Chapter Thirty-Three

An Old Friend to the Rescue

“For every beast of the forest is mine, the cattle on a thousand hills. I know all the birds of the hills, and all that moves in the field is mine.” Psalm 50:1, 11

Perched atop a thick blanket on Bavai’s shoulders, Shem listened to the familiar sounds of branches cracking beneath the elephant’s feet as they traveled down the mountain at a relaxed pace. Though Shem worried he may not have sufficient time to reach his goal of finding a wife, even at this speed the old elephant walked faster than he could run. Bavai trumpeted excitedly and Shem’s eyes crinkled with pleasure. He patted the gray flesh of her back. Obviously, she still loved him as much as he loved her. Swaying in rhythm with the elephant’s pendulum stride, he moved easily up and down with the rising and falling of the animal’s shoulders. He’d not forgotten how to ride.

He briefly reached behind him and patted her prickly back where it sloped downward, then leaned forward and again looped the rope over both palms. The elephant made him proud. No other elephant could handle this descent with its hairpin turns and boulders better than Bavai. Even in difficult circumstances and at her advanced age, he trusted this animal to carry him safely to the city and back.

Over the last few days spent watching the deepening affection between Ham and his wife, Shem had come to realize it might be possible for him to love someone, too.  No matter what the woman had gone through or done -- as long as she loved God with a pure heart. Could there be another who, against all logic, believed in the One True God?

Shem adjusted the long flexible pole wedged beneath his right thigh, positioning it so he could easily grab the handle with his left hand. He had no idea why he’d brought the tool since he had never been forced to use it on the beast, and he didn’t expect to start now. He trained her starting at age three weeks, following Noah’s own Gentle Metho, and in spite of her larger-than-normal size even then, she learned quickly. Despite the scars now crisscrossing her body and callous marks left from restraints attached to her legs by a recent cruel owner, the elephant’s disposition had not changed. No elephant compared with her. He’d never met a gentler, more intelligent beast. Thinking about the way she’d been misused hurt his heart. Father would have found a way to keep her if he’d known she would be mistreated.

Bavai stopped suddenly, positioning her feet carefully and touching her trunk to the ground, listening elephant-style. Birds warbled in the branches. A flock of brilliantly painted yellow and blue-green budgies lifted from the forest, transforming into a black cloud that blocked the sky above their heads. The elephant held her position awhile longer then, satisfied nothing was amiss, resumed walking down the path.

Trees stood naked on both sides of the trail, stripped of leaves and bark, the result of elephants ravaging the mountainside for food on the trek to the ark. They must have come this way. The spicy aroma of birch and pine churned up by the foraging elephants as they dug curls of bark from the trees and exposed the tan undersides, still lingered in the breeze. Gray stones and fresh brown earth replaced the covering of white bark and green moss usually carpeting the forest floor. Only the tops of the stately firs rose tall and undisturbed, too tall for elephants to reach.

At the base of the mountain, where the forest ceased and tall grasses and wild flowers customarily colored the meadow, ash covered everything. The few trees dotting the meadow, lifted cheerless limbs above a desolate landscape. Drooping wildflowers poked sad heads from the gray. Except for one section of city wall which had tumbled partway down the mountain, the city built on rocks appeared untouched from this distance. Like Noah’s mountain.

Rather than taking the usual route on the path through waist-high wildflowers, Shem guided Bavai around the edges of the meadow toward pooled water where the tallest grasses grew nearly as high as the elephant’s head and the long blades still shimmered green when the wind kicked up. Shem hoped the density of the plants would prevent ash from rising as the elephant strode through them. He hoped to avoid breathing in the abrasive gray material and circumvent the coughing spells that still overcame Ham’s wife occasionally.

He needn’t have worried. The ash covering the meadow floor where the weeds thinned appeared dark and heavy from the evening mist. Even the nearly-white dry ash blanketing the road to the city failed to puff into a cloud as Shem expected. Too heavy. Though Bavai’s large feet sank deep into powder, little rose into the air.

Closer to the city, Shem noticed clear spots on the road and mounds of ash off to the side. Evidence of slaves.

So where were they? Why weren’t they working today? The deserted road stretched ahead like an empty arm reaching toward the city. Strange. Owners rarely permitted slaves to discontinue work in middle of the day. Especially when such large a job remained unfinished.

Bavai slowed and moved cautiously around the boulders and trees littering the road, new since Shem’s last visit to find Father. The elephant’s change in behavior told Shem she sensed something awry. His own senses prickled into high alert. The elephant paused, holding one foot above the ground. Shem made no attempt to dissuade her. Lifting her trunk she waved it in the air, then after a moment, proceeded up the road.

