Replenish the Earth (The Generations Book 3)

by Caryl McAdoo

  He sank to his knees there by the bed. “Your judgments are just and true, Father. Wash away sin. Let us begin fresh and new and in the center of Your will.”

  Myelin put a hand on the wall and balanced herself. As the ark seemed to move faster, Ham put his arm around her shoulder then walked lockstep with her to the rooms he’d built. She wanted to lie down. Tired from the morning, she hoped only to nap and rest like Father had said, but knew Ham so well.

  She hated it that her bedroom shared a wall with her parents’ quarters.

  So instead, she wobbled her way to her own little kitchen table. Her husband had assured her that he built the dividing wall a full hand’s width thick, and no sounds could pass through, but she wasn’t so sure. Made her want to move the bed, but he claimed he’d anchored it to the floor. The ark lurched then moved even faster.

  “Which way are we going? Can we know?”

  “Seems east to me, maybe east by southeast. Why?”

  “That’s toward Nod, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “What do you suppose Father is going to do if someone has survived and wants in?” The marks on her back burned, like they always did when she thought of her old home.

  “That couldn’t happen. We’d never know.”

  She scrunched her shoulder, trying to make the stinging stop. “Don’t be so sure.”

  “Take your tunic off, and I’ll get the coconut oil.”

  “Thank you.” She pulled the material over her head, then leaned over the table. “Are they red? It feels as though they are on fire.”

  “Not really.” He touched her back, no sizzle as she suspected, like oil poured into a hot frying pan. But it sure quenched the flames, and she loved the sweet fragrance of coconut.

  Slowly, he rubbed little circles with both hands, pressing his thumbs into her tired muscles. He was a good husband, kind and concerned. She could certainly overlook his lazy tendencies and deal with his temper, too. Moving up to her shoulders, he worked the oil in, then kissed her neck. “I’m so sorry they did this to you.”

  She would learn to love him. Turning, she pulled her tunic back over her head. “Me, too, in a way, but it saved my life.”

  “Really? I haven’t heard that story. How?”

  She giggled. “No wonder. We haven’t been doing a lot of talking since you first saw my back.”

  “True.” He rubbed her neck, up into her hairline. “How about now? Or would you rather rest?”

  She smiled then nodded toward his chair. She’d like nothing better, but lying beside him might lead to more, and she needed to hang onto all the strength she had; tending so many animals proved tiresome. “I had three mothers there in Nod.”

  “How?”

  “My father had three wives, silly. The one who loved me most, the oldest, I don’t know if she birthed me or not. Anyway, she’s the one who inked my back. She said it would keep the high priest from throwing me into the snake’s fire.”

  “Did it hurt?”

  “Oh, yes. Very much for days. I bit down on a piece of thick leather she gave me, so I wouldn’t make any noise. Only the mothers and the high priest knew I was there instead of in the sacrificial fires. I was spared.”

  “Why’d she put wings on each side?”

  “She told me that her father was a giant winged man, that he sired all three of my mothers, and that I, too, was of his seed.”

  Ham reached across the table and slipped his hand over hers. “Do you believe that? And Jemri’s wild dream about a winged man? Seems to me it was the green peppers. Everyone knows that will give you wild dreams.”

  “No, it’s true. All of the mothers had been marked by the angel. I like that word for them, don’t you? Because they aren’t men after all. Men cannot fly.”

  “No, not really. How were they marked?”

  “One had six fingers on each hand, another stood a head and shoulders taller than any man I ever saw. My oldest mother, she had tiny wings. Real ones on her back. She couldn’t make them do anything, but they were there. She showed me the same night she marked me.”

  “Were they feathered?”

  “No, naked.”

  “Do you know why you got sold the exact day Grandfather was there in Nod?”

  She shrugged, had wondered the same thing many times. “No. The high priest was gone with the army several days, and my favorite mother carried me to the slave trader. She hugged me long and tight then walked away. I begged her not to leave me. But she never even looked back. I cried for her.”

