Eve: In the Beginning (17 page)

As I watch Adam, my face feels hot, as if I’ve stood facing the sun too long. I want him to come back to my side and put those arms around me. I realize I am now warmer than I’ve been since leaving the garden, and it’s because I’m watching my husband in the river.

Before he can turn and see my hot face, I stand and shake out the coat of skin that we lay on during the night. A cloud of dirt and leaves falls off it. The coat is still damp, so I drape it over the bush we slept next to.

When I look up, I find Adam watching me. No, staring at me. I don’t understand the look in his eyes, but it makes my face go from warm to hot.

“Thank you for catching the fish,” I say, because I need to say something to get him to stop staring at me.

He looks down as he walks out of the river, shaking his hands dry. “We’ll find something better today.”

“As long as it’s not fish or bear.” I expect him to laugh, but when he looks at me, his expression is serious.

“This is certainly a different world,” he says in a quiet voice, continuing his walk toward me.

I can’t look away now, and I focus on his shoulders, then his arms. I wonder if he’s always been as tall as he seems, or as strong.

He stops before me, and I swallow against my dry throat. His eyes are nearly golden this morning. I need a drink from the river.

“Eve,” he says in a quiet voice as he touches my hair. He pauses, and I wait for him to tell me about our changing bodies. I want to know if he is feeling what I am. I think of what Elohim told us about multiplying and replenishing the earth — about
how
we are supposed to fulfill that commandment. Is Adam thinking of this too? He steps back, his hand falling to his side. “I’m glad you’re doing better. Tonight, I promise, we’ll have a warmer place to sleep.”

I allow myself to only nod when I really want to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close. I can only predict his surprise. He’d think I am faint from hunger again, and perhaps I am.

“Then we’d better set out soon,” I say.

He grabs the coat of skin perched on the bush and throws it over one shoulder. I walk into the shallow part of the river, washing my feet and hands. The water is cold, but it soothes the scrapes on my palms. When I step out of the water, Adam is waiting for me, his hand extended. I take it, my fingers threading through his long ones, and just as I suspected, darts shoot up my arm. As his fingers close over mine, I realize that it will be very hard to let them go.

I want to know what Adam is feeling, but we have a lot of traveling to do, and I’ll wait to ask my questions. I focus on the mountains up ahead. There’s no real reason we are walking toward them. The mountain range just seems to be a place we should walk toward.

The distant garden, marked by tall, green trees, looks almost foreign in the morning light, as if it’s a place that we haven’t been to for a long time, not just a day. The space between the garden and us creates an added feeling of absence. The Eve who was in the garden is different than the woman I am now. As the bottoms of my feet throb from the bruising of walking so much, I wonder if I would make the same choice if I could go back now.

After only one night in the wilderness, I’m tired, achy, and hungry, and I itch.

But walking and moving in one direction for as far as we want to never happened in the garden. There was always a wall to keep us inside its boundaries. Now there are no boundaries. The only place we can’t go now is inside the garden. Our life has become the opposite.

I let out a breath, a mixture of relief and sorrow. I already miss the animals of the garden and the beauty of the flowers and many trees. I miss the mild nights and the pond where we bathed. But we are here now, and there is no going back. With Adam at my side, I can do anything. I have to.

I look up at him and find his concerned gaze on me. I am sure that I flush, and I look quickly away.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, his voice washing over me in its tenderness.

“Fairly well, considering the cold and the insects.” I lift up my arm, displaying the red bumps. “Do you have insect bites as well?”

He nods and says, “We must find something that will keep the insects away. I’ve been noticing that some of the plants aren’t bothered by the insects.” He points to a pale green plant with round leaves that’s at the top of the riverbank ahead of us.

I walk over to it and examine the bush. Sure enough, I don’t see any insects flying around it or crawling on its leaves. I pluck off a leaf and smell it. The scent is sharp but not unpleasant.

“Maybe I can make a coat of these leaves,” I say.

Adam pulls off a leaf and examines it as well. Then he crushes it between his fingers. The scent is strong enough that I can smell it from where I stand on the other side of the bush.

“Maybe we should rub it onto the coats.”

I crush a leaf in my hand, wrinkling my nose as the sharp aroma turns bitter. No wonder the insects stay away. I touch the crumbled leaf to my arm and rub it back and forth. I lift my arm and can smell the scent on it. Adam rubs crumbled leaves on his arms as well.

“Do you think this bush is plentiful throughout the wilderness?” I ask.

“Let’s take some branches with us,” he says.

We each break off a few branches, and Adam bundles them together. I see that he has now collected several fish skeletons. The tiny, sharp bones will be good for something. We keep a fair pace, both of us watching the gathering clouds. They are dark gray and moving steadily toward us.

For the most part, we walk in silence, our breathing the only conversation between us.

When something cries out from the sky, I am so startled that I grab Adam’s arm. A large bird with broad wings sails overhead. It cries out again. The second cry isn’t as disturbing, and I stare at the magnificent creature.

Its strength is obvious as it maneuvers the sky, moving gracefully and precisely. “What is it?” I ask Adam. He has named the animals in the garden, and so I look to him, wondering if he has already named the bird above us.

Adam watches the bird with me as it cuts a path against the dark clouds.

“Is it trying to tell us something?” I say just as the wind picks up. The storm is coming quickly now. A bright light shoots through the clouds, and I cling to Adam. “What is that?”

Adam stares where the light appeared, although now it’s gone. Then a low rumble sounds, coming from the earth and sky at once. The sound cracks through the air, and the bird cries out again.

“What’s going on, Adam?” I ask, my voice louder than I intend. My heart thuds against my chest. “It’s as if the heavens are shouting.”

