Chapter Forty-Three

This is Atarah's mother's last chance to make her decision. Will she believe in God and demonstrate that belief by entering the ark so God can save her?

Or will she choose death?Deciding to live seems like a no-brainer, doesn’t it? 
In the same way, choosing Jesus and life seems like a no-brainer to me, but do you know someone who is refusing his help? What are you choosing?

Elika’s Choice

© Jeannie St. John Taylor

“And the LORD shut him in. And all flesh died that moved on the earth, birds, livestock beasts, all swarming creatures that swarm on the earth, and all mankind. Everything on dry land in whose nostrils was the breath of life died.” Genesis 7:16 c, 21,22

The sheer size of the imposing structure that rose into view as Elika and her camel crested the mountain took her breath away. The ark was simple. Rough. A rounded box that, even from this distance, radiated . . . what? A Presence. A feeling she’d never experienced before. Holiness?

She shuddered as the chilly winds of fear blew across her soul. 

Pulling her scarf around her, she vaguely wondered why the weather had grown unseasonably cold. Elika rubbed her arms to infuse a little warmth into them.

Reaching behind, she tugged on the rope holding her rolled up carpet strapped to the camel. Still firmly attached. Fleeing the city early this morning had been surprisingly uncomplicated. After an all-night party at Rizpah’s, Ishan had assigned slaves to escort Elika home while he remained to enjoy himself a little longer. Once at the house, she instructed the slaves to load the rug for her, and then gave them a task across the city. As soon as they left, she left. Easy. No one had followed her, and with Ishan distracted by the goings-on at Rizpah’s, she should have plenty of time to find her daughter.

She prayed Atarah was still alive and on the ark.

Would Atarah accept the gift? Could she forgive her mother? Elika ached with the need to hug her daughter one last time. But first she must reach the ark, and right now she was exhausted.

For years she’d been transported only on slave-carried litters. Today she’d chosen to ride a camel because of the animal’s load-carrying potential and for anonymity, but the constant rocking and fighting against a wind that grew increasingly stronger had worn her down. Worse, the animal, suddenly unsteady on his feet, moved like he might collapse before she did.

The wind rose before her. Buffeting her. Moaning through leafless trees and bending them nearly to the ground. Blocking her way to the ark. The sky framing the ark swirled with black clouds. It seemed to Elika the earth’s atmosphere boiled with evil, as though the very earth and sky conspired against the Presence of the ark. But until the camel actually staggered and stumbled, Elika didn’t realize the earth beneath them was undulating.

A deep crack opened with a roar, running from a small house some distance away to the ark. The crevice tore around the side of the ark furthest from Elika. The packed dirt that had supported the ark broke away, leaving struts exposed and the intact structure tottering a few cubits from the edge of the fissure.

 The camel side-stepped the crevice. She urged the beast forward with a burst of new courage born of the need to embrace her daughter one last time erasing every other thought and feeling.

She clung to the camel’s neck, her pulse bouncing in her throat. As soon as the quake passed, she slipped trembling from his back and led him on foot the final distance to the ark.

A wide ramp at the top of a man-made hill led to a broad open doorway in the ark’s side. She cautiously ascended the rise, then stopped at the base of the ramp, unable to move forward.

Imagined terrors held her back. The dark doorway loomed as a gaping mouth poised to swallow her alive. The dragons Dagaar had spoken of lurked just out of sight, waiting for hapless intruders.

She shook away the irrational thoughts, but still couldn’t make herself place one foot in front of the other. She gripped the camel’s rope and stared while the truth about the One True God revealed itself.

She had determined years ago to stay by Ishan’s side and serve his gods. No matter what he’d done. No matter what they were. And now something hard inside her didn’t want to change. Some illogical thing she could no longer control commanded her to continue on the path she’d always trod. She would return to the city and stay by her husband’s side no matter the consequences. She would persist in worshipping her husband’s gods. She could not change, could not relent. Or was it would not relent? Nothing made sense. She knew that. Her heart had formed into an inflexible ball that refused to budge.

It didn’t matter.

She was incapable of stepping inside that holy place. The Presence of the Holy God, Noah’s One True God was too fearsome. Entering the ark would be like stepping into the center of a consuming fire and she couldn’t – wouldn’t – do that. She would protect herself at all cost.

With a shock Elika realized that unless Atarah came out to her mother, Elika would never again look on her face. She lifted her heads to the roiling clouds, tempted to pray to them. A plump drop of water splattered on her chin.

“God of Noah,” she prayed desperately. “Grant me one request. Give me five minutes with my daughter.”

