A Stray Drop of Blood (A Stray Drop of Blood #1)

A hint of pain entered Ester’s eyes, and Abigail saw the added age of which Titus had spoken. “There is nothing left for me there. I cannot go back to that house, and I have no family, few friends. No, child, my place is with you and Benjamin and your family. If you will have me.”


“Nothing would please me more.” She heard a familiar shout coming near and smiled anew. “And I am certain Samuel will agree.”

The boy burst onto the scene, flinging himself at her. She caught him up and hugged him close.

“You are back!” He wrapped small arms around her neck. “I missed you, Mother! Where were you?”

She kissed his forehead. “Making a new friend. But I missed you as well.”

Samuel grinned up at her. “Titus says that tomorrow he will become my father.”

Abigail grinned in return. “Did he? That is good news. He tells me that tomorrow he will become my husband, too. We are blessed, Samuel.”

“It is I who am blessed.” Titus entered the room at a slower pace than the boy, but with the same contentment on his face. He carried Benjamin in his arms, who let out a happy gurgle when he spotted her. Baby arms stretched out to her, and Abigail put Samuel on his feet so that she could cuddle the babe to her.

Titus watched with a smile and turned to Ester. “I just spoke with Drusus, and he said he will not tarry long before returning to Judea. He also said you did not plan to join him. I pray that means you will remain here with us?”

“Unless you would mind. You may begin to think there are too many mothers around, you know.”

Titus chuckled and reached over to pick up her hand. “Never. Especially since one more follower of Christ can only be a blessing under this roof.”

“In that, my friend, we are certainly in agreement.” Ester look at the man Abigail loved and sighed. “I trust you realize what a gift her love is. She does not give it lightly, though she inspires it with every smile.”

“I know.” Titus released her hand and picked up Samuel, who rested his golden head upon the large shoulder. He smiled at Abigail, and she grinned back. “We shall forge ourselves into a family, one bound by cords stronger than blood. But through the blood that brought us together. We shall serve together, love together, teach and learn together . . . we shall change the world together.”

Abigail stepped closer to his side. “The psalmist said that ‘weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.’” She looked to the bright sun outside, and the others’ gazes followed. “It is morning in Rome. Let us dedicate ourselves to sharing our joy.”

There were no words that needed to be said. The Spirit said it all for them as it covered the room.





Epilogue





He had been traveling for a long while, and his horse was weary. He was weary, too. Wishing for the youth that these memories reminded him of, Menelaus rolled his shoulders back to loosen the tight muscles, trying to tell himself that he had no reason to feel so old. He was not, really. It was only the hours of travel and the news that met him at every stop that made him feel that way. But it just seemed wrong to be so aware of the age creeping in; this should have been a day of rejoicing, of gladness. It was the first time he had stepped foot in Italy in over a decade.

His memory of the road was blurred at best, but he was certain he was on the right one. It was well worn from hooves and feet, and the man he had asked two miles back had assured him he was headed in the right direction if the Visibullis estate was his goal.

It still tasted like mockery on his tongue. The Visibullis estate it may be in name, but everyone who spoke of it knew that it was the Asiniuses who made its name known at all. Menelaus spat the dust from his mouth. The anger was not as strong now as it had been ten years ago when he heard of the marriage, but it was still present. What right did they have to forget Jason, who was a better man than Titus could ever hope to be? What right did he have to take his wife, what right did she have to give herself to another? And the boy–the boy deserved to hear of his true father every day, not to forget him in the face of that pretender.

He rounded a bend, and the villa came into view. He reined his horse to a halt for a moment and simply looked at it. Even from this distance, he saw that it was bustling with activity. He knew from word along the way that it was more a town than a simple estate these days. It had become a haven for all the Jews when Caesar declared it illegal for them to live in Rome itself, and for the followers of that Nazarene, too. Menelaus was still amazed that the new religion had spread so quickly, in spite of all that the authorities tried to do to halt it. What was so impressive about a crucified carpenter? Or did they all believe those ridiculous stories about his supposed resurrection?

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