Chapter 25

450 years later, Iri Sana — Noah’s 499th year

Farewell, big brother.” Jerah grinned as he locked his grip on Noah’s forearm and squeezed, his jaw tightening from the exertion.

“Peace to you, little brother.” Noah returned the favor, causing Jerah to wince.

Pivi folded her arms. “Still as competitive as ever.” She kissed Noah’s cheek. “Be sure to greet Emzara for us. We really missed her. What’s it been? Fourteen years?”

Noah nodded. “I think so. I know she’d love to see you again. As I mentioned before, you’re welcome to visit us any time.”

“Maybe we will. Now that Marneka is married we’ll have more time available.” She looked at Jerah and sighed. “Plus, I’d love to get to the sea again, if I can ever get my husband to leave the farm.” She leaned in close. “I think he’s just afraid of rumors about bandits on the river.”

Noah shrugged. “Well, you do need to be careful, but I’ve never heard of them attacking the larger boats — they’re well-guarded. If you visit, I’ll be sure to take you for a small venture on the sea in one of our new ships.”

“We’ll hold you to that.” Jerah helped Pivi into one of the seats on the wagon hitched to their lunker and then climbed into the spot next to her. “Farewell, Noah.”

Noah smiled. “May the Creator watch over you until we meet again.”

“Always great to see you,” Pivi said.

Noah slapped the beast’s rump and the animal lurched forward. He watched his brother as they pulled away on their short trip across a few fields to their own farm. Normally, they would walk, but this time a wagon had been needed to haul all the supplies for their daughter’s wedding. Shaking his head, Noah’s mind drifted back to the marriage ceremony the day before. Marneka, the 31st and youngest child of Jerah and Pivi, made a beautiful bride, but, though the celebration exhibited the traditions acknowledging the Creator, Noah had grieved the lack of sincerity. From his few brief discussions with Marneka’s new husband, he had gathered the man had very little interest in walking with the Most High.

The thought made him ache for his wife. His beautiful, godly Emzara, who followed the Creator in spite of all they had endured. He looked at the festive pattern woven into the edge of his fine celebration clothing. Thinking of his wife’s efforts in fashioning it made him miss her even more.

Emzara had decided to remain in Iri Geshem to manage the shipyard while he was away, but Noah knew another reason existed. Watching all her nephews and nieces get married broke her heart since she wanted nothing more than to have a family of her own. Four and a half centuries had passed since they lost their unborn child, and Emzara had never conceived again. Yet her faithfulness to her husband and their Creator never waned. God, would You watch over Emzara too? I know I’ve asked this countless times before, but please allow us to have a child. Have we not faithfully served You all these years?

Wisps of despair crept into his mind as he replayed the recent taunts from some of the younger citizens of Iri Geshem. What’s the point in serving the Creator if He never answers? Your God can’t even give you a child. Noah shook his head. “Don’t listen to their lies,” he said under his breath.

He turned and walked back to his parent’s house in the hues of early evening. So much had changed, but some things remained the same. His childhood home had been rebuilt and expanded three times to accommodate his many younger siblings. Yet, as he caught the tangy scent of the familiar springal trees, memories from his early years came rushing back. Even though the row of trees looked different, the thought of chasing Aterre through them remained etched in his mind.

Noah strolled along the stone front wall of the house and entered the large sitting room. On the bench along the far wall, his father sat reading a scroll.

“Son.” Nina pulled a slab of braided bread rounds from the oven and placed the hot flat stone on the large table in front of her. “Do you really need to leave so soon? I just baked these for you.”

Lamech rose and stood behind her. “You know she doesn’t like people leaving here empty handed.”

“Or empty bellied.” Noah patted his midsection. “Yes, I need to leave now. You know Valur’s boat is nearly always on time. Plus, I miss Emzara, and she’ll need a break from the shipyard.” Eager to hide his frustration with life and people and even with God, Noah stepped forward and embraced her, turning his head so she couldn’t read the despondency in his eyes. “I love you, Mother.”

After a long hug, she released him. “I love you too, Son.”

“It’s been great to see you again.” Noah smiled tiredly before turning to face his father. “Where’s Grandfather? I thought for sure he’d be in here once he smelled fresh bread.” Methuselah planned to stay one more evening before returning to his own place the next day.

Lamech rolled up the scroll and set it beside the bench. “Out back, waiting to send you off with his blessing, I suppose.” He stood and hugged Noah tightly. “God be with you on your journey.”

“Thanks, Father.” Noah held him tightly, treasuring the rare moment with his father. He let go and bent to retrieve his bundle of items.

“Here. I also gathered a few things from the feast for you to take with you.” Nina held out a bulging satchel, laden with remnants of her good cooking.

