Heavens Before (42 page)

Annah gave Ghinnah a firm nudge. “Please, go get our husbands. Tirtsah, go find I’ma-Naomi’s ointments. I will stay here to help her.”

“And boil some water for the herbs!” Naomi cried. To Annah, she said, “Child, come help me. That accursed creature—biting my dear one! I want to skin that lion!” While she talked, Naomi took her own soft leather belt and wrapped Noakh’s wound, then stripped some leather cordage from Noakh’s belt to tie the makeshift bandage securely. Annah helped her tie the knots.

“Too loose; it’ll fall off,” Noakh grunted. Fearful of hurting him, Annah held her breath as she tightened the
knots. A mist of sweat broke out over Noakh’s face, and Naomi’s eyes filled with fresh tears.

“I’ma?” Yepheth called to Naomi as he climbed up a side ladder from the lower level. As Yepheth hurried to help his father, Shem and Khawm came running up from the lower level ramp, followed by Ghinnah.

“Don’t carry me,” Noakh told his sons through his firmly clenched teeth. “I can walk, with some help.”

Positioning themselves on either side of their father, Yepheth and Khawm helped him to stand. Shem pulled Annah and Naomi to their feet, then nodded at Ghinnah, saying, “Let’s go ahead of them and be sure things are prepared. How did this happen?”

“That accursed lion,” Naomi said, flinging a fierce look over her shoulder at the offending creature. “It was hungry and couldn’t wait for its food; it chewed on your father instead.”

While they were settling Noakh on a pallet near the hearth, he winced. “I think we have not fed that lion enough. Listen to me; we will no longer go into the cages with the carrion-eaters until after they have been well fed. We cannot be so careless, as I was. Beloved,” he sighed to Naomi, “you are right; this will be a long time healing.” To his sons, Noakh said, “I’m sorry; I’ll be useless for weeks.”

“The work is nothing,” Shem told him. “And you will never be useless.”

As she listened to them talk, Annah prepared the bowl of brewed astringent cleansing herbs, then helped Naomi untie their makeshift bandage. Gazing at her father-in-law’s wound, Annah longed to cry.
His leg will never be the same; he will never walk straight again
.

“Ick! How can you eat that?” Ghinnah demanded, watching Annah take a second helping of the red spice-paste during their midday meal.

“I crave it,” Annah told her, sucking in a quick breath as the fiery paste seared her mouth. Glancing at Ghinnah’s fading color, Annah said, “You liked this stuff until you began carrying a child of your own.”

“Well, now I know better,” Ghinnah said. “That paste will curl your child’s hair.”

“Is something wrong with curly hair?” Khawm asked Ghinnah, lifting his dark eyebrows in amusement.

Annah laughed as Ghinnah looked from Khawm to Yepheth, who was watching her quizzically, the light shining on his own dark curls. “You know what I meant,” Ghinnah replied, lifting her chin at them. “If Annah’s child had straight hair before, it’s curled now, with all the spice-paste she’s been eating.”

“Daughter,” Noakh interposed gently, chuckling at Ghinnah from the comfort of his pallet near the hearth. “It would be best if you stopped explaining; you are outnumbered by those of us who have curls. And”—he paused significantly—“I wanted to say that we should test the waters today by sending out a kind of spy.”

He had their attention now. Annah and the others leaned forward eagerly as Noakh said, “It’s been more than a month since the mountaintops were revealed. We should send out a bird to check the waters. Perhaps it will bring some sign to cheer us.”

“Which bird?” Khawm asked, his eyes bright with anticipation.

“A clever one,” Noakh mused. “One such as the raven.”

After their meal, Noakh insisted upon hobbling up a ladder himself to release the clever black bird from a high window. Fearfully anxious, Annah waited with the others in the upper level. Three times Noakh made his way painfully up the ladder, but the raven ignored him, flying back and forth across the waters near the pen.

At last Noakh descended, his patience gone. “I won’t go up there again today! That little carrion-eater is out there feasting on floating corpses and refusing to return to us. We’ll wait a few days and send out a more discriminating bird. A clean bird, not a carrion-eater. Now I’m going to write this down.”

