The Sublime Seven

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  Jamila was weeping again. “But I just found you.”

  “And that is a blessing in its own way. When Akhon is enjoying a clearheaded moment, he can talk about me. I would much rather that woman...that mother...be the one you think of. Not this husk.”

  “I wish I could hold you,” she sobbed.

  “That is impossible,” her mother replied. “Goodbye, my darling. Be strong, be wise, be gentle, and be kind. Remember that I will always love you more than anything in the world.” She turned and shuffled away. Jamila could barely see the shadowy form through her tears.

  Three months later…

  “Thank you for seeing me, Jamila,” Nephi said, sipping his beer instead of guzzling it, as had become his habit.

  “I’m happy to see that you’re doing better,” she said, indicating the nearly full cup.

  He chuckled. The handsome face looked older than its years. There were already crinkles next to the eyes.

  Have I done that to him?

  She reached out to squeeze his shoulder, hoping the gesture felt friendly and nothing more. “I’m sorry to have been so cold to you, Nephi. It hasn’t been easy...”

  “I know. And I’m so sorry about everything.”

  She smiled. “I know you are. An enlightened person recently explained to me that forgiveness is a process, and today is the beginning of it. Every day it will get easier for both of us to accept the past and not let it sabotage our future happiness.”

  “I’m so glad to hear this. Does that mean...?”

  She shook her head. “No. But we can be friends. That is my desire.”

  He sighed, looking down at his cup and then reaching for her hand. “I’ll take friendship, Jamila. And be grateful for it. I feel as if I have been dragging a boulder, and you just sliced through its tethering.”

  “I feel a bit like that, too. Now I have to get home. Papa is waiting for me. You’ll be happy to know he’s doing better. He’ll always need supervision, but his moments of lucidity come more frequently these days. I’m hopeful of further progress.”

  “Me too,” he said, kissing her quickly before she could protest. He was gone the next moment, but not before she saw the glistening on his cheek.

  This time on her walk home after talking to Nephi, she smiled.

  When she arrived home, Moswen was there, struggling to persuade her father to disrobe so she could wash his clothing.

  “Get away from me, poisoner!” he yelled, with a half-hearted swat in Moswen’s direction.

  “I should poison you and put you out of your misery. Now give me that loincloth. It’s disgusting, Akhon. Have some dignity, for goodness sake!”

  Akhon’s eye widened. He glanced down, then without another word, slipped out of his linen. Jamila was used to seeing his skinny, naked body now, so she merely smiled at the scene.

  “I hope you had a nice day,” Moswen said. “Your father is being difficult at the moment. Good luck with him this evening. I’ll see you tomorrow, dear.”

  Before the stout little woman left, Jamila stopped her, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you, Moswen. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome, child. Helping with Akhon – even the revolting parts – is my pleasure, as absurd as that may seem.”

  Jamila smiled, too. “I understand.”

  The In Between

  Jamila suddenly found herself floating in a black void. It took a few moments, or perhaps longer, to remember about the In Between, that period between her corporeal lives. The last time she was here was after her life as Johnny. How different this past life had been from that one. The concept was quite exciting now that she fully understood it: there would be no limit to the choices she had in which to learn her remaining lessons.

  She knew she didn’t have a physical body, but she remembered Sarah’s instructions from before, so she manifested one now – not the aged one from just before she passed, but an earlier version of it. Young and vibrant, as she had been right after Akhon’s accident.

  With newly fashioned eyes, she glanced down at her white linen shift and the sandals on her feet, dusty from the pervasive chiseling of granite surrounding Khafre’s pyramid construction. She imagined the cemetery where she had smashed demon shards and talked to her mother. Tears welled up in her new eyes. She sat down on the sand.

  “Hello, Jamila.”

  It was Sarah’s voice coming out of another woman’s body. The strange woman sat down in front of her, crossing her shapely brown legs.

  “Why do you look like that?” Jamila asked.

  “It’s helpful for me to appear in the form of someone from your most recent life.”

  “But I don’t recognize you.”

  The would-be Sarah smiled. “I resemble you, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose, when I was in my thirties...” She said. Then, “Oh! You’re her! That’s what my mother looked like?”

  The Sarah-Mother nodded.

  “How beautiful she was.”

  “She was even more beautiful on the inside, wasn’t she?” Sarah-Mother said.

  “Yes. In the short time I had with her, she taught me about forgiveness. Can you imagine forgiving the person who destroyed your life?”

  “The more important question is, can you imagine it?”

  “Yes. I can and I did. I know what you’re doing now. You’re quizzing me about the lessons of Unconditional Love and Forgiveness.”

  “That’s correct. Would you elaborate on your experiences in Giza as they apply to your assignment?”

  Jamila tilted her head while she pondered her life as a baker in the service of Khafre. She began speaking after a few minutes, or perhaps it was a few days. “I learned Unconditional Love through two examples. The love that my mother showed for me and my father when she went into exile. Leaving her child was the most difficult thing she had ever done. I never had children, but I can understand the pain it must have caused her to do that. The other example, surprisingly, was in Moswen’s unconditional, lifelong love for Akhon. She never stopped loving him, even when he married another woman – her best friend – and then later, when he regularly defecated into his underwear. She loved him throughout.”

