester Visibullis. Is this the Asinius house?”
The servant’s chin rose a notch, and displeasure entered his eyes. “It is.”
Andrew nodded, refusing to read anything into the man’s demeanor. “Is Abigail Visibullis still here? My mistress has arrived in Rome to rejoin her daughter.”
The man opened his mouth, but before he could make reply, a more familiar voice met Andrew’s ears from inside. “Andrew!” It was Titus. At least, Andrew thought it was Titus; his name was followed by a laugh, and Andrew was not certain he had ever heard Asinius laugh. But indeed, the large figure of Jason’s friend soon appeared, urging the slave aside and opening the door wide. He was smiling, too, looking far more. . . pleasant than Andrew could readily remember seeing him.
“Lord.” Andrew tilted his head to a respectful angle. “It is good to see you again.”
Titus held out an arm to invite Andrew inside. “Likewise, my friend. Please, come in.” Andrew followed him inside, wondering at that title of “friend.” The Titus he had met before never would have ascribed it to a mere slave.
“Abigail will be thrilled; she has been praying for all of you night and day. How is your mistress?”
That brought a smile to Andrew’s face. “Well, Lord. Her health has improved, and if she still greatly mourns the loss of her husband and son, she has found comfort in her faith, in what we have heard of the same teacher my masters had come to serve.”
“Jesus, yes.” Titus gave a knowing nod and a beaming smile. “We have been praying that the truth of his teachings would reach your ears, as well. Abigail and I both watched him die.” A shadow flitted across his countenance. “It changed us both. And the midwife was one of his followers, so she told us all she remembered of his lessons. We heard of his resurrection hours after Benjamin was born.”
This news brought mixed feelings to Andrew’s chest. That the faith was shared brought him joy; that Titus had been with Abigail the entire time brought something else. He was not sure what to call it, but it was akin to apprehension. He decided to put that aside for now. “How are she and the babe?”
“Benjamin grows every day, and Samuel as well. Abigail . . .” He sighed. “Abigail is improving, but she had the misfortune of becoming the brunt of my father’s anger. It so happens that if you had come three days later, she would not have been here. She is moving out to the villa as soon as I make the purchase of a few more servants.”
Andrew’s brows pulled together. “He hurt her?”
Titus nodded shortly, his jaw clenched. “We had bought her a eunuch for protection, but she had sent him away for a few moments, before I arrived home one day. We stopped him quickly, but not before he could bruise her. It was two weeks ago. She has not been without at least two able-bodied men for protection since, I promise you.”
Andrew smiled in spite of the serious situation. “Knowing her as I do, that has been absolute torment. Abigail is an independent creature.”