Had she heard something? Smelled something? Shem cocked his head, straining to listen. Nothing.

The entrance to the city was deserted and the massive iron-gate that once protected inhabitants at night by keeping out intruders leaned at an angle from its hinges. The walls of the Judgment Hall where Father’s trial had taken place remained upright, but crumbled rock had fallen across the doorway and rubble blocked the stairs descending to the dungeon. More rocks littered the pavement outside.

Shem guided Bavai around the wreckage with gentle taps behind her ears. She balked before crossing a deep fissure running the length of the road, but eventually stepped over the crack easily. Shem pivoted on his high seat, scanning the area from the elephant’s back. Where were the guards? The gatekeeper?

Elephant and man continued through the streets. Mounds of rubble slumped between a few mostly-intact homes and businesses. Tall piles of ash rose nearly as high as the buildings in some places. The inn where he’d spent the night during Father’s trial was gone. The mansion behind the jasmine-covered arch still stood, but earthquakes had knocked off a portion of the facing stone.

Nothing moved anywhere. Not even a breeze whispered through the streets.

Eerie silence enveloped the city. Was anyone left alive?

Surely, if any of the city’s residents had survived this disaster, they would believe God’s promise. They would finally confess the accuracy of Noah’s predictions and flee to the ark for safety. Only a fool would refuse.

Shem and the elephant plodded on. To his right, the top of the pagan temple emerged from behind buildings and trash. The angry god who guarded the facade was gone. Or at least the head and shoulders had disappeared. Shem couldn’t see any lower on the torso because of the houses and rubble blocking his view.

He directed his elephant toward the temple though he didn’t know why or where he planned to go. A short time later, Shem heard the distant muffled voices of an angry mob. Driven by an unseen force, he pressed Bavai forward.

Chapter Thirty Two

Elephants Arrive

“Noah was six hundred years old when the flood of waters came upon the earth. And Noah and his sons and his wife and his sons’ wives with him went into the ark to escape the waters of the flood.” Genesis 7:6, 7

“Wait!” Shem threw out an arm to block Ham’s mad dash from the ark. Just two hours after bidding Eudocea goodbye, Ham was so eager to see his wife again he paid scant attention to where he was headed. A bemused smile curled Shem’s lips.

“What’s the matter with you?” Ham shoved away Shem’s arm and pushed past his brother before stopping at the top of the ramp in open-mouthed surprise. An enormous herd of elephants milled around on the rise near the end of the ramp, almost close enough for the brothers to see individual eyelashes. More blocked the path to the house and trailed away in the direction of the shallow lake behind the ark.

“There must be hundreds of them,” Ham said in an awed whisper.

“Looks like Eudocea will have to do without you a little longer.”

The two brothers gaped at the sight in silence. The enormous beasts, covered in thick dust, circled two adolescent elephants, continually touching them, caressing them with trunks. Examining them. Wrapping trunks around them in embrace. Low reverberations rumbled through the group. Shem could feel as well as hear them. Occasionally one of the large females well back in the group would throw back her head, lift her trunk and blast an ear-piercing cry. Shem had the eerie feeling she was looking directly at him.

 “Where’d they come from?” Ham asked.

Shem slowly rotated his head to glare at his brother. “You think I know?”

            “Well, I’m not staying here.” Ham sounded determined, but he didn’t move. “I’m not going to be separated from my wife.”

“Really?” Shem’s raised his eyebrows. “So how do you plan to get past our friends out there?”

A grimace showed Ham’s dimples and he sighed. “Do you have any idea how long herds stay in one spot before they move on?”

“No, but I know I’m not going to weave through all those legs and trunks.”

Several elephants moved to the back of the herd and others replaced them, traveling in a line past the adolescents, running trunks over bodies and entwining trunks before moving on. Drops of moisture ran through the dust down more than one elephant’s face. Shem recognized them as tears because he’d seen that very phenomenon when his favorite pet elephant’s baby died. Tears dripped out of the small hole on the side of Bavai’s head. He didn’t doubt for an instant she was crying for her baby.

Elephants suffered grief over loss and cried real tears.

“Is it possible they’re saying goodbye to them?” Ham asked incredulously.

 Shem knew what Ham implied and he’d assumed the same thing: The two adolescents must have been chosen for the ark. He didn’t believe Ham’s question required an answer because enough had transpired in the last few days that talking about it seemed unnecessary. “Remember Bavai?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten about her. Good elephant.”

“Great elephant.”

