Heavens Before (20 page)

She found it just beyond the ramp—a small hearth, encircled by stones lined, paved, and mortared with clay. Oddly, the sight of the hearth shocked her. She sat beside it, staring, trying to make sense of this entire pen; it had no logical, normal explanation. Annah bit her lip, thinking,
Perhaps my husband’s family is more than a little strange
.

As she sat beside the hearth, staring, she heard footsteps
coming up the ramp. Not Naomi’s quick, brisk footsteps, but the calm, deliberate footsteps of Noakh.
Why?
She thought to him, sensing his quiet presence.
Why?

He emerged from the ramp and turned, obviously sensing her near the hearth. His face was peaceful, but somber, as if he knew she would question him. Slowly, he approached the hearth and sat a proper distance away, facing her.

“It’s safe for you to leave now, if you wish, child,” he said, giving her the option of a swift retreat to the normality of the lodge. His eyes were gentle and dark, like Shem’s, and he smiled—a patient, waiting smile. He seemed willing to answer any questions she wished to ask.

“Father of my Husband,” she began hesitantly. “Why? This pen doesn’t make sense. Why all these supplies and this hearth?”

He released his breath quietly, gazing up at the long row of windows, contemplating his answer. At last he looked at her. “Child, do you love your husband?”

Startled, she said, “Yes.”
Why do you ask?

“How much do love your husband?” Noakh persisted. “How would you measure your love?”

A measure of my love?
Pondering this, Annah remembered her first glimpse of Shem at the river: the intensity of his eyes, the sunlight shining on the darkness of his hair. She could still feel the shock of realizing that he would not hesitate to follow her into the river; it was nothing to him then—or now—to risk his life for her sake. Drawing on this memory, she said, “I would give my life to save my husband’s life.”

Noakh smiled approvingly. “That is the true answer of love. But what if your husband turned against you? What if he ignored your words and despised your love and your
beauty? What if he actually laughed in your face and spoke of you with scorn and contempt when from the beginning you have only wished to share with him the treasures of your innermost heart?”

Annah felt the blood draining from her face, unable to imagine such a possibility. Swallowing, she said, “I would try to reason with him and be patient and hope his feelings might change.”

“What if you gave him years upon years of perfect love and patience, and he refused to change? What then? What if his feelings turned to violence against you and against the people and the things you love? What if his hatred began to destroy things that were precious to you? What if he began to destroy the lives of others? What then? Would you finally feel compelled to turn from him and seek another way?”

“Yes, but … Shem wouldn’t …”

“He wouldn’t,” Noakh agreed, smiling sympathetically. “But this is how men have turned against the perfect love of the Most High.” Serious, Noakh pursed his lips, his long work-stained fingers smoothing his graying beard. “Now, daughter, think of when you go out to the fields and the trees, where the animals and birds live. You sense them and they sense you. They know if you’re pleased and if you’re angry. Am I right?”

Annah considered the reactions of the birds, the field mice, the fruit-eaters, and even the fish. “When I’m happy and at peace, they come to me. When I’m angry, they become agitated. They flee.”

Noakh nodded. “This is how the Most High created them: to respond to man. This is how He also created man and the earth. When man is at peace with himself and with the Most High, then the earth itself is at peace.
When man is full of violence and shuns all good—including the Most High—then the earth, too, is corrupted and given to violence.”

Annah shivered, the first hints of horror gripping her. “Then the earth shakes.”

“The shaking of the earth is only the beginning,” Noakh answered gently. “Tell me, daughter, have you met any man, woman, or child in the settlement—ever—who has called upon the Most High, and who has not been filled with rage, but with lovingkindness?”

“No.” She could not help staring at her father-in-law.

“Nor have I. Through the years I’ve met countless people, in your settlement and far beyond. None will believe in the Most High. And none call on the Most High who loves them, though I’ve tried to reason with them, to warn them. I tried to warn the people of your settlement years before you were born.”

