Eve: A Novel (16 page)

“Sheer rubbish, my dear girl,” stated Gerald, almost sternly. “Mythology at its most insidious. Utter nonsense. Where did you ever hear of Lilith?”

“I’m not sure?” Lilly replied. “Maybe in a dream?”

“Maybe in a nightmare!” Gerald was as animated as Lilly had ever seen him. “Or a snakebite.”

“Gerald, calm yourself.” Anita reached and patted his arm. “I think you may be upsetting the poor girl. Obviously, she doesn’t know who Lilith is.”

“My apologies, dear girl,” Gerald sputtered. “No intentions whatsoever to upset you or fault you for bringing that . . . thing . . . up in conversation. Please forgive me for my fervor.”

“Of course, Gerald,” Lilly stated. “What is it about this Lilith that has you so riled up?”

“There is a myth,”
resumed Gerald, calming himself but focused, “about Lilith. According to the tale, which I take no stock in whatsoever, she was the first wife of Adam.”

“Adam had more than one wife?” Now Lilly was surprised.

“No, of course not,” emphasized Gerald. “It is a myth. Eve was Adam’s only wife.”

“So in this story, was Lilith good?”

“In most of the versions, she was anything but good. An aberration of nature, part serpent and part woman, a terrifying moon goddess that haunted the night.” Gerald had his hands raised like claws to emphasize his point.

Again, Lilly saw the hint of warning in Simon’s look along with another slight shake of his head. She abruptly changed the subject.

“So what about the part where Adam named the animals? Why was that important?”

Simon was the first to respond. “Excellent question. Naming is of great significance. God brought the beasts of sky and field to Adam to ascertain their essential nature. In naming them, Adam established his dominion.”

“True,” inserted Gerald, “but Adam was in a desperate search for a counterpart, an ‘other’ to relate to him face-to-face. Someone or something to assure him that he was not alone—though he never was.”

“What Gerald is trying to say, Lilly,” Anita said, “is that if one is seeking a face-to-face relationship, naming is a futile exercise.
Dominion cannot carry you there. There was no counterpart in all creation for Adam, and God patiently let him prove it. His counterpart was—”

“Within him!” Lilly connected the dots. “Eve is his counterpart and she has been inside him since Creation.”

“Exactly!” declared Anita. “And Adam is inside God; God Who has never been alone. Face-to-face-to-face-to-face . . .” And she swirled her butter knife in circles in the air to emphasize her point.

“Naming is still rightful dominion,” stated Simon, and from there the conversation turned scholarly and Lilly disengaged, again wondering how she had gotten from her bedroom to breakfast and bewildered by the hornet’s nest she had stirred up with the mention of Lilith.

John, who had been serving and clearing the table, announced that the Vault was waiting, if they were ready. Although Lilly’s temperature was still elevated, which continued to concern John, she played it off as nothing. The reality was that every time she moved her arm, jolts of pain like tiny electric shocks exploded in her wrist and elbow. She could tell the venom was spreading toward her shoulder. But it seemed easier to downplay her pain than take the chance that the opportunity to do her part, whatever that might be, would again be postponed.

Having convinced them all was well, Lilly soon faced the goal of their adventures, which waited only feet away. The entry door was substantial and looked impenetrable, without a visible knob. Symbols were carved deeply into its surface, as if etched by ancient artists, each precise and detailed.

“What do you see, Lilly?”
asked John, wheeling her almost close enough to touch. “Can you describe it to us?”

It was a strange request, but when Lilly looked at the others, they too were waiting expectantly.

“Well, look for yourself.” She traced it with her hands in the air. “Here is a perfect circle stretching from side to side, so deep that it looks as if what’s inside is hung suspended rather than an actual part of the door. Even this close I can’t tell it’s not. The circle is divided from side to side and top to bottom into four sections by these wooden beams. Each of the four spaces holds an intricate carving, some kind of symbol or image.” Lilly recognized two of them instantly but started with the others.

“This one in the bottom left quarter is a pyramid mountain with the staring eye.”

“You are able to see the One Mountain?” Anita sounded astonished.

“Uh, yeah.” Lilly hesitated as if she had done something wrong. “I mean, look, it’s right here.”