“I can’t remember why Father got rid of her.”

“Traded her for a load of iron or bronze.” Shem sighed. “He had no choice, but I hated to see her go. I loved that elephant.”

“I remember.” Ham tilted his head and squinted at the elephants. “Hey! That looks like ash instead of dust.”

Narrowing his eyes, Shem inspected the animals more closely. “You’re right. Makes sense.”

Suddenly, several of the elephants lifted a foreleg simultaneously. Soon most of the rest either followed suit or laid trunks on the ground. The entire herd stood shock still for a several beats before turning without warning and thundering from the ark en masse. The herd stampeded to the center of the grassy field and stopped, shifting restlessly.

Stunned, the brothers eyes’ met.

“What’s going on?” Ham asked.

Shem bunched his lips and slowly shook his head, puzzled. “No idea, but it looks like the path to the house is open now.”

Ham had time to take only a single step when a loud noise from the earth itself rolled toward them. “Earthquake!” he shouted, and both men ducked for the door frame and held on while the ark rolled violently. The earthquakes were getting worse.

When movement finally ceased, Shem’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding. He lay on his belly on the square planks of the ark’s floor, arms stretched out, cheek resting on the deck. He desperately needed something solid and dependable beneath him, and right now the ark seemed more trustworthy than the ground.

“Eudocea!” Ham popped to his feet.

“Not yet! The elephants might rush back this direction and trample you.” Shem warned. He pointed toward the house. “She’s fine.” The entire family stood outside signaling the all-is-well sign.

Ham trotted a few feet down the ramp to wave back, then returned with a foolish grin and flopped down beside Shem.

“That was the worst one yet,” Shem said, “but I don’t think the quake did a thing to the ark. Father sure knows how to build.”

Sitting on the deck with his palms resting on it, Shem stuck out his lower lip mulling over what had just happened. Even though he assumed Ham would ridicule the idea, he decided to share his thoughts with him. Shem needed to talk to someone. “I think they sensed it. The elephants knew the quake was coming.”

“You think so?” Ham sounded doubtful. “How?”

“I’m not sure. The pads of their feet are soft. I think they can sense through them, kind of like our fingers feel the textural differences between rocks and wool.”

Ham rolled his eyes. “Pretty far fetched.”

“You know their trunks are sensitive.” Shem defended himself. “Remember the way Bavai used her trunk?”

“I remember.”

“Remember the heart-shaped mark right in the center of her forehead?” A mental image of her made him smile.

Shem felt the vibrations before he heard the sound. He quickly glanced up and saw the entire herd heading toward the ark again. He jumped to his feet – just in case.

Once again the herd stopped at the end of the ramp and continued the ritual with the two younger elephants for another hour or more. Only after all the elephants filed past did the two young ones start up the ramp.

Surrounded by about twenty adults.

“Run!” Shem shouted and he and Ham fled for protection to the first room they came to. They couldn’t handle that many wild elephants all at once.

The brothers slumped atop a pile of salt chunks in a storage area just off the main entrance to the ark. Long ago, they’d mined the mineral deep in a volcanic mountain some distance away. Though had Shem accepted the fact that all animals needed salt – and they’d need lots and lots of salt for the collection of beasts they’d be carrying -- he had not enjoyed his time underground. The caves felt claustrophobic to him then just as the room seemed to close around him today. He wished they could have hidden in a more aromatic spot. A hay room, maybe. Better yet, a large space with dried lavender hanging in clumps across the ceiling.

Obviously, the time crunch hadn’t allowed an ideal spot.

Because there was no opening for looking out of this room, the brothers couldn’t see what awaited them beyond the door. Had every individual in the smaller group crowded aboard, or just the two adolescents? As soon as the shuffling outside their walls ended, Shem slid down the pile and pressed an ear against the door. “I don’t hear anything. But I smell something.” He changed ears, sniffing audibly. “What do you think? They could be gone and the whole place would still reek.”

 “Elephant odors are nasty and disgusting and they permeate everything and I hate them,” Ham agreed. 

 “You sounds like Japheth when he has to work Buzz in the middle of the night.” Shem grinned at him.  

Ham scowled. “You can afford to be cheerful because a bunch of elephants aren’t keeping you away from your wife.”

The words slammed Shem like a punch to the gut. Ham should know that comment would hurt. He should understand Shem rarely felt cheerful. But because Shem didn’t want to lapse deeper into depression and hopelessness by focusing on his singleness, he switched the subject back to unpleasant aromas. “You think it smells bad now, wait till they start plopping mounds of brown everywhere they go.”

