by Caryl McAdoo
“You really are over seven hundred years old?”
“I am. It is true.” He leaned back.
“How do you even count that high without losing track?”
Grinning, he tousled her hair. “We write it down. Keep a book we call The Generations.
“A Book?”
“I’ll show it to you when we get home.” The top of God’s Mountain came into view. “See that summit there?” He pointed.
She raised her head a little then nodded. “Yes.”
“That’s God’s Mountain. We’re almost there, and then you will see for yourself that everything I’ve been saying is true. We have a grand house made of stone and brick that Padam himself started over sixteen hundred years ago. And the ark…well, in four more days, you’ll see for yourself with your own very pretty eyes.”
Jemri loved the sound of Grandfather Lamech’s voice. It soothed her soul. And as he said, in four more days, she’d see for herself if that giant boat and grand house truly existed. She looked forward to meeting his wife who cooked such delicious treats as the honey bread and fried cakes.
Though she didn’t much like the idea of marrying a man who had seen eighty-five summers, if the triplets were to live as long a life as Grandfather, then perhaps being the wife of such a man would not be a terrible thing.
All those of her clan who might have been a prospect had fallen beneath the enemy’s sword or already married or not worth a second glance.
“And the armies of Nod have never attacked your valley? I didn’t know there was such a place too far from their reach.”
“That’s correct. There’s never been any sign of them coming west of the Garden of Eden.”
She gasped. “The Garden is a real place? Where is it? Where’s Eden? I’ve always thought…wow, it was true. Were all the stories of Eden real?
Did Father Adam change the course of a river and ride a lion? And Grandmother Eve. Was she a baby and he reared her?”
“Whoa, or I’ll never remember all your questions.” He laughed. “Yes, it is all true, the garden and the stories.”
“I never even…wow…so Adam’s Valley has never been attacked?”
“That’s correct. I’ve lived all my days there in peace.”
Almost too much to take it in, the stories that she thought the ancients created to entertain the children were real all along. And to live in the place Grandfather spoke of. She might not be so concerned over marrying an old man. Would Varsi? Her sister had been the one always speculating over whom they might wed.
The new grandfather, though clearly old, still looked quite handsome—for a seven-hundred-year-old, for sure. How could that be? If so, then perhaps his grandsons would also be easy on the eyes and kind and patient as he.
At least going to Adam’s Valley offered a future. No telling what would have become of her and Varsi had the giant not arrived when he did. Maybe God had sent him after all.
Could He care so much for her?
“Hey, I want to do that.” Myelin leaned over Grandfather’s shoulder and glared at Jemri.
She looked at Lamech. “I don’t care, if it’s alright with you, Grandfather. Is she big enough?”
“I suppose, if I’m right here. Come. Sit on my knees, and you can drive the team.”
The six-year-old crawled over and flopped down hard enough that Grandfather winced, but Jemri held her tongue. It wasn’t her place to tell the wild child to be easy. She held the reins up, and the old man put his fingers between the leather straps.
It surprised her how warm his hands were, as though he’d been holding them next to a fire.
She eased on back next to the barrels and snuggled in next to her twin who still slept soundly. Though she closed her eyes, a morning nap danced just beyond her grasp. Instead, the last week’s events flashed before her mind’s eye.
So much had changed; the raiders came and now nothing would ever be the same.
But for the best or worst? Would it have been better for her and Varsi to have gone with her parents and fought the invaders? Could they have made any difference? Most likely not, and she wanted to live, bear children, be a grandmother herself one day.
Was the place the giant talked about for the dead real? Would she know, be there now, if not for her savior?
As sleep sucked away consciousness, a realization struck her. The weight that had bored down on her soul since she could remember had lifted. It was gone. In its place, settled an emotion she could not name but loved.
The nap proved too short. The wagon’s stopping woke her. The shadows did not stretch as long as the other days when he stopped.
She helped him hobble and grain the horses, then paid close attention to his preparation of the evening meal. That one was as good or better than the rest. So many different foods and flavors she’d never tasted before.
If Myelin would just stop lamenting over the lack of cooked flesh, she might appreciate all the delectable foods Grandfather fixed for them. And if the little one was to be her baby sister, then she had to forget eating meat.
Grandfather, too, forbade the eating of flesh, as did all the Sethites. Well, he claimed Adam’s third son as his ancestor.
The sixth day, the old man started later and quit even earlier. The seventh, she had to wake him. His brow felt hot, and perspiration moistened it, but he managed to get the wagon going.
She insisted he rest and let her drive the team. For a while, he sat beside her, then Varsi must have noticed his poor appearance and insisted he lie down and rest.
It pleased Jemri that her new baby sister doted on the old man after he curled on the soft skins in front of the barrels. She wiped his brow, sang softly to him, even helped Varsi drip water on his parched lips.
The eighth morning, he seemed better, but after just a few steps up on his feet, he grabbed his knees. Both her sisters wanted to stay and let him rest, but Jemri argued for going on.
“Surely it would be best to travel on to Adam’s valley and get him help.”
Grandfather woke up long enough to agree with her, so it was settled. She would take them on to their new home. All she had to do was keep the top of God’s Mountain right in front of her.