  Sarah’s appearance was changing before her eyes, back into the one Jamila had first met as Johnny. She still wore the plain attire of a common Egyptian female, and despite the uncharacteristic blond hair, the garb suited her better than the lavender polyester track suit from before.

  “And so you believe you’ve learned the lesson of Unconditional Love?” Sarah said.

  Jamila nodded. “I do.”

  “Let’s go back to Forgiveness now.”

  “My mother forgave, genuinely forgave, the person who infected her with a horrific disease and ruined her life. She ended up living with that person in the leper colony and even buried the creature with her own hands as a kindness.”

  “That’s something.”

  “It certainly is. It almost seems superhuman to forgive such a monumental trespass. So my forgiveness of Nephi pales in comparison.”

  “His transgression was less severe?”

  “Yes. Still, his impulsiveness profoundly altered our lives, and not for the better.”

  “Who’s to say what’s better?”

  “That’s true. Ultimately, it’s all about learning the lessons, isn’t it?” Jamila smiled.

  “That’s what all this is about. Do you feel that your forgiveness of him was genuine?”

  “I do,” Jamila replied, sensing Sarah wanted further elaboration. “But it didn’t happen suddenly. Even after I told him I forgave him, I still experienced feelings of resentment and anger, especially when he married someone else and lived a happy life.”

  “That could have been your life.”

  “Exactly. Instead, I was stuck for years taking care of my disabled father. At some point though, perhaps because I consciously worked at the process of forgiveness as my mother had, I finally achieved it. The last years of my life, I harbored no trace
of animosity toward Nephi.”

  “Excellent.”

  Jamila sighed. “Yes.”

  “Are you ready to move forward?”

  She nodded.

  “What lessons will you take on this time?”

  “I think I’d like to learn about Courage, Bravery, and Leadership with a Strong Work Ethic.”

  “Perfect. Let’s discuss the best framework. This will be fun.”

  Sarah’s smile dazzled Jamila as much now as when she had been Johnny. She hoped the next life didn’t have to take place right away. For a while, she was happy to bask in the radiance of her Spiritual Guide.

  Chapter 3 – Courage, Bravery, and Leadership with a strong Work Ethic

  Pre-history Mesopotamia (Iraq) – 12,000 BCE

  Jun-tak walked the hills surrounding the makeshift campsite of the Family. As always, he gathered anything edible as he went. The grass he had come to think of as barley was everywhere. He would pluck the grains from the feathery tip and roast them on a concave stone in the fire pit. Something told him, however, that there were other ways to make use of them. He intended to experiment more later.

  He had brought with him a satchel to carry all the edibles he gathered on his evening walk. The satchel itself was unusual; everyone made their clothing and accessories from animal skins, and had done so for generations back to the time of the Terrible Ice. But a new plant Jun-tak had discovered on one of his walks provided fiber from which many useful items could be woven. He had wasted no time in utilizing the fine, long strands found within the hard stems. As usual, the Family was skeptical of it. Animals had always yielded what they needed for nearly every aspect of their daily lives.

  Why expend so much labor cutting the woody things for just a few threads? Meat fills the belly quicker than those toasted seeds, Jun-tak...so much work for just a mouthful or two. Why must you always do things differently, boy?

  That last was from his father, who, like the rest of the Family, did not understand his inquisitive and spirited nature. It wasn’t easy being different, but to be any other way felt wrong. Until man-hair had begun sprouting between his legs and under his arms, he had done his best to mimic the behavior of the other children. He played their silly games of Rocks and Sticks or Mammoth Hunter, though he longed to be doing something more interesting. More useful. When he began wondering off on his own every day after chores and before the evening meal, nobody was surprised nor tried to stop him. He believed his father secretly admired this solitary independence of his youngest son, even though it violated one of the Family’s basic survival tenets: never go anywhere alone. He almost always came back with something that could be eaten or utilized in their migrant lifestyle, and so far, he had not gotten himself killed.

  The beauty of the spectacular orange and purple sunset blossoming above the distant hills was lost on Jun-tak, who was too busy studying grasses. The barley was quite plump this time of year, and he used his flint knife to gather as much as possible before all the light was gone. If he worked late, he need not be too worried, for he knew the direction of the camp by the placement of the stars even now beginning to twinkle to life.

  Soon it was too dark to efficiently separate the grain from the stalks. He was just about to head back, when he noticed a rocky outcropping not far ahead. He had been meandering gradually uphill and now stood at the base of a squat mountain. The jutting rock formation looked intriguing, as though it might be the opening to a cave.

  A shiver ran up his back, and it had nothing to do with the cool evening air. A cave could be concealing an animal, either predator or prey. A cave could be hiding dangerous people who might look upon his innocent curiosity as a hostile act. A cave, especially one as well-situated as this, could also be the perfect solution to a notion that had been rolling around in his head for a while now.

  A permanent home. A home in which the Family could remain during all the seasons. It was an uncommon way of thinking that only made sense if they began doing things in other ways, and Jun-tak had several ideas about that, too. These days, people kept on the move. They were always chasing boar, elk, and aurochs. They stayed in an area long enough to deplete all the edible plants, then they would proceed to the next herd. That was the way it had been for generations, and everyone seemed content to continue.