While confined to his bed with his mending leg, Noakh had written his daily notations on a scroll of leather instead of carving them into the far wall. This scroll would be added to the written records already accrued by the fathers of his fathers. Births, deaths, murders, cursings, notations of the giants such as Naham the
Nephyil
, and their rebellious spiritual origins—as well as the creation of the earth and the assurance of mankind’s deliverance from the Adversary by the Promised One; all were noted within these scrolls. The scrolls carried the very breath of the Most High, the Word.

In the evenings, Annah begged Noakh to recite the stories of old contained within these scrolls.
They are no longer mere stories
, Annah thought.
They are life
. Hugging the full roundness of her belly, she promised her unborn child,
You will hear all these things from the father of your father. And no one will laugh at you or despise you or threaten you for believing them. You will be free to call to the Most High and worship Him as He deserves. And we will tell you of the Promised One. Then you will always remember Him and tell your children
.

A week later, they all watched as Noakh descended from the ladder again, a dove resting on his hand. “Nothing,” he announced resignedly. “She found nothing but barren crests of earth, and the water, as usual.”

Annah watched as her father-in-law returned the dove to its special cage. Seven pairs of doves and seven pairs of pigeons were held separately from the other birds, for they alone, along with certain oxen, sheep, and goats were considered worthy of offering to the Most High. By now, Annah knew the purpose of the sacrificial offerings: to cover the sins of mankind before the Most High. She had not yet witnessed such an offering. But each time she passed those seven pairs of creatures, she was filled with a sense of fearful mourning, and of wonder.
It’s too much for me to understand
, she thought to the Most High.
It grieves me that blood must atone for our wickedness, so that we can approach You and call upon Your name. Perhaps the Promised One will save us from these sacrifices, though we don’t deserve Your love. Why should You desire to welcome us? I think that is the most wonderful question of all
.

Seated on a mat just outside Yepheth and Ghinnah’s sleeping area, Annah concentrated on the soft puff of wool between her fingers. Pinching out just the right amount, she rolled it between her left thumb and forefinger to form a continuous twist of cordage while Ghinnah watched. Yepheth had recently constructed a weaving frame for her, and Annah wanted to help Ghinnah prepare the fibers. Discouraged, Annah grimaced. “At least
your cordage will be useful. Mine will be odd.”

“Yours will do very well,” Ghinnah said placidly. “It will add texture to our work.”

Annah continued to twist the soft fibers between her fingers, only looking up when Noakh limped by them, heading toward the ladder near the bird enclosure.

Ghinnah said, “I won’t follow him this time. Nothing has changed.” Sympathetically, she added, “I’m afraid the father of our husbands will never walk properly again.”

“At least he can walk,” Annah said. Noakh was climbing the ladder, checking again for the dove that he had released that morning. Annah set down her fibers and the cordage. “I’m following him. I still have hope.” Pulling herself to her feet, Annah slowly trudged to the other end of the pen. Naomi, Shem, and Tirtsah were already waiting by the time she arrived.

Shem took Annah’s hands, whispering, “You’re beautiful.”

I love you
, she thought, recognizing his sincerity. With their fingers intertwined, they watched as Noakh descended the ladder, carrying the dove on his hand.

“Our little spy must think she will build a nest here,” Noakh said. “Look what she brought us.” Opening his free hand, Noakh revealed a young, fresh, blade-shaped leaf.

“An olive leaf!” Naomi exclaimed, delighted. “O Most High, thank You!”

They gathered around, staring at the leaf, elated. Annah touched it, misty-eyed, longing to see the young olive tree itself.

“This tree must have started growing beneath the waters,” Tirtsah said. Looking at Annah, she smiled. “Perhaps our children will be born on dry land after all.”

“In three months.” Noah pursed his lips, thinking. “Perhaps.”

Three months
. Annah almost groaned at the thought. But she consoled herself by looking at the leaf again.
Thank you, O Most High
.

“Tonight, we celebrate,” Naomi announced. No one argued.

Seven days later, the dove did not return. “She has found food and a place to rest,” Noakh said, deeply satisfied.

“I envy her,” Annah said, feeling the kicking of tiny feet within. “She’s free to fly up into the sky again. How I miss the sky!”

“Soon we will see the sky again, daughter,” Noakh assured her. “The Most High will call us out at the proper time.”

Do I have such patience?
Annah wondered. Her child stirred, restless, agitated.