Chapter Forty

Danger on the Ark

“But from this day on I will bless you.” Haggai 2:19

Atarah huddled with the women in a corner of the room as far from the thumping sounds as possible. A familiar fear crawled across her brain like a long slow slug. Dagaar. The fear whispered his name. Dagaar. Even here. Even here on the ark Dagaar could find her.

A work-hardened hand squeezed hers, and Shem’s mother’s face crinkled into a comforting smile. “Don’t worry, dear. It’s nothing but a lost animal,” she whispered. But Atarah smelled the fear that belied her words. Eudocea encircled Atarah’s waist with a trembling arm and drew her close.

Japheth quickly collected whips and the men approached the door en masse, knives in one hand whips in the other. Atarah’s eyes found Shem. The muscles in his jaw were corded tight and he marched toward the door with spine-stiffened determination ahead of his brothers and father. Fearless. He was protecting her again. Heat rushed up her neck and spread into her cheeks.

Father nodded at Shem and gestured toward the door. Shem eased it open a crack.

Immediately, a massive reptilian head poked into the room, eye level with Shem. Time stood still for Atarah as man and beast stared at one another, nose to nose. After a moment, Shem recovered himself and gave the head a swift bonk with the flat of the door. The reptile yelped and withdrew. Shem slammed the door and dropped the latch into place.

Atarah sucked in a relieved breath and held it for a moment before blowing the air quietly out through her lips.

“Should’ve cut a peephole in that door,” Ham quipped. The room rocked with laughter.

“Sounded like a wounded puppy,” Eudocea snickered, adding to the hilarity. 

“That was just a harmless dragon.” Shem’s Mother touched Atarah’s back in a reassuring gesture. “Big and scary-looking, though. I’m ashamed to confess I’m still shaking.”

“Nothing to be afraid of,” Shem’s voice close to Atarah jolted her heart into a quivering drumbeat. She glanced up and he grinned. “That kind cowers in the lotus blossoms in a lake about halfway down the other side of the mountain. Ever see one before?”

“Once as a child when I traveled in a caravan with my father,” Atarah responded. “For his business. He’s a merchant dealing in exotic goods.” She was aware Shem’s presence had driven away her fear and replaced that negative emotion with a furry  warmth. “What happens if one of the dangerous dragons shows up?”

“Already did,” Shem said. The other men had claimed wives and the pairs meandered off to other parts of the living area, leaving Shem and Atarah to talk. “A Tyrannosaurus wandered onto the ark yesterday and Japheth found the pair of them in a cage downstairs waiting to be locked in.”

She stared at him open-mouthed. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

“Just like that?”

“Bizarre, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

            “Lots of bizarre things here lately.” He guided her to one of the rooms stacked with firewood she’d seen earlier and picked up an armload of logs for the fire. “Pairs of all sorts of animals have rambled up the ramp, found an empty room and gone inside where they could be alone.”

            Like she’d like to be with Shem. Atarah’s cheeks scalded at the unbidden thought.

            “Father has been telling us for years that when the time came, two of every animal would come onto the ark. I just never really believed it would happen.” He carefully arranged the logs on the fire and then walked over to open the door leading to the corridor opposite the one where she’d seen the dragon. “Ventilation,” he explained. “The dragon will find one of the ramps and go to the lowest on the side closest to the ramp.”

            “How many dragons are aboard now?”

            “Maybe half of the fifty different kinds, but a lot of them are no bigger than chickens. Besides there’s nothing to be afraid of. We think all the animals aboard are harmless . . . just for awhile. Just during the Flood. Maybe.” He dropped his gaze and she suspected he worried his words would sound nonsensical to her.

“Chickens can do a lot of damage. A rooster spurred my leg and brought blood on one trip with Father.” She waited until he glanced up quickly, concern etching his face, before she grinned.

His eyes danced as he returned the grin.

“My brothers and father and I have a couple more hours of work to do tonight. You can stay here with the women and have my bed tonight. I’ll sleep in a hay-storage room and see you in the morning.”

“May I go with you?” She couldn’t believe she had the temerity to ask.