“Thank you, Mother. I’m sure this won’t go to waste.” Noah kissed her cheek before grabbing both bags in one hand and scooping up a couple of fresh bread rounds in the other. He headed for the doorway, nearly as anxious as the first time he had left home and longing to be alone with his thoughts.

Noah walked outside and headed toward the rear yard. He spotted a familiar figure seated near the edge of the house. “Grandfather, I’m headed to the Hiddekel now to catch the boat.”

Methuselah stood. “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

“I’d love that, but are you sure? The sun’s descent is nearly complete.”

“I may be old, but I can still handle a walk like this. It keeps me feeling young. Besides, I want to talk to you.”

Noah stretched a welcoming arm out wide and Methuselah attempted to pilfer one of the rolls. It tore apart and less than half remained in Noah’s grip. “Hey!”

Methuselah took a quick bite and the bread slurred his words. “I though’ you’re off’ring one.”

Noah chuckled and fell into step with his grandfather. “I suppose you can have it as payment for your company. I always enjoy our talks.”

A smile spread on Methuselah’s wrinkled face. Although his 870th birthday would come soon, he still displayed the energy and mobility of a man two centuries younger. “As do I.”

“What topic should we cover this time?” Noah asked.

Methuselah cocked his head to the side. “Do you remember before you left home all those years ago when I said that my father was the godliest man I’d ever known and that I saw some of that same spirit in you?”

Noah thought back almost half a millennium to his coming-of-age ceremony and how the events of that night led him straight to Emzara. “I remember.”

“As you’ve gotten older, that spirit seems to have grown. You’ve kept your commitment to honor the Creator.” Methuselah put a hand on Noah’s arm. “But there’s something different this trip. You seem distracted, and I’ve rarely seen you smile. What’s troubling you?”

Noah sighed and tipped his head back to look at the tinged hues of gold and pink beginning to weave their way across the sky. He debated playing it safe by just sharing his everyday frustrations over the growing corruption in the world. In his younger years, those who openly opposed the Creator remained largely confined to certain cities and regions. But as the centuries passed, the immorality of those places had spread like a wildfire and had infiltrated Noah’s beloved Iri Geshem long ago. Thankfully, a slight majority of the city’s aging council members continued to enforce policies consistent with the ways of the Most High. But it’s only a matter of time. Noah shook his head. He had shared those concerns with his grandfather before. His recent unease arose from deeper within his soul.

He turned to the wise man beside him. “Is it truly worth it? Following the Creator, I mean.”

Methuselah drew back and ran a hand through his thin gray hair. “Of course it is. Why would you ask that?”

“This world. Everything. I don’t know.” Exasperated, Noah let his arms drop. “I’m nearly 500 years old, and I’ve followed the Most High my entire life. But what good has it done?”

His grandfather tipped his head forward a little but remained quiet.

“Every year the evil grows in our lands. Nachash is worshiped throughout half the world, and I know many people in Iri Geshem follow that abomination now. And it’s hardly any better here. The Nodites’ vile influence is all over this region. You saw the marriage ceremony. Marneka and her new husband have very little interest in the Most High. And I don’t think it bothers Jerah and Pivi at all.” Noah clenched his fists and increased his pace. “If the Creator truly is the Most High, then why doesn’t He put a stop to all the wickedness?”

“You wish for Him to stop people from acting as they please?” Methuselah asked.

He knew his grandfather despised the vile behaviors all around them but had learned long ago to cut right to the middle of an issue instead of griping about peripheral matters. Noah huffed. “No. I wish He’d warn them so that they’d know He’s real and would follow Him.”

“My father used to warn them on behalf of the Creator.”

“Grandfather, please tell me the truth. Did he really walk with God?”

“Yes. He was a very godly man.”

“I believe that, but that’s not really what I meant.” Noah pulled his eyebrows together and turned his head away from Methuselah. “Did the Creator actually speak to him? I guess what I’m asking is” — he ran his hand through his hair — “can we truly know that the Most High exists or are we just supposed to hope that our beliefs are right?”

“I never heard the Creator speak to him, but I believe He did. That’s why he went to the city of Enoch — to warn the people.”

“Right. That was so long ago. Where’s the judgment that he talked about?”

“I don’t know. I’ve learned that the Most High does things when He chooses to, and not always when we want Him to. Maybe He’s waiting for someone else to warn the people.” A coy grin spread across Methuselah’s lips.

“Who? Me?” Noah stepped over a small depression in the trail.

With a gleam in his eye, Methuselah nodded. “I told you that you have some of my father’s spirit. Why don’t you do it?”

“I’ve stood up for the Creator for centuries, but lately, I’ve been so . . .” Noah shook his head and his jaw tightened. “Why should I? After all I’ve done for Him, what has He done for me? We still don’t have any children, and we never will. For 450 years Emzara and I have pleaded with Him for a child, and what response have we received? Nothing. Silence. Why should I continue doing what He wants?”