“Look on the bright side, when the manure dries it’ll make great fuel for the fire in the family quarters. Heat us up real good.”  Ham grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Though I may not need a lot of heating up with Eudocea around.”

“You really think manure could dry sufficiently during a flood for us to build a fire?” Shem snorted in derision. “It’s going to stay damp and musty in here. We’ll burn wood as planned.” He chided himself for the demeaning tone he’d used with his brother, though Ham didn’t appear to notice. Or maybe Ham understood he’d hurt Shem and planned to save face by ignoring his brother’s offense in lieu of apologizing.

 “Time to check and see how many elephants we’ve got.” Shem squeaked open the door and peeked into the corridor. “All clear.” A careful examination of the ark uncovered only the two adolescents sauntering down to the bottom level. “How do they know where to go?” he asked. 

Ham shrugged. “I’m confused about a number of things.”

After securing the young elephants, the brothers walked through the rest of the ark. No additional elephants lingered in the hallways. None were outside by the ramp, though Shem could hear trumpeting from the direction of the lake. He hoped they’d stay at a distance. Several years back he’d heard about a group of elephants enraged by the loss of a baby who’d broken down the gates of a walled city and rampaged through the streets killing nearly a hundred people. Those elephants lost only one baby. This group had lost two youngsters.

They could be dangerous.

Shem dismissed Ham to go home to his wife and then, after checking the lock on the door to the salt storage unit, he spent the night in his quarters on the ark. Alone. Without eating an evening meal. He viewed solitude on the ark as better than enduring the happy sounds of couples at home.

The sky through the window above Shem’s head glowed pink by the time he rolled from his comfortable mattress the next morning. Exiting the family quarters, he carefully closed the door behind him and bolted it to prevent any new strays from causing havoc inside.

Not bothering with a torch he fixed his eyes on the rectangle of light leading to the exit as he made his way down the long corridor, watching the pink of the sky merge into orange right before his eyes. Despite the dark days, the morning sky seemed more brilliant than usual today. Shem idly wondered if the intensified colors had anything to do with the eruptions.

Hunger churned in his stomach and he imagined the smell of Mother’s hot corn cakes and jam. She should be up by now preparing the morning meal with Ulla and Eudocea before Father and Japheth left for the fields and Ham returned to work on the ark.

Within the next few days they’d all labor as a seven-person unit to bring in the final harvest and finish stocking the ark to full capacity. Having Father and Japheth working on the ark again would be a relief, Shem and Ham needed them to help care for animals. Right now bringing in water and food for the animals seemed a nearly overwhelming task for two. Fatigue was Shem’s constant companion. He wondered how they’d manage once all the animals trooped aboard.

The ark was nearly ready to embark -- an easy-to-read fact in Father’s face. Since Paseah’s departure, Shem had noticed so much sadness residing there. During all the years of preparation, when Father was still able to go to the city to preach, hope continually sparkled in the depths of his eyes. But now Shem could tell that Father was resigned to the fact that no one but his immediate family would believe and live. Shem understood why he appeared unhappy.

Still, Shem anticipated that once sufficient time passed and Father’s grieving abated, joy would fill his eyes once again. It might take time, but Father would be happy.

Shem didn’t like to think about the implications of the Flood on his own life.

Ambling toward the exit lost in his thoughts, Shem failed to notice the massive elephant obscured by shadows until it moved forward and planted itself directly in his path, blocking his way. Shem’s heart thudded into his throat. Was that a bull in musk? How had Shem not seen him? Smelled him?

The elephant approached slowly, deliberately, as though it had spotted Shem from the large herd earlier and returned with a plan. Shem retreated a step. The elephant spread large ears in warning and moved closer, staring down its trunk at Shem. If he tried to run, the elephant would overtake and crush him. He remained motionless, staring up at the monstrous beast towering over him.

A white ring around the iris told him the elephant was old. Other parts of the anatomy revealed the sex: female. Bulls at mating season could be dangerous, but if one of the calves penned up below belonged to this individual . . . Shem’s mind couldn’t wrap around the fury that might erupt from her momentarily, but his body tingled with fear.

The elephant took another step toward him, raised her trunk and swiveled it from side to side, evaluating him. Shem stiffened, taking shallow breaths. The elephant lowered her long proboscis and two finger-like projections at the tip reached out to explore his hair and face. The trunk snuffled down his arm. He could smell her breath, see the shortened left tusk.

Bavai had been left-tusked, too. She had worn down the tusk digging for salt and debarking trees.