“No, dear girl, you don’t understand. None of us see the same thing when we look at this wood. You are the only one who sees what you do.”

“Is that bad?” she asked, confused. “To see this mountain?”

“It is neither bad nor good,” said Gerald. “It is what it is, but that you can see the One Mountain is so unlikely as to stagger the mind. What else?”

Lilly looked more closely. How could they not see the mountain? She reached out to touch the eye, but Anita grabbed her hand and yanked it away.

“Don’t!”
she commanded, and Lilly turned to her, perturbed.

“You’re freaking me out! What’s going on? I was just checking to see if it was real or my imagination,” she fumed.

“If you had touched it,” Anita stated firmly, slowly releasing Lilly’s hand, “it would have pulled you in. Where it might take you none of us knows, nor would we know how to get you back.”

“Really?” She examined it more closely, leaning in for a better look. “It just looks like a door with fancy artwork.”

“It is a portal,” offered John. “While each of the quadrants is unique to the person looking, we all see the circle and the cross. If you touch any of the four spaces, each will take you to a different destination.”

“Wow, so you can’t see this?”

Their silence was her answer.

“So in the lower right, down here,” continued Lilly, making sure her fingers didn’t get too close to the carved surface, “there is a figure eight on its side . . .”

“Infinity,” blurted Gerald, then he grinned apologetically. “It is the symbol for infinity, in case you didn’t know.”

Something about the symbol drew Lilly’s attention. “At the center where the two ovals of infinity meet is a snake’s head, and it’s swallowing its own tail . . . forever?” Involuntarily, she shuddered.

“Go on,” Anita instructed, her tone serious and focused.

“Up here”—Lilly pointed toward the upper left—“is Adam . . .” She caught herself. “I mean, a carving of a man who possibly represents Adam. He is on his knees looking down at the dirt that he is scooping up in his hands. He’s naked, like the woman in
the upper right, who might represent Eve? She is turned toward the man, and her hands are outstretched, empty palms raised as if holding something precious.” As best she could, Lilly took the same posture in order to show them what she meant.

“Astounding!” exclaimed Gerald.

“If there had been any doubt about you being the Witness to Beginnings,” Anita said, “it has been completely erased.”

“Because I can see a door?”

“Because of what you are able to see
on
the door,” emphasized Simon.

“So now what?” asked Lilly.

“We enter,” uttered John, a weight of importance in his tone. “This is the entrance to the Vault. Shall we proceed?”

“How?” asked Lilly.

He smiled, lifted his hand, and placed it on the very center of the portal. Without a sound it swung open, slowly and majestically.

“Sometimes”—John grinned—“you only need to touch the center of the cross, where everything comes together.”

The area they stepped into could have been featured in a magazine of high culture and taste, as a richly appointed courtroom or opulent hotel. Its crafted woods and array of objects placed strategically by superb artistic decorators created an exotic impression.

“Wow!” Lilly exclaimed. “Not what I expected. I was thinking more like a big safe or something.”

“There’s a small larder and additional resting areas that way.” John took on the role of tour guide showing off a prized property. “And
four special rooms over here, each with its own specific purpose. I’ll show you.”

He ushered them into what looked like an observatory. “The Map Room!” he announced. “These aren’t walls exactly, but space in motion: countless stars and galaxies, constellations, giants and dwarfs, and tiny asteroids and comets drifting around and so forth.”

Each of the two long walls offered an overwhelming view into completely different places in the cosmos. It felt like everything was moving and Lilly had to concentrate to keep from toppling out of her chair.

“Takes a moment,” John reassured her, “like the first time at sea on a sailing ship. There is a rhythm to it, and once you move with and not against it, it will settle down.”

“I’ve only heard stories of these places,” disclosed Gerald. Anita, outlined by a flare of some sort, was simply shaking her head in amazement.

“Oh, look, Gerald! Pods!” she squealed, pointing to a row of seven emerald orbs, each about the size that would fit comfortably in a palm.

“Don’t touch, please!” said John. “That’s a warning, not a command,” he added, as if he had surprised himself.