His grandfather hesitated before putting a hand on Noah’s arm. “He’s given you all that you have. Your life. Your breath. Your health. It’s all from Him. And He’s given you a wonderful wife. Is Emzara not enough of a gift for you?”

“Of course she is.” Noah blew out a long breath and the heat in his face slowly dissipated. “But my frustration is for her too. You can’t imagine how much she wants a child. She helped our friends, Tubal-Cain and Adira, raise all 17 of their children, but it’s not the same as having your own. The best time we ever spent together was when Jerah and Pivi allowed the twins to stay with us for about half a year. She talks about them so much. And that was over 50 years ago. For once, she had a small taste of what it’d be like to be a mother.”

“I’m sorry that you two haven’t been able to experience the joy of raising your own children. I truly am. I don’t pretend to know how difficult that is.” Methuselah pulled Noah to a halt so he could face him. “But let me ask you this. Did you know that many of Jerah’s children reject the Most High’s ways?”

“Yes, I’ve heard Father talk about that,” Noah said. “It saddens him greatly.”

“It saddens me, too, but not as much as it hurts Jerah and Pivi. They were devastated each time one of their precious children walked away.” The old man stared at Noah. “Maybe that’s why you remain childless.”

Noah straightened and rubbed his arms to keep warm. “What do you mean? You think my children would turn away from the Creator?”

Methuselah held up his hand and shook his head. “No, that’s not what I was trying to say. I meant that maybe the Most High is sparing you the pain that would come if your children did refuse to follow Him.”

“Do you really think that?”

Methuselah shrugged a shoulder and began walking again. “I’m just thinking out loud and trying to give you a different perspective on it. I believe the Creator will honor your faithfulness, but I certainly don’t know what He has planned for you.”

As Noah massaged his temples and sighed, a tiny spark of hope ignited within. “I wouldn’t expect you to know that. I appreciate another viewpoint, as well, but it doesn’t really change my situation. This wedding reopened the wound of our barrenness. Look at Marneka. She’s not even following the Creator, but she’ll probably have children within a short time.”

Methuselah remained silent, his eyes sympathetic.

“I know everything I have is from the Creator. And He’s blessed me greatly. I could probably sell the shipyard and never need to work another day in my life. Yet I have no one to leave any of it to.”

“I didn’t realize shipbuilding was so profitable.”

“We make the best boats. We get orders from all over world, even though people could order from local shipbuilders for less. But what good is that? I just wish I could do something more meaningful than making boats. To pour my life into raising a child of my own would be so satisfying.”

“It is. Well, at least it is until they complain to their grandfather about why the Creator isn’t doing what they want Him to do.” Methuselah placed a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “I’m joking, of course. You’re a blessing to me and to everyone else I know. Think of what you’ve accomplished. Your boats carry food and supplies to people everywhere. What about that long voyage you and your wife took to finish mapping out the earth? Was that not meaningful?”

Noah pursed his lips. Many years earlier, he and Emzara along with Tubal-Cain and Adira journeyed around their enormous land mass. It took much longer than he anticipated because he had misjudged how far they would need to sail. But it had been worth it. Even with all the wicked people, the world still held myriad wonders, and during the voyage he had often found himself marveling at the Creator’s handiwork. Emzara had discovered scores of spectacular animals and delighted in studying and drawing them. We wouldn’t have been able to do that if we were raising a family. He sighed. Even the memory of that fulfilling adventure held no comfort for him now.

Reaching the river’s edge, Methuselah stopped. “Let me ask you this. Where do you get this idea that the Creator owes you something?”

Noah stepped back, his eyes wide. “I . . .”

“Do you forget that we’re created from dust, just like the stuff that’s been at our feet this whole walk?” His grandfather’s voice was firm yet gentle. “Is not His forgiveness the greatest gift of all?”

Noah bowed his head, not ready to give up his anger, but understanding the wisdom in his grandfather’s words.

“Listen. I understand your frustration. But you need to think about whether you’re wholly worshiping the Creator, or if you’re worshiping the idea of having a family. We serve Him because of who He is, not because of what He gives.” Methuselah turned to face his grandson squarely, gripping both of Noah’s arms and waiting for him to look up before speaking again. “You don’t have to accept this right now, but you have the strength of character to stand for the Most High in these evil times. Don’t let your disappointments get in the way of what He may be calling you to do. Continue to serve Him in spite of how you feel and resolve to follow Him no matter what.”

Noah stood up tall. “I have a lot to think about.”

“Good. You’ll have plenty of time for it on your trip home.” He slapped Noah on the back and grinned knowingly.

One corner of Noah’s mouth turned upward.

“There it is.”

“What?” Noah crossed his arms. “I finally smiled?”

“Nope.” Methuselah pointed past him. “There’s your boat.”

“Grandfather, thank you. I needed this walk.”