Heavens Before (27 page)

Sixteen

YERAKH CROSSED the bridge eagerly, staring at Annah. She was kneeling in the sand near the bridge, simply waiting for him.

Haburah and the others claim you do have a mind
, he thought, sneering.
Though it can’t be too clever a mind if you’re so easily caught, Ma’adannah
.

He had not thought of her given name in years, but he remembered it now, hating it as much as ever. Hating her. He had always despised her; she had been an irritant, a troublesome child. Always full of questions, always thinking of new things.
Little fool. I’ll be glad to know you are dead
.

He stepped off the bridge, still staring at her. She hadn’t moved. She was kneeling in the sand, her head lowered, her eyes almost closed. She looked better—cared for. Actually beautiful. Not the Annah who had
cringed before him for so many years.

Yerakh slowed, then stopped, trying to comprehend the difference. A new presence surrounded her, swirling about her and washing over him like strong, unstoppable waves. He felt confused, alarmed. His mind told him this was Annah, but his senses told him this woman was someone else. Uncertain, he hesitated. “Annah?”

She did not look at him, but she spoke, her voice low and firm. “The Annah you remember is dead.”

Frowning, fighting down his uncertainty, Yerakh narrowed his eyes. “Really? If Annah is dead, then who are you?”

With grace and dignity, she stood and looked him full in the face. Her eyes were his mother’s eyes. But unlike his indifferent mother, this woman’s eyes were passionately alive and full of power. A wave of fear passed through him. Catching his breath, he asked again, “Who are you?”

“I am an enemy of the Nachash, whom you have sheltered, O Yerakh of the Tsaraph!”

The Nachash has an enemy?
Stunned, Yerakh stepped back. Annah, or the woman he had thought was Annah, moved toward him in a torrent of words.

“And because you have sheltered the Nachash, Yerakh of the Tsaraph, you are cursed. You have condemned yourself by your love of violence: choking the life from your father, then causing the deaths of your mother, your wife, and your brothers. Listen, Yerakh!”

She advanced on him, her eyes kindling. “Because you have done these things, Yerakh of the Tsaraph, your new wife will never bear a child. And you will die a violent death, but not by the hands of a man; you will see your death coming. Your fear will be so great that the death of your brother Gammad will seem like a mercy. You will
long for the quiet of his grave—in the waste pit beside your first wife, Iltani!”

Hearing this, Yerakh began to shake.
She knows Gammad’s burial place! But how? Naham swore he would tell no one
.

Yerakh retreated to the bridge, but she followed him, calling out, “Your body will be torn to pieces, and your bones will be crushed and scattered like bits of straw!”

Yerakh scuttled across the bridge, barely able to see where he was going. But her words followed him, lifting across the water. “There will not be one person left who will mourn for you, Yerakh. You are cursed! The heavens themselves will turn upon you!”

On the opposite side of the river, Yerakh charged up into the trees lining the riverbank, desperate to get back to the settlement, terrified that she would follow him. He could still feel the presence about her, sweeping out against him like a mighty lash. The combined powers of the Nachash and her whisperers were nothing compared to this boundless tide.

Annah was shaking, unable to believe Yerakh was gone.
But it’s true
. Amazed, she retrieved her grass bag to put away the shuttle. She had been clenching it so hard that its outlines were bright red against her palm. Still unable to believe what had happened, she looked at Yerakh’s footprints, fresh, damp, and leading to the bridge.

I did not imagine this
, she thought.
Yerakh is gone, and he won’t return. I am free. O Most High, thank You!
She hugged her grass bag and—like a child—spun in a joyous circle, lifting her face toward the warm, ruddy sky. “Thank You!”

Elated, she slung her grass bag over her shoulder and
ran up to the trees. Someone was there. Ghinnah emerged from the undergrowth, obviously shocked, the soft bloom fading from her cheeks. “Annah!” she cried. “I came looking for you. Was that your wicked brother? You said such horrible things—I thought he would soil himself.”

“He’s gone, and he won’t return!” Annah hugged the astonished Ghinnah, dancing around her, pulling her in a circle. “I’m free! Where’s my husband?” She hurried through the shadowy flowering trees.

Ghinnah trotted after her, panting. “But … those things you said about his death, and his bones being crushed, and no one mourning him …”

Annah halted, her elation dampened by Ghinnah’s fear. “Ghinnah, I know those things must have sounded horrible to you. But they were the truth. I knew it, and Yerakh knew it, which is why he was so frightened. And he ran because he felt the condemnation of the Most High, though he won’t perceive it that way. He will make up an explanation of his own.”

“Your Most High frightens me.”

Somberly, Annah touched Ghinnah’s arm. “If you’re not His enemy, then you have no reason to fear Him. He simply desires that you call to Him—and listen to Him in love. As for me, He is better than my own father. He has saved my life twice. He also brought me out of that horrible settlement and gave me a true family. I owe Him everything. Whatever happens in my life, I’ll never say a word against Him.”

Ghinnah didn’t respond. Annah smiled again, her joy returning. “O Ghinnah, in one day you’ve been more kind to me than my own sisters have been for all my life. Please be happy for me now. My brother is gone! I’m
going to live, when I was so sure I would die!”

“You thought he would kill you?”

“I knew he would. But the Most High surrounded me and gave me words. Now I will live! Please, be happy for me.”

Reluctantly Ghinnah smiled, but she changed the subject from the Most High. “The mother of your husband will wonder where we are. I promised I would find you and bring you immediately.”

“Then we should return to the lodge.”

