Eve: In the Beginning (22 page)

“I think I was dreaming,” I say.

Adam’s hand brushes my face. “You looked as though you were trying to stand, but your face was contorted with pain.”

I exhale. Had Lucifer been visiting me and Adam couldn’t see him? “He was in my dream,” I say. I don’t need to explain who
he
is. Adam knows.

Adam’s jaw tenses, and he scans my face. “Are you sure it was a dream?”

I am surprised by his question because it’s exactly what I wonder. “I don’t know. He was here, but as soon as you came, he was gone. How could he leave so fast if it wasn’t a dream?” I say. I feel Adam’s arms tighten around me, drawing me close.

I press my cheek against his chest — warm and solid. I don’t need Lucifer’s instructions for anything. What Elohim doesn’t tell Adam and me, we’ll discover on our own.

The cold and the hunger can persist. There is no one I’d rather experience them with than Adam.

“We must leave as soon as day breaks,” Adam says.

I nod against his chest. Adam leads me to our shelter, which seems far less secure now. Although I haven’t seen Lucifer for several days, I realize that he has always been there, watching and listening. The hairs on my arms prickle as I think of his dark, hollow eyes gazing at me, looking through my very soul as if he knows my every thought.

Adam and I settle in for sleep beneath the rows of branches, and the thin moonlight comes in through the cracks, throwing lines across our skin. The mist has gathered again, and we lie protected underneath the leopard coat. This small comfort and Adam’s protective arms about me make the night bearable as I try to push away thoughts of my brother and his words.

But Lucifer’s words continue to tumble in my mind no matter how much I focus on Adam’s warmth and his steady breathing as he sleeps:
I know this wilderness better than anyone
.

I wonder how Lucifer knows this world so well. Is this where he stayed while Adam and I lived in the garden? Is this where Elohim had banished him? I inhale the sharp, cool air that mingles with the warmth of the leopard skin. Although the wilderness has been difficult to adjust to, at least I am with Adam and we are together in our journey. Lucifer has always been alone from what I can see.

Lucifer has made that decision for himself, I realize. He had his freedom to choose Elohim’s plan, but instead he presented his own idea — a plan that wasn’t Elohim’s.

It was his own plan:
I can give you all that you need.

In the still of the night, nestled against Adam, I can’t imagine feeling more taken care of. Although I know that there are many dangers out there, I trust that Adam will be equal to the task of protecting me. With the both of us determined to learn and to survive in this world, we’ll find a way to stay safe. We must find a way. I don’t want Lucifer to have any part in our lives.

Both of our injuries from the leopard have been healing. Elohim was right: this wilderness contains pain and sorrow, but there is also joy and pleasure I have not experienced before. These thoughts make my heart race as I think of Adam’s kiss, and I can’t help but wonder when he’ll kiss me again. He has been more than tender these past few days as I’ve endured the malady.

I turn in his arms and rest my head against his chest. It moves with his breathing, and I can hear his heart beating in steady rhythm. Finally, I’m able to push all thoughts of Lucifer away and fall into a dreamless sleep.

The morning brings mist and cold. I wash in the river while shivering, and Adam does the same.

“Are you all right to travel today?” he asks me.

I know that he will stay another day for me, but I also see his determination to be closer to the garden.

The earth has grown muddy overnight, and our progress toward the garden is slow. We stop to eat several times, consuming some of the fish from the river, a little of the dried leopard, and, as always, berries.

My legs ache and my breath is short, but I say nothing to Adam. We have delayed long enough. We hope to receive communication from Elohim once Adam builds the altar. Since the clouds are heavy and there is little warmth that penetrates from the sun, Adam insists that I wear the leopard coat. Obtaining the coat was a remarkable feat for Adam, and I can’t help but wish that he had one too ... but that would mean another animal would have to die.

I push the thought out of my mind, but as the day progresses, I know that Adam must be cold despite the labor of dragging the branches. As the sun sets, Adam unties one of the bundles and creates a shelter for us to sleep beneath. He is soaked, and I am half-so, the leopard coat adding some protection from the mist, but we are both shivering in the cold.

“Adam,” I say, “when we set out tomorrow, let’s leave the branches here.”

“But there are few trees near the garden, and none of their branches were as thick as these.”

“We can come back for them if we need to. We might be able to find something that will work — maybe a grove.”

But Adam shakes his head. “There was nothing. You saw the wasteland stretch in all directions.”

I climb beneath the shelter, and Adam follows me. “It’s too much work for your body. You’re shivering with cold as it is.” I dislike seeing him worn out this way.

He settles next to me and arranges the leopard coat around both of us. His skin is cold, and I turn to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck. If he is surprised by my actions, he says nothing, just burrows his face against my hair. My body heats up at his touch, and I want him to press his lips to mine, but his body only relaxes, and I know he has fallen asleep.

I feel his body slowly start to warm as the leopard coat covers us both. I wonder if I’ll ever truly be warm again.

When the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat.

Genesis 3:6

The ground is white and frozen. There are flakes falling from the sky. These flakes are colder than anything I’ve touched before. Adam steps in the substance first, then scoops some from the ground. After a moment, he is frantically brushing it from his hands.