The jingle of the harness chains ticked Hattimas’ ears. At first, she passed it off as her sons bringing their wagon around, but they were working on the ark. Father! Daughters! She dropped her coal bin and ran.
The wagon rolled toward the house with two little girls driving the team. Was he in the back as in her vision?
Running to meet it, she found him burning with fever in the back, exactly as she’d seen so long ago, and the third baby girl hovered over him, her face and hair wet with tears.
The child looked up at her, her eyes begging. “Are you my mother? He won’t speak anymore. Did he die?” She stretched out her little hands toward Hattimas.
She opened wide her own and the baby girl practically leapt into her arms. “Hurry!” She waved on the girl who was driving. “Get him to the house!” Holding the little one tight, she ran back home. “Mother! It’s Father! He’s ill.”
Once the older women got him to the bed, her mother shooed Hattimas and her new daughters out of the room. “Wait outside. Let me get him comfortable.”
The littlest one tugged on her dress. “Is Grandfather going to die?”
“No.” She hugged the baby then smiled at the twins. “Thank you for bringing him home.”
The one with sad eyes nodded toward her sister. “It was Jemri. Myelin and I wanted to stay and let him rest.”
Hattimas extended her hands toward the little hero. “Well done, Jemri, thank you.”
The baby stepped forward. “How about me? It was my songs that kept him alive.”
The child’s brashness tickled her. Poor Shem, hopefully she could teach this one some manners before her wedding day. “Thank you, too.”
The bedroom door opened, and her mother stepped out. “Hattimas, make a poultice of figs, steam them soft, then bring
them to me. And a couple of onions, too.”
“Yes, of course. What’s wrong with him?”
“His side was pierced. It’s all infected and swollen.” She stepped back inside.
Hattimas hurried to her mother’s kitchen and stoked the stove’s fire, added more coal then put on the steamer. While she waited for the water to heat, she faced the trio of new helper girls. “What happened? Does anyone know?”
Myelin nodded. “The slaver’s slave, a really bad man. He followed us and wanted to steal me back, but Grandfather protected me.” She giggled then grimaced. “When he stabbed him with this really big knife, Grandfather grabbed the man’s wrist and broke his bones by just squeezing. He then pulled out the mean man’s knife and pointed it at him.”
“Oh my, bless the Lord. His mercy endures forever.”
“Amen.” The twins responded in union, but their words lacked any true conviction. They were too busy examining everything in sight, their eyes wide.
The twin who had been driving the team ran her fingers along the worn-smooth table, while the other studied the cooking utensils.
Once the figs were soft, she mashed them into a paste, spread it over a thin piece of cotton cloth then carried it to her mother, who took it but didn’t ask for any more help. “He’ll be fine.” She then closed the door.
Hattimas understood, but would have preferred helping more. Instead she rounded the girls up—not a hard task as they practically stayed on her heels—and took them home. Even with her father returning injured, her joy overflowed. Daughters! The Lord had brought her three beautiful girls all in one day.
There was nothing He couldn’t do. Her heart broke out into praise, and her daughters laughed and sang with her around to their new home—all but little Myelin.
While Jemri relaxed in the hot water with her new sisters, she decided Grandfather’s words had not painted a good enough picture. The reality of it all floored her…that people actually lived like that, in such luxury. He called the house grand, but magnificent described it better. And she’d only seen a small part of it.
Just the bathing room amazed her. Unbelievable. Hot and cold running water. What a fantastic idea, but how had the tribe accomplished it? Hattimas seemed so nice. Kind and sweet. Would she ever feel at home in all their opulence? Or be able to call the soft-spoken woman ‘Mother’ and mean it?
Myelin obviously had no problem with it. Mother rolled off her lips like the woman had given her birth. She closed her eyes and pictured her own in her mind’s eye. The giant had called the place she went better; could it be as wonderful as Adam’s Valley? He must never have visited Lamech and Grandmother Laurel’s home and seen how the generations there lived.
With her true ancestors in that better place, would they know if Jemri did call Grandfather’s daughter Mother? Could the dead cry tears? Or would her parents rejoice that she and Varsi had been taken to Adam’s Valley, such a wonderful place? In her mind’s eye her mother smiled then spoke to her heart.
‘You and Varsi are safe, have no more fear. Be at peace, my darling girl.’
Unless someone knew to keep the top of God’s Mountain right in front of them with all the different trails to take, they would never find their way to Adam’s valley. She’d heard stories about those who had been there and left, then tried to return, but were never able to find their way back.
She snickered. Only Grandfather Lamech.
He’d called the ark big, but more like a man-made mountain. The ridiculous boat towered over the forest between it and the palace. She could hardly wait to see it up close. As smart as the valley people seemed, she could hardly imagine they’d be so crazy as to actually construct such an absurd vessel. The thing would stand right there her whole life. It would never go anywhere.
How could they believe it would?
Myelin splashed water at her. “Don’t.”
She focused on the baby. “Don’t what?”
“Talk to yourself.”
“Wasn’t, I was only thinking.”
“Well, your lips were moving, and words were coming out, Sister.”