  “Well, I for one am thankful Grandfather brought you to me.”

  “I am, too. I could never have imagined such a life. Do you suppose she knew? That God told her to take me there that day?”

  Ham shook his head. “Only He knows.”

  Hattimas sat up in bed and rubbed both eyes, but the night vision lingered. She slipped out and felt her way to the window, unlatched it, and cracked it open. The storm’s fury assailed her. She stared out at the darkness until a bolt of lightning lit the night. Nothing but roiling black clouds and sheets of rain. Where had the Lord taken the ark?

  “Close the window and come back to bed.”

  In gracious submission, she latched it then crawled back in beside him. “What day is it?”

  “Mercy, woman, it’s…let’s see…twenty-nine, no thirty days. Why?”

  “How much copper ore did you bring?”

  He exhaled. “Ten times your weight, maybe more. Why do you ask?”

  “You’re going to need it.”

  With a chuckle, he sat up. Patting the table next to his side of the bed, he located his flint and shortly had a fire sparked in the moss to light the oil lamp. In the dim golden illumination, he smiled. “Now that I’m awake, I’ll get the tea water to boiling. You can tell me why I’m going to need a lot of copper ore.”

  Lying still in her place, she waited until he brought back the lamp then threw on her robe and joined him in the kitchen. Shortly, he sat across the table from her, sipping tea while she described her night vision. She hated seeing it, but the telling, she hated even worse, as though the words she spoke would create, generate it into fruition.

  Once finished, her husband nodded. “I’ve suspected as much.”

  “What about the ore? Do you know about that?”

  He interlocked his fingers in a troubled silence. She knew him too well. He brought them to his mouth and shook his head, then shortly, he looked up. “I’ve thought and thought how I’m going do it, but so far, none of the ideas make good sense. I never dreamed it would be like it is, so violent and perpetual.”

  “Me, either. I don’t even remember what I imagined though.” Tears welled, as if she hadn’t cried enough of them. Now this. “Noah, I hate it all. The rain, the stench, our home being gone, the home of our fathers lost forever. Why did I think we would ride in the ark like a leisurely row across the lake?”

  Staring into her eyes, he transferred strength and peace, reached across the table, and covered her hands with his. “It’s our lot, Hattimas. Praise God that He saved us. Our sons and daughters…they will start afresh. We all will. You’ve heard Myelin’s stories about how horrible Nod had become. The Lord is cleansing the earth, washing Cain’s sin away. Don’t cry, trust in the goodness of the Lord. We’ll figure this out with God’s help. He is faithful and just.”

  She wiped her cheeks. “Yes, He is, always. Praise Him. He told us it would rain and how long the rain would last. I don’t think I could endure it if we couldn’t count the days down to forty, only ten more.” She stood. “Together, we can withstand two handfuls more. I best get to cooking. We can tell our children after I feed them.”

  He stood. “I’ll go light the lamps.”

  Halfway through the bread’s second rising, the cock crowed. Bless God for little things that remained the same. She had slept almost all the way through the night. She missed having a waterwheel to divide the time, the going down of the sun and rising of the same. B
ut as her love so often said, bless the Lord in all things.

  Thanksgiving filled her heart, not so much for Him saving her, but her babies.

  She chuckled to herself. The Lord had given such an abiding, deep love in her heart for all her children. At times, she had to remind herself she didn’t birth her daughters, but the girls belonged to her, always would, and she couldn’t love them more. They would be the new mothers of all the living, like Eve. Praise His name.

  Soon she’d have that deluge of babies Father Jared convincingly expected after Enoch named her grandfather.

  Methuselah’s name meant “then the deluge comes.” And so it did in the fullness of time. Nine hundred sixty-nine years, longer than any other man lived on the face of the earth. And when he died, the deluge did come exactly as Father Enoch prophesied, just as Abba said that it would.