Even as the words left her mouth, Atarah materialized in the ark’s doorway. A smile lit her face and she ran weeping into her mother’s arms. They clung to one another. Finally, shouting to be heard above the howling wind, Elika poured out her heart. She asked for forgiveness, hoping desperately that Atarah could forgive her.

“I already forgave you.” Atarah said, taking her mother’s hand. “No more talk out here. I prayed for you to come. I’d almost given up, but I prayed one final time, looked out the door and there you were. God’s miracle.” Tears still poured down her cheeks. Or were the drops lingering on her lashes falling from the sky?

Atarah tugged her mother toward the door, but Elika set her feet, resisting. “I brought my carpet for you. Please don’t hang it on a wall. I want you to spread the rug across the floor so that every time your feet touch the yarn or your children play on the colors you’ll remember me.”

The man Elika had seen rescue Atarah at Gadreel’s sacrifice, appeared by her daughter’s side. She guessed him to be one of Noah’s sons. At Elika’s instruction, he untied the carpet from the camel and carried her life’s work into the ark.

The ramp began vibrating and the man rushed back toward them yelling, “You have to come inside now!”

She shook her head. “I’m going home.”

“No, please!” her daughter clutched her arm. “The Flood is starting!”

“I’ll be fine. Flood waters can’t reach our house. I won’t leave your father alone.”

The storm noises increased. Wind screamed. Wolves howled. Somewhere an elephant trumpeted. “Please come inside with us,” the man shouted in Elika’s ear. When she again refused, he turned to Atarah. “You can’t force her! God gave her free will and you have no right to take that from her.”

Several columns of angry clouds stretched toward the earth. The man grabbed Atarah’s hand and hastened her, sobbing hysterically, into the ark. The couple stopped just on the other side of the door where Elika could see them gesturing and shouting silently for her to follow. The roaring of earth and sky drowned out their voices.

Jagged regret ripped through Elika’s soul as the door of the ark slammed shut unassisted by human hand. Separating mother and daughter for eternity. The ramp dropped away. The sky burst forth like a waterfall, and the ground opened under her.

*****

With a thundering boom! -- the door to the ark slammed and locked. The sound of wood on wood reverberated through the corridors. Wind that had been rushing in through the open doorway instantly ceased, and Atarah stared numbly at gopher-wood where the outside world and her mother used to exist. Her hands, which had frantically begged Mother to enter the ark, hung limply at her sides.

            She felt Shem’s arms encircle her and she collapsed into him. Not crying. Barely thinking. Her senses blunted by shock.

            “You okay?” he whispered into her hair.

The muffled clamor of a world in upheaval raged outside. While Shem patiently held her, Atarah absorbed the comfort of his arms. After a long moment she lifted her head. “Surprisingly, I think I’m fine.”

“Your mother . . . ?” Shem let the question trail off.

The rumblings and crashes outside informed them Mother had undoubtedly

died. Already. Sorrow clutched Atarah’s chest. “I’m sad she made that choice, but so grateful God was gracious and permitted me to tell her I forgave her.”

            “She knew you loved her.”

            Atarah laid her head on his chest again and nodded, unable to form words.   

“The One True God shut the door and closed us in just Father said he would.”

“Shut us in with his own hand,” she marveled. “And he’s keeping us safe while the world falls apart around us.”

She refused to think about what might be going on outside. She couldn’t bear to picture the panic of the the people she’d known in the city. Not even the ones who harmed her. She felt no joy in knowing that Dagaar and the Nephilim would perish. “It may take me a long time to come to grips with all the tragedy, but I know they all chose their fate. Even Mahli.”

“The one you told me about? My Uncle Paseah’s wife?”

“Yes. She could have fled the underground.” The ark shifted and Atarah’s heart did a flip.

Shem placed an arm firmly around Atarah’s shoulders and they started toward the family quarters. “Also, she must have known about the One True God and the ark,” he said, “even if she only heard when Uncle’s and Father’s other siblings scorned him.”

“Do you think she understood her choice?”

“I think God makes right and wrong clear at some point.”

“But do people always recognize the choices they are making?”

Shem looked thoughtful. “I think they know they are choosing, but they may not understand the significance of the choice because Satan veils Truth.”

“Plus they sear their own consciences,” Atarah said. “Mother told me she had The Dream just as I did and she knew others who dreamed the same thing.”

“But they ignored the Truth that the Light revealed to them and you didn’t.” Shem’s eyes glowed with pride and gratitude.