“Moving along, why don’t we make our way down there to the far wall?” Whether they got there by walking or gliding, she wasn’t certain. Simon pushed Lilly until they were in front of what looked more like a typical map. It was the layout of an enormous complex, and it took a moment for Lilly to realize what it represented.

“This is a map of the Refuge!” she exclaimed. The Refuge
was huge, much bigger and more sprawling than she would have guessed, almost like a city. She could make out the upper rooms where she had recovered from the tragedy, and it even showed the ramp and staircase to the Castle Patio where Simon had given her the mirror.

But what amazed her most was the subterranean expanse. The levels stretched out under nearby hills and valleys, and maybe even to the boundaries of the purple mountains.

While the view of star systems had been too big to comprehend, this map gave her a new perspective of the Refuge’s scale. She felt small and astonished.

John showed them their location in the Vault, barely below the surface of the ocean. Then he touched the screen with his thumb and index finger, and the map expanded.

Now John moved to the adjacent wall, where a row of ten small triangles outlined in crimson red was mounted on the wall. Lilly realized that she had seen similar triangular, empty spots in the walls of the Refuge. She had thought they were lighting or temperature controls.

“With these”—he indicated the triangles—“we can instantly travel anywhere in the Refuge.”

“Really?” Lilly exclaimed about the same time Anita let out an “Oh, my!”

“I have never heard of this,” Simon muttered. “How does it work?”

“If you touch one of these travel pieces to a triangle on the map, you’ll be transported there. The piece will return to the Map
Room within ten minutes. If you desire to return with it, you have to find a return receptacle for your triangle wherever you are before the ten minutes are up.”

“Would I be able to travel?” Lilly asked. “With my chair?”

“Yes. Anything you are touching will travel with you, including your clothing, which for some of us is God’s kindness.” At that everyone laughed. “But each person must carry his or her own travel piece.”

John pointed back toward the hall. “Those orbs, the pods as Anita referred to them, are like triangles, except that you can travel between worlds and other such places. It’s not for the faint of heart . . . or those who don’t know exactly where they’re going.”

No one seemed inclined to challenge him.

“The three other rooms are simpler,” he said, leading them to the nearest door. “Especially the Chamber of Witness and the Records Room. But the Study is its own wonder.” He opened the door with a proud flourish. “Here is where you Scholars can study, explore, or research if and when Lilly has need of your expertise, or just for fun.”

The Study was tastefully appointed and had desks and chairs and couches and anything else that might be needed to do scholarly work. There was an array of books, quills and pens, parchments and journals waiting to be filled, and trays of teas, coffees, and cookies, and fruits and nuts. It was beautiful but nothing out of the ordinary.

“So let me tell you the wonder of this place,” announced John. “Whenever an Artist or Scholar such as you three enters the
Study, everything you have ever considered, written, or explored, even those things you don’t remember, arrives with you. It gathers and waits for you in the drawers and cabinets and walk-in closets along that wall.”

All three Scholars stood stunned, their mouths open.

“This is beyond imaginable,” Gerald finally managed, running his hand along a shelf of thick tomes.

Anita had tears in her eyes. She put her fingers to her lips. “My dear,” she said to her husband, “our life’s work is here. Now. In this room—not a moment of thought or consideration lost!”

“This is a treasure beyond profound,” Simon said.

The Scholars were filled with thanksgiving, and Lilly smiled to hear each whispering their gratitude to God.

Simon picked up a silver pen and tested the weight of it in his hand.

“Before I lose you to this place, let’s quickly visit the other two rooms,” John said, taking over for Simon in pushing Lilly’s chair. “Follow me, please.”

The Chamber of Witness was a small green room with a very comfortable-looking flat sofa in the center. Four overstuffed chairs of various sizes and shapes occupied each of the corners. “It’s simple, really. You stretch out, get comfy, and . . . witness . . . whatever you are here to witness. Not certain why green, but it seems to be a shade that aids the process, color of life and all.”

Lilly wondered why anyone needed a special room in which to witness, but thought it best to ask a different question. “Will everything I witness in here also be recorded here?”

“No. That’s done over there, in the Records Room.” And John
led them out the door and through another archway. Along the hallway was another door, which he ignored.