Karl Knausgaard - A Time for Everything

She changed and went down to make some food and see to Lamech. She had decided to go over and speak to Noah that evening, but had reasoned that she had to do so without Rachel’s knowing. Rachel depended on her, and would be frightened if she weren’t there, so near her time.

What if the confinement began tonight?

Were Javan and Jerak to deliver the baby?

No, she couldn’t go.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Javan, suddenly close by her.

“Come outside for a moment,” she said. “I’ll tell you.”

The rain was too heavy for them to stand about, so they went into the lean-to at the side, where Anna explained her dilemma to him.

“Couldn’t you wait until the baby’s born before going over?” he said.

“That might be another week,” she said. “Possibly two.”

“And you have to go down to your brother?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think the baby will be born tonight?”

“No.”

Javan opened his arms.

“Well then, just go,” he said. “Leave when we’re asleep, come back before we’re awake.”

“D’you think so?” she said.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” she said.

Somewhere in the distance they heard a cow bellow. Then another.

“I’ll take Omak and Ophir down to the valley tomorrow,” said Javan. “We must bring what we can up here before it’s too late.”

She nodded, she’d thought about that too, and they went in to the others. After they’d eaten they went to bed. Anna waited for half an hour, then crept down the ladder, put some food and extra clothing into a pack, fetched a stick from the lean-to and set out into the thick, rain-filled darkness.

She made her way across the whole of the sloping mountainside, which was usually covered with grass, but now for the most part consisted of mud, into the forest, along the old animal track, where she could hardly see the tip of her nose in front of her, and practically had to feel her way with the stick, out onto the edge of the precipice above the gorge, up to the place where the mountain formed a bridge over the rapids.

She’d never crossed here before. Whenever she’d had to get to the other side, she’d always preferred to ford the river up by the lake. But now the lake would be much bigger, and the current far too strong to cross there . She might be able to go around the lake, but that would take all night, so this was the only option.

When she stopped in front of the bridge, she saw that the water level was so high that the river was flowing over that as well. Not much, and not over all of it.

She walked out a few tentative paces. Up here the water reached roughly to her ankles. It tugged at them, but not so much that she wasn’t able to stand comfortably. She took another pace, stopped, took another, stopped. The roar of the water in the gorge was deafening. The sky was black, the forest before and behind her was black. All that was visible was the white eddies of scum.

She mustn’t hesitate, or she might find herself stuck there, paralyzed with fear, as she had been as a child when climbing in the mountains, so she quickly took another step, and another after that, until she could lean against the rock face on the other side and gasp with relief.

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.