An Instrument in His Hands

Part 1 Chapter 4

Part 1

Chapter 4

    I rolled over on my mat and groaned as my stomach gave a painful lurch. It had been a whole day since I ate anything and I felt weak. I needed to get up and go sell something to buy some food, for I could not visit the dump again until evening. After Aaron brought me home I should have returned, or humbled myself and asked him to accompany me. It didn’t seem such a preposterous thought now that my stomach was growling in earnest. But there had been no clean food there anyway.

I prayed aloud for courage to face this day. Then, I picked up the water jugs and walked to the neighborhood well. At least water was available to everyone free of charge. Maybe if I got a good price for the clothing I planned to sell that day, I would have enough left over from the bills to buy some food. Perhaps the Lord would bless me.

I was wrapping the robes when I heard clapping at the gate, and going to investigate,  was surprised to find a delivery man with a whole basketful of fruits – for us!

I did not know from whom it came, but as it was not a mistake, I brought it inside and immediately devoured five pieces. Then I cut some up for my mother and father.

At noon another delivery man came with grain, beans, and a dead rabbit. Blessings from heaven!!! I fell to my knees to say thank you to the good Lord. He heard my prayer.

But how did one cook grains, beans, and rabbit? And who had sent them? And how long would the rabbit stay fresh?

I went into the kitchen and looked over our pots and instruments for cooking. They were a great mystery to me. How did one cook a dead rabbit? I supposed I was lucky it was not alive or I would have to feed it too.

The flat cooking rocks, large kettles, and skewers looked like they first needed a fire, so I decided to try to start one first. Where? Inside in the stove, or outside in the cooking pit?

Outside sounded safer. Not far from the circle of stones surrounding a pile of old ashes was a stack of firewood. At least I knew what firewood was for! I had once watched a man start a fire in preparation for a celebration, and he had piled up wood, then made sparks from two stones, which lit the fire. Surely I could do it too.

So, I piled up several logs like he had, not as many, but a goodly amount. Then I looked around for some stones. Would any kind of rock work? Why didn’t they teach girls about rocks in school? The boys had learned this.

Next to the wood pile sat two small rocks. Hmmmm… Perhaps they were there for that purpose. I hit them together. Nothing. I rubbed them together. Nothing. How exactly had that man hit the rocks together? I tried three more ways to hit the rocks. Nothing. Hmmm… I sat down and began to ponder this. Then holding one rock, I tried scraping the other rock against it quickly.

A spark! I made a spark!

How did one get the spark to make a fire? I went to the logs and made sparks fall on the pile. Nothing. The sparks went out. How had that man made the logs catch on fire?

I tried to remember everything I had ever learned or noticed about fire. Hadn’t Miss Deborah always told us to keep our skirts away from fires because they could burn? That was it!

I tore a piece of hem from my robe and showered sparks on it. It worked! Quickly, I threw the fabric onto the logs. It was going out before the logs caught on. What else could I burn? I looked around.

The rabbit! If it cooked, it must burn. Quickly I put the rabbit by my little flame. I could not let the flame I had worked so hard for go out!

The fur caught fire and started to shoot up flames. Wonderful! What else could I burn? I ran about and found dried leaves, and a pot with bits of wool and scraps – probably saved for this very purpose – and threw them on the fire too. It smelled horrible!

I thought I would gag.

But I had a fire and the rabbit was cooking. I found more leaves and twigs and sticks caught in a pile by the fence and threw them on top of the logs too. Pretty soon my rabbit was buried. But I had never eaten a rabbit with fur on it anyway, so it was good if it all burned off, right?

‘Abigail, what are you doing?’ Mother called. ‘It smells frightening!’

I went inside and assured her, ‘Everything’s fine, Mother, I’m cooking us some rabbit for dinner. I started a fire and everything!’

I was quite pleased with myself when I heard clapping again at the front gate. More delivery men? A neighbor complaining about the odor? Dare I leave my fire unattended to see?

Throwing another pile of twigs on the flames, I ran to peek out the front door. It was not a delivery man. It was not a neighbor complaining about the smell. It was Aaron. Oh, no!!!

Hastily, I stepped back indoors. My face was red from the heat, my dress was sooty, my hands were covered in dirt, and my hair was singed. I was not fit to be seen by anyone.

Perhaps he would go away if I ignored him. In fact, I wished him to go away! Why was he calling on us? Hadn’t he gotten the message last night that I did not care at all for his company?

I went back to my fire, poking and prodding at the flames with increased zest.

Had Aaron sent the fruit and other foods? The rabbit? Heaven forbid!

Then, speak of the devil, suddenly he was atop the wall surrounding our yard.

I screamed in fright.

‘What are you cooking? It smells dreadful!’ he called.

I did not answer him.

He jumped down and came forward. ‘At least it’s not yourself burning. I was afraid it was. What is it? What are you putting on the fire?’

Don’t tell me he actually knew how to start a fire! I held up the skewer for protection.

Aaron dug about in the logs and found the now skinned rabbit. ‘That is what smells,’ he stated.

Maybe. But it was also my dinner.

He held up the rabbit in front of me. ‘Abigail. You burned the pelt.’

I don’t eat fur.

Then he started to laugh at me. He laughed so much that he sat on the ground and held his stomach.

What was so funny? I didn't think it was funny at all. I turned away from him and began poking at my fire again as if I knew what I was doing.

When he had control of himself, he stood and declared, ‘I’m sending servants to help you tomorrow. Where are your parents?’

‘No!’ I protested out loud.

That brought a satisfied half grin to his handsome and smug face. I had spoken to him.

He must have sent the food today too. I was mortified. ‘Please don’t! I have it under control,’ I spoke again as I gave the fire another poke.

He held the rabbit out as evidence.

I raised my chin. Father would not wish it.

He put the rabbit next to my fire and moved towards the house.

‘No!’ I said again.

‘Your parents are sick, aren’t they? What are you feeding them? Garbage? Singed rabbit? You need help, Abigail, and you are going to accept it, if not from me, then from someone! Where are your parents?’

I bowed my sooty head and pointed.

He went in.