The ark tilted at an angle causing the gopher wood to creak and groan and making walking difficult. Shem grasped Atarah’s hand and used the wall for support as they lurched along. “Walking around in a moving ark is going to take some getting used to.”

“Are we already floating?” she asked in amazement.

“We will be any moment. And you know what that means.” He squeezed her hand. “You ready to get married?” 

There hadn’t been time for a marriage ceremony when Shem proposed three days earlier. So, because they understood they’d be too exhausted to enjoy their time together until all the animals were on board and settled, they’d agreed to postpone the marriage until the ark launched. A thrill shimmied up Atarah’s spine as she realized the time had arrived and Noah was waiting in the family quarters to perform the ceremony. “I’m more than ready.” She smiled with a slow sweep of lashes.

Emotion glistened in Shem’s eyes. “For so many years I feared I’d never meet someone like you,” he said his voice thick. “I lost hope that you existed. You’re so . . . so . . .” She could see him struggling for words. “Beautiful inside and out. So beautiful that . . . that . . .”

“Compared to me all other women who ever lived look like warty toads?” she finished for him, her eyes dancing. 

He laughed, a warm rich sound that made her tingle all the way to her toes. “Yep. You make every one of them look like warty toads.” He lowered his head and kissed her. When he finally drew, back her bones felt like they were made of water. “I’ve been looking for you my whole life,” he said huskily, “and I don’t intend to wait one second longer.” 

Don't miss the Epilogue coming this time next week! 

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Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Two

Fish Face

“The waters increased and bore up the ark, and it rose high above the earth. And the waters prevailed so mightily on the earth that all the high mountains under the whole heaven were covered. The waters prevailed above the mountains, covering them fifteen cubits deep.” Genesis 7:17b, 19 -20

            Shem shook the fin of a smoked salmon between his thumb and forefinger. “You might want to stay by the door so one of these guys doesn’t smack you in the face.” Row after row of the large fish hung from racks rising all the way to the ceiling in this room.

A bemused smile lit Atarah’s face. “You expect a dead fish to wriggle over and slap me in the fa . . . Oof.” She pushed a salmon away from her nose with two fingers. “Yuck. Okay. Okay. I’m backing up. Standing by the door.”

            “I tried to warn you.” Shem laughed as he walked over to her with two fish laying across his forearms arms.

            “That thing swung over and whapped me,” she complained. She wiped oil off her nose before accepting the large smoked salmon then dropped one of them as she fumbled the other onto a wheeled flatbed just outside the door. “Heavy.” She retrieved the fish from the floor and tossed it onto the cart. “I find the sheer quantity of fish in here astounding.”

            “This is nothing.” He grunted as he unhooked another fish. “There’s room after room chock full of them.”

            “What’d you do, stick a sign outside the ark announcing, ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ and they all swam on?” 

            “So that’s what you think? We snapped our fingers and all the food here just magically appeared?” He rolled his eyes, feigning dismay. “I’ll have you know Ham and I caught every fish in this room from a river near here. Plus we personally stored buffalo and camel and hundreds of other kinds of meat. Some suitable for human consumption. Some appropriate only for enormous carnivorous beasts.”

            “Most of the carnivorous beasts I’ve seen here are still young.” Atarah paused to make her point. “That means they’re small.”

            “Okay. You made your point. I might have exaggerated a little with the ‘enormous’”.

            “You just exaggerated again with the ‘a little’.”

            He bunched his lips to hold back a smile, but his eyes danced.

            “Did you know,” she asked, studying one of the fish, “that our city has an idol like this? A fish carved from wood, covered with hammered gold. And people bake cakes to the god and do evil things in his honor!”

            “Hard to understand,” Shem agreed. He felt love for this woman surge through him anew. She’d come to understand the illogic of idol worship even though she’d been raised with false gods. God had protected her spirit and saved her for him.

“No matter how hard I try, I can’t figure out why people do evil when they worship. I mean, stupidity is one thing, but most gods demand outright evil, and that’s a whole different thing.”

            Atarah’s statement that she didn’t know who Satan was stunned Shem. That should be elementary knowledge for everyone. “You’ve never heard about Satan?” For some reason Shem hadn’t even considered the possibility that no one had explained the source of evil to her. He kept forgetting that his upbringing had been entirely different from hers.

Piling a one last fish onto the cart, he put his back into pulling the load toward one of the lifts and Atarah fell into step alongside the cart. “So who’s Satan?”

            Where should he start? “He was the evil spirit in the Garden of Eden who possessed the serpent and spoke through him to seduce Eve. He’s still the being behind everything bad and violent and wicked in the entire universe. Every evil thought or action on earth results from people surrendering to him.”

