Eve: In the Beginning (10 page)

She turned away from him, her hands clenched at her side.

“Will Elohim’s answer make a difference? Or will he give us another conflicting commandment?” she asked.

Adam stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“If we don’t have knowledge — if we don’t have blood — we can’t fulfill all of the commandments given to us,” she said in a trembling voice.

He moved to her side. “You can’t mean that you
want
to die?” He touched her arm, her shoulder, her cheek. “Look at me,” he whispered.

When she finally did, Adam said, “You can’t desire death. Everything would change —not only us but the animals.” Still her gaze was determined. “Remember the snake we found.” Even now, Adam couldn’t forget the lifeless form that he’d carried to the river.

She closed her eyes, and for a moment, Adam thought she agreed.

But when she opened them again, she said, “I’m not reluctant to face death.”

Adam felt as if something had struck him, and he inhaled a steady breath. “This is because of our brother, isn’t it?”

Eve shook her head, but the truth couldn’t be hidden in her eyes. “He has only confirmed what I’ve already been thinking.”

He let out a frustrated breath of air. “What else did he say to you?”

“Lucifer has
knowledge
, Adam,” she said. “And he is not dead.”

The name that she called their brother bothered Adam, although he didn’t know why. Perhaps their spirits knew him from before when their bodies were created. Adam wished he could remember ... but then he stopped himself. That’s exactly what Eve desired, and gaining that knowledge would be too much of a sacrifice.

“I won’t let him teach you
his
knowledge,” Adam said. “Our knowledge should come through Elohim.”

Eve’s eyes widened. “Lucifer is only providing answers,” she said. “Elohim is not here right now. Do you think Lucifer would tell us something that isn’t right?”

“He might,” Adam said. “He makes the garden rot. How can that be right? He’s killed animals.” He held Eve’s gaze. “How can you want knowledge from a man who does those things?”

Eve took a step back and folded her arms. “The garden isn’t dying. It’s just ...”

He waited for her answer, but she bit her lip, indecisive. Adam knew this was his chance to convince her to turn her attention away from their brother.

“If we let him stay in the garden, what else might happen? What else might die?” He plunged on when she didn’t answer. “I can’t lose you, Eve. You’re my wife. You’re ... everything to me ...”

She was quiet for a moment. Then she lowered her head.

“This brother of ours has proven to be elusive when he wants to be,” Adam continued. “I can’t stay awake constantly, guarding you. I need you to promise me, Eve — promise me you will stay away from him.”

Eve raised her head and looked at him. She walked to him and placed her hands on each side of his face. “Adam, I will never leave you.”

He pulled her into a tight embrace. “Promise me.”

“I’ll never choose Lucifer over you,” she whispered.

I know someone is watching me even though my eyes are still closed. At first I think it might be the shadow — my brother Lucifer — returned to the alcove. But when there is no coldness, I open my eyes. Adam is sitting with his back against the wall, watching me. His expression is one that I have never seen before.

I sit up, stifling a yawn. I’m surprised I slept at all. I vaguely remember Adam bringing me inside sometime in the middle of the night. Now the sun has risen, and the alcove is filled with light. I pull my knees to my chest, as if to brace myself against what Adam is about to say. I do sense one thing: that I won’t like it.

Adam rises to his feet and stretches his hand toward me. Still, he doesn’t speak. I take his hand and allow him to pull me to my feet. Then he leads me to the back of the alcove.

My pounding heart tells me what he wants to show me. He’s discovered my secret.

Adam moves the hanging mats to the side to reveal the back wall, where I’ve marked the days for many moons. I can barely endure looking at each mark that I carefully scratched into the stone.

“What is this?” Adam asks, his voice quiet, yet firm. “What have you been doing?”

I don’t want to look at him, but I must see his expression. Is he angry? Will he forbid me to make the marks? Does he know how many there are and what they mean? I slowly turn my head and meet his gaze.

In his dark green eyes, there are no warm streaks of gold.

I swallow and wish I could drink long and deep from the river. I wish I could plunge into the cool pond and swim to the bottom, staying submerged and blocking out all light and sound — including the way Adam is looking at me now.

I breathe out, then in. “I have been tracking the days.”

Adam’s gaze flickers away from mine and back to the wall, to the hundreds of marks. “One scratch for each day?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. My hands are perspiring, and I want to go outside in the moving breeze. I want to feel the air around me, for it seems the air has left the alcove. I had not considered what Adam would think when he found the marks; I had assumed he might never find them. But
never
is a long time.

His gaze is on me again. “Why?”

“I ... Because I wanted to know how long we’ve been in the garden.” It’s an answer that I know he’s expecting but may not believe.
He kneels before the wall and traces a few of the lines. Then he runs his fingers along the rows that are similar to the rows he makes when cultivating the plots of herbs. “So many days,” he says. His fingers continue on their path, moving across the wall, then up and to the other side of the wall. Just watching him slowly trace the marks makes me realize that we have been in the garden a very long time. Not quite forever but nearly so.

Suddenly, he has straightened and is staring at me. I look up at him, waiting for what he may or may not say.

“Are you displeased with the garden, Eve? Do you reject what Elohim has provided for us?”

