Ark(42)

“She’s not . . . she’s not what you think. Please. Don’t be like that.” Japheth turned and headed back to the house, too angry to be rational and not willing to compromise the fragile peace his father had extended.

Noah remained behind for a moment and then caught up. “Then what is she like? In my experience, all Nephilim are the same.”

“In your experience?” Japheth said, his voice mocking. “You haven’t left this farm since before I was born.”

Noah chuckled and shook his head. “You know nothing. I was already old when you were born, Japheth. I didn’t even marry your mother until I was well into my middle years. You don’t—and couldn’t—know anything about my life before you were born, as I do not often speak of it. I was not always a reclusive farmer, that much I can say.” He sighed. “I thought I loved a woman, once, in my youth. It was not meant to be, and though it was painful at the time when things ended, your mother is . . . she is a hundred, a thousand times that young woman. My love for your mother totally eclipses the fleeting, immature feelings I harbored for that other girl. I know . . . I know in the moment it is often difficult to see that, but—”

“I’m not a child, Father,” Japheth snapped. “This isn’t some infatuation of a lovesick boy.”

Noah blew out an exasperated breath. “I know, Japheth. I know. I don’t mean to—mock or belittle, or insult you—”

Japheth’s face twisted. “Yet you call her a whore.”

Noah tugged on his beard. “Perhaps that was . . . unkind. But you know my feelings regarding the Nephilim.”

“I do, and having lived among them I can even sympathize. But Father, Aresia had nothing to do with any of that. She is a good woman, and I love her.”

Noah shook his head. “It isn’t meant to be, son. It cannot work. She is not for you, nor you for her.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Japheth asked.

“What about Neses?” Noah responded with a question of his own.

Japheth pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning in frustration. “What about her? Nothing has changed. I will not marry her. I don’t love her—I love Aresia.”

“There is only so much room on the ark, Japheth. Elohim has made his will clear, and I cannot gainsay his plan.”

“What are you talking about? What does the ark have to do with whom I love?”

“It has everything to do with it, son, although I do not expect you to understand. Not yet. You will, in time.”

Japheth felt his anger rising. “Enough with the riddles, Father! Speak plainly.”

Noah only shook his head. “Not yet. You are not ready to hear it, and you will not accept it even if I did speak, as you put it, plainly.” Noah put his hand on Japheth’s shoulder. “I will give you the only thing I have to give you: the gift of time. The waters will not come for some time yet, so I will suffer her presence for now, and this I only offer out of love for you.”

“You will suffer her presence?” Japheth repeated Noah’s words, his voice bitter. “You will suffer her presence. How compassionate of you.”

Noah clapped Japheth on the back, his expression solemn. “I can only hope you will come to understand, in time.” He turned and strode away, halting after a few steps and resting his palm on the side of the ark. “I am not a foolish man, Japheth. I would not have built this vessel did I not have complete faith that He would do as He said. His will shall be carried out whether you believe or not, Japheth. You are either with us, or you are not. I cannot force you to believe.”

Japheth had a thousand questions, none of which had any answers. Noah strode away, then, back to where Shem and Ham were busy at work sanding boards and cutting wood into varying lengths. He sat beside the ark for a while, watching his father and brothers laboring to build a giant boat in the middle of farmland, far from any river or sea, all for no reason that Japheth could discern, except for his father’s word that Elohim had spoken to him.

Japheth wrestled with his father’s words, and with what they meant. What was he supposed to do about Aresia, about Neses, and about Noah’s veiled insinuations?



Later that afternoon, Japheth returned to the house.

As he entered, he saw Aresia waiting for him, wrapped in fresh bandages and clothed in a clean robe. Her face was hard and angry, her eyes flashing. He halted warily at her visible anger.

“Help me outside, Japheth,” she ordered, her voice snapping with the authority of one used to issuing commands and having them obeyed.

Japheth closed the space between them, lifted her as gently as he could to her feet and wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her weight, and helped her limp gingerly away from the house.

When they were far enough way to have privacy, she slowly and carefully lowered herself onto a pile of wood and turned to face Japheth. “Why have you never told me you are married?”

Japheth flopped to the ground next to her, cursing. “It’s not like you think,” he told her. “We’re not married. They betrothed me to her when we were children, and I refused to marry her. That’s part of the reason I left home.”

Aresia seemed somewhat pacified at that, but still she questioned him. “Why did you not marry her? She seems a kind and lovely girl.”