Heavens Before (35 page)

Ghinnah spoke first, her vivid color rising with exasperation. “Do you still agree with them, Annah? Should we leave everything and move into that pen tomorrow?”

“Ma’adannah, you
have
to agree that this is madness,”
Tirtsah spat, siding with Ghinnah. “They’ve cut down all but a handful of the sheep, the oxen, and the goats. And now, we’re to abandon our own dwelling places? No, I won’t do it!”

“What could possibly happen if you do?” Annah asked, staring at them, unyielding. “You don’t agree with your husbands. But they are your husbands, and unless you intend to leave them, wouldn’t it be better to go into the pen for at least seven days? At the end of that time, you’ll know who is right—the two of you or your husbands. And if you are right, you can laugh about it for the remainder of your lives. Now, I’m going to rest and enjoy my day of peace.”

Annah sat beside Shem near the open hearth, enjoying the early evening fire and the first violet-red hints of dusk. Smiling, Shem kissed her hair, her forehead, her lips. “You’re more beautiful than that sky. I’d rather look at you.”

“Greedy man.” Annah nuzzled his bearded face. “You’ve had me to yourself all day long. Aren’t you tired of me yet?”

Shem laughed. “Never.”

A sharp whistle cut into their conversation. They turned and saw Khawm, Yepheth, and Ghinnah hurrying toward them in the ruddy evening light. Khawm looked desperate; his eyes were enormous.

He snatched at Shem, saying, “Tirtsah has been angry all day. We quarreled, then she ran off into the trees, and now I’ve lost her. Please, help me find her.”

Annah felt a chill of sweat prickle over her face, her
neck, her arms, her back. If Tirtsah had abandoned Khawm, where else would she go but to the settlement? Without explanation, Annah ran into the woods and toward the bridge.

Twenty-One

BREATHING HEAVILY, Annah scurried off the bridge, followed by Shem and Khawm. Yepheth and Ghinnah stayed on their side of the river, hoping that Tirtsah had not abandoned them altogether.
Are you worth all this?
Annah wondered to Tirtsah in a growing, gnawing attack of fear.
Are you worth my very life? If anyone from the settlement finds me on this side of the river, I will be killed
.

Annah pushed her fears aside as she hurried up the riverbank and into the trees. Surely if the Most High had chosen to save her from the settlement, He would not change His mind now.

“Annah!” Shem called out, just loudly enough to catch her attention. “Slow down. We can’t go running into the settlement. Let’s search the trees; if we don’t find Tirtsah here, then we’ll make some sort of plan.”

“If she has gone into the settlement, then we’ve lost
her,” Annah whispered. She paused in the shadowed undergrowth, clutching her hands to her stomach. “If we follow her there, we’ll be killed.”

“If Tirtsah has gone into the settlement, then I’ll go after her myself,” Khawm told them. “And if I don’t come back, then tell our father and I’ma not to come looking for me.” Eyeing Shem and Annah, Khawm said, “That includes you as well. Whatever happens, don’t come after me. Why should we all be in danger?”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Shem replied, peering ahead, carefully stepping between the bare tangled roots of a honey-flower tree. “It’s getting dark; let’s pray we find Tirtsah soon.”

I don’t sense her
, Annah thought, anxiety making her heart race and flutter. She tried to console herself. Perhaps Tirtsah hadn’t crossed the bridge to go to the settlement after all. Even now, she might be pacing around the hearth before her dwelling place, waiting for Khawm.
I pray that’s where she is
, Annah thought,
because she’s not here in the trees
.

They searched all along the river between the bridge and the settlement. By the time they reached the fields, the sun had set and the light was fading rapidly. Now, crouching beside Shem and Khawm in the shadows of the trees, Annah looked over at the clusters of lodges, all of them marked by the rising smoke of their evening fires.
I don’t miss any of you
, she thought.

“She must be there,” Khawm said, speaking slowly.

Equally reluctant, Annah looked away from the settlement, studying the huge field before them. The only thing breaking the outlines of the darkening field was the magnificent, flowing shape of the ancient Tree of Havah—the one place, she suddenly realized, that Tirtsah
might be hiding if she were afraid.

Excited, Annah patted Shem’s arm to get his attention. “Tirtsah could be in the Tree of Havah! I used to sit there in the mornings. Let me go look; if she’s still angry, she’d be more likely to talk to me than to either of you.”

“It’s almost dark enough that you won’t be seen,” Khawm agreed eagerly.

Shem touched Annah’s face, his voice filled with concern. “If she’s not in the tree, please, come back here at once. Don’t go into the settlement.”

“I won’t ever go into that place again,” Annah assured him, meaning every word. “If she’s not in the tree, I’ll come right back. But if she is there, you must give me time to talk to her.”

Lowering her head, Annah scurried through the field.
I wish this tree were on my side of the river
, she thought, admiring the flowing, restful contours of the shadowed branches.
There’s no other tree half so wonderful in all the world
. She was glad to reach the Tree of Havah, delighted to touch it again. And she was even more pleased to sense the presence of another person sheltered within its branches.

Annah reached for the lowest branch and pulled herself up easily. She knew every bend of each branch; she didn’t have to concentrate on climbing. She focused on Tirtsah instead. Tirtsah was seated high in the crook of a branch, turned toward the settlement. She didn’t look at Annah, though she undoubtedly knew Annah was near. Stepping onto an adjacent branch, Annah sat down, sighing with relief.

For a brief time, they were silent, then Tirtsah spoke, almost rudely. “Why did you come to find me?”