            A fish tumbled from the cart and Atarah stooped to retrieve it. “I thought that was a myth.”

“No, the story is true.” Shem covered his surprise at her lack of knowledge.  “Adam and Eve were actual people who walked and talked with the One True God in the Garden. Both were innocent and good until Eve changed everything by becoming the first human to cooperate with evil.”

            “By taking a bite of the fruit?”

“Yes. When she disobeyed God by tasting the fruit she handed kingship of this world over to Satan.”

“Where do idols fit in?”

“All the idols and every one of your city’s thousand are nothing more than fronts for Satan. All paths lead to him.”

“What about the Nephilim?”

“Fallen angels who fought with Satan in a battle against the One True God.”

            Shem pulled the cart onto the food elevator and Atarah stood back apprehensively, obviously afraid of heights. Shem understood how she’d feel that way after her awful day hugging the side of a cliff on her way to the underground.

            “The lift is pretty full. Do you mind taking a ramp? I’ll meet you there.” He grabbed a rope to lower the elevator, calling after her. “Changed my mind, better take the stairs. The ramps will be jammed with animals.” All creatures but humans seemed to avoid stairs. Well, all but the pair of lions he’d seen when he was with Paseah. Plus, he’d spotted a couple raccoons lumbering down another stairway.

            She walked backwards long enough to smile and wave. 

             Atarah located the first stairway and descended in a daze. The news about an actual evil being controlling every vicious violent thought and act on earth stunned her and made her desire to talk to Mother stronger and more urgent. She would leave tonight.

Mother had fought the evil just as Atarah had. If only Mother could understand that the invisible evil around her was a being, an entity who had enslaved her, she’d run from him and onto the ark. Atarah only had to clarify the facts for her.

But first Atarah herself needed to understand more. Question after question peppered her brain as she hurried toward Shem. When she reached the small alcove near a white-washed door where Shem was parking the cart, she immediately asked, “Who is Satan?”

“He was a powerful angel – a guardian cherub. The One True God created him ‘blameless and perfect with every precious stone adorning him and music in his wings.’ That’s a quote from Father.”

“What did he mean – ‘music in his wings?’”

 “Well, . . .” Shem adopted a thoughtful pose, a fish dangling from each hand. “Music comes from our mouths and throats when we sing, so maybe the music in his wings was something like the music that comes from our bodies.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m speculating,” Shem admitted sheepishly. “I only know for sure that Satan went astray because he grew proud over his own splendor.” He opened a door. “Hang on for a second.” He disappeared inside carrying the fish and she could hear seals barking. A walrus whoofed.

They’d transferred all animals to separate rooms earlier because Noah wanted the animals secure when rising water began violently rocking the ark. Even the crocodiles had their own space. Atarah didn’t understand the need to confine the animals so far ahead of time, but she trusted that Noah and Shem knew the proper procedures and she willingly followed instructions.

As soon as Shem returned, Atarah picked up the thread of conversation. “How did Satan ‘go astray?’”

“He tried to dethrone the One True God and take his place. A third of all the angels in heaven fought with him in a cosmic battle against God.” He continued lugging fish from door to door and tossing them into rooms.

 Heavy sadness settled over her. “God’s own angels fought him? Betrayed the Creator who loved them? They hated him that much?” she whispered huskily. “It must have broken his heart.”

“His heart is broken now, too.” Shem stared pensively into space. “All the violence and wickedness.”

She would tell Mother all this. She had to make Mother see the truth about the One True God. Holding a fish in the crook of her arm, she placed a palm on the white-washed door and started to push.

“Yaaaaaaaaaaah!” Shem yelled. “Don’t open that door!”

“What?”

“If you open that door, you’ll have to eat your words about no enormous dangerous animals on the ark.”

“What?” Her mind was a blank.

“That’s the room I told you about with the snakes that made Ham scream. They’re big enough to swallow you alive.” Shem leveled an I’ve-been-proven-right look at her. “Please note, they’re full grown.”

She yanked her hand back as if it had been resting on a hot surface. A herd of full-grown moose near enough to touch pounded past in the wooden corridor. The up-close snorting and strong smell of the animals startled her. She pressed a hand against her chest and counted. “One, two, three, four . . . seven adults.”

“Yes, adults.” Shem grinned triumphantly.  

“No. I meant why seven?” She couldn’t tell if the snakes or the moose were making her heart beat.

“Seven of each clean animal, remember?” He grinned. “Theses guys meet the criteria since they have hooves and chew the cud.”