  Shortly, her whole family gathered around her table. With the extra time, she’d prepared a fine feast to break the fast. Ham especially enjoyed the bounty. How would they react to her night vision?

  Noah stood. “Anyone need more tea? Your mother has news.”

  With each cup filled, all eyes turned to her.

  “We are in the thirtieth day on the ark and only have ten more of this rain, but the water…” She shook her head. “It will keep rising until even the mountain tops cannot be seen.”

  A collective gasp came from the girls, but her sons held their peace. Still, discouragement dominated their expressions.

  Shem found his voice. “Did He say how long?”

  “No, but that we need brass.”

  “What for?”

  Noah spoke up. “Water.”

  All the children turned toward her husband.

  “We need to refill the tanks with fresh water. Though it is everywhere, all around us –”

  “Literally, Father!” Japheth burst into laughter. “Above, below, and on every side!”

  The mirth spread, and the previous gloom thankfully departed. Praise the Lord for her Japheth, always her cheerful optimist.

  “That’s true.” Noah’s face straightened again to his normal seriousness. “We’ve only got another thirty days’ supply. We must find a way to refill the tanks.”

  Chapter Four

  The mirth died, and each of Hattimas’ sons in turn offered suggestions.

  Soon the menagerie came awake and went to wondering when they, too, would be fed. The peacock’s call for attention drowned out many of the others, only to be silenced by the lion’s roar. For a few heartbeats, the lack of any noise ruled, then those that hadn’t been asking for breakfast added their voices once the king of beasts’ song stopped reverberating.

  Myelin scooted her chair back and stood. “My kitty cat needs me.”

  Ham joined her. “No one, my love, could mistake Lion for a kitten.”

  She smiled. “Why not? He acts like one.”

  The other two couples stood. Noah held his hand up. “Meet me at the forge after you feed, boy. Don’t take the time to shovel the manure. It can wait.”

  Shem, as he often did of late, spoke first. “Father, the smell will only get worse if we stop cleaning the stalls.”

  “I know, but we only have ten more days of rain. Your channel idea seems the best to me.”

  “What are we going to do after that?”

  “I don’t know, but Abba didn’t tell me to build the ark just to kill us and the animals with thirst.”

  He watched his children march out then turned toward her. “Bake several days’ worth of bread today. Tomorrow you’ll need to take care of the aviary for me.”

  “Of course, my love. Have you checked on the waste tank?”

  “No, but I will.”

  “How long do you suppose it will take to forge the brass channels?”

  “A while; working copper and tin into brass is not easy or fast.”

  She kissed him then eased him toward the door. “Best see to it. I have bread to bake.”

  He stopped in the hall. “I’ll send the girls at short shadow.” He raised both hands toward Heaven and gave a heavy sigh. “Oh, to see the earth again.”

  Shem reversed the auger until it loosened, and he could pull the tool out. He measured the hole—deep enough—then scooted over to the next spot he’d marked. He tapped the drill’s handle until the knife point sunk deep enough then began twisting, making sure to keep it straight with the ark, ignoring the boat’s movement.

  Bless God. The winds didn’t blow the rain that day. Getting the gutters in place would prove hard enough without being drenched in the process. Right before the last bit of screw disappeared and the wood shavings flowed out, an awesome idea struck him. What if?

  While he finished boring the holes to hold the brass rain gutter in place, he built his contraption before his mind’s eye. Sure seemed like it would work. He needed to construct a small one first, before he told anyone…well…other than Jemri. He kept no secrets from his beloved, nor she from him.

  Shortly, Ham and Myelin brought the first section. He held it in place upside down. The holes he’d bored matched the braces perfectly. “How far along are they on the next section?”

  “It’s cooling now. Father and Japheth are working on the fill trough. He says, ‘Lord willing, we’ll have this end flowing by long shadows.’ ”

  Myelin shook her head. “Father said after our evening meal, we need to take turns keeping the forge fed and stoked.” She grinned. “Jemri drew the last lot for you; Ham and I won the first watch.”