I run my fingers over the ground. “What is it?”

Adam looks up at the sky, which is nearly as white as the ground. The flakes land on his face, then form into water droplets. “I don’t know, but it’s beautiful.”

“And cold.” I look at my hands. They have turned red. They feel hot and cold at the same time, tingling into numbness.

He pulls out the leopard coat from the shelter and drapes it over my shoulders. “Keep this on until it stops,” he says.

“What about you?”

He doesn’t answer but disassembles our shelter quickly and binds up the branches. Then he turns to scan the terrain. As far as we can see, there is white. He looks at me, his eyes trailing to my feet. “We need something to bind around our feet.”

I shrug off the leopard coat. “Can we tear off strips from this?”

Adam looks from the coat to the baskets we have brought. “Maybe take apart one of the baskets.”

I know the leopard coat would be warmer on our feet, but I understand his reluctance to mar our main source of warmth. I set about taking apart one of the baskets and secure the woven leaves around Adam’s feet. After my own feet are bound, we set off.

The cold white is beautiful, but it isn’t long before I am shaking inside and out, even with the leopard coat on. Adam’s lips are purple, and I’m sure mine are too. In fact, his skin tone has taken on a purplish hue.

I remove the leopard coat and try to drape it across Adam’s shoulders.

“I’m fine, Eve,” he says. “You wear it. I’ll feel better if you do.”

“But you’re so cold. We can trade off every once in a while.” I hold out the coat, but he refuses to take it. Despite the wrapped leaves about my feet, my feet are so cold that it’s painful to step on them. We must find more ways to stay warm. The white sky doesn’t seem to be changing any time soon.

Adam releases the bundle of branches he is dragging and takes my hands in his, rubbing warmth into them. “Maybe we should take protection in a shelter until these cold flakes stop falling,” he says.

My teeth chatter together when I say yes. We still have another day or two in our journey, and I can’t imagine continuing in this state for much longer.

Adam and I quickly set up shelter, then burrow beneath the roof of branches, the leopard coat draped across both of us. I think of Lucifer’s words and how he said he could teach me things of this world. Could he teach us how to keep warm?

I push the thought away and focus on sitting next to Adam, sharing in the body heat that is slowly warming us. Adam’s hand slides into mine, and we watch the white world fall around us in silence. As I exhale, my breath is like a cloud. I exhale again, watching my breath form white and mix with Adam’s.

After a few moments, Adam says, “I’ll be back soon. If you need something, just call me. I’ll be in hearing distance.”

He slides out from beneath the leopard coat and picks up one of the branches. It’s the same branch that he used to remove the skin from the leopard; one of the ends is sharp. I didn’t realize he’d brought it with us.

“Where are you going?” I say, not sure I like him disappearing someplace in this white world. What if Lucifer has been following us and appears to me again?

“I think there’s a bear on the other side of the river.”

I shiver as I look toward the river. The white-tipped water flows slowly, as if the cold has stalled its pace. Bushes crowd the shore, but with the surrounding white, I can’t see to the other side of the river. “Why are you seeking out a bear?”

Adam’s sober gaze tells me all I need to know.

“Are you sure?” I ask in a quiet voice, as if the bear can hear me where I sit.

His hand tightens around the branch he carries. “I don’t see another option.”

My stomach lurches. I don’t see another option either, and I won’t consider letting Lucifer be our instructor.

“Stay here,” he says. “I don’t know how the bear will react.” He picks up another branch that is not as finely sharpened but would still make a weapon. “Hold onto this.”

I take the branch and grip it with both hands.

Adam walks quietly away, and I wait, the leopard skin hanging off my shoulders, the branch in hand.

Everything seems so quiet as the white flakes spin and fall around me, landing on my hair, my face, my hands. With Adam’s absence, the chill creeps back into my body, going deeper and deeper until I feel as if my heart has slowed and my breath has stalled in the stillness.

I imagine Adam crossing the river and walking through the icy water as the bear watches him approach. Will the bear run? Will it leap at him? My heart pounds, and the cold emphasizes my breath.

I can’t stand here and think of Adam alone, facing such a great beast. I walk toward the river, careful to not make any sound. I peer through the white, expecting Adam’s form to emerge at any moment, but I reach the river’s edge without seeing him or any bear.

The river moves by, silent and dark, paying no attention to me. Where did Adam go? Was the bear farther down the river? I look both ways, but the white prevents me from seeing very well.

Then I hear a growl, and I nearly scream. The growl is low and deep and much closer than I imagined. I turn slowly, the branch gripped tight in my hands. I see nothing but white.

The growl turns higher pitched, and someone yells. It can be only Adam.

Where are you?
I want to scream. Another yell comes, this one filled with pain. It’s definitely coming from across the river. I step into the river and start moving across. The water bites into my skin, numbing it almost instantly. I realize that what I had thought was cold before was nothing compared to the feel of the river. By the time I reach what I think is the middle of the river, the water has reached my waist, and I must hold the leopard coat away from the water. Every step I take depletes my strength more.

Even worse than the pain is the realization that all has been quiet for a few moments.

“Adam!” I call out, desperate to hear something, anything. Where is he? Where is the bear?