Annah frowned. “Warn them? Of what?”

Taking a deep breath, Noakh said, “Because of the violence and evil of mankind, the earth will turn upon itself with violence, bursting open, creating a great flood—the most horrible destruction! No creature that draws breath through its nostrils will be left alive on the earth. Only those sheltered in this pen will be saved.”

Unable to comprehend such devastation, Annah blinked.

Noakh smiled at her reaction. “This is why my sons and I built this pen. This oversized storage chest is constructed as the Most High commanded. This is how He has chosen to save those of us who love and obey Him.”

“But,” Annah protested, “if the Most High created the earth, then can’t He restore it? Can’t He prevent the earth from turning upon itself?”

“Child, listen.” Shaking his head firmly, Noakh said, “Understand me. For almost one hundred and twenty years now, it is only the merciful hand of the Most High that has prevented the earth from turning upon itself. He has extended every sign of love to men, but men despise Him. He has granted them all these years of mercy to give them the chance to turn toward Him again—away from the violence of their desires—to prevent this destruction. But they laugh and deny His very existence. He grieves, child. Soon, He will be compelled to lift His hand from the earth. Yet, He will be merciful; some day, He will send us the Promised One to bring us into harmony with Him.”

“The Promised One?”

“Child, what stories do you remember of Adam and his Havah, Mother of All?”

“I know that Adam and Havah were tempted by that Serpent, then forced from the Garden of Adan by the Most High because they neglected His commands,” Annah offered, uncertain.

Noakh’s mouth twitched in reluctant amusement. “There is more to the story, child—and one day you will be able to recite it in whole. But, simply told … after the rebellion in Adan, the Most High promised that one day a man born of woman will crush our Adversary, that Serpent adored by the Nachash and her whisperers.”

Annah leaned forward, pleased that the Serpent—and possibly the Nachash—would be crushed. “May I ask one more question? Who will be this Promised One? How will we recognize him?”

“Two questions!” Noakh teased. “But listen, daughter. This Promised One will make himself known at the proper time as one of the sons of my son Shem. We will recognize
him by his unfailing love and obedience toward the Most High—and because he will restore us to harmony with the Most High, as it was in Adan.”

Taken aback, Annah struggled to form the words, “Then one of the sons of my husband … a child I will bear …”

“Will be—or be a father of—the Promised One,” Noakh finished quietly.

“But I’m a nothing.”

“Am I any better?” asked Noakh, smiling. “No one, daughter, including me, deserves anything but punishment from the Most High. But He loves us enough to send the Promised One. Who are we to argue?”

“We don’t deserve such mercy,” Annah murmured, overwhelmed. Wondering, she said, “You went to the settlement before I was born. You spoke to the men there. Did you see my father and tell him all this?”

Looking away, Noakh said, “When the Most High warned me of the coming destruction, I also knew that I should marry my beloved, Naomi. Our mothers had spoken to one another many, many years before.” Smiling faintly now, gazing up at the high windows, Noakh said, “It is not a pleasing or flattering thing for a woman to be kept waiting by her pledged husband. And I confess, I did keep her waiting far too long: Her childbearing years were almost gone. To soothe her feelings, I sought out a renowned goldsmith: Zahar of the Tsaraph. I asked him to create a pair of bracelets for her; gold is soothing to the heart of the wearer.”

Annah nodded in silent agreement. She didn’t like it that her father-in-law was avoiding her gaze.

Noakh hesitated. “I spoke to your father, child. He was a kind man. He listened politely when I spoke of the
Most High. Then he spoke of the gold.”

When her father-in-law fell silent, Annah realized that there was no more to tell. Her father had rejected the Most High. Her throat and eyes burning, her chin quivering, Annah said softly, “My father was merely polite to you. I’m sorry. Undoubtedly … he would have also scorned me.”

Noakh sat looking down at his hands, his brow troubled, his mouth working this way and that. Annah could not bear his distress. She choked down her tears. “Thank you. At least I know you spoke to him.”

