Then The Deluge Comes (The Generations Book 2)

by Caryl McAdoo

  “Good. Your father said to keep the herd way back until he signaled. They’re felling the biggest one yet, and he claims it’s over three cubits high.”

  “Really? I thought they started with the oldest trees.”

  “They did, but apparently this one sent its roots deep in the perfect spot. Who knows why it grew so tall but the Lord?”

  Hattimas flipped the brass latch, then flung the gate open. “Hey, goats!” Her grandmother did the same for the sheep. Hurrying back to the barn’s feed stall, she grabbed her basket then hurried to catch up. The younger goats bound into the air, leaping, twisting, and jumping all about, all the while staying close to their does.

  It tickled her how the lambs, for the most part, acted more reserved, though a few did a little frolicking. She loved the babies, every one of them. Little ones of every kind warmed her heart so. All her people had an opinion over her ample affection for God’s creatures. Some thought it sweet, others fanatical, but their attitudes never affected how she adored wee miniature animals.

  Her inner eye wandered to an infant child of her own, and she cooed and spoke in her baby voice. But reality reared its cruel finger and stopped her short. Who could hold on to any faith with such a sporadic moon cycle as hers? The entire dormant season passed since her last, and six new moons before that.

  Barren days and nights snatched any hope away.

  Would she ever be a mother?

  Every other woman since Mother Eve reproduced and gave their husbands sons.

  Why did the God of her fathers hate her so?

  Always, she’d honored her father and mother, respected all the elders. She worked hard…well…most of the time. Those seasons of utter despair kept her in bed at times, and truth be known, she often cared not one whit whether or not she pulled her share. Noah ignored her slothfulness most of the time, but she could tell it upset him.

  As she walked the path that led to the forest, she contemplated the deadness of her womb, touching her empty belly. If only, if only, always if only. Why? If she knew, then…. Short of the meadow where her father wanted the herds kept waiting, a chill danced over her soul then settled in her heart.

  DO YOU TRUST ME

  She looked up. Her mother and grandmother walked ahead, deep in conversation. Neither seemed to have spoken to her. Still…. “What did you say?”

  Both ladies glanced back. Her mother shrugged. “Only discussing which of this spring’s lambs showed the most promise.”

  Her heart immediately questioned even as she offered the mothers a smile. Was that You, Abba?

  DO YOU TRUST ME

  Nodding, she spoke aloud, but softly. “Why should I?” She walked on in silence. He would never give her a baby, a son for Noah. Unless…. He might be her only hope.

  Could she?

  Trust Him?

  A thick warmth came onto her head, like a hand held toward an open fire. It settled her mind, brought a peace. She stopped. Could it be the hand of God? The warmth oozed to her shoulders, down her arms until it dripped from her fingertips to her legs and made its way to the soles of her feet, enveloped her. Never before had….

  “Lord?”

  DO YOU TRUST ME

  “Yes, Father, I do.”

  PRAISE ME FOR NOAHS SONS

  Sons? She dropped to her knees and lifted her hands skyward. “Bless Your Holy Name, Great and mighty One. You are the Creator of all, Everlasting to Everlasting, the Beginning and the End. Thank you, Abba, for the sons I will bear for my husband. Praise You for giving life to my womb and sons to Noah. There is no one like You, none to compare.”

  Her forehead pressed to the ground, she worshiped the Lord.

  ALREADY YOU CARRY YOUR SONS

  Again, sons, plural. But already? Could it be? She remembered the last time she knew her husband, a particularly sweet and loving union. Just then, from inside, something jabbed her belly. So odd, she sat upright and stilled. Then another poke, harder than the first. The third brought tears of joy.

  “Oh, Blessed Lord, worthy of glory and honor, is this the quickening?” She gasped, suddenly choked. “I am with child?”

  THREE NATIONS HAVE I FORMED IN YOUR BELLY

  As if an outside force took control, she lay back on the ground and worshiped Him anew in the beauty of His Holiness. Three sons tussled and played at her feet. But no mother had ever birthed three at a time. Twins, yes, but never triplets. Could it be? A doe delivered three kids last spring. Three nations He said.