She looked at her twin. “Were they? What was I saying?”
“Something about the ark.”
Before she could respond, Hattimas burst into the room carrying an armload of clothes. “Anyone ready to get out?”
Varsi shrugged. “Sure, I’m getting waterlogged.”
Grandfather’s daughter threw a soft cloth to her and one to her twin. She dried then she and Varsi dressed in the garments the kind lady gave them. What wonderful clothes they were, too. How she had ones to fit her so exactly right surprised her. Even the baby’s size as well, laid out on the dressing table.
“You ready, Myelin?”
“No, I’ve decided to be a fish. Bring me some fish food, and I’ll live here from now on.” She stared at the ceiling a moment, as though in a quandary. “Do fish eat honey cakes?”
The lady laughed, a deep happy chuckle Jemri loved. “You’ll not like it once the water gets cold.”
“Fish live in cold water. Ever eat a fish?” She smacked and licked her lips. “They are delicious.”
“No, never!”
“You should, they’re better than cattle.”
“You ate the flesh of animals?” The woman’s tone carried thorough disgust, and the little one drew back. She didn’t answer, only nodded, but Jemri thought she was about to cry and lifted the third drying cloth.
Stretching it out, she held it toward the baby. “Now get out and dressed. Don’t you want to explore our new home?” She turned toward Hattimas. “May we go and see the ark?”
“Not today. There’s supper to prepare, and my sons will be home soon. I also want to check on Father again.”
Ducking under the water, Myelin swam underwater much like a fish. She circled twice then popped above surface. “Do I have to?” She seemed to recover her sass easy enough. “Because I truly do not want to.”
Varsi pointed her finger at the baby. “Yes, now mind our mother.”
“But she didn’t tell me I had to get out.” She pointed at Jemri, flicking water on her new dress.
She glared at the child and dropped the cloth and reached to grab her, but she stood and held out her arms.
“I will, I will.” The girl complied.
Drying her, Jemri thought back to her sister’s order. Had she just called Hattimas ‘our mother’? Was it so easy for her? What had gotten into Varsi? The baby turned around and held her arms up.
Hattimas stepped back. “Mercy, child, what’s this on your back?”
Chapter Sixteen
Finally, when it was just the elders in Grandfather’s suite, Hattimas relaxed. The baby had taken the longest to get settled. The little darling wouldn’t stop asking questions about the triplets.
Her father, leaning heavily on Noah, eased down into his seat, and all thoughts of her new daughters and old sons vanished.
Lamech had insisted on attending the meeting. Though not back to normal, how fast he recovered once the poultice had been applied amazed her. The onions had turned black, too.
He walked a bit slowly, but his color looked good again, and apparently, his fever was gone. Would her mother let him out of bed if not?
Then as if retelling an Eden story, he relayed his trip. He spoke of his wound as if nothing more than a scratch that happened to get a little infected. Then acting like the giant named Friend was the sort of man he met every day, he marveled at God’s provision of the twin girls and gave Him glory.
After answering several of Grandfather Methuselah’s questions about the three girls, his words hit her hard in the gut, like he’d thrown a mallet and she hadn’t caught it. With a quick shrug as if the declaration held little importance, he gave a sigh.
“The twins do not know who the firstborn is.”
“What? No. How can that be?”
“Their grandmother assisted with the birth and forgot to tie the ribbon around the eldest’s ankle.
Evidently the second came almost on top of the first. Their mother claimed they were born together.”
“What are we going to do?” She squeezed Noah’s hand.
Her husband looked to his father, then grandfather. “What should we do?”
“The Lord says.” Methuselah paused. Hattimas leaned in and willed her grandfather to speak, but he was want to make sure everyone listened. “We may cast the lot, but He will decide the outcome.”
Hattimas would rather have been given the task of matchmaker, but who was she to argue with Father God? Only He knew the thoughts and intent of the heart.
Japheth eased his end of the timber into its notch. “It isn’t right. As firstborn, I should get to choose before either of you.”
His twin set his end, then slipped the bore tool into the hole and twisted. “I like the idea, but it really doesn’t matter. Anyone of them is fine with me.” He finished with the drill and handed it over.
Shem tossed a peg. “I’m with you, brother.”
“You know.” Ham held the mallet out. “Meve was fifteen when…”
“Hold it right there.” Japheth caught the peg then faced his twin. “We’ve heard the end of that story a hundred times. We will not marry anyone without Father’s blessing, and I assure you he will not be giving it any time soon.”
“I was just saying. In three years –”
“Forget it. The ark is at least ten years from being finished and Great-Grandfather has outlived all of the fathers, save Jared, and the way we’re going, our rooms will not be ready for twice that long.”
His twin handed over the mallet. “Well, I don’t think we are going to have to wait much longer to see if Enoch really heard from God when he named his son. Really, what an awful tag to hang on a baby boy.”
Laughing, his youngest brother raised both hands. “Who would ever name anyone Methuselah if the Lord didn’t tell him to?”
Japheth tapped the peg into place. “It is true. We will see. But right now, we need to forget about the flood and the girls and get back to work. If the deluge does come, and this boat is not ready, I don’t want it to be my fault.”