Read Online Heavens Before by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow - Free Book Online
Authors: Kacy Barnett-Gramckow
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man. Thinking of Noakh, Naomi sighed. She felt truly blessed—certainly far more than she deserved.
As she walked, Naomi felt one of the coils of dried vines being tugged from her left arm. Shem pulled it away, adding it to his own burden, then moved ahead of her. He was hurrying her along. He had been hurrying her since prayers at dawn.
“Slow down. I shouldn’t have to run to keep up with you. Why are you so eager to see some woman you’ve never spoken to before?”
“We’ve spoken, I’ma.” He turned, walking backwards. “We don’t need speech.”
“When you’ve married her, you’ll hear everything then,” Naomi warned.
He smiled at her in response, his tender, heart-clutching smile.
Naomi almost faltered, thinking, If this young girl does not love him, then she is incapable of love! But how can I let him marry? He’s still too young . She glared at her son. “Turn around. Watch where you’re going!”
Obedient as always, he turned, leading her down through the trees lining the riverbank.
Naomi made mental notes of various flowers, vines, fruits, and types of bark. She didn’t have enough of the tightly woven baskets that were best for storing grain. Nor did she have enough split-wood baskets to hold the various hard-shelled nuts that her husband and sons loved. She needed more time. No, she needed more help.
When my sons marry , Naomi thought, then I will have women to keep me company. And grandchildren …
“She’s there,” Shem announced, breaking into Naomi’s thoughts, making her look across the river.
She —the cause of his joy—sat on the opposite river-bank, her right profile toward them, slender and vulnerable against the darkness of her long hair. Naomi raised her full, dark eyebrows, shocked. What is my son thinking? She’s a mere child, and much too thin. But she is lovely. And at least her hands aren’t idle .
The young woman was working on what appeared to be a long, pale, intricate piece of netting. When she sensed their approach, she turned slightly, anxiously. The instant she saw Naomi, she struggled to her feet, facing them fully, revealing the ghastly violet-blue contours of her swollen left jaw and cheek. As Naomi stared in dismay, Shem threw his bundles of leaves and coiled vines onto the riverbank.
“What’s happened to her?” he cried, turning to Naomias if she could answer his question. She had never seen her son so angry; his face darkened and his eyes glittered with fury. He strode down to the water, screaming his rage across the river, not at his beloved, but at her abuser. “Yerakh!”
Immediately the girl backed away, clutching her meshwork, covering the pale sea carving slung about her neck. Her eyes were huge, terrified.
Setting down her basket and coiled vines, Naomi hurried to Shem, touching his arm, trying to calm him. “No, Shem, hush. If you scream again she’ll run away—if she can run. Oh, look at her, the poor child!”
Moving away from Naomi, Shem angrily yelled to the young woman above the rushing current. “Did Yerakh do this to you?”
She nodded, obviously still frightened.
Once again, Naomi reached out to her son. “You must calm yourself.”
“But look what he’s done to her! She didn’t have those bruises yesterday.”
With an effort, Naomi kept her voice low. “And you’ve made her feel worse, I’m sure. No doubt she’s heard enough screaming from her family; she shouldn’t hear it from you. Look at her, poor child. She has to sit down.” To convey her sympathy and concern, Naomi motioned to the opposite riverbank, urging the young woman to be seated.
She knelt slowly, stiffly, holding her meshwork.
Shem knelt also, rubbing one hand over his face. He began to talk, obviously thinking aloud. “How can we get her over here, away from him? If we simply take her into our lodge, that Yerakh would probably come after her. And once he catches her, he might kill her.”
Naomi sank down beside her son, adding her
As she walked, Naomi felt one of the coils of dried vines being tugged from her left arm. Shem pulled it away, adding it to his own burden, then moved ahead of her. He was hurrying her along. He had been hurrying her since prayers at dawn.
“Slow down. I shouldn’t have to run to keep up with you. Why are you so eager to see some woman you’ve never spoken to before?”
“We’ve spoken, I’ma.” He turned, walking backwards. “We don’t need speech.”
“When you’ve married her, you’ll hear everything then,” Naomi warned.
He smiled at her in response, his tender, heart-clutching smile.
Naomi almost faltered, thinking, If this young girl does not love him, then she is incapable of love! But how can I let him marry? He’s still too young . She glared at her son. “Turn around. Watch where you’re going!”
Obedient as always, he turned, leading her down through the trees lining the riverbank.
Naomi made mental notes of various flowers, vines, fruits, and types of bark. She didn’t have enough of the tightly woven baskets that were best for storing grain. Nor did she have enough split-wood baskets to hold the various hard-shelled nuts that her husband and sons loved. She needed more time. No, she needed more help.
When my sons marry , Naomi thought, then I will have women to keep me company. And grandchildren …
“She’s there,” Shem announced, breaking into Naomi’s thoughts, making her look across the river.
She —the cause of his joy—sat on the opposite river-bank, her right profile toward them, slender and vulnerable against the darkness of her long hair. Naomi raised her full, dark eyebrows, shocked. What is my son thinking? She’s a mere child, and much too thin. But she is lovely. And at least her hands aren’t idle .
The young woman was working on what appeared to be a long, pale, intricate piece of netting. When she sensed their approach, she turned slightly, anxiously. The instant she saw Naomi, she struggled to her feet, facing them fully, revealing the ghastly violet-blue contours of her swollen left jaw and cheek. As Naomi stared in dismay, Shem threw his bundles of leaves and coiled vines onto the riverbank.
“What’s happened to her?” he cried, turning to Naomias if she could answer his question. She had never seen her son so angry; his face darkened and his eyes glittered with fury. He strode down to the water, screaming his rage across the river, not at his beloved, but at her abuser. “Yerakh!”
Immediately the girl backed away, clutching her meshwork, covering the pale sea carving slung about her neck. Her eyes were huge, terrified.
Setting down her basket and coiled vines, Naomi hurried to Shem, touching his arm, trying to calm him. “No, Shem, hush. If you scream again she’ll run away—if she can run. Oh, look at her, the poor child!”
Moving away from Naomi, Shem angrily yelled to the young woman above the rushing current. “Did Yerakh do this to you?”
She nodded, obviously still frightened.
Once again, Naomi reached out to her son. “You must calm yourself.”
“But look what he’s done to her! She didn’t have those bruises yesterday.”
With an effort, Naomi kept her voice low. “And you’ve made her feel worse, I’m sure. No doubt she’s heard enough screaming from her family; she shouldn’t hear it from you. Look at her, poor child. She has to sit down.” To convey her sympathy and concern, Naomi motioned to the opposite riverbank, urging the young woman to be seated.
She knelt slowly, stiffly, holding her meshwork.
Shem knelt also, rubbing one hand over his face. He began to talk, obviously thinking aloud. “How can we get her over here, away from him? If we simply take her into our lodge, that Yerakh would probably come after her. And once he catches her, he might kill her.”
Naomi sank down beside her son, adding her
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