Cleopas put a firm hand on his son’s shoulder and smiled. “I think you have made a wise one, Jason.”
Jason nodded brightly. “I know I have. I will talk with Abigail as soon as we get home, if you will tell Mother. Then I am sure the rest of the evening will be spent in plans.”
“I shall go in and share the news with Ester, then try to keep her from pouncing on Abigail until you have had a chance to tell her yourself.”
“Good luck.” Jason laughed. He hung back as his father stepped inside, turning to Andrew. “A moment, Andrew.”
Andrew stopped, his burdens hanging down at his sides, not impressed with the unusual note of humility in Jason’s voice. “Yes, Master?”
Jason drew in a careful breath, and sent a searching gaze over him. What did he see? They boy he had tormented once? Or the fact that he grown into a man just as tall, just as strong as he? When his gaze touched on the ring in his ear, did it remind him anew of his dominion over him?
“I know you love her,” he said at last. “I have long punished you for it, and I apologize. No man is the master of his heart. Andrew.” He drew himself up a bit taller. “I know you despise me. You probably would rather hear of my death than my decision to wed her. But know that even if I have not known her as long as you have, I love her still. I will treat her well, and I will honor her.”
Andrew made no response for a long moment. A few words could not erase all he had done. A promise did not guarantee that Abigail would be happy. “You will indeed. Or you will pay.”
Jason’s lips curved up. “You are good man, Andrew. We have never liked one another, even when we were boys. But I can admit now that my father was always right about you. I am sorry.”
Andrew stood still in his place as Jason turned and followed after his father into the house. He felt his life slipping away, seeping into the unforgiving ground, and he could do nothing to stop it. For the first time in almost two decades of servitude, he wished he had never stepped foot in the Visibullis house.
*
Abigail left the room with a smile when Cleopas asked to speak with Ester. She headed to Jason’s chamber, assuming he would be in shortly to clean up. With one hand supporting her back and the other resting on the ever-growing curve of her stomach, she said a silent prayer for the babe stirring within her.
Ester and Dinah still occasionally whispered that the pregnancy was hard on her, but the fear had receded. Love covered it, hers and Jasons. Perhaps it would be enough to take her all the way through birth in another couple months. Perhaps Jehovah would be merciful after all. It was worth the hope. Worth the prayers.
She opened the door to his room and left it in that position when she saw he was not inside. A moment later she heard his footfalls and turned with a welcoming smile.
Jason walked directly up to her, gathered her in his arms, and kissed her soundly. “How do you feel today?”
“Well enough.” If she ignored the pain spiking down her hips.
“Good.” She watched his face shift into an expression at once serious and blithe. He took her hands in his. “Abigail, I have something to speak with you about. Let us sit.”
They moved to the couch since it was closest, then he left her momentarily to grab a box, one that sent a waft of memory through her. Setting it closed on the other side of him, he took her hands again and looked into her eyes. “Abigail,” he began once more, then halted for breath. When he spoke again, it was in Hebrew. “I have come to love you greatly. There is not an hour that passes when you are not in my thoughts. Your name is honey on my tongue. Abigail. I want you to be my wife.”
She felt her eyes go wide as he settled a gentle hand on her cheek. Could he possibly be serious? For so long now he had been refusing to even accept it as an option, and did he now volunteer it as a solution? What of his objections, his plans? What of her ruinous effect on his future? “Jason–”
“I have given it much thought,” he assured her solemnly, once more in Greek. “Beloved, I have made my choice. We will stay here, in Jerusalem, and I will serve under my father. Dear one, you will be my wife.” He opened the box and lifted out a length of gold, attached to which was a large ruby pendant.
Suddenly Abigail remembered the box from her first day in this house; Jason’s inheritance. “‘Who can find a virtuous woman?’” he quoted as his mother had done so many years ago,”‘for her price is far above rubies. . . Favour is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.’”
Tears filled Abigail’s eyes as he slipped the jewel over her head and brought it to a rest between her breasts. “I am undeserving of those words, Jason.”
He kissed her hands. “You are more than you think yourself, Abigail.”