Eve: In the Beginning (31 page)

His words were met only with silence. He took a deep breath and said, “Wherever you are, leave us alone.”

There was no sound, no movement, no breeze.

Adam hurried to where he’d left Eve asleep. Relief pulsed through him as he saw her burrowed beneath the coats, still asleep. He climbed in next to her. This would be the last night they’d stay in this place.

Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule [with] thee.

Genesis 3:16

THREE MOONS LATER

I inhale the softened air outside our shelter. The sharp cold has left, replaced with the scent of brown earth and green leaves. Winter season is finally gone, replaced by frequent mist. We have been in the valley now for three moons, and I have loved the abundant trees, the roaming beasts, and the decreased winds.

It has also been three moons since we’ve seen Lucifer or any one of his minions that Adam told me about. Although I still feel that Lucifer might be watching and waiting, he has not appeared to either of us.

There is a new thing that troubles me now. I stoop where the dirt is soft on the side of the shelter and draw lines in the dirt, counting back to the last time that I bled. The days number more than two moon cycles, or two bleeding cycles. I press the back of my hand to my mouth to stop the gasp from escaping.

But the gasp escapes.

I glance in Adam’s direction. He leans toward the Fire, turning the skewer of deer flesh.

I wonder what has happened to my woman’s cycle. Elohim told me that it would prepare my body for bringing forth children. So why has it stopped? Is something wrong?

Sliding my hands up my arms, I shiver although the day is mild. My hands move back down and rest on my stomach. The nausea hasn’t stopped, although it has lessened, and I’m more hungry than usual. I eat nearly as much as Adam does now. My stomach protrudes slightly, and I know it’s due to overeating. We had so little before that now I can’t seem to let even a morsel escape my notice.

The smell of the cooking deer sends hunger pangs through me, as if I haven’t already eaten plenty today. The wind shifts, and a billow of smoke trails in my direction. The scent is soothing and calms my stomach and the tension throughout my body.

“Eve?”

I open my eyes, not having realized that I closed them.

“Yes.” It comes out almost a whisper.

“Are you ill again?” His voice sounds tired but patient. I have been “ill” for so long that I wonder if ill is all I’ll ever be.

“Only hungry,” I say, but there is no laughter in my voice. I meet Adam’s gaze, and his look is as sober as I feel inside. My breath exhales, and I want to tell him about my absent woman’s cycles. I don’t know what he will think or how he will react. Maybe it has something to do with our intimacy. Have I somehow ruined my body’s natural health?

I don’t realize that Adam has moved until he is right next to me. His arm slides around my shoulders, and I find myself leaning against him. “Adam,” I whisper, knowing he can hear me and is waiting for me to speak. “Something is wrong.”

He doesn’t pull away but only tightens his hold. And waits. As if he’s known something all along.

“My blood cycle has stopped.” The words hang in the air for a moment, unanswered.

With his other hand, Adam touches my chin and raises it. I blink once, then twice, surprised to see a smile on his face.

“It’s as I’ve suspected.”

“What is?”

“That you are with child.”

I stare at him, disbelieving what he is saying, yet realizing that it might explain so many things. “How can you know?”

“Because you have been ill,” he says. “And now you are always hungry.” His hand moves behind my neck, and his forehead touches mine. “Your body is providing for two.”

“Two,” I say. It’s not a question. I try to wrap my mind around
two
. “Do you mean I am carrying a child?” Of course that’s what he means, but I must hear it spoken, confirmed, from his lips.

Adam starts kissing me, first on my forehead, then on my cheek, then on my lips. I cling to him, wondering if this is really happening — that we’ve created another life, one that is growing inside of me.

My stomach rumbles with hunger, and Adam pulls back with a laugh. His eyes are on mine, and I stare back, wonder coursing through my heart and mind.

“So all of this ... illness ... is not going to bring me death?” I say, feeling foolish that I might have thought so. The light fades from Adam’s eyes, and I realize what I’ve said. Bringing forth a child may not bring me death, but it will bring sorrow and pain, as Elohim told us.

But there is no time for me to dwell on what will surely come. At this moment, I let the relief and joy flood through me. We have fulfilled Elohim’s commandment. This is the beginning of multiplying and replenishing the earth.

Adam kisses my neck and draws me against him.

“I am so hungry,” I say, and he laughs into my hair. I have to shove him away so that he will release me.

I cross to the cooking Fire and turn the speared food, inhaling the rich aroma. I can practically taste the food in my mouth. Adam comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my torso. I wriggle away, and he grabs me again from behind.

Giving in, I turn around and slide my hands up his chest and around his neck. “All right, you get your way,” I say before kissing him.

