Highlander - Donna Lettow [29]
After Avram had filled her with the promise of children yet to be, the couple lay back on the mat that was their bed, Deborah’s head on Avram’s shoulder. She drew idle patterns on his chest with a gentle finger as he played with a lock of her ebony hair. “What do you think of Mattathias?” he asked.
“It’s…” Deborah crinkled up her nose, “quite a mouthful for a child, don’t you think? 1 always think simple names are the best. How about Simon?”
Avram shook his head. “I have an Uncle Simon. Can’t stand him.” He thought for a moment, wrapping her hair around his finger. “We could name him after my father.”
“Mordecai? But then he’d be frowning and grumpy all the time, just like your father. I wouldn’t wish that on a child.”
“He hasn’t always been like that.” Mordecai had never re-ally recovered from the death of his wife and the destruction of the Temple. “I just wish you could have known him before.”
“I know. I wish I could have, too.” Deborah had never got-ten along well with Avram’s father. He’d made it abundantly clear he felt his only son had married far beneath his station. It was Deborah’s hope that once they had children, Mordecai would accept her as the mother of his grandchildren. “If it makes you happy, we’ll name our firstborn Mordecai.”
“Now, what makes you so certain our firstborn will be a boy?” Avram wondered.
Deborah laughed. “Because you’re a man, and that’s all men ever want.”
“Haven’t you realized by now, I’m not like other men?” Avram tugged playfully on one of her ears. “A beautiful little Deborah or two will always be welcome. Or three. Or five. As many as you want.”
She ran a hand across his taut belly. “Easy for you to say, you don’t have to bear them all.” She rolled over slightly so she could Look him in the face. “And we name the first girl-child Tamar.”
“Tamar.” His voice caught a hit as he said the name. “I think my mother would be very pleased.”
Deborah lay her head on Avram’s chest. “Then it’s decided. Tamar and Mordecai.”
“And Zebediah and Benjamin and Dan and Tabitha and Esther and-”
She reached up and put a hand across Avram’s lips. “Stop!” she laughed. “I’m exhausted just thinking about it.”
There was a knock on the wooden door to their chamber. Deborah and Avram sat up. “Yes?” Avram called out as he stood, reaching for his tunic.
“It’s your father, Avram, I need to speak with you.”
“It’s late, Aba, give us a moment.” Avram handed Deborah her gown with a weak smile and a shrug, then pulled on his own tunic. When he was sure his wife was decorously clothed, he untied the latch and opened the door to his father. “Welcome, Aba.”
Avram’s father stepped into the room. The years of the Revolt had not been kind to Mordecai ben Enoch. He was a bearded man of middle age, grown gray and stooped beyond his span of years. Lately he’d taken to walking with aid of a cane. He inclined his head briefly toward his daughter-in-law. “Deborah.”
“Welcome, Aba. Would you like some wine?”
If he had heard her, Mordecai did not show it, moving straight to his son. “Avram, we must talk.”
Avram waited a moment, and, when further conversation was not forthcoming, he prompted: “So, talk.”
“Not here.” He indicated Deborah with his eyes. “Alone.”
Avram looked at him, unable to read his expression, then reached for his girdle and began to tie it around his middle. “Fine,” he said, “alone.” Without prompting, Deborah found his sandals and knelt at his feet to lace the thongs.
The silence in the tiny room was palpable. Helping her husband dress, Deborah thought to lessen it. “Guess what we’ve decided to name our first girl, Aba. Tamar, after Avram’s mother, God rest her soul.” There was no response from Mordecai. “I hope that pleases you.”
A dark shadow passed