Heavens Before (22 page)

Annah offered her veil to Noakh, still curious. He took the veil, smiled at her fondly, then shut his eyes, praying silently. Finished, he beamed at Shem and Annah. “As old as I am, children, this will be the first time I’ve performed such a ceremony, so you must be patient with me.”

Annah could not help smiling at him. Feeling Shem’s fingers curling warmly around her own, she turned her hand beneath his, palm to palm, twining her fingers with his. Shem winked at her, then they looked at Noakh.

Shaking out the veil, Noakh admired it aloud. “See what a beautiful thing the wife of my son made during her years of sorrow!” To Annah, he said, “You created this veil as a shield against the eyes of others. It protected you. It sheltered you. It was your comfort. Yours alone. But now …” He swept the veil over Annah and Shem, covering their heads but not their eyes. “Now, you must allow your husband to share this place with you. There will be no veil between the two of you, because the Most High has chosen to bring you together as one. There will be no hiding from each other. No turning away in times of anger or grief.”

His brown eyes glistening, Noakh said, “And may all your many children see that you are united by your love for each other. Then they will be filled with joy! May the Most High give you long lives together, and may you always turn to Him as your protection, your shelter, your comfort, to the last days of your lives.”

Her eyes filling with tears, Annah said, “Thank you, Father.”

Nodding as if deeply moved, Noakh kissed Annah’s
cheek, then Shem’s, saying almost gruffly, “Kiss I’ma before you leave.”

Following Shem, Annah kissed Naomi, then Methuwshelakh. Yepheth and Khawm each kissed her shyly, before taunting Shem. “Now you’ll leave us with even more work,” Yepheth grumbled.

But Khawm pretended indignation, his dark eyes dancing in evening firelight. “I’m not doing his work! Do you hear, Shem? We’re saving all your work for you. You’ll be so tired next week you won’t be able to move—not even to kiss your wife!”

“I’ll remember that when you marry,” Shem threatened, swiping Khawm lightly.

“No wrestling!” Naomi scolded. She filled a basket with cakes, nuts, olives, and fruit from their evening meal, and presented it to Shem. “Carry this for her; be sure she eats enough.”

Before they left, Noakh said, “Wait.” He went into the storage room and reappeared with a resin-soaked torch. “You need this.”

As Shem thanked his father and lit the torch at the hearth, Annah kissed Naomi again, whispering, “I’ma, thank you for being concerned about me. And when I come back next week, you
will
let me help you with your work.”

Naomi nodded and patted her, teary-eyed. Fearing she would cry too, Annah snatched her grass bag and followed Shem outside. Then, realizing she was still holding her veil, she hesitated. Shem chuckled. “You have to keep it now; it was part of our marriage blessing.”

“You’re right,” Annah sighed. She wadded the veil into her bag, then walked with him, taking the path toward the river. The flaring torch was comforting. And the stars
and the moon were glowing now, luminous in the deep violet sky. Annah stared up at the heavens, remembering the last time she was out at night: The Nachash screaming at her, staring at her with those white, sightless, knowing eyes …

Shem scattered her unwelcome thoughts, saying, “I’ma put half her storage room in this basket.”

“I’ll carry it for you,” Annah offered worriedly; the torch was wavering as he shifted the basket onto his shoulder.

“No, I have it. I’ma wouldn’t want you carrying this heavy thing.”

“She’s been feeding me constantly,” Annah told him.

“That’s I’ma.” Turning his head slightly beneath the burden of the basket, Shem studied her face. “You look as if you feel better; perhaps you do need to eat more.”

“Perhaps. I was never able to enjoy meals with my family, but I do now.”

“In spite of our bad manners?” Shem asked, grinning. “I’m glad. Also, it was good to see you playing in the water today. You looked happy, almost like a child.”

Annah smiled. “I thought you looked like a child.”

