Noah

by Susan Korman

  “Is Ham safe?” she asked Shem. He nodded. “I will explain everything later.”

  Ila saw Noah stumble off, heading back down the ladder.

  Just then her eyes landed on something in the sky.

  It’s a dove! she realized in amazement. The white bird was flying toward the Ark, an olive branch in its beak.

  10

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  AT THE HEARTH ILA HELPED NAAMEH AND JAPHETH stack wood for their cooking fire. Tonight there would be fish for supper, and Ila thought she’d easily be able to find some more grapes or berries as well. The floodwaters had receded months ago, and already this island showed plenty of signs of new life—vines hanging heavy with fruit, young saplings sprouting up from the earth, and colorful wildflowers all around them. Birds nested in the trees and all manner of animals were grazing on the hillsides.

  Ila looked up and noticed Ham up on the hillside, gazing down at them from near where the Ark had come to rest. The grounded ship sat behind their camp on the hillside now, worn and decayed from its time at sea.

  Shem had caught sight of Ham too and suddenly called, “Japheth!” He and Japheth hurried up to the cliff that overlooked the sea, towards their brother.

  I wonder what is happening, Ila thought. But there was no more time to wonder because her daughters were already awake from their nap and crying to be picked up and fed.

  She went into a tent to get them from their cradle, smiling at their sweet, still sleepy faces. Then she carried them outside, noticing how much progress Shem had already made on their home. It was a tall, sturdy-looking structure, constructed mainly from boards from the Ark.

  Ila fed her babies, the sun warm on her face. Each day it is easier, she thought. Each day she was able to release another terrible memory, and put the past a bit further behind them.

  But some of those memories would never be released, she knew. They were embedded in her family’s story now, like a thread woven inextricably through a garment.

  Over time, once she had recovered from the events, Shem and Ham had told her most of what had happened on the day of their daughters’ birth.

  According to Shem, Tubal-cain had managed to board the Ark during his troops’ battle with the Watchers. He was wounded badly, but Ham had found him and bandaged his wounds and brought him nourishment.

  “Tubal-cain and I… we had a strange bond,” Ham had said. “From the first time we met. I thought I wanted a way to seek revenge on Father.”

  The two of them had waited for the right opportunity. Finally, on the day of Ila’s labor, Tubal-cain had instructed Ham to lure Noah to the mammal deck. He gave Ham a small knife and told him to wait.

  Tubal-cain and Noah battled. And then the Ark had smashed into land, ripping a hole in the hull.

  Shem had been determined to stop Noah, too, before he could hurt the babies. Not realizing what was happening between Noah and Tubal-cain, he’d brought down his spear on Noah’s head. But then Tubal-cain had come out of nowhere.

  “He’s mine,” Tubal-cain had snarled, desperate to reach Noah first. He tossed Shem aside like a sack of grain.

  Shem crashed hard into a beam, and Ham, who was hiding, saw his brother go down.

  Tubal-cain raised a rock over Noah’s head. “The Ark, the beasts, and all of your women are now mine,” he declared. “I will build a new world. In my image!”

  But before Tubal-cain could strike Noah, Ham attacked the warlord with the knife.

  Ham had turned to Noah then. “Her name was Na’el,” he’d informed his father. “She was innocent! She was good!”

  The story still filled Ila with grief. She never could have imagined how much her family would change, how violence and sorrow and blame would wrench them apart.

  Ila put the babies down on the blanket. Shading her eyes, she looked up at a cave carved out of the sea cliff. She could see Shem and Japheth enter the cave while Ham hung back, staying near the entrance. She saw him drop a small satchel near the cave opening, and then he turned and left.

  Above she could see, too, traces of Noah’s solitary life there—the remains of a cooking fire, a basin to collect rainwater, his battered winepress.

  She knew that they had gone to find their father. He would be in the same place he spent every day—on the floor of the cave, drunk and ruined.

  * * *

  “Ila?”

  Ila was washing a cup in the small stream they used for drinking water when Ham came toward her. Her heart sank when she saw that he was dressed for travel, a bag over his shoulder.

  She stood as he approached.

  “Ham…” she murmured. She wanted to say more, but there were really no words left. He’d been a fine brother to her.

  He smiled sadly at her. “For what it is worth, sister, I’m glad it begins again with you. Maybe we will learn to be kind.”

  He murmured goodbye and then moved past her.

  Ila watched him go, sadness filling her heart.

  He had to leave, she knew that. He had to make his own way. He’d never forgive Noah for what had happened to his Na’el, and the bitterness was destroying him.