Annah ignored the question. Instead she looked over at the settlement and said, “The last time I sat in this tree
was the night of the deaths. I listened as everyone in the settlement hunted for my brother’s wife, Iltani. They were so ready to kill someone that it wouldn’t have mattered whose blood was spilled. I stayed here all night in the branch above you.”

Silent, Tirtsah looked up at the branch.

More somberly, Annah said, “That was the night my mother died. Iltani, too. When the searchers from the settlement caught her, they slit her throat because she had killed my second brother, Chathath.”

Swallowing, Annah continued. “I was the one who should have died, not Chathath. When I saw his body the next morning, I was on the very edge of true madness. I had no thoughts, no words. I wandered down to the river like a mindless nothing-creature. Shem was so sure I would kill myself that he begged I’ma-Naomi to offer a brideprice to my brother.”

When Tirtsah remained silent, Annah went on. “Yerakh was always so greedy. He gave me to Shem without question the next day. But if he had perceived my thoughts, he would have killed me instantly. If anyone from the settlement finds me here, they’ll kill me and claim a reward from him.”

Tirtsah looked at Annah, shocked. “Then why are you here? Why should you risk your life for me?”

Annah sighed, speaking carefully. “Your husband loves you, Tirtsah. He has made you my sister by marriage. And I am here now, sister, because this is how a family behaves to survive. Each member considers the others, and each member truly cares about the others—to the point of sacrifice, if need be. I’ll tell you now, Khawm is ready to go into the settlement after you, knowing he’s not welcomed there.”

“They’d kill him for trying to find me?”

“Yes. Then they’d throw his body away and laugh. Khawm would be forgotten almost immediately. It would be worse for you—they would allow you to live.” Annah prayed Tirtsah would listen. “If you go into the settlement, the men of the settlement will follow you and use you according to their desires because you have no one to protect you. The women will hate you because of your beauty. Later, the men will grow tired of you, and you’ll have to find some way to survive. No one will help you, because you have nothing of value but your beauty. If you should disappear or die, they’d never look for you. And,” she added, “your death would most likely be the result of violence from someone in the settlement.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” Tirtsah admitted. Straightening, she sucked in a sharp, angry breath. “I’m trapped then! I have no choice but to go back to the family of that madman, Noakh!”

“You
will
have a choice,” Annah retorted, offended for Noakh’s sake. “And you’ll have that choice because the father of your husband is not a madman. He’s kind and loving. He will have compassion on you now, even though you hate him. Just as the Most High has compassion on you now, Tirtsah, though you hate Him.” Seeing Tirtsah stiffen defiantly, Annah gritted her teeth, struggling with her own impatience.

When she could trust herself to speak, Annah said, “Tirtsah, listen to me. Stay with your husband for the next seven days. On the eighth day, if nothing has happened, then you can laugh in our faces and demand to go back to your family, wherever they are. Your husband and his father and his brothers will honor your request. I know this because Yepheth offered a similar choice to Ghinnah the
day he married her. Also, if nothing happens and you choose to leave us, I’ll give you the last of my gold.”

“But you don’t think there will be an eighth day,” Tirtsah said, not quite arguing.

Annah shrugged in the twilight. “As I told you this morning, someone will be right. Now, be honest; if there is no eighth day, wouldn’t you rather be with us? Please, Tirtsah, come down from this tree before Khawm goes looking for you in the settlement.”

Suspicious, Tirtsah leaned toward Annah. “You will insist that my husband and his family help me if I don’t want to stay?”

“I’ll insist,” Annah agreed. “If you don’t believe me, then you can take your chances in the settlement.”

“No, I’ll go with you,” Tirtsah said sullenly.

They climbed down out of the tree, then scurried across the field. The last traces of sunlight were gone, but if anyone from the settlement should come out into the western fields, they would sense Annah and Tirtsah at once. Annah was trembling with relief when they reached the safety of the trees.

Shem grabbed her immediately, hugging her. “We were getting ready to come after you.”

Smiling, Annah turned toward Khawm and Tirtsah. They were silent in the darkness.

Tirtsah spoke, clearly uneasy, but attempting to sound proud, even a little scornful. “I’ll stay with you for eight days. After that, if I’m still unhappy, I want you to take me back to my father’s house.”

Khawm exhaled, holding out a hand for Tirtsah to accept. “I agree. Eight days.”

Slowly, Tirtsah accepted Khawm’s hand, while Annah leaned against Shem gratefully.

Tightening his arms around Annah, Shem said, “Let’s leave this place. I’m sure Yepheth and Ghinnah are wondering where we are.”

In agreement, they made their way down to the river and hurried toward the bridge, their way lit by the shimmering moon and stars.

Annah settled a clean fleece coverlet over the bed, then stood back to inspect the room she would share with her husband. The grass mats were comfortable beneath her feet, and the air was scented with the new straw she had used to stuff the bed. She had also stuffed the soft leather pillows with sweet-smelling dried herbs and long, glossy fibers from a hair-seed tree. Earlier, Shem had helped her move their storage chest against the far wall. Inside the chest were their garments, Shem’s carving supplies, their work tools, Annah’s gold, her veil, and the woven-grass bag. Now, Annah finished her last task: She wiped out the oil lamps, discarded the grass wicks, and packed the lamps into the storage chest. This was Noakh’s command; they could not risk an oil fire.

“Ma–adanna–a–a–h,” Ghinnah’s singsong voice echoed toward her through the pen. “I’m finished with my chores. Will you go outside with me again?”