All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923) (17 page)

When Kole was silent, Adam looked up at his face. Tears were running down his cheeks and into his beard. “My son, I am sorry. I was afraid this would be a difficult talk to have and dreaded ever seeing the day come when we would have to. But I would rather have you home than be spared from giving this report.”

“Father,” Kole spoke between his sobs, “I am not angry with you or Mother. This is old news to you, but it brings fresh pain to me. I am sorry to ruin the gathering of welcome that you have prepared for me, but I must be alone now for a while. Please tell Mother…”

Adam put his hand on his son’s knee. “I understand, my son.”

The drums and the dancers were in full swing and the voices of many people laughing and talking filled the air. But as Kole rose to leave, the music tapered off, and a hush fell over those assembled. The sound, or lack of it, seemed to Kole to be the saddest silence he had ever heard. Kole did not look back to see if his father had quieted them or if they had just intuited the moment. He walked out into the woods and knelt down in prayer to pour out his grief…

Lester turned to the next page in the notebook and noticed that there were two or three pages missing. They had been torn out hurriedly, and there was about half an inch left of each page still sewn to the margins. Lester inspected them and could discern nothing about who had torn them or why. He supposed it had to have been Al, since no one else had ever seen the journals. Or had they? If not Al, then who? Lester just hoped Al didn’t think he had done it. Tomorrow he’d bring it up to Al. He jotted himself a mental post-it note and stuck it on the refrigerator of his mind. Right now he was anxious to read. No one sits with their back to the ocean.

“…And Father,” Kole laughed, “it just occurred to me that you have answered my prayer, for I began by saying that I needed to get these thoughts of anger out of my mind, and now that it is nearing the midpoint of the night, and I have been pouring all my grief and disappointment out for your hearing, I realize that I have become quite distracted from my original emotion. You do answer, don’t you? And with such a sense of humor,” Kole said, smiling despite himself.

“Here I was so angry, rambling about how unfair it was that because I was chosen to do your will, I had to lose the woman that I love to another. Inside of myself I felt an aching, a hollow inside a void of emptiness nestled within a pit of nothing. Then a black seed of hatred took root within the soil of my being and began growing inside me. I was resentful of Cain knowingly taking Kesitah as wife despite her wishes and my prior right as eldest son. I felt as if Cain had stolen my birthright. I tremble to recall the words I spoke in my mind, kneeling as I am in your presence.

“Again, my Lord, I ask you if you will please accept my apology and not turn your face from me. I was wrong to think those things. I was wrong to be so angered at those in my family who feared my response to this bitter food or anguished over my reaction to this troublesome news. They loved me and were only following my father’s human wisdom, letting him break this sorrowful lot gently to me, in a manner best dressed for my acceptance of it. But I failed, Father. I turned to you and cursed my brother, my family, my fate, and your plan. I allowed weakness to infest my character, and it began to bloom doom and consume my happiness.

“How thankful I am that you are a merciful God, blessing me with distraction, allowing my thoughts to drift from this river of pain onto the shores of your reassurance. How blind I have been to your guiding care. To think I had temporarily forgotten how you work all things out for good; the death of Abel, the loss of Kesitah, the awakening of my awareness. I commit myself into your power, Lord. Please, do not forsake me. Use me as a tool, press me lovingly into the palm of your hand, and show me your straight and narrow path.

“I repent of the nature of my self and ask in weakness that you give to me a portion of the same spirit that upholds your way, the way of righteousness. Call me back to you, Father, I beg you, and continue to direct me all the days of my life. I will not allow myself to slip into the folds of darkness anew. I will pledge myself to growing in grace and mercy as you demonstrate now to me by your willing forgiveness of my error.

“I have no rights of my own, Father. All that is belongs to you, and I am the least of your possessions. Your kindness to me in this regard is a gift I have not earned. I bless you for the opportunity to be redeemed and pray to you upon the name of the Creator of the garden. You are the source of my remorse, Father, and to these words that could only have been given me by you, I agree.”

Kole opened his eyes. He could see the shapes of the trees and stones around him. After half a night of kneeling alone in the darkness with his eyes tightly shut, his vision was well adapted to the night. The stars twinkled in the pitch pit of heaven, and the sound of the stream flowing finally reached his ears. He felt as if he were an empty animal skin waiting for the Lord to fill him with new waters—better waters, living waters.