They found Naomi seated just outside the lodge, weaving cordage through the ribwork of a new basket, obviously waiting for them. Seeing Annah and Ghinnah, she said, “I knew you would be playing and taking your time.”

Kneeling, Annah put her hands over her mother-in-law’s hands, unable to conceal her happiness. “We weren’t playing, I’ma. I have to tell you—”

“Wait, please,” Naomi interrupted, seeming anxious. “While you are both here, and before Qeb-al and his family return from the settlement, I must tell you something.” She looked at Ghinnah, now kneeling beside Annah. “This morning before you awoke, Ghinnah, my first son asked me to speak to your aunt for you.”

Color rushed to Ghinnah’s face. “To speak to my aunt … of marriage?”

Hastily Naomi reassured her, “I will only speak to her if you wish to accept marriage with my son. If not, then we won’t be angry. My son will not coerce you.”

“But …” Ghinnah faltered, “he hasn’t said a word to me.”

Annah patted Ghinnah’s shoulder comfortingly. “My husband’s older brother doesn’t speak often. He must
admire you tremendously if he has spoken to his mother.”

Distracted, running her hands through her hair, Ghinnah said, “This is too much. I have to think.” She wandered into the lodge.

Annah turned to Naomi, worried. “Ghinnah had a fright, I’ma, and it’s my fault. Yerakh found me this morning.”

“Child! Why didn’t you tell me!”

“I’m telling you now.” Eagerly, she told Naomi about her confrontation with Yerakh. When she finished, Naomi dropped her basketwork, agitated.

“Forgive me, child. I must find my husband and my sons.”

Shem strode into the lodge and stopped in front of Annah, staring at her. For an instant he seemed incapable of speech, then he pulled Annah into his arms. “I should be angry with you for not listening to me! If Yerakh had touched you …”

“You would have tried to kill him,” Annah said, giving his thought words. “Or he would have killed you and your family. I couldn’t risk your lives for mine.”

Giving up, clearly relieved, Shem sighed, holding her close.

Noakh entered the lodge and said calmly, “Now, daughter, I hear you had a pleasant morning.”

“Yes, I did, Father of my Husband,” Annah agreed, beaming at him. “But I frightened Ghinnah.”

“Where is Ghinnah?” Wondering, Noakh looked around, but their guest had gone out the back door to be alone. Noakh exhaled thoughtfully. “Well, I am sure that
she must have time to think, as we must have time.”

He believes Yepheth has decided hastily
, Annah thought, startled.
He has doubts. And Ghinnah has doubts. Was I too eager to be friends with her? Was I mistaken?

Equally solemn, Naomi entered the lodge. “Yepheth and Khawm are coming, so we will have our midday meal soon. Is Ghinnah outside? I wonder if Qeb-al and Etsah might return this evening. I told Ghinnah she should make her own decision concerning Yepheth’s request; I won’t mention anything to her family unless she is willing to stay.”

“What do you think of her?” Shem asked Annah beneath his breath, his arm now encircling her waist.

Annah answered, “I’ve enjoyed visiting with her. But I have to remind myself that she’s still basically a stranger.”

“I agree—although
we
should still be strangers; we’ve known each other for only five months. I’m afraid we didn’t provide the best example for my brothers.”

“That was beyond our control.”

“True. The Most High allowed us no choice. But Yepheth has decided for himself that he wants Ghinnah, and he won’t change his mind. That’s why my parents are so worried.”

Naomi interrupted their furtive conversation. “Daughter, if you will bring in some water, I would welcome it. Perhaps you should also find Ghinnah.”

Hearing Khawm’s laughter in front of the lodge, and knowing that Yepheth was probably with him, Annah nodded. Lifting the clay water vessel in her arms, she slipped out the back door. There was no sign of Ghinnah. Quickly, Annah filled the vessel at the well. By the time she returned to the lodge, Noakh, Naomi, Yepheth, Shem, and Khawm were all engrossed in a serious conversation.
Annah set the water vessel just inside the door, then crept outside again.
Ghinnah
, she thought,
where are you?

She found the young woman on the eastern side of the lodge, sitting near Qeb-al’s wooden, solid-wheeled trader’s cart, watching Qeb-al’s ponderous grazing ox. As Ghinnah looked up, Annah said, “I’ll stay with you for a while.”

“The one they call Khawm … I heard him laughing. Was Yepheth with him?”

“Yes.” Smoothing her tunic over her knees, Annah knelt beside Ghinnah. “They’re all inside; I thought I should leave them alone.”

Ghinnah looked alarmed. “They won’t fight, will they?”

“No,” Annah soothed her. “They don’t fight. They talk.”

“You’ve never seen them arguing?” Ghinnah asked, incredulous.

“No. As I said, they talk. They truly love each other.”

“And they love you.”

“Yes, they do love me,” Annah agreed quietly. “I am blessed.”

Ghinnah sighed, stretching her legs straight out before herself. “Two days ago, I said that I envied you for having your husband and his family. Now I’m afraid. Does this Yepheth believe in the Most High?”

“Yes. Everyone in this lodge acknowledges Him.”

“And what if I can’t?” Ghinnah demanded. “Years from now, will this Yepheth cast me off and take another wife who does believe in the Most High?”

Annah shook her head. “Yepheth would never do such a thing.”

“And do you believe in the coming destruction—this
dreadful story of the Most High allowing the earth to turn upon itself?” Fierce now, Ghinnah stared into Annah’s eyes, demanding perfect honesty.

Annah spoke carefully. “Yes. I’d prefer not to think of it, but when—or if—this great destruction happens, then I will accept it.”

“So you’re not entirely convinced of it either!” Ghinnah sounded satisfied.