From there the way led up onto the mountain again, along the treeless ridge it was lighter than down in the forest, and the going was easier.
It rained ceaselessly. But the weather had been so mild in recent weeks that she hardly noticed her wet clothes. Or perhaps she’d just got used to it.
She’d heard that Noah’s house was quite close to the glacier. She therefore trudged the entire length of the valley, until, near the glacier, she turned down into the forest, where she saw the lights from the buildings after just a few hundred yards.
She smiled as she drew close. It lay where the valley was narrowest and the mountains steepest — the sun would be visible only for a short period each day here. Nobody but Noah could have chosen this spot.
The holding was small — it wasn’t really a “holding” at all, with its two buildings, tiny garden, and small patch of field — and showed signs of having just been cleared. The house had recently been completed she noticed. It was well-built rather than large.
She didn’t like visiting people in the middle of the night, but she had no choice, and rapped loudly at the door three times.
To her surprise, it was opened almost immediately.
A woman of her own age stood staring at her. Shorter, heavier, darker.
“I’m looking for Noah,” she said. “I’m his sister, Anna.”
“Noah isn’t here,” the woman replied. “He’s out with his sons on a hunting trip.”
“Out hunting?” said Anna. “In this weather?”
“Yes,” she said. “But won’t you come in?”
She didn’t say no. Trying her best to rein in her inquisitiveness, she stepped into Noah’s living room.
Three more women were inside. They were about Rachel’s age, perhaps a few years older, and the first woman, whom Anna assumed to be Noah’s wife, introduced them.
So Noah had three sons, Anna thought. And these were his daughters-in-law.
She smiled inwardly. She couldn’t quite envisage Noah as the head of a family. But thirty years had passed, a lot had changed, he could no longer be the same sickly, tense young man he’d been when he left.
“When are they coming back?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” said Noah’s wife. “In a few days. . or a week maybe. .”
“The real reason I’ve come is to warn you. The sea is rising. It’s coming up the valley. And it’s coming up really fast. It’ll only be a matter of days before the entire valley is swamped. Everyone from the village left for the mountains today. And you must do the same. If you’ve nowhere to go, you can stay on our summer farm. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we’ll manage.”
“Thank you for that, but it won’t be necessary. We’re already on our way, as you can probably see.”
Noah’s wife waved her arm. Only then did Anna see all the signs of imminent departure in the room. Piles of clothes, piles of bedding and towels, blankets, eiderdowns, shoes, packs, boxes of provisions.
Anna nodded.
“Please give Noah my love,” said Anna.
“Do stay awhile,” said Noah’s wife. “Can we offer you some food? You must be hungry after your journey?”
“No thanks. I must get back as soon as possible. I only wanted to warn you.”
“Which way are you going?” asked one of the daughters-in-law.
“Up along the mountain,” said Anna. “And then?”
“Do you know the area?” Anna said, smiling.
She nodded.
“Noah has spoken about you all,” she said. “About Lamech and Milka and you and Barak. Once he pointed out your summer farm. Is that where you are now?”
“That’s right,” said Anna.
“Perhaps I should come with you?”
Anna smiled once more.
“You don’t need to.”
“It’s safer with two. Across that rock bridge up there, for example. It’s best to cross it with a rope.”
“I’ve always walked on my own,” said Anna, her voice a little sharper than she’d intended. “And anyway you’ve got your hands full here, as far as I can see.”
The eager daughter-in-law got up.
“I’m coming,” she said. “It’s no use protesting!”
Anna looked at Noah’s wife. She flung out her arms as if to say that she had no say in the matter.
After Anna had asked her name, which was Jiva, and the names of Noah’s sons, which were Shem, Ham, and Japheth, a silence fell between them. Without speaking they went through the forest over to the glacier, up the mountainside, along the ridge.
It would soon be morning. A faint light shimmered on the horizon in the east, where the sun would soon rise.
How she longed to see it!
But she wouldn’t today. The clouds lay as thick as they had over the past few months, with the exception of that one day that had turned out so catastrophically. And the rain fell as comfortlessly as ever.
“Where are you all from?” she asked suddenly.
Jiva didn’t seem to be taken aback by the unexpected question.
“We’re from Nod,” she answered.
Then there was silence once more.
Anna thought of her son-in-law. He didn’t say much, either. But his silence was of a different sort to Lamech’s, or Milka’s for that matter. Neither of them had chosen silence, it was a part of them, however differently it manifested itself in them. But Jerak had chosen it. He didn’t hold back because he had to, but because he wanted to. They had barely exchanged more than monosyllables, yet she felt she knew him.
Well. She didn’t, of course. But there was something about him she liked, and that made her happy for Rachel.
The two of them. The two of them. The two of them, something sang within her.
Suddenly she increased her speed, she’d begun to think of the baby that might be being born as she walked.
They kept up the pace until they commenced the descent toward the gorge. The fact that it was lighter now than it had been when she’d come up was not an undiluted blessing, because now she could actually see how far it was to the bottom beneath the bridge.
But the girl had brought a rope with her, Anna tied it around her waist and got across without difficulty. When Jiva had coiled the rope up and put it round her neck again, Anna began to make for the ridge where the path through the forest began.
“Wait,” said Jiva. “I’ve been that way. Noah said there was another way to the summer farm from here. Couldn’t we take it?”
Anna considered a moment. It was a detour, but not much out of their way. It would also give her the opportunity to look at the lake. The extent of its flooding. So why not?
“Let’s do that, then,” she said.
Jiva accompanied her right down to the summer farm. She clasped Anna’s hand, thanked her for her company, walked across the mountainside, and disappeared into the forest.
Everyone inside was asleep. Anna changed into dry clothes, hung her wet ones on the line at the back of the room, sat down on a chair, and waited for them to wake up.
That afternoon the sea reached the valley.
They stood at the top of the steep mountain face and watched it happen. When they’d got there, tipped off by Javan and the twins, who’d been down to the farm to fetch food, the water was still a little way down the neck of the valley. But it was rising fast. Yard by yard it worked its way upward. It was almost as if it were alive, thought Anna. As if it had a will of its own. It slipped in-between the trees, as if exploring, only to rise steadily once the ground was covered, until only the crowns of the trees showed above the gray surface. Then they, too, disappeared.