Then The Deluge Comes (The Generations Book 2)

by Caryl McAdoo

  That night, after all the giggles and hugs from both her sisters—bless God, both of them thought they had the best husband-to-be—while she tried to imagine what married life would be like, the same words she’d prayed that day, sounded in her heart.

  Not my will, Abba, but Yours be done.

  A peace settled over her. She could wait for the fullness of time. Now that she knew whom she would wed, she could be content until Father Noah gave his blessing. Right before sleep found her, she determined in her heart to make her mouth obey.

  Starting on the morrow, she would call Hattimas and Noah by their rightful titles. They deserved the honor.

  That summer, Jemri and her sisters were given more responsibilities. Taking them over, though harder jobs than she was used to, freed the men to spend all their days working on the ark.

  They no longer made the trek home for the midday meal. Instead, each wife-to-be packed a lunch for her betrothed.

  No one gave it voice, but Grandfather Methuselah looked ready to be gathered to his fathers any day. Tending the sheep and goats fell to Jemri, including the morning milking.

  She liked it well enough, but hated that it meant less time with Grandmother Laurel in her kitchen, for cooking was her true joy.

  Two summers later, when she and Varsi turned fifteen, speculation supposedly overheard from the circle of mothers hinted they might be allowed to marry, but in truth, turned out to be only rumors her twin started, which their mother stopped abruptly.

  The next spring, the elders decided Grandfather Lamech needed her help milling the gopher wood. Though not exactly sure what a board-hand meant, she could learn and would enjoy spending her days helping her dear old grandfather.

  He clearly grew older by the day. She laughed at herself. Didn’t everyone?

  The triplets and father needed so many more planks to complete the ark, the number didn’t seem possible. Then neither did building a boat the size of a mountain, yet there it sat on the timbers that held it above the ground.

  She heard the story how almost a hundred years before, Methuselah, Lamech, and Noah had rolled and lifted the huge tree that formed the center beam up onto the blocks.

  The outside finally roofed and finished. Dried in, Shem called it. All three levels were framed and floored. So much done, but yet so much still left to complete.

  After months of making boards, Jemri wanted to scream ‘no more’. But catching the reality of the coming flood drove her to work as hard as she could, as it did all.

  If she got to choose, she’d prefer working alongside Shem, but no matter how many times or from different directions she came at it, her mother wouldn’t even discuss the subject.

  The wise woman only kept giving her weird grins and slight head shakes that said one day you will understand, but until you do, mind me, young woman.

  At sixteen she was grown, as mature as she would ever be. She saw no reason why she and Shem shouldn’t be married, but of course she would never broach the subject with her father, especially since even hints were frowned upon.

  Six years later, at the ripe old age of twenty and two years, everything changed.

  Her heart broken, grief overwhelmed Jemri.

  Not since Adam buried Abel had a father laid to rest his son.

  Myelin wailed the loudest standing over the double grave, but Jemri’s heart wanted to break. Methuselah and Greatest-Grandmother stood stoic at the head of each grave.

  Though clearly obvious they hated burying both of their firstborns, it seemed somehow they had expected it. Almost as if perhaps the elders even welcomed the deaths.

  A hand slipped over hers. She glanced over. Shem stood next to her. The warmth from his touch spread to her heart. “He would have died ten years ago, if not for you.”

  She nodded, but didn’t trust her voice to even try to speak.

  He wiped her cheeks. “Take comfort, for they are in a better place.”

  She wanted to believe that. Certainly hoped it.

  But how could there be a place better than Adam’s Valley?

  Namrel spread his wings and shook. None of God’s glory remained. He strolled out of the Temple Made Without Hands, blessed the Lord one last time, then turned his face toward the far shore of the Crystal Sea.

  With a short trot, he launched himself. His strength renewed, he felt even stronger than the day he’d been spewed from the mind of God.

  His dwelling remained exactly as he’d left it when his watch had been called. Seemed like just a few days ago. Only the Lord knew how many years it had been. Well, and maybe Enoch.