“Oh?” His eyes gleamed in the torchlight. “Well, if I hadn’t been so eager to finish our shelter, I would have come into the water to play with you. But never mind that. Look there.” Lowering his chin, he indicated the dark outlines of a small hut, set a short distance from the shadowy trees lining the river. Apologetic, he added, “It’s small; we won’t need a lodge of our own for a few years.”

“It’s enough,” Annah said, following him into the clearing surrounding the dark reed hut. A small, stone-enclosed hearth was outside in front, its wood and resins neatly arranged and ready to be lit. Shem carefully lowered
the basket from his shoulder, then lit the hearth with the resin torch. As he tended the fire, he said, “I brought some water from our well; it’s in that container near the doorway. And the waste pit is just behind those trees. I covered it so you wouldn’t fall in.”

“As if I
would
fall in!” she said, feigning outrage. But she went to visit the pit. When she had returned and washed her hands, Shem gave her a flickering clay oil lamp.

“Go inside, beloved; see if I’ve forgotten anything.”

Entering the low reed and grass hut, Annah looked around. As Shem had said, it was small, sheltering only a wooden storage chest and a sleeping area of pallets covered with fleeces and two pillows. Annah set the lamp on the chest and inhaled softly. Shem had placed evening flowers in each corner of the hut. Cut from a bush, the evening flowers had glossy tapering oval leaves edged in yellow, framing delicate clusters of rosy, four-petaled flowers, which were the deep violet-pink of the evening sky. Their fresh, sweet fragrance permeated the air. Smelling them, Annah relaxed and sat on the edge of the fleece, hugging her grass bag. Everything was soothing and peaceful. She sighed.
Thank you
.

Shem came in, carrying the basket, his face solemn and handsome in the light of the lamp. Quietly he said, “I’ll check the hearth once more tonight. If you were wondering, I put some dishes and cooking pots in the storage chest. Did I remember everything?”

“Yes, thank you. Everything’s perfect.”

Silent, he placed the basket next to the storage chest, then approached Annah and sat just behind her on the fleece. Very softly, gently, he caressed her hair, smoothing it away from her neck. Annah flinched inwardly, closing her eyes, struck by the unwelcome memory of
Naham’s massive hand in her hair, his huge fingers curling possessively against the back of her neck. But Naham had wanted her without loving her. And Naham would have never kissed her neck the way Shem was kissing her now, his lips warm, ardent, stirring an equal response from her innermost being.

Folding his arms around her, Shem kissed Annah’s cheek, whispering, “What are you thinking?”

Trying to think clearly, Annah said, “I never expected this … to be here with you. I always thought Yerakh would kill me as he killed my father.”

Shem tipped her back slightly, gazing down into her eyes. He smiled, his wonderful, radiant smile. “No, beloved, forget Yerakh! Listen to me: We are going to live to be very, very old. And we will have many … many … children.” He started to kiss her again, but then he paused, his lips just above her own as he whispered, “You know, I could be jealous.”

Jealous? Of the children?
Annah stared at him, confused. But he smiled again, murmuring, “I wish you would hold me the way you’re holding that bag.”

Captivated by the thought, Annah dropped her grass bag and let her husband lower her down onto the softness of the fleece.

Her gold talismans dangling against the back of her neck, and her grass bag looped over her shoulder, Annah left the lodge of Noakh. In her arms she carried a light, netted bundle of long, dried, husklike sheaths that Naomi had stripped from the giant grass canes growing near the river, north of the lodge.

I should use water from the well
, Annah thought, making excuses.
But I’d rather go to the river
. Shem was working in the fields between the lodge and the river, and Annah hoped to catch a glimpse of him.
I won’t interrupt him. I just want to see him, and then I’ll go to work on these sheaths
.

She walked along the edge of a recently turned field. Khawm was in the far fields with the sheep today, but Yepheth was here with Shem. Their backs were toward her as they slowly worked through the greening field, hacking a profusion of weeds and creeping thorns out of the stubborn earth. Both brothers were stripped to their waists, and both wore bands of soft leather around their heads to prevent the sweat from trickling down into their eyes. Also, both had tied back their long, curling dark hair to keep it out of the way. The strong resemblance between the two brothers might have been confusing, except that Shem now had the neatly trimmed beginnings of a black beard, marking him as a married man.

