Abigail's Story Read Online Free PDF Page A

friends of his.”
    That meant Rivai would be drinking and gambling, two more things he did with little restraint or skill.
    â€œHe and I shall work later.” To hide my dismay, I stirred the soup. “It is cooler and quieter then, anyway.”
    When our father first began to suffer from joint pain, I made a bargain with my brother. Rivai would turn the big stone wheel for me, but I would let everyone think that the pots I made were his handiwork. He had agreed—reluctantly—and only because I offered him part of what I took in trade. Profit always outweighed Rivai’s sense of masculine outrage.
    Lately, it had outweighed everything.
    I brought in the baked lehem from the outdoor oven, set our meal on the table, and joined hands with my parents as my father said the blessing. Worry over my brother and the words of the m’khashepah slipped away as I gave thanks for the food.
    What we had might be humble, but it was ours, and it was enough.
    My parents went to sleep early that night, but I stayed up to tidy the house, milk the goats, and wait for Rivai. He had not arrived home by the time I finished inside the house, so I sat in the garden and watched the stars appear in the night sky.
    I always watched them alone.
    My parents were not of a noble line, and famine and sickness had taken all their kin. What little surplus we had was saved for Rivai, so that someday he might offer something for his future bride, if he ever found one.
    This I knew, and accepted, but to my great shame, I still prayed for a husband.
    It was a habit of which no one knew. Every night I sat among the herbs and vines and begged Adonai to bless me with an offer. I did not even ask for a young and handsome man anymore. I knew myself; I would be satisfied with a simple man of modest means, a companion and protector who would give me a home to care for and babies to love. A lesser merchant, a shamar, even a farm worker or shepherd would have satisfied me.
    I could not depend on Rivai to look after me, not when he had no trade or wife. I did not want to die alone, an old and unloved woman begging or dependent on the charity of others. I wanted a home of my own, and many children to love, and I could not have those without a husband.
    Wife you will be.
    This night I had no entreaty for the Adonai; the thief’s foolish words had torn a veil from my eyes. It was time I accepted my lot. I had nothing, and I could not leave my parents to Rivai’s uncertain care.
    I would be alone forever.
    A scuffling sound came from the street, and then I heard my brother singing. With haste I tucked myhead cloth around my face and hurried out to the front of the house. There, two strange men stood with my brother, who was staggering on his feet and bleeding from his nose.
    â€œTwo days,” one of the men said before he shoved Rivai at me.
    I caught Rivai by the arms and dug my heels in before his weight knocked us both over. My brother stood as tall as our father had in his youth, but thankfully was much leaner. His khiton was torn and spotted with blood, while his breath smelled of strong wine. When I looked over his shoulder, the two men had gone.
    â€œAbigail.” Rivai clutched at me as if unable to stand on his own. He gave me a silly grin. “My favorite sister.”
    â€œYour only sister.” I grabbed him as he lurched. Too much to drink again. I helped him inside, eased the door shut, and kept my voice low so as not to wake our parents. “What happened? Were you in a fight?” Someone had obviously hit him in the face, for his nose and lower lip were red and swollen.
    â€œMy ribs,” he gasped when I caught him again to keep him from falling over. “Are they broken?”
    I gently touched his sides to check, but felt no ominous swelling or shifting of bone. “I think only bruised. Rivai, what did that man mean?”
    â€œWhat man? Why does the room spin like a top?” My brother collapsed at