Eve: A Novel (12 page)

Lilly glanced back at Simon and did a double take. He was
gone, evaporated or disappeared as completely as the mirror. Quickly she folded her gift inside her covers. The rush and flush of deception rose in her face. She hoped the sun would hide it.

“There you are!” exclaimed John. “I can tell by the pink on your cheeks that you have enjoyed your time up here. But I’ve come to collect you.” He looked around, curiosity on his face. “Did I hear you talking to someone?”

Already feeling trapped inside growing duplicity, she expanded the lie slightly.

“Perhaps you heard me talking to the Invisibles?” she offered, waving her hand at the emptiness around her, and he laughed.

It wasn’t an actual lie
, she justified it to herself,
only a suggestion
. If John chose to accept it, that was his problem.

“Perhaps. Are you ready to leave your perch? The Scholars may join us for supper, and you should rest a bit first.”

As they slowly descended, Lilly kept her hands folded on the mirror that lay hidden beneath. It felt ominous and intriguing, like a gift that lay unopened. It would have to wait.

“John, I have a favor to ask.”

“Of course,” he responded.

“I’ve been resting all afternoon. Do we have time, before the meal, to read me the remainder of Eden’s story?”

“I certainly do.” John was quiet for a moment. “Why the sudden interest?”

“I’ve been thinking that it might help me understand why I’m here and what I’m supposed to do. Up till now all the Adam and Eve stuff has been on the same shelf in my mind as fairy tales and
make-believe, so I would like to hear it again, from the Scriptures. I guess I want to be prepared.”

“Hmm.” Once he’d parked Lilly in the receiving room, John excused himself, returned quickly with the large book, pulled up a comfortable chair, and opened it once again at the back.

“Let’s see, where did we leave off?” He looked up at her and she nodded to start.

“This is the account of the heavens and the earth on the day . . . ,” he began. As he read he would occasionally look up. Lilly was always intent and focused, listening and absorbing. A few times during the reading she asked him to repeat a line or phrase but other than that asked for no additional explanations.

He concluded with, “So God drove the man out and at the east of the Garden of Eden, God stationed two Cherubim and the flaming sword, turning in every direction and keeping the way back to the Tree of Life.”

“Wow,” Lilly stated, heaviness in her voice. “I don’t think I ever heard the actual story before. It’s beautiful and incredibly sad.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked John, setting the book on the nearby table.

“Not now. I just want to let it sit for a while. Would you, please, take me to my room?”

He nodded, stood, and wheeled her out and down to her room. “I’ll come get you when the others arrive. It won’t be long.”

“One more question?” she asked.

“Of course.” He smiled. “It wouldn’t be normal without one final question.”

“Were you a Witness too?”

He looked surprised. “Lilly, I have no idea how you knew that.”

“Someone said it a long time ago, while I was still flat on my back. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“That’s all right. And, yes, it is true.”

“What did you witness? Beginnings?”

“New Beginnings, I suppose you could say. I witnessed Eternal Man come as the second Adam.”

“The
second
Adam?” she blurted, but then she held up her hand and shook her head. “Tell me later. Did you know what to do?”

“Do you know this makes five last questions so far?” He laughed, gently and easily, but then answered. “Yes, I knew I was a Witness, and that I would have to learn to trust. Everything else came as it came and I responded, some say not very well. But even after all these years I wouldn’t do it differently.”

“John, did you change the world?”

“I did, Lilly. I changed the world,” he stated, with a smile. “It’s what Witnesses do.” Then he quietly closed the door.

Unfolding her covers, she sat looking into the mirror, the surface the same swirling cloud of gray. The promise that lay on her lap was an enticing invitation to truth, but it seemed dangerous too. Did she even want to know the truth about who she was?

She rolled her chair over to a dresser and opened the top drawer, placing the mirror next to her other gifts: Gerald’s ring, Anita’s key, and John’s journal. Whatever truths her reflection held for her, they would have to wait a little longer.

