For days, Abigail shuddered each time she thought of the loathing Jason’s friends had for her. She did not like them, either, and had not since the first time she met them all when Cleopas had journeyed to hear the rabbi speak. Then, they had all looked at her with enough lust to make her want to hide. Now, they looked at her with such hatred she wanted to scream.
It was not her fault! She had done nothing to try to convince Jason to marry her. She had never mentioned the word to him, never hinted that she would wish it. At the last, it had been inevitable; he had come to care for her, to love their unborn child, and he could not tolerate the idea of it being illegitimate. He had weighed his options and made his choice.
It had not been hers. She would never have chosen to force him from the life he had wanted for so long. But now she would bear the consequences of his decisions, she would be the focus of the wrath of his friends. They probably thought they were concerned for his best interest; well, so was she, but she had never accused them of being unfavorable influences, had she? She never pointed her finger at their pagan habits, had never admonished their heavy drinking or their contempt for her people. She had never once insulted the Roman people or the Roman culture, and as payment for her fairness she was being reviled.
So be it. It was Jason’s opinions that mattered, and he had proven where his loyalties lay, ultimately. They had been married by the authority of the one God, in the Hebrew tradition. By his choice. And she was glad. It warmed her to hear him begin to talk of Jehovah as one of his children would, to pray to and praise him. She would not be ashamed of her pleasure in her husband’s renewing faith, and she would make no excuses to the friends who would just as soon stone her as speak to her.
Yes, for days she simmered, hiding it as best as she could, refusing to let her smile slacken when her husband was home. It was easy enough to cover any unhappiness; there was the excitement of marriage, the plans for the coming child. Soon enough, she could put the Romans’ disapproval from her mind completely.
Naturally, it was when she had come to her internal peace that Jason drew her close one evening and said, “I have been thinking, Abigail, about how we shall raise our children. How will we reconcile the two worlds of which they will be a part?”
Abigail sighed wearily. Was this where he would renege on his previous acceptance of the Hebrew Law and declare that to raise them as Romans was the only way to ensure their positions in the world? Would he say that he had spoken to his friends, and they had made a good case for returning to Rome, after all?
Jason chuckled as if he could read her thoughts and found them preposterous. “Do not look so woebegone, my wife. I am merely going to suggest we mirror my parents’ choices. You do not find that so awful, do you?”
“No.” She smiled at her own doubts. “I find that perfect.”
He spread his palm over the mass of her stomach. “Good. The particulars, of course, we will have to figure out for ourselves. For instance, a name. My parents compromised by choosing a Greek one for me, but I am not so certain that is my desire. I have been thinking that since the baby will have the Roman surname, we should choose a Hebrew first name.”
For a moment, all Abigail could do was stare at him. “That is what you wish?”
His smile could not have been more sincere. “I do. Something traditional, although I have not really thought of one I prefer over another. Daniel, perhaps, or David.”
“Or Jonathan, or Joshua,” she suggested warmly.
Jason grimaced at the last. “Joshua is too popular these days. Especially with all the changes you can make translating into Greek and Latin. But Jonathan I like.”
“Or Micah, Jeremiah, Zacharias.” Her brows drew together. “What are the names from your mother’s family?”
Jason shook his head. “She does not talk about them much, I do not know. What of yours?”
“My father was Michael, and his father Aaron.”
He considered for a moment. “We will decide; there is no rush. I believe the name is given eight days after birth, correct? At the time of circumcision if it is a son.”
“Yes.” She covered Jason’s hand with her own. “And you would wish that, too?”
Jason pressed his lips to her temple. “It is the sign of the covenant between God and our people. If we have a son, I would not want to deprive him of that. If he chooses another path, that is his decision; but I will not take it from him, just as my parents decided with me. And I am finding that it is a difficult covenant to put aside. All of my life I have struggled against the Law, Abigail. And now I find myself praying that Jehovah can forgive my negligence. I finally see that my father was right in embracing my mother’s faith.”
Abigail pressed on his hand, her words soft. “You have grown into a good man, my husband.” She returned the smile he offered, wondering if the changes they had made in their lives would be enough for their demanding, jealous God. To be safe, when they went to the synagogue that Sabbath she would suggest he purchase a sin offering for them. And then she would pray it sufficed.
*