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-One

Four More Days

“Enoch walked with God after he fathered Methuselah 300 years and had other sons and daughters. Thus all the days of Enoch were 365 years. Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him.” Gen.5:22 - 24

With only four days left until the Flood, animals no longer filed onto the ark two by two – pairs streamed on in a near-solid mass of creature-flesh. Shem dared not take a step without keeping his eyes on the floor to avoid tripping over a buggy-eyed aye-aye or crushing a grasshopper underfoot. As he stowed small mammals in cages, his gaze continuously shifted from metal bars to floor planks and back again so he wouldn’t accidentally damage a hedgehog or lemming or even a pointy-nosed shrew by stepping or reaching wrong.

            Atarah had worked side by side with him ever since the night he found her in his bed. Though at first she possessed few skills and little idea how to do heavy work, she was a quick study who worked tirelessly and without complaint. Since the heaviest construction work had been done before they moved onto the ark, Father suggested couples work together while Mother took care of food and did final extra tasks like making a few last batches of soap outside the ark. Father roamed the corridors finishing up odds and ends and helping whoever needed an extra hand.

            With so much time alone, Shem and Atarah chatted non-stop. He explained the workings of the ark and concepts about God to her and she eagerly drank it all up.

Atarah shared the details of her past life with Shem. He felt an overwhelming sense of awe at the courage she revealed by standing against everyone and refusing to worship false gods. Her stories about the underground stunned him since he had no idea anything but a solid mountain supported the city. He fought a strong urge to go wallop Dagaar.

            Even while talking incessantly, they worked efficiently as a team. With so many animals drinking and bathing, the two took on the extra responsibility of hauling additional wagonloads of water onto the ark several times a day. No one but Japheth was willing to work with Buzz, so they used a tamer smaller camel. One time Ham filled in for Atarah for a couple of hours so she could dip tallow candles with the women. Shem missed her the entire time.

Atarah’s energy seemed boundless and she was proving invaluable. Not because of her willingness to work, but because of the way she made him feel. God had fulfilled his promise even though Shem doubted. 

Nevertheless, Shem still hadn’t kissed Atarah or declared his love. For two reasons. First, he wanted to wait until he had time to give her more attention. Second, he hoped a friendship could grow before the romance commenced. The latter was a ridiculous idea, of course, since every accidental brush of their fingers left him aquiver. He shook his head at his foolishness.  

“Hey!” She stood facing him, hands on her hips, head cocked, eyes dancing. “Am I supposed to address you as King Shem?”

“What?”

“You’re wearing a green crown.” She rose on tiptoe and removed two lime-colored moths from the top of his head in cupped hands. Edged in purple, each moth was larger than Shem’s hand with long lobes trailing like wide tails from each wing. Huge and beautiful. Yet distracted by her, he hadn’t even noticed the insects.

She held the moths to the top of a cage where they stepped from her hands. Leaning forward she fingered the feather-like appendages growing from the head of one. “What are those?”

“I don’t know what they are,” Shem laughed. “But they let you know he’s a male. Female moths don’t have them.”

“Not fair. That makes him better looking than her. Why are the males always better looking?” She pointed at cardinals flying past, pretending to pout. “Those females don’t hold a candle to the males. Don’t you think they’d like to be bright red, too?”

Shem grinned and placed two bunnies into a cage. “That whole ‘males are better-looking than females’ law doesn’t fit the two of us.” He averted his eyes, but not before catching her blush.

“We’ve spent enough time down here for now.” He reached through the bars to stroke the white and sepia spotted bunny and noticed two skunks strolling toward them.

“Don’t move,” he whispered. “Stinkers.”

Atarah froze and her eyes grew wide.

Shem waited until the skunks almost reached her before swooping forward and snatching them up by the tails.” Keeping them upside-down and vertical he walked past a long row of cages, casually opened the door of last one, shoved the skunks inside, slammed the door of the cage and hurried away.

Atarah released a breath. “You did that without getting sprayed! Or getting me sprayed.” She grinned. “I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” he said, but the open admiration sparkling from her eyes made him stand a little taller. “If you keep their tails in the air they can’t share that lovely perfume with you.”

Walking ahead of Atarah to clear the way to the family quarters for the mid-day meal, Shem battled the oncoming flow of animals picking their way down to the lowest level. When two badgers waddled past, he stopped and held out a restraining arm to keep Atarah from running into one. “Need to be careful of badgers.”

“Thanks. I need all the help I can get,” she said. “I don’t want to squash anyone.” She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, concentrating.

He chuckled at the ‘anyone’ comment. “I meant the badgers might chomp your ankle. They’re cantankerous. You’re doing fine. This isn’t easy.”

“You’re telling me,” She side-stepped seven geese marching in a stately line, and nearly bumped into a pair of zebras. “Forty-five thousand animals, you say?”

“More or less.”

“The ark won’t be loaded for months.” She did a quick-step over and around a couple of centipedes.

He had just opened his mouth to let her know all the animals would be aboard and locked up in four days because that’s when God told Father the Flood would start, when a monkey landed on her shoulder. She dissolved with smiles of pleasure. “Ooooh, what a sweetie!” she cooed. She cuddled the animal while it purred like a kitty cat snuggled in her arms. “He’s purring! I didn’t know monkeys purred.”

“Only that kind purr,” Shem responded. “Weird, isn’t it?” The adoring glow on her face wiped his brain clean and all he could think about was what a good mother she’d be. He tried to erase the goofy smile he could feel on his face, but the silly thing stuck fast. He forgot all about the four-day deadline.