A low growl emanated from the elephant’s throat and extended into a moan, growing in intensity until it escalated to a roar. Shem held his breath. The female threw back her head with a bellow, revealing the rounded teeth of extreme old age before dropping her trunk in a sign of submission.

The dark heart-shaped spot above her trunk confirmed Shem’s suspicions.

“Bavai, you wonderful old beast!” Shem hugged her head and stroked her trunk in wonder. “You came home.” He vigorously rubbed the massive neck. “You’re still alive!” She encircled Shem’s torso with her trunk, joyfully lifting him off his feet. He almost believed God had sent the elephant to encourage him. Maybe there was hope. By the time Shem instructed the elephant to set him down and she gently complied, a plan had solidified in his brain.

Shem issued a command and Bavai lifted her leg. He grabbed a leathery ear and placed his left foot on her fetlock, springing up as the elephant hoisted him onto her back. Sitting with thighs spread eagle, he grasped a fold of prickly skin and urged her forward. He missed the customary rope, but he’d ridden this particular elephant enough times he didn’t need one. He could still manage bare-back.

At the exit, he tapped the back of her right ear and she obediently turned left down the ramp. “Ya still got it, old girl.” Shem thumped her back. No one could ask for a better elephant. They descended at a slow pace, Shem bumping easily along with the rise and fall of Bavai’s shoulders. He stroked the lumpy gray flesh. Fewer razor-sharp hairs sprouted from her back these days. Another sign of age.

Shem shouted and the elephant trumped with delight all the way to the house. Near the front door Shem tapped her sagging back and she lowered to the ground, permitting Shem to slide off easily. While the family encircled the elephant, welcoming her home with hugs and pats, Shem hurried for a rope and blanket to slip on her.

When he returned, a beaming Ham slapped him on the back.  “Finally got some guts!”

“How’d you know?”

“Look at your face,” Japheth said, laughing. “I approve, big brother!”

Father and Mother wordlessly kissed Shem goodbye, tears shinning in their eyes. Ulla and Eudocea stayed by the house grinning.

Shem gave the command and mounted Bavai again. He tapped behind her right ear and she started left toward the trailhead. Pushing away the doubt trying to kill his newly found hope, he hollered and pumped his fist in the air confidently and the elephant sped up.

If God had preserved a wife for Shem, he’d find her. If he hadn’t waited too long.

Chapter Thirty-One

Unbearable Loneliness

© Jeannie St. John Taylor

“The steps of a man are established by the LORD when he delights in his way.” Psalm 37:23

Shem finished burnishing a grape in a cluster carved midway up one of the thick posts supporting the bed in his living quarters. He stepped back to admire the sheen, permitting his eyes to move through the vines intertwined with leaves and fruit that decorated the aromatic cedar. It had taken him several years to find four perfectly matched straight tree trunks capable of producing the warm color he loved when rubbed with oil. Usually the sight of the elegant bed and room he’d been crafting for his future wife for more than fifty years filled him with satisfaction.

Not today.

Today the cozy space only accentuated his loneliness and longing. The rare hours scheduled for relaxation, usually a welcome change, stretched endlessly ahead of Shem today. Father insisted they take a few hours off occasionally, but this afternoon was stretching out longer than usual because Father wanted to allow Ham and his wife more time to get to know one another.

Shem tilted his head to study the carvings briefly and considered calling the job complete. Then he changed his mind and began buffing a leaf with his smooth river rock, taking special care to define the plant’s veins with the sharp end.

It had been days since the all-nighter he’d put in with his brothers hauling water and settling animals on the lower deck. Though mammals and reptiles still dribbled in two by two, the ark was far from full. Father seemed to think there’d be a rush of creatures as the Flood approached. Shem doubted that even the busyness required by feeding thousands of mouths would ease the ache in his heart.

Regardless of the fact that water falling from the sky seemed impossible – completely beyond logical comprehension -- he grew more convinced every day that something was happening. The earthquake intensity had increased to the point that Shem occasionally felt a slight shudder inside the ark. Volcanoes erupted almost daily in a distant circle around them. They saw plumes rising like smoke from a hundred kilns even though the mountains themselves could be viewed only from the vantage point of the trail head. After one of the eruptions a thin skim of gray powder settled around the ark. Mother’s chickens pecked away at the heavy ash, filling their gullets. Other than that one time, wind carried the ash away from them.

Shem sometimes wondered if their own mountain would explode with dust and lava. Father said the fountains of the deep would open during the Flood, and Shem had come to think that mountains opening to spew out the contents of the earth beneath must be included in that. Hopefully the family would float safely away before that happened.