  “Hattimas, darling, what’s wrong?”

  Opening her eyes, she smiled. Mother kneeled beside her. “Nothing. Quite the contrary, everything is wonderful.”

  “What is it, daughter? Why are you on the ground?”

  Before she could say more, a cloud similar to the one often seen on God’s Mountain swirled over the gopher forest. For a heartbeat, the swirling paused, then a wind picked up and blew with a fury never seen before. The sound of timber cracking reverberated through the forest.

  The men burst out of the woods, running toward them as the tallest tree in the forest wobbled then fell to the ground with a deafening thud.

  The thud echoed, as did the Lord’s words in his heart. Noah stopped running and looked back. The massive trunk had fallen in the wrong place, but praise God no damage to the others. He turned toward his wife. The sight of her gave him such joy. Grinning so big her face might split in two, she skipped to him like she was five again.

  He took three steps then held his arms out. She ran into them, and he swung her around like he’d done in her nativity.

  “Husband, put me down and hear what the Lord has done for me!”

  He obeyed, but charged her a kiss. “I love you. It does my heart good to see you happy, my beautiful wife.”

  “It does my heart good, too, to be so happy, filled with such joy as never before. I love you, also, so very much.”

  “What has Abba done? Tell me.”

  The sparkle in her eyes was enough for him, anything else the Lord had done –

  “He has opened my womb. I am with child. You are going to be a father!”

  He shook his head, could hardly take her news in. “Are you sure? Certain it isn’t another false alarm, my precious?”

  She smirked and nodded. “Abba told me three nations grew in my belly. Three, husband!”

  His breath caught. His heart flipped then beat wildly. “Three?” He looked at his mother. “Did you know? Three!” He lifted Hattimas off her feet again and danced. “Bless His Holy Name! When?”

  She leaned back and smiled as though how could he forget the when.

  Laughing, he spun a last time then set her back onto the earth, speaking under his breath. “No, dear wife, I remember that when. When did Abba speak to you?”

  “Just now. Right before the cloud. It was awesome. So amazing.”

  For the longest, Noah and the other five inhabitants who lived in the shadow of God’s Mountain praised the Lord for His blessings. Triplets, in two more seasons, he would be the father of three sons. What wonderful news.

  Midway through the celebration meal the ladies spread, Noah’s father sat up straight. “I, too, have news.”

  His grandfather chuckled. “As do I. Seems the Lord visited us all this day.”

  “You first, Father. What did Abba tell you?”

  The oldest man shook his head. “Nothing. But he showed me two new saws. I’m not sure how the second one will help, but the first will make it so much easier to fell the trees. It’s a two-man iron saw with alternating big and little teeth. I can’t wait to forge one and try it out.”

  “What of the second?”

  “Its round with a radius of two cubits plus a span powered by the giant waterwheel. We’ll build below the fountain at the foot of the gopher forest.” Methuselah looked to his son. “What did the Almighty tell you?”

  “I am to return to Nod. We need more pitch.”

  Noah’s mother gasped, then reached over and patted his father’s for
earm, the exact place he’d been injured the first time he’d gone. “Are you sure, Lamech?”

  “Yes, dear Laurel. As do we all, I know the voice of our Maker.”

  Noah nodded. Father God talked to them all. “Yes, we do know His voice. He wants me to make a special offering, and now I know why.”

  His mother looked to her mother. “Did He show you anything today?”

  “Maybe, but before I give it voice, I want to pray it through.”

  “Understandable. The Creator had me paint a new picture this morning. It’s nothing like anything I’ve ever painted before.”

  “I can vouch for that.” Hattimas held her hands out. “It’s of a big—really huge—ugly house with only one door and a tiny window. Strange from any angle, and…well…it’s dark. A strange foreboding comes when you look on it.”

