The Hidden Flame (6 page)

She heard shuffling steps as Jacob slowly descended the ladder from the small loft over her head. His hair was tousled, his jaw set in a grim line. He said nothing. Not even a morning greeting.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked cheerily.

He merely nodded.

"We must hurry. I overslept. I didn't hear the rooster-"

"Maybe we've been blessed and it died."

Abigail cast a quick glance his way. His expression had not changed.

They soon left together, Jacob lingering a step behind. Already the streets were crowded, though the merchants and stall owners were not yet displaying their wares for barter or sale. In the half light, no Roman soldiers paraded prancing horses over the cobblestones. A slight wind shook the leaves of the palm branches overhead, offering a breath of refreshing air that Abigail knew would soon become stifling with the day's heat.

"I wonder who will lead prayers this morning," she mused aloud, hoping to engage her brother. "I believe Peter and John are both away.

"Where are they this time?" grumbled Jacob.

Abigail turned toward him, new sorrow and regret filling her heart. A desire to protect this beloved brother welled within her. He was still young in her estimation-not yet fifteen, and already doing a man's work, though this certainly fit with their traditions. Day in and day out he carried and sawed and shaped and planed heavy pieces of olive or cedar or pine. From dawn till dusk, he toiled at work that brought him no personal reward. Abigail knew there were men who loved the feel of the wood as they ran their calloused hands over the intricate grain. They understood just what it was as God had formed it, envisioned what it could become under skillful shaping and building. And also what it had been in the Carpenter's hands. Not Jacob. To him it was merely a task. Tedious and unrelenting.

She replied, "Visiting some of the brethren, I've heard."

He merely shrugged.

The walk to their meeting place was enough to cause her leg to throb with pain once more. She tried not to limp as Jacob's stride brought him abreast and then steps ahead of her. Her accidental burn from the scalding wash water had healed over, but the skin across the wound remained tight and sensitive to any stress or bump or bruise. And her days were often filled with such incidents. As she hoisted heavy clay jars or worked with other women in the close quarters of the kitchen, she often moved or stretched in a way that bumped against objects, causing a bruise or small tear in the scar. Normally she said nothing, simply waiting for the new injury to heal itself. She had never been one for complaining. In fact, she would much rather sing, even on the worst days. But there were times when she could not hide her limp or conceal the discomfort that no doubt showed on her face.

Jacob looked back at her, then slowed his pace.

The simple act brought tears to Abigail's eyes. In spite of his moodiness, he still sought to assist her. To protect her. He always seemed to sense when her injury was causing her pain.

They caught up to fellow worshipers heading to the courtyard. With brief greetings they joined step, their voices hushed as they moved forward. It would not do to draw attention to the growing numbers that gathered each day.

A familiar shiver of excitement ran through Abigail. Will this be the day?

When first the Lord had departed with the promise of his return, they had begun every day with that question on their hearts and lips. Later they greeted one another with the unspoken question in their eyes. Gradually they steeled themselves to accept that the Messiah might have other plans or there might be some unknown reason why he was delayed. Certainly their numbers were expanding daily. They had been charged with spreading the Word, to bring in others, to be his witnesses there in Jerusalem, in Samaria, and throughout the world. Was that not sufficient reason for him to prolong his coming?

Gradually the group endeavored to put aside their yearning for his swift return and to reach out to those who still needed the truth of his first arrival among them. But Abigail, in spite of her longing to be a good follower, often found herself hoping that this would be the day. Doubts and fears and threats-and pain-could all be left behind when their Messiah was once again among them in person. She had felt his healing touch once already, lifting the deep sorrow in her mind and heart. And maybe this time her leg ...

She glanced again at Jacob. She was sure that when the Lord returned, Jacob's unhappiness would once again be turned into the joyful exuberance she loved. She would gladly suffer the rest of her life if that could be so.

Abigail was busy scrubbing cooking pots with sand and rinsing them for the next meal when Martha hurried into the kitchen, back straight, lips firmly pressed together. Abigail sensed immediately that all was not right but held her tongue.

The older woman stopped, took a deep breath, and brushed her arm over her forehead, sweeping back a few strands of delinquent hair. She looked flushed and weary with the day's work and the afternoon heat. Body and soul weary, Abigail thought, but she did not speak. She straightened from her task and reached for a towel. Her eyes sought Martha's for an answer.

It did not come quickly. It was as though Martha was carefully sorting through her words.

"If only I were a younger woman," she murmured at last.

"Why don't you sit," Abigail invited. "I still have fresh water here from the well."

Martha sat down, her back remaining straight, chin lifted in a stubborn set.

Abigail went to dip a cup of the cool water. Martha accepted it without comment and drank long and deeply. She passed back the empty cup, seeming somewhat restored.

Abigail quietly took a place on the bench beside the woman. Martha would talk when she was ready.

But after several moments, Martha still had not said a word. Abigail decided she had waited long enough.

"You would wish to be a younger woman, you said. Why is that?"

Martha shook her head and lifted her shawl to wipe her face.

"Could it be a young man has caught your fancy?" Abigail added with a smile.

