Heavens Before (44 page)

I now establish my covenant with you and with your descendants after you and with every living creature that was with you … never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth … I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth
.

As one compelled, Annah looked up at the eastern sky and saw a many-colored arc of light glowing among the clouds—the first truly beautiful thing she had seen in this new earth. She stared at it, amazed, some of the ache in her heart ebbing away.

Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life
, His voice promised them all, the voice of a Father soothing His precious children.

Annah wiped her eyes and listened, at peace now, feeling the stirrings of the new life within her.
O Most High, You have not changed
, she thought, gazing at the rainbow.
The heavens and the earth have all been swept away and replaced, but You have not changed. Even now, You care for us, and You will fulfill all Your promises to us; this is the comfort I will need more than anything else in this new life
.

“But to eat animals’ flesh? I don’t think I
could
,” Tirtsah moaned as they were sorting out the remainders of various foods from the pen. “If we have enough grains and fruits and seeds—surely we won’t need to eat flesh.”

“You will have no choice, daughter,” Naomi answered quietly. “Look around you at this rugged earth and that cold sky; there is no mercy here. Food may not be as easy to obtain, and what we do find may be less nourishing than what we had before.”

Listening to their conversation, Annah dumped the remainder of a basket of dried berries into a larger basket of dried sweet afals. The dried berries would give the pale, thin-skinned afals a pretty, rosy color when they were cooked together.

“We may as well add these,” Ghinnah told Annah, passing her a basket of tiny, deep brown, dried vine-fruits.

In time, they would have vine-fruits again. Noakh had stored cuttings of some of his favorite plants in the darkest reaches of the pen, and now he was planning to establish a vineyard in the lower hillsides.

“If we are careful, there should be enough fruit to last us until we find other fruit-bearing plants,” Annah said to Naomi.

“But what if there isn’t enough?” Ghinnah asked, her pretty eyes wide, apprehensive.

Naomi actually laughed. “Daughter, if the Most High has chosen to save us from the terrors of the flood, I think we may depend upon Him to meet our needs with a few bits of fruit.”

And with the grain
, Annah thought, eyeing the remaining baskets. Shem, Khawm, and Yepheth already had decided
to begin clearing fields and planting various grains. She watched as her husband and his brothers descended from the slopes above, bringing the final cartloads of tools and hides down from the pen, which loomed on the hillside like a dark husk emptied of its seeds. Annah thought it looked permanent, indestructible.

“What shall we do with this?” Ghinnah’s tone demanded the other women’s attention. She held a broad, deep basket filled with the last bits of dried meat from the pen. “Shall we put it out for the carrion-eaters?”

Naomi frowned and shook her head. “It seems that the carrion-eaters have enough food for now. We need this meat more than they do.” Then, as if to console them, she added, “If you find any remaining blood cakes, you may throw them away.”

“Gladly,” Tirtsah muttered, and the others laughed.

Annah woke, feeling as if she had been struggling in her sleep. Taking a quiet breath, she looked up at the sturdy reed-and-hide roof of the small room she shared with her husband. They had removed some of the partitions and stalls from the pen to build their lodge, and this room. With its hewn-wood sides, low-sloping hide roof, and windows here and there, the lodge was not beautiful, but it was reasonably warm and comfortable. It would serve their purposes until after the fields were planted and this first crop of children was born. Moving her hands over her stomach now, Annah felt another contraction.
A false one
, she thought. But she caught her breath, suddenly struggling against genuine pain.

Gradually, the pain faded. Unable to lie still, Annah
pushed off the warmth of the fleece covers and reached for her long-sleeved overtunic. Softly she made her way outside into the first gray hints of a clouded dawn. She went to the wall-enclosed waste pit just beyond the lodge, then washed her hands in the rushing water of a nearby spring. Another pain struck, making her gasp in deep breaths of the cold morning air. When she could move again, Annah returned the lodge and sat near the banked hearth, silently bracing herself against pain after pain while she waited for Shem and the others to awaken.
Soon
, she thought.
They’ll be awake soon. They were so tired last night; I should let them sleep as long as possible
.

Shem found her first. Bending to kiss her, he said, “I turned over in my sleep and you weren’t there.” He hesitated and stared at her intently, his eyes widening in the dim light. “You’re having pains.”

“Yes,” Annah agreed through clenched teeth, unwilling to communicate further. Another pain closed around her, squeezing her tight. Elated, Shem hugged her; Annah pushed him away hard.

Undismayed, Shem went to wake the others. They gathered around Annah delightedly, discussing her appearance and arguing about when she would actually deliver the child. Annah shut her eyes, struggling through another contraction. When the pain subsided, Naomi, Ghinnah, and Tirtsah helped Annah to her feet. Against her will, they led her back to her room.

The morning passed in a swift, pain-filled blur. Trying to cope with her misery, Annah moved restlessly around the room. All the while, she was vaguely aware of Naomi watching her, while Tirtsah and Ghinnah hovered close by, all of them apprehensive.