  “Exactly. I sensed the same thing. But the Lord burdened me until the last brush stroke. I knew for certain it was finished due to the peace that settled over my heart.”

  Chapter Nine

  Laurel bumped her husband’s shoulder with her own. “Well? What do you think?”

  “I’ve seen it before, but only close up.” Lamech continued to stare at the painting. “What do you suppose it is?”

  “It’s so peculiar, and huge. Why in the earth would Abba show us such a thing? Maybe a giant storage barn? It’s too big for a silo.”

  “And the mist. I don’t understand why you made it so heavy and placed it so far up into the air. Has it ever been thus. Do you know?”

  “I do not. I haven’t a clue, not even a hint. All I can say is that it’s what I saw.”

  He faced her. “Bless God. His thoughts are above our thoughts.”

  “As are His ways and plans, Grandfather Enoch used to say.” She laid her cheek on his chest, and he wrapped her in an embrace. Though in full agreement with the Creator’s lofty ideas, she still didn’t like what her husband intended. Hugging him tight, she whispered, “I want to go with you this time.”

  He squeezed then released her. “No, Laurel. It isn’t safe.”

  Her cheeks burned. Why did he always have to be so stubborn? She pushed herself back. “Oh, so it’s fine for you to go walking into danger, but not me. I hated you being gone so long last time, being separated, not knowing day after day. And then you came home hurt. Please, Lamech, let me go.”

  With his eyes closed, he shook his head slowly.

  “Why not?”

  He lifted her chin. “I didn’t tell you the worst. I wanted to spare you. The sons of Cain…they enslave people, especially women…and children. You are too beautiful, wife. They….” He shrugged. “I cannot abide it. The Lord told me to go, and He will bring me home, exactly as last time.”

  She stepped back in close, put her hands on his chest, and smiled. “You really think I’m beautiful?”

  “Oh, yes, from that first moment when mother settled you into my arms. No one compares with you, my love. No one ever has.” He pressed his lips against hers, and she kissed him back, but the dread of his imminent departure remained. Laurel couldn’t hate the thought of him being gone any more than she did.

  The days of preparation raced by. Her husband built new oaken barrels, and her father forged new saws and gears for his giant water wheel. Noah helped them both. But at the end of all the activity, waiting like an odious chore, loomed what she dreaded. The gloom darkened each day.

  The only escape from it, her only bright spot, proved to be her daughter with that growing belly. Never in all her years, had she seen Hattimas so happy. Triplets. If Laurel’s two sets of twins—the second so close after the first—might be any indication, the new mother’s joy would be tempered in a few months.

  The morning of the sixteenth day after the big tree blew over, her mother joined her on the path leading to the sheep coat. “Care for some company?”

  “Always.”

  Once the herds grazed contentedly, browsing the far meadow, her mother nodded toward a nice tree. “Let’s sit a while. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  The woman looked so pensive, and had hardly spoken all the way, though she clearly had something on her mind. Laurel had never seen such depths of brooding in her before, and it worried her. Perhaps she carried her own concerns for Lamech, didn’t want her son going to Nod again any more than Laurel. Did she know how evil the place was?

  “Have you seen you’re expecting firstborn today? Is she well?”

  “Yes, wildly happy most all the time.” Her mother caught her off guard asking on Hattimas. Laurel lowered herself to the ground, a bit out from the tree so the older woman could lean against it. “She stopped by for a bottle of wine, has a big meal planned for Noah.”

  “She spoils him so.”

  “It is good though. He’s been working hard.” Laurel fell silent, waiting for whatever her mother needed to say.

  “As have my son and Methuselah.” After too many turns of the waterwheel, her mother reached over and patted her hand. “Daughter, that morning when the Lord blew over the big tree…Well, He showed me something I never thought I’d see.”

  Her mother’s tone tightened Laurel’s throat. “So you have prayed. What was it? Did you have a vision similar to that odd building I painted? Is that it?”