Stew bubbled in a pot on the flat top of the metal dome over the fire pit in the family area. Shem’s mother bustled through the room and out the door with a wave telling Atarah and Shem she was on her way to help Father and everyone else had already eaten.

An image of Atarah’s own mother flashed through her mind and she couldn’t help comparing the two parents. How different their lives had been! Though Atarah dreaded the idea of separation from Shem for even the few days it would take to find Mother, Atarah looked forward to bringing her to a place where she could experience peace. Atarah fretted over whether to let Shem know she was leaving. If she told him he might try to talk her out of going. If she didn’t tell him he might be hurt. It was a dilemma.

Atarah dished up the stew for both of them and they sat at the table together. A little closer than necessary. He loved her. She could tell. Wasn’t even worried about it, though she would like him to speed things up a little.

“What in the world?” she asked slicing off a piece of purple bread.

“Purple bread.”

“I can see that.” She smiled at him. “I’ve just never tasted purple bread before.” She took a bite. “Nutty. What makes it purple?”

“Taro.”

“Never heard of Taro, but it’s nice in bread.” 

“You’ll sample all sorts of new breads here.” He took a bite of stew. “Mother’s specialty. She may put as many as fifteen different kinds of flour and a several spices in a single batch of bread. Her worst concoction included ground-up acorns. She boiled out the bitterness and then dried them before she ground them, but still . . .” He made a gagging sound.

 Atarah laughed.

“Yeah, you laugh now. Wait till the Flood starts and she has more time to experiment. We stored hundreds kinds of seeds and nuts she wants to grind them all into flour.” He rolled his eyes in mock dismay.

“Hundreds? I have a little trouble believing that. Name some.”

“Barley, rice, wheat, spelt, flax, coriander, wheat berry, chickpea, cornmeal, bulgar, Amaranth, Quinoa, kasha, rye berries, millet  . . .” He paused and sucked in a dramatically-loud breath.

“That’s not several hundred.”

“I know. I meant thousands, but I can guarantee you’ve never heard of them.”

“Oh yeah? I told you my father deals in exotic luxuries. Try to name a grain I haven’t heard of.”

“Who said anything about grain? Mother grinds any kind of seed or dried tuber into flour. Ever had bamboo seeds in bread?”

“Yes.”

He looked skeptical.

 “No. I really have.” She slugged his upper arm and reached for a peach. “I traveled with Father, remember?”

“Okay. Tell me if you’ve heard of Masa Harina, Teff, Baobab, Lotus, Breadfruit, Pigweed . . .” He continued to rattle off names, stopping only when she interrupted.

“Enough! Enough! No one cultivates those.”

“Who said anything about cultivation? I merely stated that Mother adds anything and everything grind-able to bread.” He popped a bit of kohlrabi into his mouth. “If it grows or has ever grown or is edible or used medicinally, we stored it on the ark.”

“Every seed on earth?”

 “Every seed from every corner of the earth.” He lifted his chin and smiled at her through shuttered lids. “We might have traveled even further than your father.”

            His flirty smile stopped her heart and she rose on wobbly legs. “We better get back to work.”

            He leaned back against the table, elbows propped behind him on the top surface, and stretched his legs into the room. “We also stored every tea imaginable. What’s your pleasure?”

            “I don’t like tea,” she teased. “Got any chicory?”

            “Chicory and chicory substitutes: Nutsedge, Dandelion, Juniper, Coffee. . . . Want me to go on?” He flashed a toothy smile, then sobered. “Father collected everything the One True God commanded and God will have nothing missing when he renews the earth.”

            “After the Flood.” She completed his thought as though she’d known him forever. The sudden world-shattering shift of the conversation from bread to the end of the world left her dizzy. Suddenly, disaster loomed imminent. She knew with certainty she would have to hurry to bring Mother here.

            “Want to know the purpose of that desk over there?” Shem asked.

            She nodded. He led her into the alcove holding the elaborate desk and carefully lifted a scroll out of the largest pot. This is the desk where Father will sit when he inscribes copies of this scroll onto papyrus during the Flood. Shem reverently unrolled a portion. Letters of gold flowed across a vellum surface dyed darker purple than the Taro bread.

“Amazing.” She carefully stroked the letters with her fingertips. “Vellum, right?”

            “Yes. The finest calfskin.”

            “What is it?” She almost thought she could feel holiness rising from the scroll. “A scroll, I know. But who wrote it?”

"It’s the Book of Enoch, written by my great, great grandfather, Enoch. He’s the only man in history who didn’t die. Because he was righteous, God took him up in a whirlwind when he was only three hundred sixty-five years old. This scroll tells the story of everything Enoch saw and did.”

            Such incredible information! It was almost more than Atarah could take in and Shem must have seen. “Do you read?” he asked.

            “Yes.” She saw a glint of pride spark on his face. He must have assumed she hadn’t learned to read because most women couldn’t. To Father’s credit, he encouraged learning in the women of his household. Shem seemed to like the fact that she possessed that skill.

“Good. You can read this after the animals are settled in.” Shem rolled up the scroll and eased it back into the pot. “Meanwhile, the sea lions on the bottom floor need us.”

“Yes, there’s lots to do.” Sadly, she could tell time was flying past and the Flood would start soon. She would have to leave him to work alone for a week or two. 

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.