Eve: In the Beginning (21 page)

She exhaled. “I came to wash in the river.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “My woman’s blood started, just as Elohim said it would.”

Adam stared at her as he thought about what she told him. “Are you all right?”

She nodded but didn’t meet his eyes.

“What is it? Is there pain?”

“Yes,” she said. “But Elohim said it will last only a few days.”

“He said several, maybe seven,” Adam said. “How much pain?”

“It’s different than the gashes from the leopard — not better or worse, just different. I don’t quite feel right.”

Adam wondered how he could help her. “You should have woken me up.”

Her gaze met his, pleading. He ran a hand down her arm, then took her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Pain shot through his limbs as he stood. There were several places where his skin had discolored from fighting the leopard. He saw similar spots on Eve as well. He kept her hand in his as they stepped into the river. He didn’t want to let go of her hand or let her out of his sight. What other dangers awaited them?

Adam scooped water and washed off the dried blood on Eve’s back, arms, and face. She shivered in the cool water, and Adam clamped his teeth together. He had to find something to keep them warm. He looked toward the lifeless leopard on the shore. Its thick fur looked warm and soft. The more he tried to push away the ideas circulating in his mind, the more they returned.

When Eve was clean and Adam had resoaked his wounds, he felt a measure of relief, if only because the cold water helped numb the pain. He and Eve walked onto the shore, and Eve sat on a rock, drying herself in the sun.

“I need to grab a couple of branches,” Adam said. “Come with me.”

She hesitated. “I don’t want to be too far from the river.” Her face flushed. “The bleeding won’t stop.”

Adam looked from her to their surroundings. Determining that there were no other wild beasts stalking them, he said, “I’ll be back very soon.” With Eve’s nod, he hurried away, nearly running until he reached the pile of branches.

He selected a branch that was very straight, then returned to the river. He rubbed the end of the branch against a stone.

“What are you doing?” Eve asked.

He looked up at her. “I need to make something sharp enough to remove the leopard’s skin and fur.” Her mouth fell open. Then it closed. Her face paled slightly, but she didn’t protest his actions.

It didn’t take too long to get the edge of the branch sharpened, and Adam could only hope that his plan would work.

Eve walked with him to the dead animal, but before he did any cutting, she turned away. “I’ll be sitting nearby,” she said in a choked voice.

Adam positioned the sharp stick near the leopard’s neck and pressed down. The work was more difficult and messy than he expected. His stomach churned, and he thought he might heave, but he was determined to complete the task. Once he had removed the skin, he carried it to the river and washed most of the blood from it. The underside of the skin was stained and still had parts of the animal attached to it.

With Eve completely silent and now watching from several paces away, Adam draped the skin over a rock and, holding a sharp stone, scraped away all the extra bits until it became smooth. Then he left it there to dry in the sun.

Eve brought him some berries to eat.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

“I should be asking you that,” she said. She glanced quickly at the leopard skin, then back to him as if she didn’t like looking at it.

“Its flesh might be good,” Adam said.

“Good like a fish?” Eve said, her face paling.

“Good for us to eat,” he said.

“I don’t think I can, Adam.” Her voice fell to a whisper, and she turned away.

He grasped her arm, turning her back toward him. “We need to consider these alternative food sources.”

Her eyes filled with moisture. She looked so thin and fragile that he wanted to kill a dozen leopards to ensure that she never felt cold again. But how could he get her to eat more than just fish and berries?

“Maybe if we dry the leopard meat as well, it will be palatable,” he said.

She shook her head.

“Come on. I’ll try it first,” he said. “There has to be more we can eat than the fish.”

Eve moved away from him, her hands wrapped around her torso. “Yes,” she said in a small voice. “Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die.

Genesis 3:4

Adam brings a piece of fish in his palm. It’s just a small offering, not much bigger than the first piece of fish that I ate. I don’t know if I can take another bite of fish.

It has been two days since he killed the leopard — two days of the skin drying. Adam tried some of the flesh, but I did not. By the second day, the leopard started to stink. Adam won’t touch its flesh now.

I sit near a large boulder by the river, staying close to the water so that I may clean myself often. Adam has completed strapping bundles of branches together to take on our journey back toward the garden. We’ll leave when my issue of blood has stopped and I have my strength back.

Adam’s expression is determined as he extends his hand toward me. “Eat. You need the strength.”

I know I do. I have felt my body grow thinner since we left the garden. Adam’s body has become leaner as well, and his muscles are more pronounced with the hard labor.

I take the bit of fish from Adam’s palm and exhale. This is a new world, and I must become a new Eve. I place it in my mouth, chew quickly, then swallow before I can consider another option.

“Thank you,” Adam says, settling next to me. He has been so gentle and patient. I know he is anxious to return the way we came. I know he believes we’ll be more separated from Lucifer if we are nearer to the garden. Yet he is waiting until the pain in my stomach has ceased.

“Thank
you
,
Adam,” I say, leaning my head against his shoulder. It’s warm from his work in the sun.

“There is plenty more,” he says.

There will always be plenty of fish. His arm slides around me, and I relax into him. Having him near brings me comfort, but I know that there is much to do. He can’t sit with me for long.

The pain in my stomach has lessened only slightly, but I think I am tolerating it better and getting used to the differences in my body. There has indeed been pain in this wilderness, but the pleasure has increased as well. I wrap my arms around Adam’s waist, nestling against him. He has not kissed me again, not as he did the day Lucifer appeared.

Now that my blood has started, we both know what may happen soon. We are both delaying, giving ourselves another day, or another seven days, to keep things as they have been so far — before we change everything together.