  The man continued to be refrained from entering the Lord’s manifest presence. He had never asked Jared’s son, though he’d often thought to, if the man had devised a way of marking time.

  Didn’t really matter. What did, waited ahead.

  He retrieved his book and began his search. Quickly, he found the first reference, then with a more stringent search, six others revealed themselves. How had he missed it for so long?

  Chapter Eighteen

  1656 years from creation

  Noah held his arm still as his grandfather used it to ease into his chair. “Thank you, Son.” The old man nodded toward the chair to his right, the one his wife had sat for so many years, but she was now too weak to even come to the Feast of the Firstborns.

  “Tell them. I’d like to get back to your grandmother.”

  Noah stood. “Sons, tomorrow we will all go upon God’s Mountain.”

  Methuselah held up his near hand, now not much more than skin and bones. “I have heard from the Lord. One last time, I will make the sin offering. Abba has said…” Grandfather’s eyes teared and his lower lip trembled.

  He sniffed it all back and continued. “The God of Adam has said I am to be gathered to my fathers before another sacrifice is needed.” His hand fell into his lap, and he leaned back.

  “Tomorrow when we return.” Noah smiled at his daughters. He could not love them any more if Hattimas had birthed them. He should probably wait, but each stared at him so intently. Keen interest etched their eyes. “If you young ladies are of the same mind, we will celebrate a triple wedding.”

  All three leapt to their feet and pulled their mother to themselves. The women danced around, each interlocked with the next. He chuckled then looked to his boys.

  “It appears they are of the same mind, wouldn’t you men agree? First light, we will each carry a corner of Grandfather’s litter. He will hold the lamb.”

  Shem nodded. “Just one yearling?”

  “Yes, Abba said to make a sin offering for us only. We no longer need to intercede for Earth or the sons of Cain.”

  Noah’s heart ached knowing God had given up on any of his distant kin ever repenting. Their hearts must have turned to stone. Their eyes blind to the beauty God blessed them with in the world. How could they only love themselves and think they had no need of the One who created them and gave them their very life?

  He drew in a lungful of sweet air. How could they take Him so for granted? Noah sighed out the breath and hung his head in sorrow.

  That night, when finally Hattimas sat alone with her husband, she kissed his neck then nibbled his ear lobe. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve made a few preparations. There is still so much to be done.”

  He kissed her back. “I feel such an urgency, love. It is the ark, not the wedding preparations that must take precedence.

  “But –”

  “You’re right when you say there is still so much to be done—with the ark. You and our daughters have spent all your extra time getting ready for the Feast. What more could you have done?”

  “I don’t know, but I hate it when you don’t tell me things.”

  “I am aware of that, but tell me you wouldn’t have taken Jemri into your confidence so she could have helped cook something special. And then she would have to tell Varsi why she couldn’t stop grinning. Myelin? She would have pried it out of her sisters before the sun came up.”


  She laughed and slapped his shoulder in fun. He knew her too well. “Maybe. Maybe not. I hate it we don’t have more time. The girls still are such babies.”

  “Young, but no longer babies. Older than Mother Eve when she bore Cain and Abel. But we knew all along they needed to marry before the flood. And God knew that when He chose them.”

  “Yes, He did. I can still see Jemri driving the wagon in, Varsi at her side. And dear Myelin singing to Father.” She stared into the past, lost herself in it for a few heartbeats. “How much longer do we have? Do you know? And what all is there that still needs to be done?”

  “The ark is finished. You heard Grandfather as well as me. Within the year.” He shrugged. “We still have three barns full of fodder and grain that must be moved aboard, and our household goods. I don’t want to leave anything.”

  “Anything that water might hurt, right? It isn’t as though we need to take the marble tables or metal implements, right?”

  “I can’t know. But will say this. If it’s important to you, best to keep it with us. We can fill the walls of our rooms on the ark with the paintings of our fathers and mothers.”

  “Oh, yes. Lion and lamb. We cannot leave it behind.”

  “And Mother’s first painting of the ark. We’ll need a good-sized table anyway. And Grandmother’s cook stove. Might as well take that.”

