Abigail
Authors: Jill Smith
Tags: #Romance, #Christian, #FIC042030, #Historical, #Fiction
Abigail (The Wives of King David Book #2): A Novel
Wives of King David [2]
Jill Eileen Smith
Revell (2010)
Rating:
★★★★★
Tags:
Romance, FIC042030, Christian, Historical, Fiction
Romancettt FIC042030ttt Christianttt Historicalttt Fictionttt
Abigail's hopes and dreams for the future are wrapped up in her handsome, dark-eyed betrothed, Nabal. But when the long-awaited wedding day arrives, her drunken groom behaves shamefully. Nevertheless, Abigail tries to honor and respect her husband despite his abuse of her. Meanwhile, Abigail's family has joined David's wandering tribe as he and his people keep traveling to avoid the dangerous Saul. When Nabal suddenly dies, Abigail is free to move on with her life, and thanks to her brother, her new life includes a new husband--David. The dangers of tribal life on the run are serious, but there are other dangers in young Abigail's mind. How can David lead his people effectively when he goes against God? And how can Abigail share David's love with the other wives he insists on marrying? Jill Eileen Smith, bestselling author of Michal, draws on Scripture, historical research, and her imagination as she fills in the blanks to unveil the story of Abigail and David in rich detail and drama. The result is a riveting page-turner that will keep readers looking forward to the next book in this trilogy.
T
HE
W
IVES
of
K
ING
D
AVID
,
BOOK
2
A
BIGAIL
A NOVEL
Jill Eileen Smith
© 2010 Jill Eileen Smith
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
E-book edition created 2010
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-0771-5
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture is taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
Scripture marked NKJV is taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982
by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
This is a work of historical reconstruction; the appearance of certain historical figures is therefore inevitable. All other characters, however, are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Published in association with the Books & Such Literary Agency, Wendy Lawton, 52
Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409-7953.
To my beloved, Randy—a man after God’s own heart and a wonderful example of what it truly means to be called husband and father.
And to Jeff, Chris, and Ryan—follow hard after Jesus to do His will, and live the dreams He has given to you. Your mother’s heart trusts you all to His care.
Contents
Now Samuel died, and all Israel assembled and mourned for him; and they buried him at his home in Ramah. Then David moved down into the Desert of Maon. A certain man in Maon, who had property there at Carmel, was very wealthy. He had a thousand goats and three thousand sheep, which he was shearing in Carmel. His name was Nabal and his wife’s name was Abigail. She was an intelligent and beautiful woman, but her husband, a Calebite, was surly and mean in his dealings.
1 Samuel 25:1–3
Maon, 1017 BC
“Rumor has it David is in the area not far from here. If you but say the word, Father, we could leave Simon for good and join him. I hear he has women and children in his company now.
Mother and Talya and Abigail would not be out of place.”
Abigail nearly sloshed water over the sides of the bowl as she stood in the courtyard straining it through a cloth for tomorrow’s washing. Her brother’s oft-repeated plea shouldn’t surprise her. She’d heard it many times in the past two years since the king’s son-in-law had run off and surrounded himself with disgruntled men. So why did the thought cause her heart to beat faster and her limbs to tremble now?
“Ah, Daniel. Always you bring my failures before me.” Her father’s exaggerated sigh carried to her from the roof, where her parents, Daniel, and his wife Talya sat talking in the early light of the moon. She could imagine the slight shrug of his weary shoulders, the look of defeat in his eyes. Why did her brother insist on pushing his point? If he wanted to run after David so much, then go! But leave her father, leave all of them, in peace.
“You have not failed, Judah. You are a good husband, a loving father.”
“Yes, yes, you need not appease me, dear wife. Every day I watch my Abigail grow lovelier, and do you not think I regret what that man will do to her spirit once she lives under his roof? Ach! You mustn’t tempt me, Daniel. To run away . . . It is far too appealing.”