 “At least they’re not carnivorous.” She regained her composure and chucked the last fish into a room.

“They won’t eat you, but their hooves can leave a nasty bruise.” Seven turkeys gobbled by in a loose clump. “Not to worry.” Shem straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders. “Your great protector is here.”

“Not to worry.” Atarah laughed. “I plan to eat them. Are we done with the feeding?”

            “We are.” He smiled down at her and grabbed the cart handle. “Time for dinner.”

            “Shouldn’t we haul a couple loads of water first? Those moose looked thirsty.”

            “We’re done hauling water. The Flood’s so close we have enough.”

Her mind spun and emptied. “What?”

“We have enough water. The ark launches in less than three days.”

            “What!?” Atarah’s legs threatened to buckle under her. She felt as if her bones had dissolved and her body was collapsing in on itself. “No!” She started first left, then right, then left again. Which way should she go? She couldn’t think. Mother!

What had come over Atarah? An iron clamp gripped Shem’s heart as he watched her stagger, ashen-faced, in a circle, her eyes dark stagnant pools. “Atarah.” He touched her arm to calm her. She shook him off causing his emotions to jolt and tumble. “You knew about the Flood.”

Didn’t she? Yes. They’d talked about it. He remembered talking with her about the Flood, but had he told her how soon?

            Unseeing eyes shifted to his.

            Shem’s feelings about the Flood before he met Atarah flashed into his mind. Though he had understood the inevitability of God’s punishment, he hadn’t been ready for the Flood. Not until he met Atarah. And even now he experienced occasional feelings of fear. Who knew if they would survive?

“You’re not ready for the Flood yet?”

            She blinked. “My mother.”

            At the sound of her voice, relief buoyed his emotions.

“I can’t let my mother die in the Flood.”

His understanding of her intent skipped ahead of her words and his heart plummeted to his stomach. “You know it’s impossible to find her and bring her here in three days.”

Her back stiffened and determination sparked from her eyes. “I can if I go through the underground.”

“No, you can’t!” Her illogic infuriated him. She knew the journey would take weeks. “You don’t know the way.”

“I know one of the tunnels down there leads to the city.”

 “You may not be able to find it again. If you do, you could still be accosted by Peleg or Dagaar or . . .” Anger coagulated the names in his throat, preventing him from listing all the threats to her safety. “You don’t even know if your mother would want to come onto the ark.”

“She will when I explain everything.”

“You don’t know that. She’s had years.”

“She didn’t want to leave Father. Or the rest of us. But things are different now.”

“Why?” He saw hesitancy flicker in her eyes. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to die!” The instant he heard the pathos in his own voice, Shem’s anger evaporated. What did Father say about anger? The emotion covers fear. Shem suddenly understood that his anger sprang from fear for Atarah’s safety and fear of losing her. He felt his eyes soften into a plea. “I love you!”

Unfortunately, his declaration came out as more desperate than romantic. He chided himself.

Liquid sapphire shimmered in Atarah’s eyes before she dropped her head. Tears fell to the plank floor where they grew into dark circles. “Mother thinks I hate her.”

What could he say? Atarah’s mother deserved her daughter’s disdain, so she couldn’t know Atarah had forgiven her. Silently, he put his arms around Atarah and pulled her close. With her head on his chest, he held her as she sobbed.

She would have to choose: God, Shem, and hard work on the ark followed by a new life in a new world -- or reconciliation with her mother. And death. Seemed like an obvious choice to Shem, but maybe not to Atarah. Guilt did strange things to people and she felt guilty about her mother.

When her crying finally quieted, Shem said very simply, “I want you to be my wife.” He wished he could be more dramatic. More persuasive. He wanted to proclaim his deep need for her. Tell her how he had longed for her his entire life. Dreamed about her. Made his room beautiful for her. He wanted to beg her to choose him. To love him.

He didn’t. Instead, he patiently waited while her face stayed buried in his chest.

He knew she had to make the choice of her own free will. He loved her too much to take that from her. Suddenly he understood for the first time why God had given humans free will. He didn’t want puppets who followed him reluctantly. God wanted love and respect. Relationship.

Those were the same things Shem wanted from Atarah, but only if she chose to give them. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – manipulate her into being what he wanted. The world may have fallen into chaos and violence because of free will, but Shem nevertheless understood the wisdom in God’s decision. Shem was grateful to be one of the few people on earth who had chosen God above everything else. He hoped Atarah would choose God, too. And choose Shem.

Finally, Atarah released a shivering sigh. He cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her face. Her eyes shone with grief.