“You’re not afraid?”

“Not afraid,” she confidently emphasized the not. What had gotten into her? She’d never been so shameless around a man.

It was just that Shem was wonderful and she felt comfortable around him.  Something told her he would protect her even if the animals in the ark proved wild and dangerous. He had faced Dagaar, a murderous mob and mad rhinos for her, hadn’t he? She felt safer around him than she’d felt in years. Maybe ever. 

“I haven’t seen a giraffe for years,” Atarah said, hands parked on her hips.

The taller of two giraffes leaned against one of the trees in the large space on the lowest level, his chin draped over a high branch. Shem had taken Atarah on a tour through the ark, which was massive. Most of the top two levels, she now knew, were packed with food storage for humans and animals. Noah and his sons had housed a few small animals on the second floor – just a few hundred of the thousands they expected. Shem said they planned to move more animals to the second level as supplies thinned and babies were born. If babies were born. They didn’t really know about that yet. Maybe God would hold off all births until after the Flood.

She helped him check and secure rooms and load feed onto elevators. She did her best not to steal glances at his taut muscles and strong sinews when he hefted hay bales of hay into the lifts. 

Shem paused with a flake of hay poised midair, looked up at the giraffe, then smiled down at Atarah through slitted lids. “Not his eyes. Her eyes. The smaller one is the male. It’s younger.”

“Mother and son?”

“Could be.” Shem blushed. Then laughed. “But I doubt it. The whole purpose of the ark is to rescue two of each species to populate the earth after the Flood. Mother and son may not be the best choice for that.”

“Oh.” Her turn to blush.

He dropped the flake on the floor by the tree and patted the male’s long neck. “You are watching a very unusual event,” he told Atarah. “The female is sleeping.”

“Unusual?”

“Yeah. We aren’t sure yet, but we think giraffes sleep only about half an hour a day.” Even as he spoke, the giraffe opened her eyes and straightened. Shem grinned and cocked his head toward her. “See what I mean? They nap in five minute intervals.”

“Are there any animals on the ark that have offspring with them?”

“No, they’re all breeding pairs.”

“Does that mean the only mother on the ark who has her own children with her is your mother?”

Shem looked surprised. “I guess so.”

“So when the Flood begins she’ll be the only mother with living children left on the entire earth. One of a kind. At least for awhile.”

“Wow. I never thought of that, and here you are on the ark for one evening and you come up with it. I’m impressed.”

Something new bloomed in Atarah’s heart. “I’m not sure anyone has ever been impressed with me before. My mother loved me, but . . . well, city life is difficult.” Suddenly she wished Mother could meet Shem.

He shifted his weight self-consciously and picked at the bark on the tree, visibly nervous. “I’m sorry about your son. I know you wish he could be here with you.”

Tears pricked the backs of her eyelids and she tried to hold back the one squeezing through. She couldn’t. Once the tears started they changed quickly to sobs. Her shoulders heaved. Her nose ran. Shem found a cloth somewhere for her to blow on. After a few minutes she got her emotions under control and looked up. The distress on Shem’s face mirrored her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I made you feel worse.”

“I don’t need your help to be miserable.” She flashed a smile. “Besides, the tears made me feel a little better, so thanks.” She knew her face was puffy and red and ugly and she couldn’t do a thing about that. “Every time you see me I’m crying.”

“You’re suffering.” His face creased with compassion.

He guided her through the exit and they sat on the floor in the corridor with their backs against a wall. Atarah could think of little except Shem’s closeness. The proximity muddled her brain and made heart beat in her throat. She leaned forward and hugged her knees in order to distance herself to think more clearly, but his scent still distracted her. She closed her eyes. Once she finally found her voice she addressed his mistaken idea that Gadreel was her child. “Actually, Gadreel wasn’t my natural son. He was my nephew.”

 “You risked your life for a nephew! I assumed he was your child.”

