Eve: In the Beginning (28 page)

“Don’t move,” Adam whispers as he slowly crouches and picks up something off the ground.

The snake hisses again. What does it want? We can’t possibly be a food source for it.

Adam tosses something toward the snake at the same time he grabs my arm and pulls me back with him. I realize he has thrown a handful of dirt, and it has done nothing but aggravate the snake. It hisses again and lunges forward.

We leap back, but the snake keeps advancing. “We need a rock or something,” I whisper frantically. The sharpened branches are on the other side of the boulders. “Should we split up?”
“Move away from me. See if you can capture its attention,” Adam says.

My heart pounds faster. “What are you going to do?”

He shakes his head, and I move away from Adam and clap my hands. My palms are moist, but the sound alerts the snake.

Adam makes a wide circle, trying to get behind the snake. I clap louder, stepping backward as I do so. The snake starts moving faster, and I move faster as well. My heel catches on a rock, and I trip backward. I scream, putting my hands up to ward off the snake.

And then Adam is there. “Watch out!” I yell, but he reaches for the snake just as it turns toward him. He picks it up by the tail and swings it.

There is a rush of air, but nothing touches me. Adam brings down the snake hard onto the ground with a dull thud. The long body of the snake is still. When Adam’s gaze meets mine, I feel a sob rise up in my throat, but I push it back. “You killed it.”

His jaw tightens, and he only nods.

I stare at the snake, drawn to its lifeless form and the way its long body curves and twists on the ground. Just moments ago, it was advancing in an attack, alive.

I remember the sorrow and confusion I felt when we discovered the dead snake in the garden, how we reverently carried it to a river to let the current wash it away. But this snake ... I wrap my arms around my torso and shiver. Again the thought of Lucifer filters through my mind.

Adam crouches over the snake, watching it as carefully as I am. There is no movement, no signs of life. “Do you think we can eat the flesh?” he asks.

My hand goes to my throat. “Anything but a snake. Please.” I rush on to explain what I’m not sure I understand myself. “It somehow reminds me of our brother,” I say in a quiet voice.

He nods once, then reaches for the snake. Without asking me anything more, he carries it to the river and deposits it into the water. He stays at the riverbank for several moments, gazing at the water, while I keep my distance, trying to catch my breath.

And God said unto the woman, What is this that thou hast done? And the woman said, The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat
.

Genesis 3:13

Adam watched Eve as she stood at the riverbank, her arms wrapped around her torso as if to protect herself from the cold. It was plain that the snake’s appearance had left her shaken. Adam was shaken as well, but he was grateful that he was able to kill the snake without harm to either him or Eve. He worried about encountering another snake. In the garden, snakes were never aggressive, and in the garden, there was never a need to kill one.

He wondered about Eve comparing the snake to Lucifer. Was it because the snake reminded her of the dead one they’d found in the garden? Or was it something more?

Adam joined Eve at the riverbank and grasped her hand. Her delicate fingers reminded him of her touch over the past couple of days. His desire was still strong, but he knew they needed to finish building the altar.

“Do you not think it’s strange that the snake appeared just now?” Eve said in a subdued voice. “Just when we’re building a new altar?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, but he felt an uncomfortable prickling of his skin growing.

“When we completed the other altar, Lucifer arrived.” Eve continued to stare at the river, as if lost in her thoughts, yet she spoke again. “Lucifer put enmity between you and me.”

“Then drove us out with the Fire,” Adam added.

“Yes,” she said, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes were rimmed in red, and the sight of her distress tugged at his heart. “Adam, do you think Lucifer meant for us to die? Is he trying to return us to dust so soon?”

He swallowed against the dryness in his throat. It made him uncomfortable how easily Eve discussed Lucifer. “I don’t know,” he began. “If Lucifer brought either of us death, then what would he do on this earth?”

She stepped closer. Adam’s heart quickened as her other hand brushed his cheek. He tried to ignore her touch as he thought through Lucifer’s motivations. “If our brother brought us death today, when we have done everything we can think of to be righteous, then our souls would be saved in Heaven.”

“And what triumph would that bring him?” she said in a quiet voice.

“None,” he said in an equally muted tone. “I don’t think he means to take our lives. I think he means to cast doubt on our faith and to divide us from each other.”

Eve exhaled and laid her head against Adam’s chest. Her arms went around his waist, and he buried his face in her hair. It was as if every part of his complemented every part of hers.

“We’ll never let him divide us,” she said. “He’s already tried and has failed each time.”

Adam lifted his head. He believed in Eve’s words, but he knew they would have to be diligent. He hadn’t expected Eve to partake of the fruit without Elohim’s permission, and although she was more subdued in the wilderness, focusing on finding food and keeping warm, he suspected that once the winter passed, her curiosity would return in full force.

As for himself, he wasn’t dismissing any power of influence that Lucifer might have over him. He’d hid it well, but since he had recovered from the bear attack and thought about how their brother had provided the one thing they truly needed — Fire — and Elohim had not, the seed of discontent had taken root in his heart.