“I do love you,” she said. “I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you on the ark. I want to spend my life with you. I want to learn more about the One True God so I can serve him. I want to stay on the ark and live. I want to get to know your family better. I want to bear your children.” She paused and her eyes shifted back and forth over his face as though searching for something. “But I don’t know if I can live knowing my mother died without me at least trying to save her.” 

For a brief moment, Shem considered tearing into the city on an elephant with Atarah to bring back her mother, but he knew he couldn’t. God had called him to the ark. Father needed his help to finish God’s work. Abandoning his mission would mean rejecting God, and Shem refused to do that.

“I love you.” Shem squared his shoulders and chose God over Atarah. “And I’ll never forget you. But if you decide to leave the ark, you’ll go without me.” 

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.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

No Hope

“And God said to Noah, ‘I have determined to make an end of all flesh, for the earth is filled with violence through them. Behold I will destroy them with the earth.”  Gen. 6:13

While the women bustled about preparing everyone’s first meal in the ark’s family quarters, Shem sat like cold marble in a chair beside the loom fighting a dark depression. Across the room, Father lay on the floor, knees up, pampering his aching back. Japheth snoozed before dinner old-married-man-style splayed out on a couch with his feet propped in a chair. Ham trailed after Eudocea helping with her chores like a love-sick buck. Whatever that meant.

Shem reached for a hank of yarn, sorted out the end and began lethargically winding the fiber loosely around stretched-out fingers. Though he loved his family, cooped up with all these happy people could drive a miserable man crazy. He would need to stay busy to keep sane.

Mother came up behind him and positioned her cheek close to his. “Why don’t you take a little nap? You were up early.” She held doughy hands stiffly while she squeezed his shoulders with her arm, kissed his cheek and returned to her kneading. The well-meaning gesture only made him feel worse. Lonelier. He removed the yarn from his fingers, flipped the loop sideways and wrapped in the other direction, beginning a ball.

From his position he could see the carved door of his room. His ridiculous fancy stupid room. He turned his chair sideways to shut out the embarrassing sight. He no longer needed or wanted it and planned to trade spaces with Ham and Eudocea soon. Tonight. Someone should enjoy his hard work. He’d rather sleep on a pile of hay in one of the food storage rooms than spend time in the place where he’d hoped for so much for so long only to be bitterly disappointed. Time had run out. The family was already on the ark, they wouldn’t be leaving any time soon and a wife wasn’t going to saunter up the ramp calling his name.

His sister-in-laws set platters mounded with fruit and vegetables on the table and called the family. They’d brought freshly picked produce and recently-butchered meat aboard with them this morning. The perishable fruit like peaches wouldn’t last more than a few weeks, but even after that rotted and supplies ran low they’d have abundance. Even after foods changed from fresh to dried and smoked. Even if their time on the ark lasted longer than the year Father predicted.

Shem held back while the rest of the family gathered to eat. He knew his behavior mimicked that of an immature youth, but he couldn’t force himself  to engage in the festivities. He’d make himself do so later. Just not yet. Mother and Father exchanged significant glances.

“Shem, come have a bowl of this delicious goat stew,” Mother urged patting the bench beside her.

“You’ll need the energy,” Father said.

Obviously they knew what he was feeling and were trying to help. Or thought they knew. If they truly understood, they’d know he couldn’t eat. He cast around for a way to avoid sitting at the table with them. Just for tonight. He could see his plight caused them pain and he hated that but . . ., “Uh. My stomach feels sour. I don’t think I can eat.”

“Go lie down,” Father said. Father wasn’t suggesting. He was commanding. “We have work to do tonight.”

Okay then.

With no other choice, Shem drew a resigned breath and stepped inside his room. He reached for the oil lamp by the door and lit the wick. A warm glow suffused the room helping him find the large chair in the far corner of the room. He sank into the chair’s pillows and, hoping not to think of Atarah, closed his eyes.

Immediately, a rustling from his bed startled them back open. His hand moved to the knife at his side and his heart thumped, beating so hard he could feel it in his throat. Holding the lamp before him to light the way he crept toward the bed, following the circle of yellow light.

A woman lay sleeping between his sheets, her soiled robe crumpled on the floor beside the bed. The blue-embroidered tunic showing above the top edge of the linen quilt rose and fell with her soft breathing. Shem’s eyes drank in her delicate features and the line of her jaw. Framed by glossy dark hair, her smooth skin glowed like the pearls studding the embroidery of her neckline. Air locked in his throat. How could she still be so beautiful after all she’d been through?

