Heavens Before (18 page)

Watching the four men retreating from the bridge, Shem’s younger brother cackled gleefully. But Shem breathed out in a reverent whisper, “O Most High, thank You.” He bent, kissing Annah’s hair, speaking fiercely. “You are free of them!”

Annah pressed her hands to her mouth, trembling, amazed.
O Most High
. She had heard him say those words with her own ears. There would be no secrets to keep from her beloved. No fear of rejection. Helpless with relief, she began to cry. And once she started to cry, she could not stop. Her sorrow for her mother and her brothers—suppressed with such difficulty these past two days—welled up within her. Grief drove Annah to her knees as her sobs rose in agonized wails.

She was aware of Shem kneeling beside her, holding her, saying, “I know, beloved. This has all been too much, too quickly. But you’re safe now.”

Unable to respond, she simply leaned into his arms and cried. He held her, rocking her gently and stroking her hair until her sobbing eased. At last he said, “Come, beloved. I think you’ve frightened my brothers; they’ve gone ahead to warn my parents. They are expecting us.”

Sighing shakily, Annah let him help her to her feet. She wiped her hands over her tear-streaked face, then
stared blearily at her fingers. The gold glinted at her in a fine, lustrous powder. She grimaced.
I must look wretched. I hope I’ve cried all this gold off
.

“Don’t worry,” Shem told her, amused. “You still have plenty of gold all over your face and in your hair. For once, your brother was generous; he wanted to prevent me from seeing you.” Serious now, Shem said, “If Yerakh had known the truth, he would have demanded all my grain and flocks for you. And I would have given him everything.”

Annah looked up at him, astonished. Then she knew what to say, although she could barely speak above a whisper. “Thank you.”

He smiled, compelling her to smile in return. He had glints of gold here and there on his mouth, his chin, and his cheeks; proof that he had been kissing her. Annah thought she should wipe all this evidence from his face, but she hesitated, embarrassed.

“Let it stay,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “My parents would be concerned if I didn’t kiss you, today of all days.”

He kissed her again, on the lips this time, then bent to pick up her basket. Taking her hand, he guided her up the path from the river. As they emerged from the shadows of the trees, Annah put up a hand to shield her eyes from the ruddy, lowering sun. “This way,” Shem said.

Turning, Annah stopped, uncertain of what she saw. The lodge of his parents was of average size and situated in a smooth, level field. But it was utterly dominated by an enormous, darkened rectangular structure of wood behind it.
It’s like a storage chest for a giant above all giants
, Annah thought, blinking, stunned.
Countless lodges would fit inside it!

“That’s the pen,” Shem told her, perfectly calm, as if
all families had such overwhelming structures situated behind their lodges.

“The pen …” Annah faltered. “For keeping animals?”

“Eventually.”

“But, why?”

“No one in your settlement has ever spoken of it?” Shem asked, surprised. “The men know it exists; it’s one of the reasons my father isn’t welcome in your settlement.”

“No, I’ve never heard of it. But I spent most of my time avoiding the others. They do not talk to me.”

“My father has been working on it since before he married my mother. And my brothers and I have helped him almost from the time we could walk. We’ll show it to you later. Now, look over there.” He motioned gently, toward the softly flowing fields west of his family’s lodge. The distant fields were filled with sheep, tended by various herdsmen. “Those are our herds, and those men are my father’s cousins. They come and go in our service depending on their moods and whether they are hungry or not. They aren’t fond of us, so you won’t see them too often. I know you’ll be cautious, but if you see them coming, you should stay with my mother inside the lodge.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll avoid them,” Annah promised. The herdsmen of the settlement were fierce, independent men, avoided by all but their employers. She looked at the pen once more, trying to comprehend the reason for its existence.

Diverting her attention yet again, Shem balanced the basket in his hands, obviously curious. “What do you have in here? Something of metal?”

Annah pushed aside her shock at the sight of the pen and forced herself to think.
What do I have in that basket?
“Tools,” she answered, remembering suddenly. “My
father’s gold-working tools.”