Noakh looked up, and Annah was astonished to see telltale glints of moisture in his dark eyes. Smiling mournfully, he said, “I’ve had countless men, women, and children laugh at me, spit on me, turn their backs on me… It was nothing compared to having to tell you this now. And, excepting my wife and sons, you are the first ever to listen to me or to question me without mockery. Thank you, daughter.”

Annah wiped her face, sighing ruefully. “I should stop asking questions. I rarely like the answers, even when I agree with them.” Hearing footsteps, quick and certain on the ramp, Annah turned. Shem appeared, his hair in damp, wild curls as if he had recently emerged from the river. The very sight of him revived her.

Seeing Annah, he lifted his eyebrows, obviously concerned:
Are you well?

She nodded faintly, motioning with her hands:
Thank you
.

His answering smile was radiant. As he approached, she gazed at him, enraptured.
How I’ve missed you! No man alive can compare to you
.

Glancing at Noakh, Shem said, “I’ma sent me. She
said you are both so late for the midday meal that if you delay any longer it will be evening and she won’t bother to cook again today.”

“Then we must hurry,” Noakh answered agreeably. “I like my evening meal at the proper time.”

Shem helped Annah to her feet and kissed her. She sighed, welcoming the warmth of his touch.

Noakh watched them, his eyes gleaming, amused. “Yes, help your pretty young wife to her feet, my son, and forget that your father is an old man.”

Laughing, Shem pulled his father to his feet and kissed him. Noakh pretended to scoff. “Bah!”

Outside the pen, with the sunlight touching her face, Annah remembered Bachown, Tsillah, and Taphaph.
I prayed that the Most High would make them go away
, she thought, fearful of her own selfishness.
Now, it seems that He will. But when?

Naomi was indignant. “That Tsillah is a proud, rude woman! And her daughter is no better. I wouldn’t have Taphaph in my lodge for anything in the world. She
sulked
, child. And she made such a face at her mother that I was amazed her mother lived. Here now, eat; Yepheth and Khawm left a little.”

Naomi uncovered the clay dishes containing the remnants of the midday meal: flat cakes of parched grain, olives, a thick paste of spiced beans, and boiled, mashed tubers, delicately seasoned with precious salt.

“I’m sorry they were rude to you, Mother of my Husband,” Annah said, eyeing the tubers uncertainly—Parah had always left tubers whole.

“Don’t apologize for them. It’s not your fault they were rude.”

“What did you tell them, I’ma?” Shem asked, spreading bean paste on his flat grain cake.

Naomi knelt beside Noakh, patting his hand fondly. “At the suggestion of your father, I told them that the wives of Yepheth and Khawm have been chosen and we are waiting for them.” Shem’s eyebrows lifted teasingly. Naomi became stubborn. “It’s true! The Most High knows who the wives of your brothers are, and we
are
waiting for Him to bring them to us. But even if it had been a lie—may the Most High forgive me—I would have said anything to keep that Taphaph out of my lodge and away from my sons.”

Turning to Annah, Naomi said, “I can guess how she would treat you, daughter! We’ll have no women from that settlement in this lodge. Here, child, eat some more.” Naomi scooped some of the mashed, seasoned tubers onto a flat, parched grain cake and presented it to Annah. “Don’t worry about being too tidy; after years upon years of watching these men eat, you can’t possibly disgust me.”

Annah ate self-consciously, certain that Shem was just waiting for her to drop her food so he could tease her. But she finished the cake and the mashed tubers neatly. And she liked them enough that she wanted more, which pleased Naomi. “It’s the olive oil and salt, and some of the savory bulbs,” she explained. “Not pretty, but good.”

Later, when Noakh went to work in the pen, Shem took Annah’s hand. “Come, walk with me to the edge of the trees.”

When Annah hesitated, Naomi shooed her off kindly. “Go with your husband.” But she scolded Shem. “Remember, she is supposed to rest today.”