  Everyone except Jun-tak.

  Constant migration meant the Family had to carry everything of value, so could never accumulate much. Hauling tools, bedding, and tents, left little space for food. They ate on the go, utilizing whatever was at hand. If the herds weren’t where they were expected to be, the Family went hungry. If the season’s edibles had already been picked over by other migratory peoples, the Family went hungry. If the fish were sparse at the river, the Family went hungry.

  So much is beyond one’s control when you are constantly roaming.

  Jun-tak eyed the cleft from his lower vantage. He waited, ears straining to hear noises coming from whatever might be dwelling (or hiding) inside. He counted a hundred heartbeats. Then two hundred. He heard the usual dusk sounds of insects and bats, but nothing came from the cave.

  Knife in one hand and spear in the other, he scaled the sloping terrain. His leather shoes, stuffed with dried grass, made no sound on the rocky ground. In addition to his intellect, stealth was also one of Jun-tak’s talents. If not for his passive, benign personality, he probably would have been the best hunter of all. But much to his father’s dismay, Jun-tak had no passion for killing. He would do it to fill his belly, but he had no taste for it.

  He reached the cleft just as a fading shaft of sunlight illuminated the opening in the hillside. The angle was perfect, and he could see all the way to the craggy walls at the back. Emboldened now, he stepped inside. Evidence of both humans and animals was everywhere: gnawed bones, a crude rendering of an auroch on one of the walls, and desiccated rat droppings. A shallow section of the floor near the front had once been used as a fire pit. Jun-tak squatted next to it, fingering the lumps of coal and ash. No heat remained.

  People had been there, but they were long gone. They would never have allowed their fire to go out if they had planned to return. They would have banked the coals carefully so that a quick stoke would ignite them again. The Family thoroughly extinguished their fire before moving on, but they would bring some of it with them. They had a generations-old pouch used for carrying hot embers. Nobody knew from what animal the skin had come, but it was the only hide that could tolerate the heat. It was much easier to coax a quick campfire from hot embers than to start one from scratch.

  He withdrew his fire-making kit from his tool satchel. Even the simple but labor-intensive process of fire-starting could be improved, and Jun-tak had done so. Rather than rubbing the drill stick against the hearth stick with his hands, he had rigged strips of leather which, when pulled in a certain way, increased the speed with less work. It was simple, but ingenious.

  Soon he had a fire going. In the enhanced lighting, he conducted a thorough search. It was larger than he had previously thought, and a small secondary chamber lay at the back behind some boulders, invisible from the opening. It could be turned into an effective hiding space for people or their valuables. The cave was also quite dry, not damp like some he had examined in wetter locations. The dryer, the better, when it came to the storing food. He wondered how long grain and other edibles would last there. He pictured rigging an elaborate meat-drying system, more efficient than how they preserved it in their temporary camps. If they stayed in one place, they could build a structure for the sole purpose of hanging meat to smoke and dry.

  New concepts and ideas flooded into his mind, and they all depended on that unheard of notion of staying put.

  He sighed, then continued exploring as his thoughts pursued their journey down this forbidden path.

  Niches in the walls could store tools and utensils; the relatively smooth floor could be made comfortable for sleeping, with the addition of some grass and a few hides; a crevasse in the ceiling s
erved as a natural chimney for the smoky tendrils even now wafting toward it. Jun-tak watched as it drifted up and then out to somewhere else, leaving the air mostly smoke-free. It was a marvel to behold, and it further sparked his imagination.

  A rustling sound outside interrupted his musings. His hands flew to his weapons, but before he could get a throwing grip on his spear, he saw a familiar face appear in the opening of the cave.

  “Mung, you scared me,” he said, his heart racing in his chest. “What are you doing here?”

  “Did you think I was a demon?” Mung said, grinning like a fool. The grin coaxed a smile from the normally serious Jun-tak. Mung’s grins always did.

  “No, I thought you were a giant rat. I found your droppings, see?” he gestured toward the corner.

  Mung scrunched his nose in disgust. “That explains the smell,” he said.

  “Did my father send you?”

  “No. I came on my own. I’ve been tracking you the entire time. You didn’t know I was there, did you? My hunting prowess improves every day. I watched you gather the...what do you call those things?”

  “Barley.”

  “They’re rather tasty when toasted, but they don’t fill you up. Besides, I’d prefer a nice, juicy piece of auroch loin.”

  “I think those grains have potential. I have some thoughts about how to utilize them in additional ways.”

  “Of course, you do. That’s what the brilliant Jun-tak does. He always comes up with better ways to do everything.” Mung’s smile was affectionate. He wasn’t teasing, merely stating a fact. Most people looked upon Jun-tak’s would-be improvements with suspicion; they just wanted to do things the way they always had.

  “What do you think?” Jun-tak said to his friend, gesturing to the craggy den and its obvious serviceability.

  “I think it’s a smelly cave.”

  “Besides the smell, which a thorough cleaning would improve, what do you think?”