  “If only.” She held her arm out toward Laurel as an invitation, so she scooted closer and sat next to her, studying her. What could it be? Her mother wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “Sweetheart, I have been seeking the Lord and am convinced that what He showed me is true and will come to pass.”

  Silence bade her speak, but she waited until its burden weighed too heavy without more being spoken. “Please, Mother, you’re scaring me. What did you see? Is it Hattimas? Something about her babies?”

  “No. That’s not it at all.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

  Laurel wiped it away. “Then what is it?”

  She sniffed. “Your father and I –”

  “No, Mother, don’t say more. Please.” Tears blurred her own vision. “Of course, I’ve known you couldn’t live forever, but Father has had –”

  “Hear me, dear. We stood with Noah and Hattimas. Over your and Lamech’s graves.”

  “What? When? Do you know when, Mother?”

  “Not exactly, but the triplets were there. They were grown, standing behind their parents. Strong handsome young men. So it isn’t forthcoming. Still a mother should not have to bury her children.” More tears flowed.

  Rolling onto her knees, Laurel hugged her mother. “Mercy, Mother, do you know how that eases my soul? I’ve been so worried with Lamech going for more pitch. So afraid he would never return. But you’re sure it’s the Lord showing you this?”

  “Yes, dear, I’m certain. I’ve wrestled so with it. How can I bear losing you both? And in the same day? As much as I would hope it otherwise, it is a true word from the Lord. Bless His Name.” She reached up and held her hand against Laurel’s cheek. “He is so good. I will cherish you all the more in the time He’s given us.”

  Laurel laid her head on her mother’s chest and cuddled into her familiar embrace. A breeze blew her hair into her face and, as she had a thousand times, her mother brushed it back with her finger. Such a weight lifted away, her feet desired to dance. No matter that Lamech would sleep with the fathers early, she would be at his side united in the grave and forever.

  “It is true. He is good.”

  “But….”

  “But nothing! Listen! Your vision sets me free. I know now that I’ll never be a widow. You can’t imagine how much I’ve feared a life without my husband, but with your words, God has soothed my heart. Oh, thank you, dear Mother, and bless the name of the Lord indeed!”

  As the sun rose on his fourth day out, Lamech traveled the same route to Nod taken three hundred and sixty-six years before. The desire to seek a path through the briar thicket that shrouded Eden proved less a pull as before, but still lurked in his thoughts. Were the flaming swords truly there or was that
a story?

  If actual, they’d be a sight to see.

  The horses plodded alongside the briars, but he couldn’t waste his time thinking about the garden Adam and Eve had lost through their disobedience. At least the price they paid taught those after the importance of doing what God said, following where He led. Obedience was far better than sacrifice.

  As soon as Abba told him to come, he started preparations. Much better equipped that trip; constructed a bigger wagon, carried twelve barrels instead of nine, and he’d built in his wench poles that time, too. With the double-pull wheels, if his calculations held true, he should finish sooner and with less effort.

  Though still almost as strong, at six hundred and seventy-seven, his endurance could not match his son’s. He thought on Noah, a fine young man who seemed to have the kind of heart after the Lord as Grandfather Enoch, but Hattimas didn’t do well when he stayed gone too long at a time.

  The triplets—if she’d heard the voice of God—would soon keep her occupied.

  And his father…eight hundred and sixty-nine years…Methuselah couldn’t live forever.

  Then the deluge comes…. Did Laurel’s painting warn of what was to come? Father Jared’s notion of a plethora of babes didn’t seem even remotely possible. But how could the mist last long enough to flood anything?

  Arriving with no answer, Lamech instead put the future away and concentrated on the work, and exactly as he hoped, he finished filling the last barrel a bit before long shadows of the second day at the tar pit.

  No reason to leave then though. Hooking the horses up for no more than three or four furlongs wouldn’t be worth the effort. He’d head home come morning, fresh, and hopefully without the sons of Cain knowing he had returned.

  That night, lying on his blanket, studying the stars, he thought of Behilu and the runt who tried to take him captive. Could they still be living?