 “He was my child. I just didn’t give birth to him,” she said defensively then cleared her throat and softened her tone. “He was my life and I loved him as much as any mother every loved a natural child.” She thought of Nympha and the women in the city who farmed out their children to slaves and sometimes sacrificed them.  “More than most.” She’d tell him the whole story some day, but not now. It was too fresh. Still, there she had to tell him at least one more thing. She wanted the important fact out and over with immediately. She felt a spark with Shem and thought maybe he liked her, too. She had to know if knowing about Gadreel would change that. She needed to know if Shem would hate her for loving a giant.

 “Gadreel was a young giant. The child of my sister and a Nephal, but she didn’t want him. Since I had longed for a child for years, I broke all the rules and cared for him. I loved him desperately.”

Shem paled and she thought he might have passed out had he been standing. Her heart shriveled. “You had no children of your own?” he asked.

“Well no, I . . .” As the implications of his statement dawned on her, a bemused smile quirked one corner of her mouth. “In order to have children you have to marry or . . .” She dropped her gaze, humiliated by her shamelessness. 

Shem jumped to his feet and paced with his fingers laced against the top of his head. “I don’t understand.” She felt as though she was peering into his mind watching him sort through information and store facts away where he could savor them later. “You’re not married?”

“I’m not married.”

“You’re certain?” The poor man paused, stunned.

Her smile broadened. “No. I’ve never even . . . kissed a man.” Her face flamed.

“You’ve never . . . ?” A mishmash of joy, perplexity and outright disbelief tumbled across his face. “I thought all the young woman in your city. . . I mean . . . I thought the temple . . . required . . . those things.”

Though she should have expected he would think that, her cheeks scalded with shame. “I’ve never been inside a temple.” Well, except underground, but that hardly counted and she’d tell him about that another time.

“So you’ve never . . . “

The man couldn’t finish a sentence. Though she couldn’t be certain if he was asking whether she was a virgin or if she had participated in temple rites, the answer would stay the same. She flashed a grin his direction and answered, “No. I never.”

Delight sparkled in eyes which seemed to change from blue to green to hazel and back again. Did the cleft in his chin deepen? The dimple in his left cheek had. He walked slowly to Atarah and reached out strong hands. With those magnificent eyes fused to hers, he drew her to her feet.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured. His gaze dropped to her mouth and she willed him to touch his lips to hers. Instead, after a long moment he brushed her forehead with a kiss and started toward the stairway. “We should join the family,” he said, huskily. “It’s late and there’s a lot to do tomorrow.”

He waited for her to catch up so they could climb the steps side by side. He didn’t look at her, but halfway to the top he took her hand. Heat from his palm rushed through her arm and spread to her feet. She couldn’t look at him either.

He dropped her off outside his bedroom door. Once inside, she readied herself for sleep and slipped between the smooth sheets, a flame flickering in the oil lamp by the bed. Not as exhausted as the last time she fell asleep in this room, she was able to leisurely admire the intricate carvings, graceful pottery and elegant bed coverings. Her large chambers at home couldn’t compare to this.

She loved this room. She loved this ark. She loved the peace here. She loved Shem’s family. She loved Shem.

Yes. She loved Shem. He was different from any man she’d ever known. Noble. Pure. Handsome. She smiled. She thought he might love her, too, and if he didn’t, at least she affected him deeply.

Strangely, the byproduct of all the love and peace was a change of attitude toward Mother. Though Atarah hadn’t completely forgiven her mother, she didn’t want Mother to die in the Flood, and she longed for Mother to experience the peace filling the ark. But even if Mother chose not to come aboard the ark, Atarah felt compelled to let her know that her daughter loved her, no matter what. Atarah didn’t excuse her mother’s betrayal, and she fully recognized Mother’s weaknesses, but she had already stopped punishing Mother by hating her.

Atarah understood how to navigate the underground without detection now. To avoid risk, she would take her time finding a tunnel up to the city and she’d pray for the One True God to help her every step of the way. And he would. The One True God would keep her safe and bring her back to the ark. Even if accomplishing her goals took a month. More than a month. After that she could return to Shem knowing she’d done the right thing.

With a sigh of contentment, she snuggled into the feather mattress. So why hadn’t he kissed her? She drifted off to sleep in a pink cloud.