Noah

by Tim Chaffey

  Noah avoided several women again as he moved through the kitchen. A hundred scents filled the air as trays and dishes were filled and delivered to their destination outside. Amid the cacophony, Noah heard his mother’s voice. He turned just in time for her to smother him with a hug.

  “I’m so proud of you,” Nina said, tears suddenly appearing in her deep brown eyes. “You did wonderfully today.”

  Noah looked into her dark eyes. They always gave the impression that she knew exactly what he was thinking. “It was a great honor.”

  She let go of him. “And it’s an honor for your father and me to watch you become the man you are.” She smoothed a loose part of his garment and fussed with the way it draped over his shoulder. “Do you like your new robe?”

  “I love it.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Now, get out there and enjoy your celebration.”

  Noah stopped Pivi’s mother as she attempted to step past them with a woven tray of cakes. “I’ll take those for you.” He grabbed the tray and headed for the door.

  “You’d better not eat all of them,” she said.

  He flashed a mischievous smile. “I’ll be sure to save one.”

  Noah walked outside, and after thanking half a dozen well-wishers, he found an open spot for the desserts he carried on one of the four large rectangular tables that stood waist high. Setting the cakes down, he licked a finger that had “accidentally” scraped against one of the treats. Most of the guests found seats around the dozen rounded, low-lying tables in the yard. The more elevated platforms, including the one on which the recently delivered cakes sat, were laden with the largest array of food Noah had ever seen at his home. It was as if the farmers’ market from Iri Sana moved to his house for the night. The women had outdone themselves. The smells of spices enticed him to inspect closer. He saw many of his favorite sauces, ready to be placed on grains or scooped up with pieces of bread. There were savory stews, generops, and stuffed peppers. Gourals were cut in half and steamed, then lavishly sprinkled with a variety of herbs; their yellow interiors looked like cheery suns. All this made his stomach growl.

  He had been to Rovay celebrations before, but never paid close attention to the details. He had always been too busy playing with his friends. But now it was his turn to be at the center of what many considered to be the most important celebration in a person’s life. He took his seat at the head table and scanned the crowd, which had doubled in size since the sacrifice.

  Jerah had a small cluster around him, and he clearly enjoyed being the center of attention, especially since Pivi was part of the group. She and Misha laughed at something his brother said. Toman reclined on a cushion nearby, looking like a small mountain next to his diminutive wife. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and longtime family friends chatted, laughed, and reminisced. Noah paused to treasure the moment, but then furrowed his brow. Where is Aterre? And Father?

  The flurry of activity near the door of the house slowed as the last of the trays and bowls were carried out. His mother motioned for Jerah and Misha to join her at the place of honor. The other women soon took their seats as well. There they are.

  Noah’s father, grandfather, and Aterre came around the side of the house and made their way to the head table. “Where have you been?” Noah asked as Aterre sat in the chair to his left.

  Aterre raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

  Noah tried to read his friend’s expression. What is he hiding? Is it good news or is he in on some sort of mischief? Noah decided it was most likely the latter and determined to stay alert during the rest of the evening to make sure he wouldn’t be caught unaware.

  Lamech stood behind Noah and spread his arms out wide, waiting for the crowd to quiet down. “Dear friends and family. Thank you for honoring our home with your presence here tonight.” He put his hands on Noah’s shoulders. “As you know, my oldest son became a man today, and you honor him tonight as well.”

  “A fine son you’ve raised,” someone said from the back.

  “A fine son, indeed,” Toman said. “The Creator has blessed you.”

  Others nodded or shouted in agreement.

  Lamech held his arms out again. “Yes, the Creator has blessed Nina and me richly with such fine friends and family.”

  Noah nudged Jerah with his sandaled foot to get his attention and leaned in close. “Well, maybe not you.”

  Jerah shook his head and smiled. For once, he seemed to struggle with finding a comeback.