•  •  •

A
S PROMISED,
J
OHN SOON
knocked and wheeled her down to the
waiting meal. The seasonings of grilled meats and fresh vegetables teased her nose, but on Lilly’s plate was a boring concoction of bland grains, herbs, and medicines. She didn’t question any of it, her mind caught in things that seemed much more relevant.

Lilly sensed the prickle of his presence before he stepped into the room. Simon entered dressed the same as in the afternoon, still wearing his brilliant red bow tie.

“I’ve seen a similar tie only one other time,” John stated. “Belonged to a character named the Caretaker.”

Lilly laughed. “You have a friend named the Caretaker?”

“I suppose that in a twisted sort of way his relationship to me would be that of a friend, but I confess”—he grinned—“he is one friend that I have been avoiding, for quite a long, long while.”

“A friend with a flair for fashion,” suggested Simon, and both the men laughed.

“I have never understood that accessory,” returned John. “Overstated. Not in your case, Simon. On you it seems fitting.”

Possibly because of her heightened senses, Lilly believed every conversation had a subtext, an underlying intent and meaning that no one was directly addressing. Trying to deduce the layers was tiring, and soon she gave up.

Over dinner Lilly would occasionally glance in Simon’s direction, but he never acknowledged her. He acted as if nothing had transpired between them. This made her doubt herself somehow. Had she imagined their chemistry?

As the meal ended, Lilly excused herself and John helped her to her room. A moment after he left, a night Nurse entered and
assisted her with nighttime routines. As requested, she was left in a sitting position. She could make adjustments when ready.

Moving the chair to the dresser, she opened the top drawer and touched each gift in turn, her hand pausing on what appeared to be empty space, where she had laid the hidden mirror. Finally she picked up her journal and pen and began again.

I am more confused than ever about pretty much everything. Simon came to see me, alone, up in the Castle Patio (my name for it), at the very top of the Refuge. We almost got caught by John. Simon makes me feel alive, but I also feel bad about keeping more secrets, especially from John. When I start to think about it, I mean really think about it, it feels all wrong . . . so I try not to think about it. Lame!

Anyway, Simon gave me a magical gift, a mirror that will always tell me the truth about who I really am. It has a secret too but I haven’t tried it yet. I’m scared and there really hasn’t been the opportunity. What else . . . John and Simon talked about a friend of John’s named the Caretaker, like I need more mystery people in my life. Actually, John seemed a little uneasy about the Caretaker, so “friend” might be overstated, to use a John word.

It feels like a big adventure is just beginning, but with Simon’s help, I think I can do whatever I’m supposed to. I’m glad that Anita and Gerald and John will be with me, and I hope Han-el is real. It’s all messed up, keeping secrets about what I saw, Eternal Man and Eve and Adam and Creation. I really miss Eve. Maybe she can give me some answers. Then, maybe I’m just crazy.

Lilly closed the clasp, her left thumbprint sealing it shut. Odd, it had not occurred to her before that the journal and mirror were activated in opposite ways. Her left thumb locked the journal’s secrets; her right unlocked the mirror’s.

A vague scent of incense and sage began to fill the room, as if a combination of herbs were smoldering close by. She dismissed the idea as exhaustion and placed the book and stylus into the drawer.

But her perceptions were changing; the room shifting. She felt giddy and unbalanced and then, as if strangely through the mists, she thought she heard the sound of Letty’s humming at a distance.

Lilly was about to close the dresser when it attacked. From somewhere in the dark recesses of the drawer emerged the snake, striking directly at her face. Instinctively she shrieked. Her arm rose in time to catch the first blow, the serpent’s fangs sinking deep into her arm above her wrist. She screamed again, flailing as the creature continued to slither out. It was massively long and began to wrap its coils around her, pulling her from the chair and onto the floor.

Rearing back, its hood fanned out, it poised again to strike when a brilliant, blinding light flashed through the room. The door burst open and shouts of voices followed. Lilly was paralyzed, unable to move or see, only her hearing unimpaired.

John was yelling directions and Lilly could make out other voices, including the Scholars and Letty.

“This is not a seizure.” Worry was heavy in John’s voice. “This is something else. Don’t move her until she has been examined by a Healer.”