“Is the pain too much, Annah?” Ghinnah begged at
one point.

“No,” Annah muttered, turning her face away. Another pain gripped her and she clung to the storage chest for support, feeling the urge to bear down, producing a warm, drenching rush of birth water.

Naomi took hold of her and spoke sternly. “Ma’adannah, it’s time. You have to let us help you; stop pushing us away.”

It’s time
, Annah thought, repeating Naomi’s words in her mind. She obeyed Naomi, finally settling down on the hastily arranged birthing area of mats and hides. Ghinnah and Tirtsah were supporting her back and shoulders, encouraging her through each new contraction. At last Naomi cried out, jubilant, “There! One more breath, daughter, then push again.”

Gasping, gritting her teeth, Annah obeyed, thinking of nothing but ridding herself of the pain. It vanished suddenly, as the amazingly angry howl of a newborn filled the room. Tirtsah laughed and hugged Annah, as Ghinnah shrieked into Annah’s ear, “A son! You have a son!”

Immediately, Ghinnah and Tirtsah abandoned Annah to watch as Naomi bound and cut the birth cord, then hastily wrapped the squalling infant in a fresh blanket. Annah was leaning forward to catch a glimpse of her new son when another pain struck. Frightened, she called to Naomi, “I’ma, another pain!”

Busy with her grandson, and the admiring Tirtsah and Ghinnah, Naomi answered happily, “It’s only the afterbirth, daughter, don’t worry.”

“I’ma!” Annah cried, enraged, aware of more than just the pain now, “does afterbirth
kick?
”

Gaping in astonishment, Naomi thrust her new
grandson at Tirtsah and returned to Annah. “Another child?” she asked in disbelief. “A hidden one?”

Engrossed with the renewed onslaught of pain and the urge to bear down, Annah ignored the question. After four birth pains, Annah delivered another son. But this second son was different from his howling, shut-eyed brother. This second son cried plaintively at first, then opened his dark eyes and hushed, looking about, alert and curious. Seeing his odd expression of newborn wonder, Annah laughed, overcome with joy. Visibly startled, both of her sons began to cry.

Nestled in her bed, Annah watched the gentle flickering of the oil lamp set on the nearby storage chest. She smiled, listening to the others laughing and celebrating over their evening meal in the main room of the lodge.
They are passing my sons around like little gifts
, Annah thought, pleased by the sounds of their happiness. There were loud discussions earlier, however: Shem had asked Noakh to name the twins, and everyone gave suggestions, each of them groaning when their suggestions were discussed and rejected.

At last, against Naomi’s will, Noakh had named the firstborn infant Elam—the hidden one—because Elam would not open his eyes. And Elam’s younger brother was called Asshur—the guiding one—because Asshur was alert and watching everything.

“This Asshur will lead his brother,” Noakh said, making everyone laugh, including Annah, who strained to hear every word spoken about her sons.

My sons
, she thought.
I have two sons. And they are as
beautiful as their father
. Dreaming, Annah closed her eyes. A sound startled her then; a small stone, gently tossed, landed beside her in the bed.
Shem
. She turned to see him watching her from the doorway, his face lit by the flickering of the evening fire.

Shem lifted his dark eyebrows, concerned, questioning:
Are you well?

Smiling, Annah nodded faintly, motioning with one hand:
Yes. Thank you
.

His answering smile was relieved and radiant. Widening his eyes emphatically, and raising two fingers, Shem silently indicated his joyous astonishment:
Two sons!

“Move away and let her rest,” Naomi commanded him sternly from beyond the doorway. Shem smiled and kissed his fingertips to Annah in reluctant farewell.

Annah repeated the gesture to him, smiling as he retreated to the main room. Then she shut her eyes, clasping the small stone in her hand. Dreaming again, she remembered the first time Shem had beckoned to her from beyond the river near the settlement, silently encouraging her to live. Truly he had acted by the prompting of the Most High.

Annah clenched the small stone tightly, thinking,
O Most High, You sent my beloved to find me that day. You caused him to see me and to save me. You arranged everything according to Your plan. I see that now, and I am amazed. Again I wonder why should You love me—a nothing-creature—when I can give You nothing in return? Only my love, and my thanks. And my joy in Your presence
.

Sensing His unchanging presence now—the presence of a watchful, loving Father, Annah smiled. Wholly at peace, she drifted into sleep.
Thank You always
.

Epilogue

SEATED ON a grass mat just outside the lodge, Annah steadily twisted puffs of wool into long strands, then twirled them onto wooden spindles. Naomi, Ghinnah, and Tirtsah were seated close by, also preoccupied with the wool, which they were planning to use to make tents for the men to take into the fields when they had to watch the herds. As they worked, they talked softly, fearful of waking Ghinnah’s daughter, Bekiyrah.