He rarely allowed his thoughts to dwell on his uncle and the residents of the nearby City of a Thousand Gods who refused to believe in God, but he thought about them today. The plans God gave Father for the ark left room for literally thousands of people.

The ark was set up to house most of the animals on the lowest level. Many would live in areas filled with small cages, while others would stay out in the large main space. Horses, zebras and camels would stay behind stalls with half walls. The more unpleasant creatures would reside in the closed rooms to prevent them from squeezing out and roaming free.

Or slithering free.

Shem thought about Ham’s and Paseah’s panic over snakes and his mouth quirked into a smile. Ham had insisted on the closed-and-locked-room method for all serpents since then. Shem reached higher on the post to work on a stem, remembering Ham’s reaction when he and Japheth transferred the pythons to a room on the bottom deck. Ham insisted Shem first cut a deep mark in the door to identify the location of the reptiles, and then whitewash the boards so they would be easily identifiable even in low light. Ham did not plan to enter that room accidentally.

With the bottom floor reserved for animals, Shem and his brothers had spent the years filling most of the rooms on the two top decks with food for animals and people. Preserved and dried food rose to the ceilings or hung along rafters running through most of the two decks. Only a few storage compartments remained empty and Father said it was time to load them with supplies from the fields and trees near the house in the next couple of weeks. They would also bring on copious amounts of fresh fruits and vegetables like apples, pears, bananas, squash and pumpkins to store in cool dark areas.

The family quarters took up a relatively small space on the third deck, though it seemed spacious to Shem because it was larger than their current home. There was definitely enough space for additional people. The family might be cramped if a crowd of people suddenly chose to enter the ark with them, but everyone would be welcomed warmly. The family would be thrilled to scoot over to share lodging and food -- even if stores depleted and everyone lost a little weight. People could even sleep in the hallways if necessary. That would be preferable to drowning, wouldn’t it? They only needed to believe God’s words and come aboard.

Yet no one came because no one believed.

Worse, the one person who had come to stay had appeared miserable. Even tortured. Eudocea had quickly recovered from her physical injuries, but her emotional wounds were an entirely different thing.

Father had performed a marriage ceremony for Ham and Eudocea two days after her arrival, and Shem had expected life for Ham to change completely. Which it had, but not in the way either of the brothers had anticipated. Instead of enjoying a relationship with Ham, Eudocea chose to spend her time helping Mother and Ulla. Mysteriously, she already knew how to cook up the pheasant Ham shot with his bow, dry apples and run the spinning wheel proficiently. She exhibited skills most ladies born to her station in life never mastered because their slaves did everything.

Shem suspected she would rather muck stalls than get acquainted with her husband. Ham’s face revealed bitter disappointment. More than disappointment -- unrelenting sorrow. Shem shared Ham’s heartbreak because he loved his brother.

Mother eventually discovered Eudocea was a temple prostitute who had been mistreated for most of her life during pagan worship. Ham’s uncle bought her and gave her to his sons who used her up and grew tired of her. Paseah viewed her as a woman of no further use to him or anyone else.

Eudocea understood that completely. Devastatingly. And agreed with his evaluation of her. She’d come close to death-by-abuse several times and thought of herself as worthless. In addition, because men had hurt her, men terrified her. All men. Including Ham.

Day after day Shem’s respect for Ham grew as he watched his younger brother treat Eudocea gently, respectfully, forcing nothing. Not even requiring speech from her. Even though she averted her eyes in silence whenever he came near, Ham never ceased viewing Eudocea as a woman of rare beauty. A person of tremendous value.

Shem saw her differently. She proved that his own fears about accepting a wife from the surrounding culture were well founded. Ham had settled for one of those women and now he suffered. Was this really better than a lifetime alone? Shem thought not. Ham seemed lonelier now than before he met his wife.

Over the last day or two, however, Ham told Shem he felt optimism over the relationship. He’d made brief eye contact with Eudocea a few times and she’d actually smiled once. Ham expressed hope she would spend some time alone with him today. Shem suspected that was why Father had insisted they all take a day to rest.

Giggling from the family area floated through the closed door of Shem’s room. His head jerked up. Ham and Eudocea?

Shem put away his burnishing tool and fiddled with the jars of pottery on shelves lining the walls of his room closer to the door. He strained to hear while trying to put Ham out of his mind. Illogical, he knew. He checked the corks once again making certain each fit snugly in the top of its pot, thinking about pottery rather than problems. He traced sensitive fingers over one which was unadorned except for a satiny beige glaze oxidized with brown spots. So simple, yet so elegant. His favorite glaze.