  “Yes.”

  Though a part of her agreed, she couldn’t help wondering the why. The water would rise up. The ark would float. Then the water would retreat, and life would continue.

  No doubt there would be plenty of mud to clean off things, but afterwards…well…living would be normal again.

  Wouldn’t it? As it had been her whole life.

  Right, Lord?

  A shadow crept over her soul. She shuddered for all the sons of Cain. God’s judgment would be rendered upon them and the face of Earth. Or was it for her way of life—as she’d known it? She didn’t want to think of it.

  Instead, she chose to anticipate her children’s pending nuptials, crowded out all morose thoughts, and she appreciated that. Laughter would fill her home.

  Then her husband’s kisses put even those happy thoughts out of her mind.

  Centurion whistled the greeting tune. He soared one circle above then floated to the ancient one’s portico. He hated leaving God’s manifest presence, but only Namrel and his brethren were allowed to linger around the Lord’s throne.

  “Greetings.” The cherub stood in the too-small doorway. “I see the beauty of His Holiness still clings fresh upon you.”

  “Did my ears deceive me, or did you sing?”

  “No, my friend you heard right. I sang our song.”

  Centurion smiled. It had been at least two stars’ lives since his mentor had summoned him by singing the special and private melody. “May I inquire as to why?”

  “I just saw the eighth one.” The cherub held out his hand and tucked his wings in tight. “I need you to take me to Paradise as fast as you can fly. I’ll whisper the new war songs on the way.”

  Noah dropped his handful of dirt, his sons did the same, then Hattimas and the daughters dropped their dirt on his grandmother’s shroud. The ladies took one last look then turned and trudged up the hill to the big house.

  He shoveled a spadeful on both graves then let the boys finish. As he backed away a step, a drop of water hit his nose. The Spirit of God filled Noah’s being, and he sank to his knees and worshiped.

  COME THOU AND ALL THY HOUSE INTO THE ARK; FOR THEE HAVE I SEEN RIGHTEOUS BEFORE ME IN THIS GENERATION. OF EVERY CLEAN BEAST THOU SHALT TAKE TO THEE BY SEVENS, THE MALE AND HIS FEMALE: AND OF BEASTS THAT ARE NOT CLEAN BY TWOS, THE MALE AND HIS FEMALE. OF FOWLS ALSO OF THE AIR BY SEVENS, THE MALE AND HIS FEMALE; TO KEEP SEED ALIVE UPON THE FACE OF ALL THE EARTH. FOR YET SEVEN DAYS, AND I WILL CAUSE IT TO RAIN UPON THE EARTH FORTY DAYS AND FORTY NIGHTS; AND EVERY LIVING SUBSTANCE THAT I HAVE MADE WILL I DESTROY FROM OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH.

  Noah held his breath and waited a few heartbeats.

  Dear Lord.

  He looked to God’s Mountain, but no cloud swirled there. Had Abba spoken to his ears or only his heart? A hand gripped his arm.

  “Father?” Shem pointed to the south. A countless number of animals, every sort, many he’d never seen, walked toward the ark.

  “The male and his female.” He looked at his youngest son. “Did you hear?”

  “Yes, we only have seven days.”

  Centurion marveled at the amount of rock the builders had removed since his last visit to the quarries. But then each new moon, the number of innocent children who passed through evil’s fire not only increased their power but swelled the numbers in Paradise. Praise the Almighty, the long-awaited day had come.

  The cherub finished instructing the tribunes, then strode toward Centurion. The old one smiled.

  “Bless His Name, the mystery is revealed.” Namrel chuckled. “Of all the discussions and predictions of how the Lord might destroy Earth, never once had I heard the fountains mentioned. You?”

  “No, not a word. Are there more instructions for me?”

  “No, fly with God and wait upon the sound of the shofar’s blast. Then belt out one of your new songs, my friend, as only you can. Lead your brothers and rend every drop from the First Heaven.”