  Lamech continued to speak. “Forty years ago, the Creator entrusted us with our first son.” He looked at Noah. “At that time, I never could’ve imagined how much my love for you would grow over the years, and how proud I would be as a father, watching you grow into the man you’ve become.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Seeing you offer the sacrifice today, knowing that you love and trust the Creator and want to follow His ways, is the greatest joy of my life.” He paused as Noah stood to embrace him.

  “Thank you.”

  Lamech’s tears flowed freely. He nodded to Methuselah, who took that as his cue to stand.

  “One hundred and eighty-two years ago, I stood up at a party like this one to bless one of my sons,” Methuselah said gesturing in Lamech’s direction. “I know you’re all looking forward to eating, so I’ll keep this short. Lamech, you’ve followed the Creator’s ways and, along with Nina, have faithfully begun to raise your beautiful children. I pray that God will bless you with many more.” He approached where Noah stood with his father. “Lamech, you’ll remember this. At that celebration, my father Enoch asked you to publicly commit yourself to follow the Creator.”

  Lamech nodded. “I remember.”

  Methuselah smiled. “And you’ve kept that promise. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask my grandson to do the same.”

  Noah put an arm around his father and grandfather.

  “Noah, son of my son, before all those gathered here tonight, do you vow to serve the Creator with all of the days He gives you?”

  Noah took a deep breath and nodded. “I do.”

  Methuselah placed a hand on his shoulder. “And if God grants you a wife and children, do you promise to lead them in following the Creator’s ways?”

  “I do.”

  “As you know, my father, your great grandfather, spoke boldly against the growing wickedness in this world. Enoch was the godliest man I’ve ever known, and I see the same sort of spirit in you, Noah. Do you pledge to stand against evil and to stand for the truth no matter what it might cost you?”

  Noah took another deep breath and affected the most serious tone he could muster. “I promise to stand against evil and to stand for the truth, even if it costs me my life.”

  “May the Creator give you the strength and courage to honor these vows.” Methuselah hugged him tightly.

  The crowd stood and applauded. Noah noted that the first star had made its appearance amid the backdrop of the still blue sky, and he bowed his head in silent prayer.

  Lamech once again held his arms out. “Before we eat, I just have one more announcement. Please, everyone, have a seat.”

  Aterre tapped Noah’s shoulder and grinned, a knowing look in his eyes. Confusion spread across Noah’s face. What are they planning?

  “Hearing my son commit to following me in serving the Creator makes me the proudest man on earth.” Lamech fought to keep his composure. “He does not wish to follow in my footsteps as a farmer. Instead, he feels called to become a carpenter’s apprentice.”

  Expressions of surprise and confusion registered on faces in the crowd. Toman nodded. This wasn’t news to him.

  “I trust the Most High is guiding him in this decision,” Lamech said. “And as much as I’d like to keep him nearby, I’ve learned that my father’s cousin is a carpenter and I’m giving my blessing for my son to become one as well.”

  Everyone present clapped, but Noah only sat up straight, his eyes wide.

  “Let the celebration continue for my son, a carpenter.”
>
  As the crowd’s focus dispersed, Noah leaned in to the circle formed by his father, grandfather, brother, and friend. “A carpenter?”

  Methuselah unbound a leather strap wound around his forearm. “Of a sort. My cousin Ara is a shipbuilder in Iri Geshem. He builds the boats you see on the river once in a while. If you’re interested” — he waved the leather strap — “I’ll give you my armband as a pledge for Ara that you come with my blessing. I’m sure he’ll have a place for you.”

  Noah could hardly contain his excitement. “Of course I’m interested.” He paused. “Iri Geshem? Isn’t that all the way at the end of the river on the Great Sea?”

  “Yes, it will take you about two whole moons to travel there,” Methuselah said. The thin lines around his eyes deepened in a shrewd look. “Are you still interested?”

  Noah thought of all the time he’d spent watching for the boats that occasionally passed by. He’d often wondered where they came from, where they went. His heart pulsed with excitement of the discoveries such a journey would bring. So soon after being crushed, his dreams were becoming a reality.