He pulled his legs beneath him and crossed his feet, concentrating on his own breathing: one in, out; one in, out; a shallow breath, a deep breath. He let no thoughts intrude his relaxation as he felt his tensed muscles uncoil. His thoughts emptied of petty human emotion and awaited the embrace of his Creator. He felt the wisdom of God fill him, welcoming him home again. He understood in that moment his future. Not that he was shown a vision of what was to come, but instead felt with a keen sense of awareness of what needed to happen next in the cycle of his life. He rose and walked back to his father’s camp.

The fires had burned low, and the bodies of sleeping people were curled upon the ground. He stepped around them and found a clear space to lie down. He stared up at the night sky and wondered how events might soon unfold. A gentle breeze stirred, and he was asleep.

The next morning the sound of voices woke him. Opening his eyes he saw a few men and women up, stirring the hot coals into new flames to warm up the previous night’s leftovers for a breakfast. The sun had not fully risen, and the gray sky pealed back and paled to pink on the eastern horizon. Kole felt refreshed and rose with no stiffness, heading to the stream to wash off his face. Eyes closed, scrubbing wakefulness back into his face, he heard his father’s voice.

“Gather your things, everyone. We will break for home within the hour.”

Kole shook the water out of his hair and beard and wiped his eyes dry on the sleeve of his robe. He followed the sound of Adam’s voice to a small gathering of people beneath a single willow tree. The women were gathering up belongings and wrapping them in bundles that they secured to baskets on their backs. The men were playing a game that Kole had made up with his brothers when they were young: fist, fingers, flathand. Smiling, he walked over to them.

“Good morning, Father. Good morning, everyone.”

The men stopped playing and turned to look at him, nodding greetings. The women only glanced his way with smiles and kept packing things up.

“Kole, I think it’s time you and I had another talk,” said Adam. “Much has changed since you’ve been away.”

“I see the games that brothers play haven’t changed much though, Father,” said Kole with a twinkle in his eye.

A man stepped toward him and raised his hand, palm out to Kole. “I am Jorel,” he said. “I did not get a chance to speak with you last night. I am honored to meet you now, Kole, first son.”

“I am honored to meet you as well, Jorel,” said Kole, placing his palm against Jorel’s.

“I am the seventh son of our father,” Jorel continued.

“And he fancies himself the fist, fingers, flathead champion,” said another man who Kole thought he remembered from the introductions the night before as being named Aben.

“That’s flathand, Aben,” Jorel corrected, “and at least I will be the one driving a cart home while you, my friend, will be paddling empty boats upstream,” laughed Jorel.

Aben grimaced.

“Carts? Boats? What are these things you speak of?” asked Kole.

A couple of the women giggled.

“These are things I wish to discuss with you, Kole,” answered Adam. “We have made many improvements that might need explaining.”

“But first a game, Great Father,” said Jorel, using his children’s name for Adam, “if Kole is up for a challenge.”

“Great-father?” asked Kole.

“We have added words to the language as well, my son. If you must, Jorel, but I warn you, you’re risking your title.”

Jorel laughed. “I think the risk will be minimal. What say you, eldest?”

“Sure, why not,” answered Kole.

The women looked up curiously, and the men gathered around. It seemed there were more people standing under the tree than there had been moments before, and it appeared many were anxious to see the outcome of this competition.

“Now, I’m sure you remember the rules, Kole, but let me refresh your memory, old-timer,” said Jorel, flashing all of his white teeth. “Fist breaks fingers, fingers embrace flathand, and flathand covers fist. Best out of three wins. Got it?”

“Got it,” said Kole, but his mind was already racing ahead. Jorel’s confidence and sure smile reminded him a lot of Cain when they were boys. Cain had acted much the same when he was sure he was going to win a game and thus get out of some chore that Kole would, as loser of the round, have to do for him.

“Care to name any stakes before we begin,” asked the over-eager Jorel.

“Well, it would appear that I have nothing but my name and a few bedtime stories to offer,” replied Kole, getting a few laughs. “I think bragging rights should be reward enough.”

“Agreed,” said Jorel.

Kole looked around and saw that nearly the entire camp had gathered around. Many of the faces clearly revealed that they had lost a game or two to Jorel and were eager to see him challenged. Kole first assumed that Jorel was a fist thrower but guessed that he’d be crafty and move one position forward to fingers, thinking that Kole might guess his inclination and throw flathand. Kole decided that a tie on the first throw would give him the advantage of knowing his opponent without embarrassing him in three straight wins, so he decided to jump two moves forward instead of one.