Heavens Before (29 page)

Ghinnah stared at Methuwshelakh, confused. “The Father of All, Ancient One?”

Sighing, Methuwshelakh said, “You don’t believe … the stories of old. The Father of all my Fathers … was
created from clay, near a river. His first breath … was the breath of the Word—the Most High. And his color was … your color … red in the brown of his face … even in his old age. He was Adam … for the red in his face.”

As she helped Naomi set out dishes of lentils, flat bread, and olives, Annah listened, fascinated. Eager to hear more, she asked. “Did you meet Havah, the wife of Adam?”

“The same Havah.” Methuwshelakh sighed again, his eyes faraway. “She was … even in her old age … everything lovely and … pleasing in a woman. The Father of All called her … his Mischief … and Life-giver. Later, when she departed this life … he no longer cared … to live. One day … he said he was tired. He went to sleep … because he missed her.”

When Ghinnah continued to stare at him, clearly bewildered, the ancient man said, “You do not believe. But one day … you will remember what I have said. And … I tell you now … it is good to see … Adam’s color … in your face.”

Annah knelt beside Ghinnah and smiled, leaning over to whisper in her ear, “Now you are thinking,
My husband’s family is more than a little strange
.”

Unable to turn her head to look at Annah, Ghinnah widened her eyes, whispering, “How did you know?”

“Because,” Annah replied, “that’s what I thought on my first morning here, when I saw everything in the pen behind the lodge.”

Ghinnah bit her lip, surprised and uncertain. Pleased, Annah thought,
Perhaps you are wondering whether or not you should believe the stories of old. But you wouldn’t dare to call our Methuwshelakh a liar, even in your own mind. I think you’ll eventually
believe in the Most High
. Smiling, she helped Naomi serve their food.

“You look sad this morning,” Ghinnah told Annah. “Are you thinking of your cruel brother and your family again?”

“No.” Annah knelt behind Ghinnah to comb her hair—Ghinnah’s arms still hurt too much to reach behind her head. “I’m disappointed. My time of seclusion has begun, and I wish it hadn’t. I long for a child.”

“You’ve been married only a short time,” Ghinnah reminded her.

Annah sighed. “I suppose I’m too eager. I’m sure that in a few years, we’ll be tearing out our hair because our children will be running everywhere and questioning us about everything.”

“
Your
children will do that,” Ghinnah answered, pretending hauteur. “My children will sit quietly like their father. They’ll be perfect.”

“With you as their mother?” Annah teased. “I doubt it.”

“Then I’ll send my children to play with your children, and you can tear your hair out over all of them and leave me alone.”

“You can send them all to me,” Naomi announced from her place beside the hearth. She was kneading dough in a polished wooden bowl, her hands glistening with oil. “I’ll teach your children to behave, then I’ll send them back to you.”

Annah smiled at her mother-in-law. “You say that now, but I think you’ll spoil them and send them back to us. As
far as our children are concerned, we’ll be nothing in their eyes when compared to you, I’ma-Naomi.”

“We will see,” Naomi said, smiling in return. “It will be good to hold a child again. Perhaps by this time next year, you will both have children.”

“Perhaps,” Annah agreed. She eyed the dough in Naomi’s hands. “I’ma, after I’ve helped Ghinnah, I’ll be glad to make those cakes.”

“I’d forgotten, I promised—” Naomi stopped and turned.

Annah looked up, sensing Noakh’s presence even as he approached the back of the lodge.

His arms and face were covered with dust and sweat from working the earth. He glanced at his wife, raising his grizzled eyebrows significantly, then he turned to Annah. “Daughter, I must warn you that your sister—the talkative Ayalah—is coming to visit, with Tsillah and her daughter, Taphaph.”

Stifling a groan, Annah finished smoothing Ghinnah’s hair with the carved wooden comb.
Ayalah, Tsillah, and Taphaph! Why should they come here except to cause trouble?
She looked from Noakh to Naomi, dismayed. “Am I allowed to refuse them entry into the lodge?”

“Let’s carry the mats and food outside,” Naomi suggested. “That way they won’t disturb our Ancient One. Also, we will offer them only cakes and water this time. I’ve had enough of those women. They won’t change.”