But it’s getting harder for me. Adam is always in my thoughts, not as before, but every detail of his face ... I close my eyes as Adam’s breathing stirs my hair.

“We should leave tomorrow,” I say.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m feeling better, and we can stay close to the river.”

Adam presses his mouth against my hair, and I wish we could remain like this forever, not growing hungry or cold, just sitting together while the sun warms us.

Too soon, he pulls away, releasing the warmth that encircles us. “I think the leopard skin is ready.” He stands and crosses to where it has been drying. He brings it to me and drapes it over my shoulders. My nose wrinkles at the smell, but I recognize the value of warmth it will bring to us, especially on a cold night.

I look into Adam’s eyes and see his anticipation. “Thank you for creating this.” I know it wasn’t easy for him. He loves animals as much as I do, even the unfamiliar ones in this wilderness. It’s only out of protection that he has taken this animal’s life.

Adam sits next to me again, and I lift the side of the skin coat so that it wraps around both of our shoulders. He intertwines me in his arms again. The combination of the sun and the leopard coat creates a warmth that I haven’t experienced since the garden.

After a few moments, Adam is on his feet again, preparing for our journey.

We stay busy throughout the day, I weaving baskets that will carry berries and dried leopard skin, and Adam continuing with the lashes that will bind the branches together.

As the sun sets and the air chills, he retrieves more leaves so that I can finish the basket I’m working on. I know that he’ll be gone only a short time, but as soon as he’s out of sight, I start to feel uncomfortable.

“Adam,” I call out, but it seems he is too far away to hear me. It’s unreasonable to scream because I can’t see or hear anything dangerous — no threatening beasts are growling.

And then something brushes against my arm.

I startle and nearly cry out.

“Hello, Eve,” his voice says. I should have known he would appear again — and would wait until Adam had left my side, even if for only a moment.

I barely manage to meet Lucifer’s dark eyes in the fading light. He is crouched next to me, his hand moving down my arm.

Heat pulses through my chest. “Don’t touch me.”

“Are you sure I’m really touching you?”

I look down at his long, narrow fingers tracing my skin. Tiny bumps on my flesh stand out. “I can feel it.”

“Interesting,” he says, his voice soft and smooth. “Adam can’t feel my touch.”

I think of the times that Adam tried to defy our brother and physically remove him from our dwelling in the garden. Adam was unable to touch him because Lucifer isn’t tangible.

“Why do you think that you can feel my touch, Eve?” he asks.

Inside, I want to scream at him, scream for Adam. I want to leap to my feet and escape. But I can’t look away.

“I have been waiting for you, Eve,” he says, his voice growing softer until it whispers all around me. “For you to become a woman.”

I don’t understand what he means. I have always been a woman. Then a knot tightens in my stomach and spreads fear throughout my limbs. He has been waiting for my body to change, and now it has.

Has he been watching us all this time? Listening to our conversations? Seeing me bathe in the river?

I lash out at him, trying to push him away from me. I touch something that feels like a mixture of cold mist and soft earth, but there is nothing to grab or shove away. Lucifer is still next to me, his smile crooked.

“What do you want from me?” I try to move away from him. There is nowhere to go. A boulder is behind me, but Lucifer seems to be everywhere at once. My heart is pounding so hard that I gasp for air.

“To
teach
you, my sister,” he says, his hand on my cheek. Although there is no substance to his fingers, I can feel his touch, cold and fluid. “There are so many things that I can teach you, so many pleasures of this world that you will enjoy.”

His face moves next to mine, and I think I can feel his breath on me, although I know that is not possible.

“Adam and I will learn all that we need to know from Elohim,” I say in a choked voice.

Lucifer doesn’t blink, doesn’t move at all. “Those are Adam’s words,” he says. “I know you are wise and understand the value of knowledge. There is much knowledge that Elohim won’t teach you — knowledge that only I can share.”

“I don’t want your knowledge,” I say. “And I won’t do anything without my husband.”

“I’ll teach you well so that you can teach him.” Lucifer’s head tilts as his gaze bores into mine. “It will take you a lifetime to learn on your own. I can teach you how to keep the cold away and how to keep your stomach from ever growing hungry. I can show you the many pleasures of this world.”

I am cold, and I am hungry. And the small pleasures I’ve had in Adam’s arms have been very desirable.

But this is Lucifer — the one who was cast out of Heaven by Elohim, the one who was cast out of the garden. As Adam and I were cast out.

But unlike my brother, I don’t want to live the rest of my mortal days in disobedience to Elohim.

Lucifer has moved closer to me, and I am pressed up against the boulder, trying to not let him touch me. “There is nothing I desire to learn from you,” I say.

“You must think about what you want to learn.” He blinks in that languid way of his. “When Adam is stumbling around trying to protect you, think of how it might be to have
me
protecting you instead. I know this wilderness better than anyone, and I can give you all that you need.” Lucifer’s gaze is my face, my neck, my shoulders ... “I can be your caretaker, Eve.”

I feel as if Lucifer’s both inside and outside my body, and I can’t look away from him. My thoughts and my body try push against him, but I don’t move, and he is only closer. “Leave me alone,” I say, my eyes burning. “I don’t want you near me.”

Someone calls my name, and it takes me an instant before I realize it’s Adam. He is kneeling in front of me. Instead of Lucifer, it’s Adam.

I blink rapidly, wondering where Lucifer went. I reach for Adam and feel his solid warmth. His hands clasp around my waist. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

His voice sounds far away, and I can’t seem to speak. Where did Lucifer go? How can he be gone in an instant? And then I wonder if Lucifer was ever here at all.