  He didn’t answer his baby sister. He’d learned in the fifteen years since his grandfather had brought her from Nod not to spar with Ham’s wife. “Mother say what she was preparing?”

  “Rye bread and cheese and…” She smiled even bigger. “Said she would open a jug of apple cider. You know, give a little wine to make a poor girl forget her extra chores.”

  He set the section of gutter on the scaffolding then climbed down. Motioning toward the back of the first level, he followed his brother and sister. Jemri drawing the third watch was perfect. If his water drill idea did not work, no one would know. For sure he didn’t want to give his older brothers any new reason to needle.

  Just as predicted, the last gutter section was fit in and its braces pegged into place as rainy twilight faded into rainy night. Soon, rain water flowed into the tank. Actually, it gushed at least a bath’s worth each double breath. Much better than even he expected.

  “Excellent idea, Shem.” His father patted his shoulder. “This should buy us another moon’s worth of time, but we need a more permanent solution.”

  That night, while Jemri kept the forge fed and stoked, he worked on constructing his water screw model. Praise God. He had given him such an understanding wife, and one not lazy like the baby. Even on short rest, she readily accepted the extra work. He could imagine Myelin, or even Varsi, protesting, but not his wife. He loved his Heaven-sent Jemri.

  Between first and third cock crow, he finished. His gut tightened. “It’s ready to try, come look.”

  She pulled the bellows down and up double time then joined him. He stuck the wood tube into the bucket of test water, held the end over an empty pail, and twisted. After only five turns, water flowed.

  “It works! Oh, Shem, it’s wonderful.”

  He stopped turning the screw and hugged her. “Yes, praise God! It’s going to be a lot of work, but we will not die of thirst.”

  It tickled Jemri how much little boy her hundred-year-old husband still had in him. He couldn’t wait to show his father his latest idea. But a torrent of emotions tempered her mirth. Even though she’d not seen the moon since entering the ark, the custom of woman visited as regularly as always and had come upon her.

  She yearned to be the first of her sisters to bear. Though Japheth had traded the birthright away, if Varsi bore the first son…well…Hattimas hadn’t said as much, but it seemed to Jemri, Mother still favored her firstborn son. And she could bend Noah’s ear in the wrong direction if she w
as a mind to.

  Shem set his new toy down. “We best stoke the fire. We’re going to need a lot more brass now.”

  She ignored the waves of cramps and worked the bellows while he shoveled coal. The peculiar way he threw the black chunks reminded her of someone. She searched her memory back to her eighth summer. Her father’s uncle had come that year. Right after the sons of Cain raided his village and either killed or carried off his family.

  She studied her husband, examining his method of tossing the coal. Her head went to nodding. That was it.

  “What?” He stopped mid-shovel and grinned. “Why are you nodding?”

  She laughed. “I guess I didn’t realize I was, but because I remembered something. Often, when I was younger, we burned dried manure.”

  He raised up straight and stared at her. “Why would you do that?”

  “Our valley didn’t have a lot of timber. Father and the other men would haul firewood by the wagon loads, but it was never enough, not to make it through the whole winter.” She pouted her bottom lip and shrugged. “Dung burned well, and we had lots of sheep and goats.”

  “I’ll mention that to Father, but until the rain stops, I don’t suppose anything will burn hotter than the coal. Still….”

  “A fire is a fire when you’re cold.”

  Acting like he was going to throw a shovelful to her, he laughed, then tossed it into the fire.

  At first, when Shem explained his water screw to the family, skepticism hung heavy. Then he pulled out his little tube and proceeded to twist water from the bucket to the pail and the mood turned festive. Noah couldn’t praise his youngest son enough, but it would mean more days of keeping the forge going day and night.

  Then he mentioned her idea about burning manure.

  Father turned his words of thanks on Jemri. His appreciation almost made her forget the pain in her abdomen or that she’d been deprived of half her normal rest. She loved the old man so much, almost as much as she loved her husband.