Revealing Eden (31 page)

“I’m fine.” And it was true until jealousy bit her. “But how could Bramford have mated with Rebecca? He really must have loved her to risk a Cotton child.”

“I suspect he never knew about the mother’s inferiority,” her father said. “My hypothesis: she had her genome falsified. She must have paid a heavy price to some rogue genetic marketer.”

The story Bramford had told her while under the influence of the
bejuco de oro
began to weave together.
The FFP used you to get to me
.

“Or else,” Eden said, “the FFP discovered the truth about Bramford and set him up with Rebecca in order to guarantee an albino offspring.”

She could live with that scenario despite the racial profile:
seduced by a backstabbing Pearl. At least undying love hadn’t caused such a supreme sacrifice.

“Still, how could any mother agree to have an albino?”

“Perhaps Rebecca didn’t know about Bramford’s genome either,” her father said. “It’s logical to assume the FFP tricked both of them.”

“Yes, that fits.”
What were the odds?

Eden imagined the parents’ shock when they first laid eyes on their son and realized the truth about each other. Bramford and Rebecca became victims of their own lies, which in turn, branded Logan.

To his credit, Bramford had tried to save the child by hiding him in the jungle. But did pride or love drive him? If the truth came out, it would topple his empire. Naked fear fisted around Eden’s heart as she considered the consequences of having signaled Shen. Surely, Bramford’s half-brother would protect the boy.

“There are so few secrets left in the world,” her father said. “I didn’t know the truth about Bramford until the night of the experiment. Of course, he understood that I needed the correct genome. You can’t imagine how it threw off my calculations.”

Not the fire?

“Father, are you saying that your miscalculations advanced Bramford’s adaptation?”

“It’s quite possible. I made what corrections I could in the limited time. We argued about the disproportionate risk. Bramford said he had no choice.”

The final piece slammed into place as Eden recalled Bramford’s confession.
I’d give my life for him
. When he managed
to hide Logan away, along with the evidence of his inferior genetics, the FFP set their sights on a new goal—her father’s work.

Thanks to my big mouth
. Eden was not entirely off the hook.

Only, they hadn’t figured Bramford would use himself as a guinea pig. She understood he had risked his life in the hopes of saving his son. Even if the FFP stole the technology, Bramford’s adaptation would provide her father with necessary samples. And if Logan also could evolve, he might be safe from The Heat, as well as from those who would destroy him.

Eden pressed a trembling hand to her chest. Paternal love, not greed, had been Bramford’s primary motivation.

Sweet Earth, how wrong she had been about this incredible man.

A woman’s cry pierced the air, and Eden caught her breath. She hurried to the porch, afraid of what she might find.

“What is it, Daught?” her father called out.

“A dead jaguar.”

Bramford’s third and final donor
.

Slumped near the fire pit, its feline head hung at a grotesque angle. Across the compound, Eden saw Maria and Lucy walking towards it. The sadness in their eyes terrified her. She took the steps two at a time, pressing a hand to her injured side.

“Bramford?” she said.

“No sé.”
Maria didn’t know his fate.

Theirs was the deep sorrow of solastalgia, Eden realized.
She watched them huddle over the slain animal with bowed heads, like supplicants in bygone churches who came on bended knee to ask for forgiveness. Long ago, God had died, and nature soon would follow.

Eden stared at the jaguar’s pitch-black coat, realizing yet another part of Bramford’s plan. Just like the original donor, this animal had melanism, the opposite of albinism. Bramford hadn’t chosen the trait for vanity’s sake, after all. He had sought to counter the extreme effects of his defective genome, for Logan’s benefit. All along, the fiercely protective father had danced one step ahead of disaster.

Flies buzzed round the jaguar carcass. Its flank, matted with blood, told of a vicious battle. A cold knot twisted Eden’s stomach. What if Bramford hadn’t survived?

L
IKE STEEL KNIVES, the morning light angled into the center of the compound and burned Eden’s skin. Sweat trickled down her chest, draining her energy. But she hardly noticed her discomfort or the blinding glare, as she scanned the area for a sign of her Jaguar Man. What if he had hidden in the nearby bush like a wounded animal on the verge of dying? He might leave this earth and never know how she felt about him.

“Bramford?” Eden cried, running towards the rim of the forest. “Where are you?”

She stopped, straining to listen for a moan or whispered response. But there was none. She moved further down the ring of trees, her anxiety ratcheting higher with each step.

“Hello? Ronson Bramford!”

She ignored the dull pain in her side and the Huaorani women’s puzzled looks. Carmen and Etelvina raced out of their hut and skipped behind her. As if it were a game. The Indians might not care if Bramford met the Great Snake in the Sky, but Eden couldn’t bear the thought.

“Bramford, can you hear me?”

