I’ve run away. For only a few hours, true. But I have never in my life run off to follow my whims.
Yet now, I have Abraham.
My lungs protest as I reach the hill that stands between me and my destination. Sweat beads along my brow, my breaths harsh. I ignore the burn in my calves and crest the hill without slowing. There, not far off, water glimmers under the light of the moon. I don’t see Abraham, nor anyone for that matter. And for the briefest of moments, the weight of defeat crushes down.
But then I hear a noise.
I stop, working to corral my breathing, and listen. There it is again. A soft, questioning call.
“Abraham?” I shout.
I hear his responding laugh, and then there he is, a darkened form stepping out from the shadow of a tree. Exhaling a mighty breath, I tromp his way.
“I expected you to be gone,” I call out, not worried about the volume of my voice here. We’re alone save the earth and the starlight.
“I was for a while. I came back. Just in case.” He sounds happy despite the trouble I surely caused him.
“I’m glad you returned,” I tell him truthfully. “I apologize that it took me so long to get here. I was…waylaid.”
The outline of him comes into clearer focus the closer I get, although the details of his face are lost to me in the dark. “I understand. You’re here now. Although swimming may have to wait for another day.”
I let out a soft laugh, swinging the sack off my shoulder. “I… Well, I brought you something.”
Abraham accepts the haversack, his fingers brushing mine. “What is it?”
Voicing it aloud now that I’m here is harder than I expected. Will he find offense? Storm off?
No. He won’t do that. Somehow, I’m certain.
“It’s food,” I admit, my voice not cooperating enough for more than a whisper. I clear my throat before going on. “For you and your mother. If you want it.”
“Jasper.” My name is spoken quietly, the moon affording me just enough light to see Abraham twisting the cloth strap in his hands. “This is a kindness I can’t repay.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” I choke out. “Food should be available to all. You shouldn’t need to…”
I trail off, not wanting to insult Abraham’s livelihood. There’s nothing shameful about being a stable hand. But the fact that he earns such meager coin for a life so hard lived… It’s not right.
“I don’t understand why it has to be this way,” I tell him.
Abraham steps close, his shirt stark against his tan skin, the fabric meeting near the middle of his chest, leaving his throat open to the air. His eyes, so dark, are difficult to see, and I wish it wasn’t so.
“You have a tender heart.” Abraham’s words don’t sound in the least like an insult, the way they would have had they come from my father. “I won’t ever ask this of you, Jasper. But thank you for the gift. I will not refuse it, either.”
My breath puffs out of me, and my hands itch with the desire to move, to show Abraham, somehow, how grateful I am for his easy acceptance. But how would I explain it’s my own mind eased, knowing he’ll have food on his table tomorrow and the day after? In the end, I give him the only words I can. “Thank you.”
The noise that rumbles from his chest sounds like gentle laughter. “I hardly know what to do with you.”
“You could sit with me,” I find myself requesting. “Tell me more of your life?”
Abraham takes a seat on the grass, and I quickly follow. He sets the haversack aside, resting on his back with a sigh that has my chest squeezing tight. I lie down beside him, my heart thumping beneath its cage as I stare up at the stars, my breath coming short again for no reason I can detect. I force my breathing to slow. Let my pulse even.
Abraham hums before speaking. “When I was young, I imagined myself a fierce warrior. Do you know the constellation of the sword?”
“The one to the north?”
He nods, hands beneath his head. “I’d imagine plucking it from the sky and using it to defeat my foes. Maybe even hunt a boar for me and my mother. It was folly, but I remember thinking if only I had my sword, surely I could conquer all.”
Abraham’s story pulls at a place unseen, the unexpected melancholy of it nearly stealing my breath away. I swallow down the tightness in my throat, seeking out the stars that make up the constellation. The sword hangs suspended in the sky above, the tip of the blade the brightest, seeming as if it’s staring directly at us.