  The old one’s word brought another song. Oh, Lord, let them burn in my heart until it is time to sing. Centurion sang this quadrant’s portal open then shot through it. His strength renewed for battle. Finally, the Lord’s wrath would be visited upon evil.

  What a glorious day.

  He darted through the corridors until he reached the portal he sought, then sang it open. Michael’s seventh and third flew against Lucifer’s sixth and ninth. Two full-feathered cohorts soared in the center, but neither appeared eager to engage. The seventh’s senior tribune whistled a greeting, but Centurion only dipped his near wingtip, like he had nothing to say.

  Thrice he flew full trips round, then the ram’s horn’s glorious blast reached him. He bellowed a bass challenge and dived into the center of the cohorts. He sang the first song Namrel had whispered in his ear.

  The veil between the Heavens ripped. Centurion plummeted into the angel sized hole. Parts of three cohorts followed after him, good, evil, and those serving Love and Life.

  The firmament engulfed him. Evil engaged, but his brothers of the host found the harmony to his war song and prevailed. Evil’s feathers dropped like the morning dew. Soon all four legions fought. The waters the Lord had placed above Earth so long ago grew heavier with each note sung, and soon droplets fell to the ground.

  “Pull.”

  The door never budged. Hattimas raced to her husband’s back and grabbed the rope woven through the chain. The water fell in sheets, soaking the planks. She’d never seen anything like it.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she shouted toward her daughters. “Help! We’ve got to get this door closed!”

  Jemri joined in behind her and looped the chain around her backside, putting all her weight against it. The other two ran to the opposite side.

  “Again! Pull!” But nothing happened.

  It didn’t even budge.

  Noah ran down the door and out into the mud and rain. “Come on, boys. We’ll lift while the ladies pull. Maybe if we can get it going....”

  Her sons joined her husband; all four knelt and grabbed hold of the timbers, two at the end and one on each side. “On three. One. Two. Heave.” They all grunted and groaned.

  A blast of cold rain whipped through the opening, wetting Hattimas’ face and clothes, but she ran out onto the ramp. “No, husband! This isn’t going to work. How will you men get back in the ark? It won’t work!"

  “We’ve got to do something. If we get it started, we’ll come one by one to the side, climb up, and help you women pull. We’ve got to try.”

  She and her daughters lifted the chained rope and tugged on it with all their might. She put all her effort to th
e task. Her hands and arms screamed to stop, but she kept at it.

  The massive ramp moved maybe three fingers’ length then slammed back to the ground, knocking all of her men onto their backs. Noah got to his feet first. The triplets just sat there in the rain shaking their heads as though any more effort would be of no use.

  But the Lord… He’d not brought them this far just to drown. Had He?

  Why would He?

  No! He had not.

  Noah pulled Shem to his feet then Ham, while her youngest pulled his oldest brother up. Her husband took a step then stopped in his tracks. He pointed skyward. “Get in the ark and behold the salvation of the Lord!”

  She stepped to the edge and looked in the direction he had pointed. Out of the wall of boiling black and gray, a familiar white cloud shaped like a finger dipped down. Her men ran inside, wet and muddy.

  The girls joined them all at the door and stood with their mouths hanging open. The finger of God descended, lifted the door, and eased it shut.

  So close. To God Himself. Now she understood the awe the fathers experienced on the mountain. Hattimas sank to her knees. “Bless you, Father, for shutting us in.”

  One by one, they all went to their knees and worshipped God, giving thanks.

  A noise so nearby brought her from His glorious presence. Shem. He’d grabbed his pitch pot and frantically went to slathering the seams around the door. Ever so slowly, she rose then looked at her babies.

  She spread her arms open toward Myelin, closest to her. “Sweetheart, you’re soaked.”

  The youngest laughed. “No more than you, Mother. I don’t think any of us are as wet as you.”

  Noah turned around and grinned. “Best we all get some dry clothes on.”

  Shem’s wife pointed. “Oh, Father! You look as if you’ve been swimming fully dressed. And your backside! Did Shem tar you, too?” She laughed then suddenly hushed.

  Everyone’s laughter died and they all grew quiet.