Hearing this, Shem smiled, his face beautiful, captivating. “You work the gold?”

“Yes.” In a whisper, she pleaded, “I can’t give up working the gold. It’s been one of my few comforts.”

“I don’t want you to give up working the gold.” Shem kissed her hair and grinned. “If you give up working the gold, then who will teach our children? But come now. My parents are eager to welcome you, and I don’t want them to worry.”

Annah followed Shem into the peaceful main room of his family’s lodge. Naomi embraced her, delighted. Then Shem’s brothers introduced themselves, the older brother calling himself Yepheth, the younger brother giving his name as Khawm. Annah was too self-conscious to speak to them, but they didn’t seem to care; they were relieved to be in their own lodge once more. And they were glad to frighten their mother, telling her of the four men who had pursued them from the settlement. While his brothers talked, Shem said, “Come meet my father.”

By now Annah was anxious and overwhelmed, reverting to her habit of looking down at the floor—at the feet of others. The feet of Shem’s father were work-hardened and stained here and there with what she presumed were wood resins. His hands also were stained and calloused.

He welcomed Annah kindly, bending to kiss her forehead. “Daughter,” he said, his voice genial and completely sincere. “Welcome. Your husband has forgotten his manners: I am Noakh.”

“Forgive my bad manners,” Shem said to Annah. His
eyes sparkled; he seemed to be laughing at himself. “Dear wife, now that we are married, please, tell us your name.”

She felt the blood rush to her face. Bracing herself, she explained, “When I was very young, I talked constantly and asked so many questions that my father called me Annah …‘Oh now.’ I’ve been called Annah ever since.” Lowering her voice, she admitted, “I don’t remember my true given name.”

Noakh chuckled soothingly. “If it pleases you to be called Annah, my daughter, then we will call you Annah. If you would prefer another name, then that’s for you to decide. But now, you must meet the father of my father. He wants to see the two of you.”

The father of his father?
Annah glanced up at Shem, incredulous.
Noakh was obviously vigorous, but he was not a young man. He has celebrated at least five kentums
, Annah thought.
He must surely be approaching his six hundredth year. How can the father of his father possibly be alive?

“It’s true,” Shem whispered, as he led Annah to a finely woven reed partition. “His name is Methuwshelakh, but I call him ‘Father of my Father’s. He is 969 years old.”

Annah did not quite believe Shem until he pulled her behind the partition. There, on a soft, thick pallet, beneath a light fleece cover, she saw the frailest wisp of an old man she could ever have imagined. Insubstantial, thin-skinned, with a fine down of silver hair, he didn’t seem real. Yet he was breathing, slight, faint, rhythmic breaths. Annah watched Noakh kneel beside the old man, take his hand, and kiss him reverently on the cheek. As the old man stirred, on the verge of waking, Noakh motioned to Shem and Annah, silently urging them to kneel beside him.

“Father of my Father,” Noakh said gently, “open your
eyes; Shem has brought his wife to meet you.”

Methuwshelakh opened his eyes, blinking first at Noakh, then at Shem, and finally at Annah. After an instant of confusion, his soft, dark old eyes lit with understanding. “A wife …” he muttered almost dreamily. “A wife … for a son of my sons.” He groped now, stretching out his dry, ancient fingers toward Shem. Smiling, Shem took his hand, kissing it, listening attentively as the old man lifted his feeble voice. “Now you will have joy … many children … blessings of years … and years.”

“Eat with us tonight,” Noakh urged Methuwshelakh.

The old man sighed and patted Shem’s hands. After a brief pause, he said, “These children do not need … such an old man … at their wedding feast.”

Annah loved his sweetness and his mild spirit. Hesitant, afraid she might be too bold, she covered his fragile hand with her own. “If you can, most ancient of men, please eat with us. I would be honored by your presence.”

He looked at her mistily, sighing again. “Who can refuse … such an agreeable request?” To Noakh, he said, “Only for the meal … I will not be more of a burden.”

