Heavens Before (5 page)

“I saw my face in this gold, I’ve made it so pure,” Yerakh would say smugly. Then, with a sidelong look at Annah, he would say, “Why is
she
here?”

Now, in the darkness of the night, Annah thought to Yerakh,
You have always robbed me of my speech. Even before you murdered our father, you did all you could to silence me. Perhaps, one day, you will even kill me. But I’ll be sure Father’s amulet belongs to a man who is worthy of such a treasure
.

Touching the contours of the amulet once more, Annah hugged her grass bag tightly in the darkness. Parah, asleep on a nearby pallet, shifted and muttered incoherently. Haburah and Ayalah slept just beyond Parah, exhausted because they had quarreled late into the night. Annah could hear them breathing.

I wonder if your dreams are better than mine, my sisters. Do you ever fear to sleep because death itself might gaze upon you when you close your eyes? I think not. You have no fear of death, because you have forgotten the face of your father. But if I live for one thousand kentums, I will never forget
.

Annah lay awake until dawn.

At the river the next morning, Annah picked the amulet out of its dark hiding place. It was smaller than she remembered, but beautiful; a shining, flattened circle of gold embossed with a delicate golden branch of tapering leaves. Carefully she tied the amulet into the leather pouch the young man had used to protect the shell carving. When she was finished, the small leather bundle fit comfortably in her fist.
This is right
, she told herself.
This amulet belongs to him for saving my life. But I have to be sure I can throw it all the way across the river
.

She practiced throwing stones over the water at the opposite bank. To her immense frustration, every stone she threw fell short. If she lost the amulet to the river, she would mourn for it until she died.
Keep practicing
, she admonished herself.
If you don’t throw accurately, and soon, you might as well give the amulet to Yerakh
. She moved upstream, looking for stones—until she sensed a presence and stopped.

He was on the opposite bank, his eyes shining dark and splendid, one black brow raised, questioning her:
What are you doing?

Lifting her hands in a gesture of despair, Annah shook her head. Attempting to explain, she retrieved the small leather pouch with the amulet and extended it to him, then set it down, reached for another stone, and threw it—her best throw yet. Once again it fell short, perhaps two-thirds of the way across the river.

Perplexed, he raised his hands in the familiar gesture:
Wait
.

As Annah stared, he pointed to the small pouch containing the amulet, then lifted his eyebrows questioningly:
What’s in there?

He thinks I’m returning the shell carving
, Annah realized. Anxious, she shook her head again, pulling the leather cord up from beneath her tunic to show him that she still wore the shell carving. His relief was visible. Annah sighed, grateful for his reaction. He did indeed want her to have the beautiful ornament. All the more reason for him to have the amulet. To inform him of the importance of her offering, Annah picked up the leather-clad amulet, cradling it protectively, willing him to understand:
This cannot be lost to the river
.

He smiled, his wonderful, breathtaking smile, and waded as far as he dared into the flowing water, almost to his chest. There, he flung his arms open wide, gesturing:
Throw it; I’ll catch it!

She eyed the river doubtfully. Had she been able to cast a stone that far? To be certain, she set the amulet down, picked up a stone half the size of her fist, and backed up to throw it. His eyes widened as Annah hurled the stone toward him. Alarmed, he swiftly lunged aside, almost toppling over before recovering his balance. They both watched the stone fall into the water, raising a froth of sparkling droplets.
Yes
, Annah decided, it was within his reach.

In obvious agreement, he nodded, lifting his hands meaningfully:
Throw it
.

Slowly, she picked up the amulet again and clutched it, working up her courage.
Please
, she thought—closing her eyes, the thought was so intense—
let this reach him
. Aiming as best she could, she threw the leather-padded amulet across the water. She threw it too far to his right.
He surged through the water for it, and fell. Annah sucked in her breath, horrified. He was gone. The amulet was gone. She had lost them both to the current. She sank to her knees on the riverbank and waited, trembling with apprehension. It seemed an eternity until she saw him again.

His left hand emerged from the water first, clutching the leather pouch. It was empty. As she watched in despair, he reappeared, gasping for breath. Wiping his eyes, he smiled at her mischievously, lifting his right hand. The leather-corded amulet dangled from his fingertips.

Melting with relief, Annah lowered her face into her hands. She felt as if she had been saved from some unknown danger. When she recovered, she looked over at him again. He was studying the amulet carefully, obviously fascinated by its leaf-patterned surface. Sensing her scrutiny, he gestured to the amulet, questioning:
Yours?

Annah nodded and put a hand to her face, stroking downward on an imaginary beard:
From my father
.

The young man repeated her gesture, asking:
Your father’s?

She nodded again, then slowly drew her hand along a dry patch of the riverbank, gathering the tawny sand in her fist. Raising her arm so he could see, she let the sand drift down from her fingers to rejoin the sand on the bank—the customary gesture indicating death:
My father is dead
.

It was the first time that she had ever communicated the news of her father’s death to anyone. In twenty-five years, no one in her family or in the settlement had ever spoken to Annah of her father. Not a breath of condolence, regret, or even a vague interest in justice. Nothing. Their lack of emotion had formed the most agonizing
portion of her grief.