He pushed it back time and time again before it could sprout and grow. The worst nights were when Eve slept and he had only his thoughts — and concerns — to dwell on. The past couple of nights, with Eve in his arms, were exceptions. They made him forget all else.

Drawing away from Eve, he smoothed her hair back and gave her a light kiss. He wanted to take the kiss deeper, but as enticing as spending the next moments with his wife would be, he knew kissing would just delay the progress of the altar. “I’ll get back to the altar. You can take the time you need before joining me.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Adam and Eve worked side by side, literally. It seemed that Eve was next to him every time he turned. He doubted another snake would catch them unaware, but it was obvious that Eve wasn’t taking any chances.

They completed the altar before sundown, and after a meal of heated fish, Adam turned to his wife. He was beyond exhausted and could see that she was too, but he didn’t want to delay their worship. “Are you ready?”

She blinked back at him with bleary eyes. “Tomorrow is the seventh day. Should we wait until then?”

“Every moment we wait gives Lucifer additional time to thwart our efforts,” he said.

Her mouth lifted into a subtle smile. “And we have delayed quite a while already.”

“Yes,” Adam said in a soft voice. He was becoming lost in her eyes. “Let’s go.” He stood and held out his hand, and they walked together to the new altar. He sank to his knees and bowed his head.

Eve stayed at his side until the dark turned too cold. He wasn’t sure when she crept away, but the moon was high in the sky when he finally stood and walked back to where she lay curled beneath her single coat. He lay down next to her and used his coat as an added measure of warmth to cover the both of them.

He pulled her gently into his arms, reveling in her warmth but at the same time being careful not to wake her. Her even breathing started to relax his aching muscles and the tension running through his back and neck. Elohim had remained quiet ... again.

Adam let out a breath. He was grateful that Eve was sleeping and couldn’t see the despair settling over him. What if Elohim had abandoned them for the rest of their mortality?
No
, Adam thought.
He can’t have abandoned us. We are the first man and woman on the earth, and even though we disobeyed one of Elohim’s commandments, we are keeping the others.
Nearly keeping the others.
It will be only a matter of time before Eve conceives and brings forth the first child.

Adam inhaled Eve’s scent — a smell of the rushing river with a faint touch of Fire — taking comfort in her presence. Even if Elohim remained silent, they still had each other, and even if Elohim stayed silent, they still didn’t need Lucifer or any of his teachings. Did they?

We don’t need Lucifer
, Adam told himself firmly. The way Lucifer looked at his wife was enough for Adam to wish their brother would never approach their dwelling again. And the way Lucifer was able to confound their words and put doubt and questions into their minds made Adam’s pulse race hot with anger. Lucifer seemed to always be around, to always be watching, and just because they hadn’t seen him since the big Fire didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking somewhere nearby.

And he probably listened to every word of my prayers as well
,
Adam thought. He clenched his jaw.
O Elohim, hear our prayers. If thou needest to remain silent, please protect us from the influence of our Fallen brother.
Adam continued to silently pray until Eve broke away from his arms with a moan.

Her head moved back and forth a couple of times, and her eyes fluttered open.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, rising up on his elbow.

Eve blinked up at him. “Adam,” she breathed. Her hands reached for his neck, and she pulled him toward her. “It was Lucifer again — in my dream.”

“Tell me,” he said, feeling the tension in her arms and back.

“It was as if he were next to me, instead of you. He was whispering to me, telling me there is still so much knowledge to be had and that he could begin teaching me now.” Her voice cut off. “Oh, Adam, why does Elohim not answer our prayers?”

Adam tightened his hold on Eve, swallowing back his own complaint. He had to be strong for her. Although he worried about the same thing, he didn’t want the worry to escalate and push Eve in Lucifer’s direction.

“We have to accept the differences in the wilderness,” he began as Eve nestled against him. He was grateful that after a dream about Lucifer, she would turn to him for comfort. “Elohim will probably communicate with us differently. He may not walk among the thorns and the thistles to visit us. He may speak to us by more subtle means.” Adam was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince his wife, but the more he spoke, the more new possibilities entered his mind.

“Elohim won’t speak to us anymore?” she asked, lifting her face and putting space between them.

“I think Elohim’s voice will be more like a whisper or even a thought.” It felt right — comforting, somehow — the idea that perhaps Elohim
was
communicating with them. They just had to pay more attention. He smoothed the hair from Eve’s face, then touched her cheeks, catching the wet there.

She closed her eyes. “That sounds nice. A quiet thought. Or maybe a feeling.”

“Yes, a feeling,” Adam said. He kissed her forehead and ran his fingers over her hair and down her back. She relaxed against him and after a few moments had fallen asleep.

Adam listened for any sound of movement around their dwelling. He looked around. The Fire had long since died, although he could still smell its remains. In the moonlight, there were no out-of-place shadows. Everything was quiet.

He lay down as he clung to the hope that Elohim was still mindful of them, still watching over them, even in his silence.

And God said unto the serpent, Because thou has done this, thou art cursed above all cattle, and above every beast of the field; upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life.

Genesis 3:14

I stare at the fish that I told Adam I’d prepare. He is busy praying. Again. He has prayed so much over the past two moons that his knees are bruised and chafed.