She could sense him close as he whispered gently, “Lilly, can you hear me? Are you able to open your eyes?”

Frozen, she could not respond, could not feel his touch, but his presence filled her with relief.

“By the tears, I believe you can hear me, Lilly,” John reported, his voice husky with emotion. “We have you, you are safe, and there is nothing you need to do right now.”

“What happened?” Anita said from somewhere near.

He paused. “No one knows yet. Letty blasted through here like a whirlwind yelling something about the Refuge being compromised and then disappeared in a flash of light. We heard screaming and found Lilly lying on the floor frozen like a stone, but nothing else in the room seems disturbed.”

“We’re ready to move her to her bed,” an unfamiliar voice said. “We need to raise her core body temperature, quickly.”

Lilly felt nothing except a sense of being weightlessly euphoric. Whatever it was that owned her in this moment had some benefits. But slowly and unexpectedly, one feeling did return, as two holes of fire bored into her wrist where the serpent had buried its fangs.
Why haven’t they noticed?

“Simon, the top drawer of that dresser is open. Would you please tell me what’s in it?” Frustration was evident in John’s tone.

A moment later, Simon said, “There’s nothing in this drawer except for what looks like a personal journal. It appears to be locked.”

“That’s all?”

“Nothing else.”

Where were the other gifts? The ring, the key, and the mirror?
Lilly
could now hear the hammer of her heartbeat accelerating, the pulse extending from the bite and flowing into her body, drowning out the conversations. Panic replaced all sense of blissful floating. She tried to scream but couldn’t.

“She’s crashing,” someone yelled. “Letty?”

And then another flash of blinding light and all went dark.

L
illy,
still frozen and immobile as stone, slowly opened her eyes. She stood in a glade facing away from the undulating walls of Eden. Before her, Adam’s attention was on the serpent, but the snake was looking at Lilly as if not a heartbeat’s moment had passed. The burning pain in her wrist continued to pulse, but the weight of Eve’s hand on her arm seemed to lessen its intensity.

“We have to stop this,” Lilly whispered through gritted teeth. “Something terrible is going to happen.” The serpent’s tongue flickered out and tasted the air as if searching. Lilly stepped back and deeper into the assurance of Eve’s presence.

“No,” Eve responded firmly. “It is not time.”

The beast gave the young man its full attention once more.

“Since you are the son of God,” it spoke respectfully, lowering its head in homage, “I will humbly and forever serve you.”

Adam sat back on the ground, and with a rush of emotion Lilly could feel what he was experiencing. He was intrigued.

“How is it that you speak?” Adam asked, curious.

“All creation speaks,” it answered. “Perhaps as you mature, I may
impart such knowledge to you. Knowledge that will open up your eyes to see and ears to hear.”

“Have you not been inside Eden?” Adam gestured toward the pulsating wall of energy. “There is knowledge there. I have a Tree of Knowledge.”

“You have a Tree of Knowledge? That is good. With knowledge comes dominion,” answered the serpent. “Like you, I was created outside Eden’s wall—”

“Like me?” Adam laughed, and so too did Lilly, not understanding why. “I thought you didn’t know who I am, and yet you know I was birthed outside Eden’s boundary?”

“All creation was formed outside Eden’s walls. Your breath and life may come from God, and my wisdom from creation, but we both were made from the same dust. Then you were placed within the garden.”

“But not you. Is there death in you?” he asked the creature.

“There is no life or death in me, young Adam. I may be subtler and craftier than all other field beasts, but I too am a part of God’s very Good creation.”

“It lies,” growled Lilly.

“It does not,” whispered Eve. “Not until Adam lies.”

Lilly could feel and see that Adam was entranced. Here was a creature of the field with whom he could converse. He was both mystified and elated.

“Why have you never been through Eden’s gates?” he asked.

“Your
domain is Eden. My habitation is the rest of creation,” it stated.

Adam thought for a moment. “Adonai told me that I will expand Eden to include all creation.”

“That is why I work: to prepare a way and place for you and your dominion.”

Lilly knew that Adam thought this was fascinating and wonderful, to have an advocate already within creation.