Now, the simple act of releasing the sand back to the earth was more than she could bear. The pain caught hard in her throat, and she tried to choke it down. Stinging, blurring tears filled her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Gathering another handful of sand, she flung it away.
Dead!
she thought, anguished.
And I’ll go mad if I don’t calm myself. He’s watching
.

He had retreated to the opposite bank and crouched down, dripping wet, watching her, waiting. She could feel his gaze upon her. His mood was heavy now; she could sense that too.
He must think I’m mad
. Mournfully, she scooped some water from the river and dashed it over her face. As she dried her eyes, she heard the quiet plop of a stone in the water before her. He was beckoning her. Annah looked over at him reluctantly.

His eyes expressed no ridicule, only gentle sympathy and compassion. He repeated her gestures, imitating the beard of her father, and scattering the dust of death, but then he added his own thoughts. Pointing to her, he traced the path of a tear from his right eye down his cheek:
You mourn the death of your father
. Then, he tapped his chest, indicating himself, then drew the path of another tear down his cheek, and lowered his head:
I’m sorry
.

He did not lift his head immediately, and Annah realized he felt defeated by his inability to help her. Quickly, she snatched a small stone and threw it into the water before him. As he looked up, she managed a half smile and a shrug, then clasped both of her hands to herself briefly and extended them toward him:
Thank you
, she thought.
You are the first person to express any sympathy for my father’s death. And you’re not even from my own settlement
.

Now the young man lifted the amulet toward her,
worried:
Are you sure you want to give this to me?

She nodded emphatically:
Yes!

Reverently, with his eyes fixed on hers, he kissed the amulet gently and pulled it over his shining, dark curls. After shaking his hair loose from the cord, he threw a questioning look at Annah.

Confused, she tipped her head and gave him a questioning look of her own:
What do you want to know?

He pursed his lips, obviously pondering how to ask his question. Apparently coming to a decision, he took a deep breath, extended his left hand toward her, pointed his right hand toward himself, and held the gesture. Watching her steadily, he clasped his hands together formally, in the manner of a man and woman pledging themselves to each other in a marriage ceremony.

Annah blinked. Surely he wasn’t asking her to be his wife? But even as this wave of disbelief arose within her, she knew: He was asking her to accept him. He repeated the motions, his gaze compelling her to answer:
Can you pledge yourself to me?

She managed to respond with a faint, questioning flick of her hand:
You and me?

He nodded, echoing her gesture firmly:
You and me. How?
Annah wondered.
Yerakh would refuse anyway. And I would have to speak to him, using words
. The thought was frightening. Yerakh would kill her for deceiving him for so many years. But she couldn’t refuse this young man. Instead, she raised her hands and shrugged to indicate her uncertainty. She did not have to express her fear, she knew; it was obvious.

He nodded and smiled comfortingly:
I understand
. Glancing up at the warm, pink sky, he indicated the mid-morning sun.

He has to go, Annah realized.
He’s probably stayed longer than he intended
.

As she perceived this, he gestured to her, then to the riverbank on which she sat.
He wants to know if I’ll be here tomorrow
. She nodded.

His answering smile was radiant. To bid her farewell, he lifted the amulet to his lips and kissed it.

Dazed, Annah mimicked his gesture, kissing her treasured shell carving. Still unable to move, she watched him leave. He looked back at her once, smiled his enchanting smile, then vanished into the trees lining his side of the river. Annah had to remind herself to tuck the precious shell carving beneath her tunic once more.
How can I ever marry him? It’ll never happen
, she thought despondently.
Not even if we live a thousand years
.

Annah sat on the riverbank, still too dazed to move. Lifting her eyes to the tranquil sky, she sighed, cherishing the sensation: He desired her. He wanted her to be his wife. Then she grimaced.
If he truly understood me, he’d never return to the riverbank. Why should he want me? I am a nothing
.

Despite her attempt to prepare herself for disappointment, the morning took on a new sweetness. The sparkling water seemed to reflect her elation, flowing before her, teeming with long, plump, many-colored fish. The fish slipped toward her, then away and back again, as if they were playing, coaxing her to join them.

How different the river looks today
, Annah thought, gazing at the clear, swift-flowing water, enraptured.
How different everything is now, compared to the day when I first saw him. Has it really been only two days?

She felt that nothing could touch her now. She felt only her joy; even if she never married, she could tell herself that he had desired her. To share her happiness, she gathered some seeds, berries, and snippets from nearby plants, and cast them into the river. The fish, obedient to her whims, sped after her offerings to nibble them; their unending curiosity and appetites served to cleanse the river of debris. Pleased that the fish had accepted her offerings, Annah retrieved her bag, swept her veil over her head, and turned toward the settlement. Her stomach was growling uncomfortably. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt such hunger.

You can eat as soon as you get to the lodge
, she promised herself. But the thought of fruit, particularly the sweet, thin-skinned afals planted behind Yerakh’s lodge, broke her resistance. Almost skipping, she cut through the field to the afal trees.