Obviously delighted, Shem gathered Methuwshelakh into his arms as tenderly and easily as he would a young child. Noakh quickly lifted the old man’s pallet and carried it to the center of the lodge.

By now Methuwshelakh was fully awake and bright-eyed, peering at Annah. “She wears bride-gold?” he asked Shem wonderingly. “Is she of wealth?”

“She’s from the Lodge of the Tsaraph,” Shem answered, carrying Methuwshelakh to his pallet, now arranged beside Noakh’s mat at the hearth.

“The Tsaraph?” The old man’s voice lifted in surprise. “What have you done … to deserve such a privilege …
from those who work the gold?”

“I consider myself blessed,” Shem told him. As he spoke, he looked down at Annah, standing beside him. Deeply affected, she had to bite her lip to prevent more tears. To busy herself, she helped Naomi arrange extra pillows for Methuwshelakh’s pallet so he could recline comfortably while eating.

Shem’s father prayed and gave thanks to the Most High, then sat down with Methuwshelakh, spooning a broth of lentils to him, encouraging him to eat. Annah sat between Shem and Naomi during their meal, cherishing their company, listening more than eating.

Still elated by the day’s events, Shem’s brothers told their parents everything that had happened: coaxing the sheep across the bridge, listening to the men of the settlement quarrel, bathing in the river, then enduring the amazingly brief wedding ceremony. “That Yerakh couldn’t wait to be rid of us,” Khawm told his parents, as his brothers nodded and Annah smiled in agreement.

Shem looked at Annah now, raising one dark eyebrow. “I am curious … those cakes your sisters offered us in your lodge … they tasted just like I’ma’s cakes.”

“They did,” Khawm agreed as Yepheth nodded. “But how could those cakes have been I’ma’s?”

“My sisters forgot to prepare food to offer you,” Annah confessed, mortified. “I was guarding the last of your mother’s cakes and her beautiful basket. I couldn’t bear to leave them in the settlement. But my sisters remembered the cakes and took them from me. They didn’t care that you would eat cakes from your own lodge during your visit.”

Now Yepheth actually smiled, his stern features becoming pleasant. And he spoke, his voice low and
thoughtful. “Then, because we ate none of their food beneath their roof, we have no obligations to the Lodge of Yerakh.”

As pleased as her sons, Naomi patted Annah’s hands. “Thank you, child, for saving my basket. It is good to know that my sons are not obligated to your brother. And if they’re not obligated, then neither am I.” She jerked her chin emphatically, saying, “Do you agree, my dear one?”

“I agree, beloved. Truly, the Most High has saved us from evil.” Noahk paused in feeding his grandfather to study Annah. His eyes were so kind.

Annah wanted to smile at him, but began to cry instead. Shem touched her arm, distressed. They all hushed, looking at her. Even the fragile Methuwshelakh noticed her tears.

“Why should she cry?” Methuwshelakh asked worriedly.

Annah managed a smile and wiped her face with her hands. The wretched bride-gold was all over her fingers. Recovering, she turned to Naomi. “When I spoke to you at the river yesterday, I was so afraid that you would reject me … I didn’t tell you everything that happened at the lodge of the Nachash.”

The word “Nachash” caught the attention of Shem’s entire family. They stared at her, wide-eyed and unmoving. “Did you tell them everything?” Annah asked Naomi.

“Yes,” Naomi answered softly, her eyes dark and anxious. “My husband and sons were so angry that they began to herd the sheep toward your settlement last night. They wanted you to be free as soon as possible. But tell us what you could not tell me yesterday.”

Shem took Annah’s hand, clearly wanting her to look at him, but she looked at Noakh instead; unlike Shem and
Naomi, Noakh was perfectly serene. “When I saw the Nachash holding my stillborn brother, I hated her for demanding his life. I hated her so fiercely that she sensed my presence and screamed at me, asking if I would accuse her before the Most High. Then I knew; the Most High is not a story. And I knew—as the enemy of the Nachash—He would welcome me. When my brother’s wife, Iltani, came after me with the knife, I called to the Most High.”