  Aterre’s kick brought Noah back. “Yes. Yes, I’m interested. It sounds amazing. And you’re really letting me go, Father?”

  “On two conditions. First, you keep the vows that you just made. And second . . .” Lamech hesitated. “Take Aterre with you.”

  “But what about the farm?”

  “Jerah’s still here, and if this is truly of the Creator, then we’ll have enough hands to do the work that’s here. I’d rather know that you have a companion for this distant adventure of yours. And it would be good for Aterre.”

  Noah looked at Aterre. He was beaming and nodding his head. So that’s what they were planning. Noah hugged his father as hard as he could. “Thank you, Father. I’m happy to accept.”

  “Good,” Lamech said. “Now let’s eat.”

  Chapter 6

  Land of Havilah — Noah’s 40th year

  Naamah sat in the corner, rocking back and forth. She idly twisted a thin lock of her silky, rich black hair between her fingers. She blinked dully, not wanting to think, not wanting to care.

  “What’s wrong?” Tubal-Cain knelt in front of her.

  To block him from view, Naamah lowered her head, letting her hair become a barrier.

  “You know, sitting here moping isn’t going to help things. Let’s go for a walk. We’ve got time.”

  “No.”

  “Talk to me,” he said, his voice gentle.

  Peeking through the curtain of hair, she could see that he hadn’t moved. Knowing his concern made her feel just a little better. “No.”

  His knees straightened and she heard him stride over to the window of her spacious bedroom. The dreary, gray sky matched her mood perfectly. “Come on, Amah. Being sullen won’t help anything. What’s ever been so bad that we haven’t been able to get through it together?”

  Silence. Too mad, she would not give in by speaking to him.

  “This isn’t my fault and you know that.”

  Not one word, she commanded herself, tightening her full lips.

  “You know you’ll feel better just talking it out. So talk.”

  With head still bowed, Naamah caught a smile just in time before it crept up the corners of her mouth. She liked this. He was worried about her. That felt good. And there was something else too, but she couldn’t quite place it. Influence. That is what it must be. She had some effect in another person’s life. Lifting her head slowly, she looked at her tall, handsome brother and sighed. “I just feel helpless. And so worthless, you know?”

  “How do you feel worthless?” he asked and sat down on one of the many large cushions scattered around her room.

  “It’s been different ever since she came here.” Naamah spat out her words. “We were a family and a happy one. Sure, Da wasn’t always involved, but it was good. When we’d go to the little retreat home, we had such fun times.” Naamah got up and began to pace. “But then Da had to bring her home. What? Wasn’t Mam enough for him? He had to have another wife? And what did Mam do about it? Nothing. She just let things happen and accepted it all. Da practically ignores Mam because he’s so enamored with her. And Mam just lets him. She sits around and does nothing about it.”

  Naamah stopped and stood directly in front of her brother. “I can’t do it. I don’t want to.” Knowing she wasn’t finished, she lowered herself onto her soft, opulent bed. The words kept pouring out. “Do you know what it’s like when I’m around town now? People look at me strangely. They know our family is different, and they look at me as if I’m different, as if I’m tainted somehow. And now with Da becoming more involved in the city council, that just makes it worse.”

  “I agree that Adah feels like an intrusion on our family, but it wasn’t her choice either. Da brought her here after one of his trips.” Tubal-Cain’s care for her was evident in his eyes. “Plus, it’s not like this happened yesterday.”

  Naamah ignored the reason in his comment and pointed to the middle of her chest. “The hurt’s been here ever since she arrived. I guess today makes it feel like someone’s taken the pain, sharpened the edges, and jabbed it into a fresh part of my heart.” Naamah’s quivering voice grew louder as she spoke. Angrily she wiped away tears that appeared in spite of her wishing them not to. “Don’t you realize what this means? She’s having a baby. It’s not just Mam that’s being replaced. Now we’re being replaced too.”

  “Come on, it’s just a baby. You like babies. You can cuddle and help care for the little one, and we can both teach him what it means to be part of our family.”