He absently tested the wooden bar running horizontally across the front of the shelf holding his pots, checking it for the thousandth time. Maybe the ten thousandth time. The bar needed to hold each pot snugly in case of violent movement once the rains lifted the ark. Father predicted waves higher than most hills. Shem figured he’d be upchucking at that point.

The voices outside his room continued in a conversational murmur. Ham and Eudocea were talking. Unexpected hope burbled up in Shem and he rejoiced at his brother’s good fortune. But because a relationship between Ham and Eudocea made Shem’s future bleaker by comparison, uninvited feelings he didn’t understand popped up.

Was he jealous? He hoped not.

But always before he and Ham had each other. The voices rising and falling outside his door made him feel completely isolated, desperately alone. He was still a young man -- only ninety-eight. He could easily live for another eight hundred years. Father was poised to turn six hundred soon and could still work as rigorously as he did in his one-hundredth year. Grandfather Methuselah had lived nine hundred and seventy-nine years. Great grandfather Enoch walked the earth for only three hundred and sixty-five years, but he didn’t die. God took him up to heaven in a whirlwind. Longevity characterized Shem’s family and he assumed a long life would bless him, too.

Or curse him.

He sank onto the linen-covered bed he’d crafted for his wife and mourned his lost hope. This bed piled high with pillows which he’d expected to offer her pleasure left him with an ache. Locking his hands behind his head he stared up at the ceiling decorated with the flowing shapes of flowers and palm trees. Very few chisel marks remained visible. Shem’s habit of coming out to the ark to work after the evening meal for so many years had left abundant time for finishing details.

Everyone in the family joked about his tendency to go overboard with little extras. During mundane excursions to the tar pits to haul back copious amounts of the sticky material for water-proofing the ark, he’d found time to collect plants for dying the fabrics in his room. He experimented until he discovered that green rhododendron leaves produced a deep golden yellow, the woad plant with its delicate yellow flowers magically transformed pale cotton threads into dark indigo blue, and when handled correctly, St. John’s Wart yielded scarlet. It never failed to startle him when dye colors that didn’t resemble the source plant emerged as he boiled leaves and flowers.

Because of this attention to detail, everyone in the family teased Shem regularly. Mother often defended him by saying she’d noticed an artistic flair in him even as a child. Plus she was proud of the fact that he went to so much trouble making a romantic get-away for his future wife. Once, with a twinkle in her eye, she looked at Father and said she sometimes wished he was a bit more like his oldest son.

A knock at the door startled him out of his daydream. Ham poked his head in the door. “Hey!”

“You’re knocking?”

Redness spread up Ham’s neck.

“You blushed!” Shem accused. His tone was light, but heightened sadness flowed around his heart at the realization that Ham was changing. What would happen to the close friendship he had enjoyed with his brother?

“I did not blush!”

“Where is she?” Shem craned his neck to look past his brother. He couldn’t believe he was thinking of his relationship with Ham as close when his brother so often irritated him. “I thought I heard her with you.”

“She left to help Mother and Ulla.” Ham plopped down on the bed beside his brother and propped dirty feet in dirty sandals on the bed post.

Shem leveled him with a glare.

“Okay. Okay.” Sighing, Ham very deliberately lifted his feet from the post and lowered them over the side of the bed. “You’re worse than Mother, you know that?”

“Eudocea’s not gonna like it if you’re a slob.” Shem grinned to soften his words, but even he could detect an edge to his voice. Hopefully jealously wasn’t the cause of his stiff tone. He did not want to be jealous.

Lost in his own world, Ham didn’t seem to notice. “She’s finally started to warm up to me.”

Shem fought the temptation to make a joke about the goofy love-sick expression plastered on his brother’s face. “Good.”

Ham turned to look directly at his brother, brows lifted in a bewildered expression. “She was caught smack in the middle of one of the eruptions. She has no idea how she survived. They’d been walking for a few hours when . . . “

“They?”

“Yeah. She was with three others, the man Uncle sent to fetch her, along with two more slaves and . . . I don’t know . . . some camels. She was riding one of the camels. There was this loud blast and the next thing she knew everyone and everything with her was dead. Except for the camel she rode.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Shem tried to puzzle through Ham’s statement. 

Ham nodded. “She agrees with you. She can’t figure out if she fainted and was unconscious for awhile and the camel carried her or what. Praise God she’s safe now!”

That didn’t sound like Ham. “What happened to the camel?”

“Died later. Just . . . died.” Ham’s face was transformed with that silly look again. “Not a broken bone in her lovely body.”

Shem cleared his mind of the image. “A human being can’t survive something that would kill a camel.”