When we finally eat, my mind is cloudy from kissing Adam and from thinking of the changes going on inside my body. I have certainly felt many of them, but it’s hard to comprehend all that must be occurring. My hand absently rests on my stomach as if to protect what is growing there.

I wonder how large the child will grow. My breath catches when I remember what Elohim told us about how the child will leave my body. My hand stills over my stomach, and I press in slightly. I can feel no protruding shape, but I know from Elohim’s explanation that my stomach will expand.

As the light fades into night, I find myself more tired than usual. Now I understand why. I’m the first to enter our shelter and nestle beneath the deer skin in the sleeping place. The deer skin is thinner than both the leopard and the bear skins, but it provides surprising warmth. Although the days and nights are no longer as cold as they were during the winter season, I relish in the added warmth.

I am just falling asleep when Adam’s hand slides across my stomach. I inhale sharply. Heat pulses through me at his touch, but there is more significance now. I feel as though there are two beings connecting, Adam and the person who lies beneath my skin — the person we have created together.

“Adam,” I whisper, “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

His breath brushes my neck. “We will ... as long as it’s possible. And when our bodies return to dust, our souls will be together in Heaven.”

I turn toward him. He encircles me with his arms, and our bodies seem to blend. Tonight, there is new life growing between them: our own life, our own creation, our own beginning.

Adam stood before the altar newly constructed in the valley. His heart was filled with joy for Eve’s condition. He let her sleep this morning while he made his way to the altar for morning worship. She hadn’t been sleeping well, and now he knew why.

He couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his face as he knelt in the moist earth. “O Elohim, unto thee I pray. Eve is with child, and my gratitude is eternal. Lead me, in thy righteousness, and make my way straight.”

When Adam finished his prayer, as in the moons past, he waited for a long time, listening and feeling until the soft warmth spread through him. It was the way Elohim communicated with him now, and Adam would accept whatever Elohim offered. If Adam kept his mind focused on the things of Elohim, all else faded.

Today the feeling was more intense than usual, confirming that Elohim knew of the child. Adam couldn’t wait to tell Eve.

He rose to his feet, his heart expanded. Eve still hadn’t emerged from the shelter that they’d built of branches and woven leaves. It offered a nice protection from the changing weather. They were starting to collect skins to line the walls, adding more protection between themselves and the elements. Today held the promise of warmth, and Adam knew that by midday he’d shed his bear coat.

He crossed to the cooking area and started the morning Fire. He and Eve had found that the animals they used for consumption tasted better heated over the Fire. As the Fire gained strength, still contained in the circle of rocks that Eve had arranged, he checked on the garden of cultivated herbs.

Eve tended to the garden more than he did now, but he enjoyed examining the plants and turning the soil. With the winter harshness gone, the herbs were thriving, and some of them would be ready to harvest soon. Today he could remain at the dwelling, but tomorrow he’d have to hunt again.

He heard Eve before he saw her. She emerged from the shelter, humming. The eastern light caught in her hair, creating a bronze arch around her smiling face. His gaze slid to her stomach, and he imagined, after only one day of comprehending that she was with child, that he could already see growth.

Her gaze caught his, and Adam thought he’d never seen her look more beautiful. Her smile widened as he continued to stare at her, and then she laughed. He knew she found his open gawking amusing, but he couldn’t help it. It didn’t take him long to cross to her and capture her in his arms.

She leaned into him, and he inhaled the sun in her hair. “Elohim knows about the child,” he said.

“Of course he does,” she said with a laugh and held onto him tighter. “He probably even knows if it’s a male or female.”

Adam exhaled, wondering himself. “How long until the child comes?”

“Elohim said nine moons.”

Adam leaned away from her, his gaze moving down with hers. She guided his hands to her stomach and said, “It has already been a couple of moon cycles. By next winter season, we’ll be a family of three.”

Adam kissed her forehead. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“The same, yet better because I know
why
I’m feeling tired and ill,” she said in a soft voice. “You already built the Fire?”

“I knew you’d be hungry,” he said, smiling.

“I am.” She encircled his neck with her arms and kissed him softly. She broke away all too soon. “Thank you.” She held his gaze, then led him by the hand toward the cooking Fire.

Because thou hast hearkened unto the voice of thy wife, and hast eaten of the tree, of which I commanded thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat of it: cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life.

Genesis 3:17

I’m pulled from sleep by a sharp pain in my stomach. The pain is worse than any discomfort I have felt so far in this state. I sit up, but the pain only deepens. I hold my breath until it subsides. Finally, I lie down again, hoping to find more sleep. The sky outside our shelter is purple with the early morning, promising another hot day, just as the last few have been. I love the warmer weather but find that I tire easily in it.