“Can I meet them?” Ghinnah’s curiosity apparently overwhelmed her misery.

Annah stood to pick up the mats. “Can you move that far?”

“For the chance to meet one of your sisters, I will,” Ghinnah assured her.

“They’ll be here soon,” Noakh warned.

Hurriedly Annah carried several mats outside, placing them near the eastern wall of the lodge. Ghinnah followed her slowly, holding a clay pitcher of water. When Annah had arranged the mats properly and helped Ghinnah to sit down, Naomi joined them with a basket containing only plain grain cakes and six cups for water. Satisfied, Annah went out to the path to meet their guests.

Ayalah was leading them, her sly, pretty face alight: She was enjoying herself. “We won’t stay, Annah!” she called out. “I mean, Ma’adannah.”

Annah put her hands out to greet her sister properly, though not affectionately. Then she looked at Tsillah and Taphaph, who had stopped more than an arm’s length away. Tsillah looked proud as ever, but Taphaph seemed older, tired and hard-eyed, her lustrous hair swept back severely into a sparkling, gold-talismaned hair binding. In her arms, Taphaph held a small parcel of leather.

“There,” Tsillah sniffed, nudging her daughter. “Didn’t I tell you? That Annah-creature is more beautiful than Parah and Haburah, now that she has a mind.”

Thank you, Tsillah
, Annah thought without rancor. She nodded to them politely. “Will you sit with us and have something to eat and drink?”

“No,” Taphaph said abruptly. “We won’t stay. My husband is waiting for us to return to the settlement.” She hesitated.

Life with Yerakh has not pleased you as much as you’d hoped
, Annah thought to Taphaph, seeing the strain in her eyes.

Moving stiffly, Taphaph held out the leather parcel. Acting as their go-between, Ayalah took the parcel and gave it to Annah.

Feeling its weight, Annah realized at once that the parcel contained a solid bar of gold.

Taphaph cleared her throat. “Yerakh wants peace in his family. He knows you have your father’s tools, and he says that you should keep them. He won’t come after you again. But he wants you to lift this curse you’ve placed upon him.”

Annah looked at the parcel in her hands. Yerakh must be terrified to offer her so much gold and the ownership of their father’s tools. Very gently she said, “Tell your husband that I feel compassion for you both. But the curse was already upon him as soon as he killed our father. The earth was never meant to receive such an act of violence.”

Taphaph looked desperate, her eyes filling with tears. “Please! My husband has not been the same since you spoke to him! He is distant … full of despair. And …”

When Taphaph could not continue, Annah said, “He has beaten you.”

The other woman nodded mutely.

Annah sighed. “There is nothing I can do. Yerakh is the one who—”

“You mean you won’t do anything.” Taphaph burst out. “You’re the one who spoke the curse!”

“Yerakh brought his own curse upon himself. All I did was give it words.”

“Then what can he do to escape this curse?” Taphaph begged. “I want my husband to be as he was before!”

“Yerakh must be willing to submit to justice for the death of his father, and for causing the deaths of Gammad and the others.”

“You mean he should seek his own death?” Taphaph said, not believing what she heard.

“He should acknowledge his wrongs and give himself
over to justice.”

“You know he can’t do that.”

“I know he
won’t
,” Annah agreed. She held the gold out to Taphaph. “This has not served Yerakh as he wished. Take it back to him.”

Alarmed, Taphaph retreated. “No, I can’t return it to him. He will be angry enough when I tell him what you have said.”

“Tell him before many witnesses,” Annah urged. “Then stay away from him until he’s calm.”

“No! I don’t want any more of your advice—you’ve caused enough trouble!” Covering her ears, Taphaph ran toward the river.

Glaring, Tsillah spat at Annah’s feet. “You cursed my daughter as barren!”

As Tsillah strode off, Annah remained silent. She could not tell them what they wanted to hear; it would be a lie.

Ayalah loitered, smirking. “Your advice about telling Yerakh in front of witnesses was good, Ma’adannah, but I doubt Taphaph will listen.”

“Make her listen,” Annah urged her sister. “Or you will share the blame if she’s killed.”