  She glanced up at the seaside cliff again.

  It was time.

  She finished washing the cup and then started up to the cliff.

  * * *

  Ila waited for him, sitting on a rock looking out at the sea. At last he emerged. To Ila’s surprise, his clothes and face were clean. For a moment they stared out at the sea together.

  “Ham’s gone,” Ila told him.

  Noah nodded. He seemed to know that already.

  “Will he come back?” she asked.

  Noah shrugged. “Some things cannot be unbroken.”

  Ila drew in a breath. “I have to know,” she began. “Why did you spare them?”

  Noah closed his eyes, looking pained. “I gazed down at those girls, and all I had in my heart was love.”

  “Then why are you alone, Noah?” Ila demanded. “Why have you shut yourself off and done this to yourself? I can see that you are in anguish.”

  “Because I failed Him,” Noah replied. “And I failed all of you.”

  Ila shook her head. “Did you fail?” she asked. “I believe He chose you for a reason, Noah. He showed you the wickedness of man and knew you would not look away. But when you looked, you saw goodness too. The choice was put in your hands because He put it there. He asked you to decide if we were worth saving. And you chose mercy. You chose love.”

  Noah looked at her, surprised.

  Ila took his hand and held it for a moment. Then she went back to the hearth, where Shem and her daughters waited.

  * * *

  More days passed. Each day Ila looked up at the cliffside, waiting.

  Then one day, she took a bucket to collect some berries. Nearby, Naameh was chopping the dirt with a spade.

  “I’m planting a new herb garden,” she said.

  Soon they both heard footsteps. Ila looked up—it was Noah. He had come to join Naameh.

  Naameh dropped down, kneeling in the dirt to pull out stones and other debris.

  Silently, Noah dropped down beside her. Together they worked, picking the stones out of the family’s garden. Neither said a word. But Ila saw their fingers touch and then they embraced.

  * * *

  The wind blew as Ila gathered her family at the top of the mountain. Noah stood with them.

  He looks older, she realized. The years and events aboard the Ark had scarred him, just as they had scarred all of them. Something fierce and determined still lurked around his dark eyes. But something else was present there now too…

  Warmth, Ila decided. Maybe even peace.

  She watched him look at each member of their family: Naameh, Japheth, Shem, his two granddaughters, and then Ila. When he was ready, he opened the satchel Ham had left in the cave, uncoiled the ancient snakeskin from its pouch and began the blessing.

  “The Creator made Adam in his image and placed the world in his c
are. That birthright was passed down to us… to my father, Lamech. Then to me and my sons, Shem, Japheth, and… Ham.”

  Noah slowly wrapped the holy talisman around his arm. Ila saw it shimmer and spread, just as Noah had described to Ila long ago.

  He looked down again at the babies in her arms. “And that birthright is now passed to you, our grandchildren. This will be your work, and your responsibility.”

  Ila watched as the sacred object undulated with a heavenly light. Noah reached out his hand and let the reptile skin tickle the babies’ foreheads.

  Ila smiled, watching the babies, and then she smiled at Shem. Her arms too full of babies to reach for his hand, she stepped closer, letting her shoulder brush his.

  “We are in another garden, a new Eden,” he murmured. And she nodded.

  Although some things remain unchanged, she thought. Once, long ago, Shem’s mother had promised that Shem would take her hand and he wouldn’t let it go. As he stood beside her now, it seemed to Ila that he was still holding her hand, and always would be.

  Noah’s next words seemed to echo from the top of the mountain. “So I say to you. Be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the world!”

  Ila bowed her head in gratitude. Silently, she thanked the Creator for Shem and her daughters and the rest of her family gathered around her. For Ham, who might be making his way across new territory, where he’d find a new beginning. And for Noah and the choice he had made, the peace he had found.

  Happiness washed over her.

  The storm is finally over, she thought. She could feel the proof of it in her heart. And when she looked up, she saw it above her too. A golden shimmering light filled the sky, forming an arc that suddenly blazed with brilliant colors.

  A dazzling rainbow over the earth, and Ila knew it was the Creator’s blessing.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  SUSAN KORMAN IS THE AUTHOR OF OVER THIRTY BOOKS ranging from picture books and licensed works to YA novels. She has written tie-in novels for Ice Age, Monsters Vs Aliens, Kung Fu Panda, Kicking and Screaming and various Transformers movies. She has also written YA titles under her own name including Overexposed and Bad Deal (a 2012 ALA Quick Pick for Reluctant Readers).

  susankorman.net