  “You’ll see. It’s not ‘just a baby.’ Things will only get worse around here.”

  “No, Amah. Things don’t have to be that way. It’ll depend on what you make of it. No matter the circumstances, you can always choose to have the right attitude; and that makes all the difference.”

  Naamah plopped one of the many pillows that fluffed about her bed into her lap and gently fingered the rich purple fabric. “So you’re saying that if I change my perspective all this will go away? You know that’s impossible, right? Even if that woman and her newborn were banished from Havil, things would still be different.”

  Tubal-Cain sighed. “I’m not saying the situation would change. I’m saying how you view it would change.” He walked over to her and gently placed a hand on her cheek. “Why don’t you try it? What’s the worst that could happen?”

  She glanced up at him, sadness in her eyes. “It doesn’t work.”

  “So you’d be right where you are now.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “With one difference.” He grinned at her.

  “What’s that?”

  “You wouldn’t have this pillow because I’m taking it.” He snatched the pillow from her lap and hit her soundly with it on the side of her head.

  “Ow! Hey!” She threw her arms up in protection. “You’re too old to do that.”

  “Oh, am I?” He laughed as he continued to swing it at her.

  “Yes,” she mumbled through a mouthful of one of his pillow attacks. She sat up straight. “And at 30, I’m too old too.”

  “You won’t be 30 for another eight whole moons and you know it. Trying to make yourself sound like you’re not still a child. Ha. I know better.”

  “Well big brother, do you know enough to avoid this?” She snatched up a sturdy pillow in each hand and returned blows, one to his head and another to his waist. She giggled. “Direct hit.”

  “Children, stop. Your father has summoned us to the birthing room.”

  Naamah looked up. Her mother, Zillah, had entered the room. The dour look on her face showed she wasn’t any more pleased about the situation than Naamah. She crossed her arms and huffed. Clearly, her agenda did not include patience at this time. Tubal-Cain and Naamah dropped their makeshift weapons and quietly followed her out of the room.

  As Naamah walked behind her mother and brother down the narr
ow hallways and up several couplets of stairs, the painful feelings rushed back. She dragged her feet as her chest tightened and her breathing grew heavy. She didn’t care that she lagged behind. All too soon, they reached the birthing room and Zillah opened the thick, ornately carved wooden door. The three stepped inside and stayed in the back of the room. Naamah placed her hands behind her back so that they touched the wall; she liked the comfort it brought to know that she was as far away as possible.

  Naamah hated how each aspect of the room showed her father’s preference for his new wife, Adah. While her own room was by no means small, this room dwarfed it, making hers look like a closet in comparison. She saw the vaulted ceiling, as well as two columns that formed three openings to a balcony overlooking the city. Sunlight flooded into the room. Hanging metal orbs caught the light from the balcony and reflected it around the room. A raised platform supported the bed and colorful curtains dropped from the ceiling surrounding it. Naamah was grateful for the obscured view. Not ready to pay attention to the occupant or the reason why they were all there, Naamah focused on the dais, which was large enough to support a bed three times the size of her own. Yet it still seemed like a small portion of the room.

  Everything about this room showed care, prestige, comfort, even pride. So this is what Father’s been building in all these renovations. She knew that the size of their original home had almost tripled, but she had always stayed away from Adah’s extensive quarters.

  The sounds of painful effort from the woman in labor rang out. Suddenly a new cry broke through. It was the squeal of a healthy baby. Naamah looked over at her own mother, who blankly stared at her slippered feet. Though her eyes did not hold their old spark, she was still stunning. Her body still sported the curves that had originally held captive the attention of a young warrior — the same warrior who now had shoved her aside for his new conquest.

  At that moment, her father yanked apart the curtains and lifted the baby. “A son!” Naamah heard the exultation in his voice and saw his pride as he held the tiny bundle high above his head. He proceeded to the balcony and announced the arrival of yet one more of his progeny to whomever happened to be passing by.