“She agrees.” Ham’s eyes darkened. “And you know her wounds should have killed her. She doesn’t know how she got them either. She told me that after the camel keeled over she walked for a day and a half with nothing visible but fallen trees and ash and ash-covered animal carcasses littering the landscape. She didn’t even have water.”

“How could she live without water? And breathing in all that ash?”

“How do you think?”

Understanding dawned on Shem. “You believe God miraculously spared her for you!”

“She thinks so, too.”

Despite himself, a thrill of hope shivered through Shem. If God could do that for Ham . . . He pulled himself up short mid-thought. No. He dare not think like that.

            “I’m positive he spared her.” The conviction in Ham’s voice nearly convinced Shem. “The ark saved her. Near the end she saw the ark in the distance and kept her eyes fixed on it while she stumbled through the ash. You’ll never guess where the ash stopped.”

            “No idea.” Shem suspected he might know.

            “Right at the base of our mountain.”

Shem felt no twinge of surprise. “Like someone drew it with a stick, right?” He’d guessed correctly.

“Yeah.”

 “What about the meadow?”

            “Ash a hand deep.”

            “Wow. The city?”

            “She was so focused on the ark she didn’t even glance that direction.”

            Shem stood and strolled over to adjust a wick in one of the pottery lamps in a niche on his wall. He still needed to bring in the last of the jars of olive oil for the lamps. He liked a lot of light and wanted plenty of fuel-oil. They’d need the light if they ran out of torches. “Think Uncle will come back?”

            “If he’s smart he will.”

            “How about a straight answer?” Shem caught Ham’s eyes and held them. Shem had a strong opinion on the matter and wanted to see if Ham agreed. “Do you think we’ll see our uncle again?”

            Ham stared with unfocused eyes. “I think he’d already be here if he was coming. He probably died in an eruption or in one of the quakes.”

“I agree. Ironic, isn’t it?” Shem could tell by Ham’s face that his brother would have trouble forgiving his uncle for the way he’d treated Eudocea. “He walked away from the only thing that could save him because he wanted to hold onto something he couldn’t save.”

“His wealth?”

            Shem nodded. “Pathetic, isn’t it? He disdains the important things in life.” He knew his brother would understand he included Eudocea in that statement.

            An appreciative expression passed over Ham’s face, then his forehead creased into worry. He chewed his bottom lip for several beats. “No more pathetic than you sitting here doing nothing.”

Even though Ham seemed more concerned than critical, anger rose in Shem. He preferred Jokester Ham. “What do you mean doing nothing? What else could I do?”

            “Go find a wife while there’s still time. She’s not going to walk onto the ark on her own.”

            “There’s no one out there. You know that. They’re all . . . ” Regretting his words, Shem left the thought hanging.  

Ham jumped to his feet and squared off with Shem, ready to fight. “My wife is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. She’s beautiful. She’s kind. She’s beginning to talk to me even though it is taking her a while to work up the courage.”

“I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

 “Paseah treated my lovely wife like a smear of manure on the bottom of his sandal.” Ham was too heated to even pause. “He thought he pulled a dirty trick on me, but the trick was on him. He lost someone of incredible worth. Sure she was guilty of evil behavior, but that’s past. When she began to understand the truth about her gods she begged the One True God to protect her.”

“How did she know about God?”

Tears shone in Ham’s eyes. “God came to her in a dream and told her he loved her.” Ham was calmer. “So she kept begging him to protect her even though for years after that she thought he hadn’t answered. But you know what she told me?”

Mute, Shem shook his head.

“She said when she saw the ark she had a feeling God was rescuing her and he had protected her all along. Even during times of horror, he shielded her spirit by keeping her from building up bitterness. Toward anyone. She doesn’t even hate Paseah!”

“Amazing.” Shem couldn’t deny the admiration developing in him for the woman and it must have played across his face.

“You finally understand.” Ham’s voice broke. “God has forgiven her and I forgave her when she asked, though there was nothing for me to forgive. God has made her pure and good and I love her.”

Shem hung his head. Could he accept someone who’d done the things Eudocea had, or would he always resent her?

Ham placed his hands on Shem’s shoulders, reversing roles as he urged his older brother toward a difficult decision. “You’re right, there’s no one out there who hasn’t been hurt and led astray by the culture. But Eudocea is a righteous woman because she’s forgiven and cleansed. You can find a righteous woman, too, if that’s what God wants.”

After a long silence, Shem walked to the opposite side of the room. “Thank you. Wise words.” The problem was that he didn’t know if he could or should be as forgiving as his brother.