Silence followed the comment. Abigail sucked in a breath, disbelieving. Was Abba actually tempted to do as Daniel suggested? He’d never indicated such a thing in the two years since her childhood betrothal to pay off her father’s debt—a betrothal made before she had reached her full maturity, before her womanhood had come upon her. She fingered the sash at her waist, her heart thumping an erratic rhythm. The change had been late in coming, but six full moons had passed since then. Six months of knowing her betrothed could come at any moment.
“But Father, if you know things will only get worse when Abigail marries that fool, why let her? Surely there is a way to stop this, to undo the damage before it is too late.” Daniel’s voice dropped in volume, and Abigail strained to hear. She crept closer to the stairs leading to the roof and placed one foot on the bottom step.
“There is nothing to be done. Don’t you think your father would have gotten out of the agreement if he could?” The voice of her mother, Naamah, was stern as always, giving Abigail a measure of hope. Her father would not give her to Simon’s son Nabal if he truly feared for her future. He would have gone to the elders, found some other way to pay Simon off—
something
. “But I’ll admit, David would be a far better master than Simon of Carmel.”
Her mother’s admission, so unprecedented, sent a chill down Abigail’s spine. She gripped the wall for support, her limbs suddenly unable to continue the trek to the roof. Why were they talking like this? Nabal could come at any moment, even this night. How could they even speak of running away? What would become of her?
“Perhaps I could take the case to the elders . . .” Her father’s voice pierced her in its stark uncertainty. Never had he suggested such a thing. “They may agree to a termination rather than a divorce . . . Abigail would carry the stigma, though, and I cannot provide for her forever.”
“I will provide for her.” She barely heard Daniel’s declaration above the pounding in her head. Divorce? No man would want her again. She would remain alone and barren, her life wasted.
And what of Nabal? Sudden doubt assailed her. Brash, deceitful son of Simon. The picture of kindness at their betrothal— but if her brother spoke the truth, the man carried an impulsive, explosive temper. Hadn’t she sensed it in the look he gave her when he took her aside into the privacy of the grape grove at the community wine treading? She pulled in a steadying breath, remembering the flush of shame—and pleasure—she had felt in the moment of his possessive kiss. What began as a tender, heady feeling of love’s awakening had turned aggressive and harsh. She pressed two fingers to her trembling lips.
She couldn’t deny it. Nabal was an attractive man. Of medium height, his muscles were not strong like Abba’s or thick cords like Daniel’s, and his hair was darker than her chestnut tresses, black as a goat’s skin, his eyes the color of an onyx stone. Sandwiched between his mustache and beard, his smile brooded something dark, mysterious. She’d heard the way the virgins giggled at his princely manner and flirtatious looks. If she had not known he belonged to her, she might have wondered if he had set his eye on one of them. And the knowing, the realization that he was bound to her, had made her proud. Someday he would come for her and carry her off on a jewel-bedecked camel to share in the wealth of his estate, to share the intimacies of his love. Intimacies he had already hinted at . . . if she had not pushed him away that day.
She grasped at the fringe of her shawl, cinching it tight, shivering more from the flash of anger she recalled in his eyes than the night’s damp, cool breeze. She’d almost ducked and run from him, but his grip on her arms had held her secure. He wouldn’t have slapped her for refusing him, would he? He would wait for the proper time, until she was truly a woman as she was now. He knew all he need do was come for her. He wouldn’t force her among the grapevines.
She shook her head, determined to clear it of the disturbing thoughts. Father may entertain traitorous ideas of annulling her marriage, but how did she dare? She had already allowed too much . . . and Nabal would collect on her father’s promise one way or another. Of that she was sure.
Lord, help me.
“If we run after David, how will that improve a thing? His enemies are around every corner. We would never know peace again.” Her mother’s words stilled the restless pounding of her heart. Yes, this was what they needed—wisdom—to talk sense into her brother, whose own logic was tainted with living under the oppression of Simon’s employ. And her father whose weariness grew greater with every passing day, his regret palpable.