Ayalah widened her eyes at this, indignant. “Why should I be blamed? I can’t control Yerakh when he’s angry. Enjoy the gold, Ma’adannah. Yerakh must have felt like he was tearing out his guts to give it to you. Perhaps you’ll see me again, dear sister, and perhaps you won’t. Until then!” Waving a careless farewell, Ayalah followed Tsillah and Taphaph down the narrow path through the trees to the river.

Annah felt a sinking pain in her stomach.
Why did I think I could be rid of Yerakh and the others so easily? What a fool I
am! O Most High, what will happen now?
She watched her sister and Tsillah and Taphaph until they vanished into the trees. Then she returned to the lodge of Noakh.

Eighteen

SEATED ON a grass mat in the sunlight behind the lodge, Annah listened to Ghinnah’s humming as they sorted a small hill of tiny, smooth-skinned, violet-blue berries. Ghinnah looked better today; she moved more freely, and she hadn’t complained of her neck or back hurting even once this morning. But it was her obvious happiness that pleased Annah the most. Pretending to complain, Annah said, “Why are you making so much noise? You’re supposed to be miserable, marrying a nonspeaking man.”

Startled, Ghinnah looked up from stemming the berries. Then she smiled. “You’re teasing me! But Annah, please, don’t ever tell Yepheth I called him a nonspeaking man; he’d feel hurt. Besides, he doesn’t need words, the way he watches me.”

“Then you are happy you stayed?”

“I think I am,” Ghinnah agreed, the lovely color deepening in her cheeks.

She’s thinking of Yepheth
, Annah decided. Clearing her throat, she said, “When we’ve finished here, we should go bathe. Then I’ll help I’ma with the food for tonight while you do nothing, because you’re the bride this time. I thought Yepheth would never finish building your dwelling place.”

“He was being very careful; it had to be perfect,” Ghinnah said, mildly defensive.

“I’m sure it will be.” Annah stopped, sensing the approach of another.
Shem
, she thought, standing eagerly. He waited at the corner of the lodge, exhausted and wild haired because he had just returned from his watch over the herds.

Shem grinned at Annah, admiring her even as his eyes appealed to her silently:
I need to talk to you
.

“Wait for me, I’ll return,” Annah said to Ghinnah.

“If my husband ever gives me such a look,
I
won’t return,” Ghinnah replied airily. “Just to let you know.”

“I’ll remember that.” Annah hurried to her husband, who quickly led her around to the west wall, out of Ghinnah’s sight.

“I’m tired, I’m dirty, and I’m hungry, but I have to ask you two things,” Shem whispered, staring at her as if she were lovely and infinitely desirable. “My first question is, will you be staying here again tonight?”

Pleased by her husband’s tenderness, Annah wrapped her arms around his neck. “No, I’ll leave with you as soon as we’ve sent your brother and Ghinnah away after the celebration. My time of seclusion is ended—for this month, at least.”

Shem’s expression softened. “Don’t worry, beloved;
the children will come soon enough. Until then, we can keep each other company.” He bent, kissing her cheek, then her throat.

Annah sighed. “Tell me, before we both forget, what was your second question?”

Reluctantly Shem paused, trying to remember. “Yepheth wanted to ask if Ghinnah needed him to carry anything in particular out to their shelter. Utensils, lamps, storage boxes? He’s worried he might forget something.”

Annah planted a quick kiss on her husband’s lips. “Wait here; I’ll go ask her.”

Still sorting berries, Ghinnah laughed at the question. “Tell your husband to tell my husband not to worry. I’ll gather a few things later. We aren’t traveling far.”

Annah relayed the message, then asked, “Are you going to sleep for a while?”

“And bathe and eat,” he agreed. “Give me another kiss, then I’ll go. Yepheth is expecting my help. We won’t be here for the midday meal, but I’ll see you tonight.”

When he was gone, Annah returned to sort berries with Ghinnah. After a brief silence, Ghinnah said, “I’ve been thinking … Qeb-al and Etsah took my mother’s gold hair bindings to pay off a debt. Could you make some new ones for me? I’d be willing to pay you for your time…” Her words trailed off, nervous and unsure.