Even the stoic Martha, after a shocked glance at Abigail, could not suppress a laugh.

"A man," she mused, dabbing again at her warm brow and damp hair. "And a young one, you say. Now, whatever would I want with one of those?"

Abigail shrugged. "You would need to explain it to me."

"Such foolishness," Martha said with a shake of her head, but there was no edge to her tone and her chin had lowered. She fanned at her face with the edge of her shawl.

"So-?" prompted Abigail.

Martha shook her head and sighed. "How are we ever to keep up with the work load? There are more and more people coming every day. Peter rejoices with every new face. As I do. But Peter does not feed them. He does not spend every waking moment bending over hot stew pots or scrubbing dirty dishes. No, not Peter. He just calls them to come on in." Martha waved a hand as though welcoming whoever might be at the door.

Abigail said nothing. She indeed knew that dear Martha was as eager as anyone to see new members joining the community of followers. But the older woman was obviously weary, overwhelmed with all that must be done. And she needed to express her feelings without criticism.

"Do we again have additional-?"

"A good two dozen of them. All tired and hungry, I expect. Peter has just ordered them fed and bedded. Do you see any more food in the pots? Any empty spaces where we can spread out mats?" Martha's arms swung through the air with her rhetorical questions.

Abigail stirred. "I think we may have some bread and goat cheese left. There are a few grapes. Will it feed so many? God has blessed loaves before-"

"Of course. And I have not forgotten it." Martha stopped fanning and lifted her shoulders. "I'm just a tired old woman, speaking without guarding my tongue. I should be ashamed."

"You have been on your feet all day in this dreadful heat, serving countless souls. You have no necessity for shame. You-"

"If I were a younger woman ..." But this time she smiled at the thought.

"If you were a younger woman you would not have the wisdom and fortitude and skills that it takes to do the job. Now, Martha, you sit here and rest a spell. I will call some of the younger ones, and we will see that the newcomers are fed. Then somehow, miraculously perhaps, we will also find a spot for them to roll out their mats." Abigail hoped to coax another smile from the woman.

Martha began to rise from her seat, but Abigail put out a hand to press the woman back in place. "You must rest. If you don't, we will no longer have your wise counsel. Then what will we do? We need you. You keep us all going in the right direction, Martha, in an organized fashion. You guide us in our doing and in our praying. We can't do it all without you."

Tears came to the older woman's eyes. She reached out and took Abigail's hand. "I don't know what I would ever do without you, Abigail. Even with your painful leg-oh, don't look surprised, I see you wince when you think no one is looking-you still manage to do the work of two people."

Abigail had been surprised. She'd thought she was hiding her injury. But she should not have thought to fool Martha. The woman had sharp eyes and a tender heart.

"You sit," Abigail said gently. "I will see to what needs to be done. I have watched you, and I will do the same."

Martha nodded, her eyes still glistening.

Abigail was astonished to be summoned the next morning by the followers' council. When she arrived, there sat Martha, eyes fixed firmly on the leaders. Abigail entered quietly and nodded her greeting before taking a seat beside the older woman.

"It has come to our attention," began Peter, gazing at the two, "that the work is becoming overwhelming. With the daily increase in our numbers, we need to organize better in order not to overlook anyone or overtax our workers."

Heads nodded approval.

"It seems that one of our biggest needs is the care of the widows and orphans. If they were kept separate from the rest of the assembly, it would be easier to meet the needs of all."

Murmurs of agreement and more nods.

"We have had some discussions here, and we feel we need to set up a distribution site where those who need daily rations can come and receive their allotment. They can then take the food back to their own homes or tents and cook it there. This will greatly reduce the food that needs to be prepared here. Martha proposed the plan, and it is a good one. We should have thought of it sooner." He stopped and looked at Martha in recognition.

Why was I brought here? Abigail was wondering. Martha is well able to handle things. I am needed in the kitchen-

"It has been noted that you, Abigail," Peter said, turning his head slightly, "are most capable and efficient. It has been suggested that you oversee these new distribution tables."

Martha was on her feet, her face pale. "But-but I need Abigail in the kitchens."

"We will train other girls for the kitchen."

"We?" repeated Martha, arching her brows. "We? I don't believe I can recall your presence in the kitchen, Peter."

Peter may have turned red, but his beard hid it. He chose to laugh. A hearty laugh. "You are quite right. I will be doing no training. But you are most capable of that, Martha. After all, you trained Abigail, did you not?"

Martha reclaimed her seat, mumbling as she did so.

Peter turned to Abigail. "Are you willing to serve in this way?"

Abigail swallowed, then nodded. Yes. Yes, I am willing to serve. But the very thought of such a significant responsibility frightened her half to death. And yet she too was an orphan, and was sensitive to her companions' needs.

"I am willing," she heard her own voice declare. Her mind was already scrambling to determine what needed doing, where she would begin.

"Good. Then it is settled. You will talk with Stephen. He is in charge of the supply rooms. He will advise you on what is in store, and he will work out with you the processes of the food distribution. If you have questions he cannot address, Stephen will bring them to council. And choose two or three of the younger women to help you as you see need."