“Atarah.” He didn’t realize he’d breathed the name aloud until her eyes popped open. He lurched backward. “I’m sorry.” His voice was raspy. He cleared his throat and repeated, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . I . . .” He should stop talking now. “I’m Shem.” He couldn’t stop talking. “Um . . . I didn’t introduce myself before.”

“My name is Atarah.”

“I know. I heard . . .” He heard the men who killed her baby say her name. Shut up, Shem.

Tension hung in the air between them. Did she have a husband somewhere? Was her husband one of the men trying to kill her? Neither moved or spoke for several seconds. Finally, Atarah pushed herself into a sitting position.

“I’m sorry,” Shem said again. With his gaze still fixed on hers he took a step backward, knowing he should leave the room and give her some privacy, but unable to make himself go. “I should leave you alone.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“You stole my line.” He forced a playful grin, hoping to alleviate any fear she might have. They both giggled.

She scooted to the edge of the bed and swung her legs over the side. Shem averted his gaze, his mouth suddenly dry.

“This is your room?” she asked. “Your bed?”

 “Yes.”

“I’ve never slept between more luxurious sheets.” She ran the flat of her hand over the silk. “And this quilt . . .  beautiful. The entire room is remarkable. But I had no right.” Regret shimmered on her features.

“Of course you did.” He longed to tell her that every detail of the room had been crafted for her. Belonged to her. “You’re welcome here.”

Did she have a husband or was the baby conceived . . . ? He couldn’t think that way. God had said she was his wife.

“Not without being invited.”

Shem grinned. “You have to know Father’s been begging people to come onto the

ark for years.”

“I guess he has.” Atarah laughed.

Excitement threatened to burble out of Shem. God had actually brought her here! His wife. And he’d actually spoken to Shem when he told Shem Atarah was his wife --just as he spoke to Father. Maybe not just like he spoke to Father since Shem hadn’t heard an actual voice. Shem could hardly hold his emotions in check.

“Did you create all this?” Atarah asked.

“Just this room.” He’d never seen such thick, long lashes.

“That’s what I meant. This room. Amazing.”

She looked well, but he wondered how she’d fared during the night. Had those men hurt her? Concern overrode his better judgment and he asked a direct question. “Are you all right?”

An overwhelming sadness filled the room making Shem regret he’d asked such a personal thing. Atarah dropped her head and traced the quilt’s stitching with her forefinger. He chided himself, realizing she barely knew him. He shouldn’t have been so intrusive. “Of course you’re not all right,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” What a dolt he was!

“It’s warm in here.” She looked at him as though willing him to understand something difficult to explain.

“My brother built a fire. The heat filters through.”

“No. I mean I have a warm feeling here.” She tapped a hand against her heart, looking him with large sapphire-blue eyes that made his heart flutter. “Your ark feels peaceful -- like a safe haven.”

A blank look must have settled over Shem’s countenance, because Atarah continued. “As soon as I stepped into the ark I knew I was safe.” Apparently she guessed he still didn’t understand. “What did you feel in the city?”

Finally Shem understood. Darkness and oppression characterized that place. “You’re right. I’m so used to the ark I think of the atmosphere here as normal.”

“But it isn’t. Wickedness is normal for the rest of the world.” Her eyes glistened with raw grief. “Like an evil bog threatening to suck you down.”

“You’re right.” Shem longed to pull her into his arms and kiss away the sorrow in those lovely eyes.

“I’m trying to answer your question about how I’m doing.” She tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “I feel safe here, so I’m doing better. But I’m still sad and I don’t know if the sadness will ever go away.” Her eyes pooled.

He wanted to comfort her, but he could only say, “I’m sorry.” She twinkled through her tears as he spoke the words. He laughed with her then sobered and said, “I truly am sorry.”

She blinked, and a single tear escaped the fringe of lashes. He wiped away the moisture with his thumb and electricity surged through him.

“This all defies logic,” she murmured. “I’m a stranger here yet I’m home for the first time in my life. The peace is so thick I think I could float.”

He paused to regain his composure. “You’re feeling the presence of the One True God. His protection surrounds the ark.”

Her face lit with joy. “I know! I was pretty sure, but I wanted to hear you say so!” The happiness faded and anguish filled her eyes. “We chased him away from our city when we chose to serve other gods, didn’t we?”

We? She was including herself in those who chased away God. Atarah was telling him that she had been fully integrated into the evil City of a Thousand Gods. He’d dared hope otherwise when he witnessed her try to rescue her son.