As Annah walked past them along the edge of the field, both Shem and Yepheth turned, sensing her presence. Without breaking her stride, Annah smiled at her husband, lifted her bundle of sheaths slightly, then tilted her head toward the river to convey her intent.

She could feel him watching her as she walked all the way down to the trees. Annah smiled. It was wonderful to see her husband, but it was even more wonderful to know that he was watching her so intently—equally infatuated. Blissful, daydreaming, Annah made her way through the trees down to the riverbank. There, just north of the bridge, she chose a calm, moist, sandy area marked with large, deep, webbed footprints.

A giant lizard
, Annah thought, measuring her feet against one of the webbed imprints. Her feet were nothing
beside these prints, which were fairly fresh. She must have just missed seeing the creature.

Regretful, Annah went to work. She pushed the netted sheaths down into the cool, gently lapping water, using several stones to prevent them from drifting away. Now, sitting cross-legged on the sandy bank, she rummaged through her grass bag. Touching a coil of finely plaited cordage, created from the sheaths, Annah pulled it from her bag and slipped the coil over her left foot to hold the plaiting taut. The four strands composing the plait trailed lightly over and between her wrists as she folded them tightly back and forth. Later, as she needed more plaiting materials, she would cut them from the damp, husk-like sheaths, using the blade Naomi had given her. Just as she fell into a steady rhythm with her plaiting, Annah paused. Someone was behind her.

Looking back, wide-eyed, Annah saw Shem coming out of the trees. His expression was peculiar; smiling, but disgusted as well. Alarmed, Annah asked, “What’s wrong?”

“You,” he said, kneeling to kiss her neck. “You are the most terrible distraction!”

“I didn’t mean to distract you, but I had to see you, just for an instant.” Slipping the coil of plaiting off her foot, she turned to face him.

Shem pulled away. “You shouldn’t touch me; I’m covered with dirt and sweat.”

“One kiss won’t matter,” Annah said, edging closer. “But even if I were to touch you, I could wash off in the river.”

“Give me a kiss then, and we’ll both go back to our work. I just wanted to see you.” He leaned forward. Annah kissed him, wrapping her arms around him tight. His skin was warm, and he smelled of earth. Annah snuggled
closer, and Shem objected, “I should go back to work. Yepheth is waiting.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“Annah …” Sighing, he surrendered and put his arms around her. Then he laughed quietly, picking apart her talisman-decked hair bindings. As her hair fell around her shoulders, he said, “I hope my brothers find wives for themselves soon; they’ll begin to hate me.”

“They’ll forgive you eventually.” Annah reached up to unfasten his hair. When he raised his hands to stop her, she said, “You’ve pulled off my hair bindings.”

“That’s different,” he answered, grinning.

“How?” she challenged him, smiling in return. They sat unmoving, daring one another silently, her hands on his hair, his hands on her wrists. With a sudden growling laugh, Shem overbalanced them both, taking Annah with him down into the sand. Annah squealed and released his hair. Before she could gather her wits, he kissed her. Elated, she responded, kissing him in turn, winding her arms around his neck.

“Annah,” he murmured, “we should return to our work.”

“I know. It’s unfair to Yepheth that you’ve abandoned him.” She was suddenly uneasy, sensing that they were being watched. At first she thought it was Yepheth, but Shem sat up, pulling her with him, holding her protectively. His face tense and quiet, he stared over her head toward the bridge. Turning, Annah saw two women just coming off the bridge, both gaping, astonished.

Dazed herself, Annah thought,
Haburah. And Ayalah. They are wearing talismans in their hair. And they’ve seen me kissing my husband and talking
. She felt sick with fear. They had seen her talking. They would tell Yerakh, and he would
come to find her.
I’m dead
, she thought, half-faint.
Yerakh is going to kill me
.