I have never heard this tone in his voice before. It’s more than being upset or frustrated.

“I am not displeased,” I say with a sigh. I wrap my arms around his waist and lean against him. “I am grateful for this garden Elohim has placed us in.” My eyes burn, and I’m thankful he can’t see them. His arms wrap loosely about my shoulders, and my breath returns. “Adam, we can’t live here forever.”

He draws away, and I feel the separation between us is as if we are on opposite sides of a valley. “It’s Lucifer, isn’t it? What else did he say to you?”

“Adam,” I say over my thumping heart, “I was tracking the days long before our brother showed up.” I point to the wall. “Look at how many I’ve done — one for each time the sun rises.”

But he doesn’t look at where I’m pointing. “Tell me why you want to leave the garden so much.”

My eyes are burning again. I look again at the wall and its many marks. “I have tried not to think about all the days, but these thoughts and questions keep coming to my mind.” I touch my chest. “Or maybe it’s from my heart. Can you tell me you are content to stay here ... until that wall is filled with marks? Or until the next wall is filled with marks?”

Adam takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing his lips against it. His eyes are bright and intent on mine. “If it means we can live forever, yes.”

“Then we’ll live forever in disobedience,” I whisper. I pull away and walk to the front of the alcove. So Adam knows that I am tracking the days. It doesn’t change anything. The only changes in the garden have come with Lucifer, and no matter how much Adam wants to be rid of him, I wonder if Lucifer is exactly what we need.

“Eve ...” Adam begins. “We can’t disobey Elohim.”

I stop near the opening of the alcove and turn to face him. “We already are disobeying Elohim.” I know he can’t deny it because he can never explain how we are to multiply and replenish the earth without blood in our bodies.

“Elohim created us,” Adam says, his voice sounding tired. “Elohim also created our brother. Elohim can continue to create in order to multiply.”

Adam’s suggestion does nothing to satisfy me. I think of Lucifer and how when he touched my cheek, I felt only a whisper. I think of how his body is concealed and of the way he looked at me — as if he knew me better than I knew myself. Then I understand that Lucifer’s body is not like ours. There is something different about him — even though he is our brother and has been created by Elohim. Why couldn’t I feel his hand?

“He touched me,” I say. Adam’s face loses color. My hand goes to my cheek as I remember. “He touched my face, but I didn’t feel anything. He has no ... solid flesh.”

Adam’s eyebrows lift. “What do you mean? He’s a man just as I am. He struck me to the ground.”

“Elohim may have created him,” I say. “And he has some sort of physical power, but I don’t think he’s in the same form that we are.”

Adam is quiet for a moment.

“What does it mean?” I say. “How can he be our brother if he is not made of flesh?”

“More questions,” Adam says. He walks past me and stands at the opening of the alcove. The day is a clear one, the sky cloudless. There will be no mist today, I think.

And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air ... and over all the earth.

Genesis 1:26

The seventh day has come and gone, and still no visit from Elohim. I follow Adam around, never straying out of his sight. My days of spending time with the animals on my own are past. Adam and I have slept little, alternating who keeps watch during the night. Today Adam is working in the north garden, probably because it’s the farthest away from the south garden.

I help him for a while. Then I find a shady place to sit and watch. Just as I am falling asleep, someone whispers my name. I know it’s Lucifer, but when I and sit up, I see no one, and Adam is no longer in the herb field.

I shiver even though the air is warm.

“Eve,” Lucifer says again. I am on my feet now, and I turn. I almost disbelieve what I am seeing: Lucifer is standing several paces away. He’s leaning against a tree, the shade making his dark hair blacker. In his hand, he holds a fruit.

My breath slows because I think I recognize the fruit, but then I realize I don’t. It’s only a fruit from the tree he is underneath.

“Where’s Adam?” I ask.

One side of his mouth turns up. “Was he here with you?”

I turn and look back at the field. There’s still no sign of Adam. I wonder if I am dreaming. Adam wouldn’t leave me alone — not now, not this way.

“Would you like some fruit?” my brother’s voice says.

I look at him, and he’s holding out the fruit.

“Not now,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. Adam’s words come back to me:
Are you displeased with the garden, Eve? Do you reject what Elohim has provided for us?
Another shiver moves through my body.

“What about the fruit from those trees over there? Is it good?” He points to the opposite side of the field.

I don’t have to look to where he is pointing. “Yes, those are good.”

His smile is slight. “Have you tried all of the fruit? Can you tell me which fruit is the most delicious?”

I study him. His voice sounds pleasing enough, no guile or anger. His expression seems curious and genuine. Perhaps Adam is wrong. If Lucifer has to live in this garden now, it’s only fitting that he inquire of the different fruits.

“I’ve tried all the fruits of the garden, except for the fruit from one tree.”

My brother raises the fruit he is holding and smells it, then says, “Which tree is that?”

I wonder if I should answer — especially with Adam gone. My heart is pounding, but then I decide there can be no harm in telling Lucifer about the tree of knowledge. “There is one tree which Elohim has forbidden us to eat of, the tree of knowledge of good and evil.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows lift slightly. “Interesting,” he says. “Where is this ... forbidden tree?”

“Not far from our dwelling,” I say.