His heart tumbled off the mountain of hope and slogged through the swamp of gloom. If she’d grown up in the city, and he assumed she had, how could she be otherwise? He shouldn’t blame her, but he couldn’t help himself. She had chosen false gods and all the depravity required by those monstrous spirits. He needed time to sort through his emotions.

“We told the One True God to get out of our city and leave us alone, didn’t we?” She didn’t intend to let the question slide. She needed an answer.

He hesitated before answering, unwilling to hurt her. “Yes. God allows each of us to choose our own destiny.”

Strangely, his blunt reply calmed her and she reasoned through the situation aloud. “And now it’s too late. Nobody in the city will change.” She narrowed her eyes in thought, “Maybe think they can’t. That’s why the Flood. God has to wash the earth clean with water to cleanse away the evil of the people. Even more so the Nephilim and the giants.”

“You understand the reason for the Flood!” he exclaimed. Atarah had stated the cold facts in a way Shem had failed to see them. She was either very bright or God had revealed the truth to her. Maybe both. He watched her mind continue to click along.

“God is saving the human race by preserving your family on the ark when the water falls from the sky. And Noah is not hiding giants here like everyone says, is he?”

“No.” Shem stared at her in awe. “How do you know all that?”             She hesitated as though afraid he wouldn’t believe her. “Your Father’s God spoke to me. First in dreams and then when I was wide awake last night. Back home I might have tried to convince myself the vision was a hallucination, but here the peace helps me think more clearly. I think evil causes confusion.”

“God told you all that?”

“No. He told me other things. But while I slept, I dreamed about something I heard your Father say and that woke me up. I remembered information from my mother and puzzled everything together before I drifted off to sleep again.”

“You met Father?”

“Once.” She seemed lost in thought for a full minute before looking up at him, eyes shining with hope. “Even when I rejected the One True God, he still loved me. He told me so last night. Since he never left me, maybe there’s still hope for my mother.”

Shem only partially followed her zigzagging logic. He opened his mouth prepared to warn her that just six days remained until the Flood and the time for hope had passed. He started to remind her how unlikely it would be for her mother to come up to the ark on her own as Atarah had. He fully intended to remind her that if she tried to go back to the city to find her mother she’d certainly be killed. Worse, with weather conditions in the valley and city growing worse every day, it would be impossible to get to her mother.

“There’s always hope with the One True God,” he said. Though he knew that her mother and everyone else she’d ever known would die in the Flood in less than one week, he couldn’t bear to hurt her by removing all hope. She’d been through too much.

With Atarah at his side Shem tentatively opened the door and stood waiting for someone to notice. No one looked up. Nothing but the clink of metal on pottery broke the silence as the family ate without the customary jovial conversation. Shem could see that his plight was causing them all pain. Father pointed at a fruit platter still piled high with paw paws, mahogany-colored Jujube and thin sweet-tart slices of quince. Ham scooted the fruit toward him. Father nodded thanks and reached for a fragrant golden-brown paw paw as long as his hand. So like Father. No one in the family cared for the wild-banana flavor of the fruit – not even Father, but he always saved the best of everything for others.

Ham took a persimmon from across the table. He hated paw paws, of course, and would eat Jujube only when it was crisper and yellow with red spots. And he didn’t like quince. At all. Shem wondered if Ham would be a picky eater once the Flood had been under way for a few months.

Shem cleared his throat, inexplicably embarrassed. The six people around the table froze, eating utensils midair, staring at Shem and Atarah open-mouthed.

After a beat, Father jumped to his feet and strode toward them with open arms. “Daughter!” He clutched Atarah’s shoulders and kissed each of her cheeks before standing at arms’ length to examine her, his eyes shifting back and forth over her face as though he wanted to drink in every detail. Atarah’s cheeks flamed.

“I knew God was speaking to your heart!” Father said.

The rest of the family swarmed Atarah, welcoming her. Shem studied her face as she interacted with each of them. The word innocent fit best. And kind. She seemed extraordinarily kind. Even better, her eagerness to hear about the One True God was evident in her face and posture at every mention of his name. She treated Mother and Father with respect. Maybe even admiration. Shem didn’t take long to decide he didn’t care what she’d been, he only cared who she’d become. A woman of character. A woman he could love. Maybe already loved.

A dull thud in the corridor outside the door brought the introductions to a sudden halt. Father held up a hand for silence and Atarah glanced immediately at Shem for reassurance. His palms began to sweat. Not because of the very real possibility of danger, but because of Atarah’s eyes. If necessary, he would give his life for her.

Father gestured the women to the back of the room for safety. Shem wrapped his hand around the knife he always kept at the ready and moved toward the door.