“It’s a storm as I’ve never witnessed before. Come on,” Adam says and pulls me toward a group of trees. The trees are nothing like those in the Garden of Eden, but their sparse branches and few leaves might offer some shelter from the angry sky.

Another crack of light sends me huddling against Adam. His arms are around me, holding me close as light after light flashes around us. It’s as though the sun has made an instant appearance, coming and going at will.

I no longer hear the bird’s cry as the mist starts, coming from the sky in incredible torrents. It drenches Adam and me completely in just a few moments, and it’s nearly as cold as the river.

I bury my head in Adam’s neck, desperate for some warmth, but even more so, comfort. “What is this place?” I ask Adam, trying futilely to steady my trembling voice. “What have we done? It’s as if the very heavens are angry with us.”

Adam’s hand tangles into my hair as he presses his lips against my forehead. My breathing calms as he holds me, and I eventually notice that the rumbling sky has fallen silent, although the mist still drenches our skin.

Eating fish by the river in the sunshine this morning seems much more appealing now.

Adam and I sit down and pull the coats over our heads, drawing our legs up to stay covered by the coats. Adam’s arms wrap around me, and I lean into him, feeling the warmth of his body matching mine. I wonder how long the heavens will rage and if we’ll ever reach a place of shelter.

And God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him.

Genesis 2:18

The night was the longest that Adam could ever remember, not to mention the wettest. He hoped Eve had slept better than he had: he’d alternated between completely awake and cold to partly awake and cold.

The heavens had tempered just before dawn, and that’s when he, at last, fell asleep. By the time the sun lit the sky, he was awake again. He moved carefully so that he wouldn’t wake Eve. She had been so tired the day before. Her usual golden skin had grown pale, and her hands still looked sore.

Adam moved pieces of damp hair from her face, and her eyelids fluttered, then closed again. There was dirt on her arms concealing some of the red insect bumps, and he winced as he realized that their only way to clean off the dirt was with cold water from the river. Beneath them was a mixture of mud and grass. They’d both have to venture into the cold water.

But for now, Adam let Eve sleep as long as she needed to. His arm and neck ached from being in the same position so long, but Eve was nestled against his chest. Even with the dirt and leaves in her hair, she was a thing of beauty. Just looking at her now made it difficult for him to keep his breath even.

He thought about what Elohim had said about their natural desires, ones that would result in bringing forth children, and Adam knew that, at least for him, those desires were already in effect. But watching Eve in her helpless state, subservient to the rages of the heavens and the unpredictable winds and mist, made him reluctant to do anything that might bring her more sorrow or pain.

For Elohim had said he’d multiply her sorrow when she brought forth children.

Adam’s breath came short just thinking about any pain or sorrow that his wife might experience. When she’d scraped her palms, the blood had startled them both. Adam knew that in his body, just below his layer of skin, blood stirred as well. He held up his right hand and turned it over. Yes, even his skin was a different pallor. A hint of red beneath the brown belied the fact that blood was close to the surface, so that if he scraped his skin, the blood would surface quickly.

He let out a breath, and his body involuntarily shivered. They had been cold for two nights now, and they were still a fair distance from the eastern mountains. They needed warmer coverings, something to keep the mist off and the mud away, and something thicker to sleep on that would provide them with a measure of comfort.

Eve stirred and let out a soft moan. “The mist has stopped?” she asked, her voice sounding small and tired.

“At last,” Adam said, running his fingers along her face. He picked out from her hair the leaves that must have fallen from the trees above during the night. At least they’d been able to take some shelter in the thin grove, although it was not enough to satisfy Adam.

“What’s to eat?” she asked. “Fish?”

Adam smiled, gazing into the blue-green of her eyes. His gaze trailed to the rest of her features, including her narrow nose and full lips — the rose color of her lips reminding him of the flowers in the garden. As she looked at him, her gaze trusting, he vowed to find something more to eat today, no matter how much effort it took.

“Unless you see some fruit in these trees, we’ll have fish for the morning meal,” he said. “But I hope to find something new today.”

Eve looked toward the trees, and he followed her gaze. There was nothing resembling a fruit among the yellow and orange leaves.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at a branch.

Adam looked closer, seeing a small, brown shape. “It’s probably part of the branch.”

“But it’s just hanging off, and there are quite a few of them.” She pushed up on her elbows.

He moved to a sitting position. Eve was right. There were several brown shapes dangling from the branches. He stood and touched one; it was hard and quite solid. Eve stood next to him and pulled one off.

She smelled it, then shook it. A light rattling sound came from within. “There’s something in there,” she said, her voice warm with hope. “And if it grows on a tree, we can probably eat it.”

Adam plucked one of the brown shapes and shook it as well. He turned it over in his fingers and looked for a way to open it. Finally, he bit on the hardness, but there was no malleability.

“Let’s try a rock,” Eve said, scanning the ground. She picked one up and, placing the brown shape on the ground, she struck it. The brown shape flew out from under the rock.

“Let me see the rock,” Adam said, and he hit the brown shape he held. There was a definite crack, and the shell was in pieces.

Eve leaned over to examine the insides. A pale brown shape was inside, although now it was crushed. She picked up a piece and put it in her mouth.

“Eve,” Adam began, but she was already chewing.

“It’s good,” she said and promptly ate another piece. “Much better than fish.”

Adam tried a piece, and although it was different from any taste he’d experienced, it was pleasing. They ate the insides of several more of the brown shapes and then collected more. Adam regarded the sparse trees with more interest, wondering how many they had passed on their journey so far. Perhaps Elohim was looking out for them after all.