The broiling heat hobbled her walk, turning her feet to bricks of clay. She clumsily skirted the vegetable path and
tripped over a stray potato root. Tangled there among the plants, she noticed several bright red patches on her arms and legs. The words formed in her mind with inexplicable terror:
Sunburn. The Heat
.

Then a shadow fell over her. Bramford’s deep voice quickened her heartbeat.

“What are you doing?” he said.

Eden looked up to find dull, bloodshot eyes staring back at her. Bright red slashes ripped across his chest. Wild hair tangled around a battle-weary face. Relief swept through her and, on its heels, indignation. She struggled to stand, sputtering with rage.

“For Earth’s sake, why didn’t you answer me? I’ve been screaming your name. Don’t tell me you didn’t hear me!”

Bramford glanced over at the slain jaguar. Eden felt like small fry in comparison. In fact, she detected a great shift in him. The uneasy alliance between man and beast, which had swung back and forth, now settled in favor of his savage side with solemn gravity.

Still, that didn’t excuse his rudeness.

“Well?” Eden said.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Bramford said, without great interest.

Inches away, his scent rushed over her and left her light-headed. His indifferent gaze traveled from her shorn locks to the short hem of her dress. She felt naked before him, excitedly so. And ready for the compliments she expected.

Instead, he asked, “Why did you cut your hair? Your neck will burn.”

“What do you care?”

“If you don’t, I don’t know why anyone else would.”

He swaggered past her towards the main hut. Furious, Eden stamped after him. “Obviously, you don’t care, Bramford. My father might live if you hadn’t gone away.”

“What are you talking about, woman?”

“Maria says there’s a plant that will save his life. It’s in the mountains—Heaven’s Gate. We should leave right now.”

Bramford hesitated on the top step. He looked down at her over his shoulder, an eyebrow lifted. “We?”

“That’s right.”

“And why is that?”

For a second Eden got lost in his penetrating stare. She struggled to explain, though she couldn’t understand it herself. “Um, because Maria believes if we both go, he’ll get better.”

Bramford’s eyes clouded with suspicion, then he turned away. She followed him inside and, as she reached the hammock, saw the shock on his face. Her father lay sleeping, his rapid state of decline plain to see.

“Now do you understand?” Eden said.

“Doctor Newman?” Bramford said softly.

“What?” Her father mumbled something about percentages and ratios.

“I brought the jaguar. How long before you’ll be ready?”

Her father continued talking in a nonsensical way. Eden pressed a hand to his burning forehead.

“His fever has spiked,” she said, holding back her tears.

Bramford stared out the back window. Eden wondered if he regretted involving her father in his story—another victim of his lies.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning to her.

“Wait a minute,” she said, hurrying to her room.

Eden dug out the Life-Band and tucked it inside her bindings. She had to get rid of it and hopefully, confuse the signal. Their salvation must come from the natural world, she decided. Catalog and reverie—it had to work.

Using her finely developed researcher’s skills, she memorized the leaf Maria had given her, which was too brittle to survive the arduous trip. Then, as if it were a sacred object, she kissed the leaf and offered a prayer.
Please Mother Earth, heal Father
.

On her way back, Eden gave the Jaguar Man statue a playful slap. Bramford watched her approach, a shadow of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Come,” he said, already moving out the doorway.

She whispered in her father’s ear. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Lily?” he mumbled.

“Please, hang on, Father.”

Outside, Eden caught Bramford gazing towards Logan’s hut. She wanted to tell him that she understood, that she was sorry for everything, but she didn’t know how.

Before she reached the bottom step, he gathered her into his arms and set her on his shoulders. An electric current ran through her at his touch. Eden leaned her hips against the back of his head, thrilled to be back on her special perch. She dug her hands into his silky hair, holding steady, as they flew across the compound.

Past the gate, Bramford pointed towards the mountaintop, which wore a halo of clouds.

“Heaven’s Gate,” he said.

“It’s dangerous,” Eden said, recalling Maria’s warning. “I guess that explains the name.”

“It’s called Heaven’s Gate because you have to die to get there.”

Eden gasped audibly. Bramford roared with laughter and she laughed along with him. As long as she was with him she had nothing to fear except for her small-minded self. The New Eden was eager to meet the world with an open and fearless heart. She wondered how such a giving place could have once terrified her.

A morpho butterfly with iridescent blue, foot-long wings that shimmered in the sunlight brushed her skin, delighting her. Overhead, a group of Wied’s marmosets with eerie human-like faces peered down like gatekeepers of an ancient land. Excited birdcalls announced their arrival,
the King
and
the Queen of the Jungle cometh
.

Bramford slowed to an even trot as the mountain slope grew steeper. His low pant blended with the lively hum of the jungle’s denizens. After a while, they entered an area so pristine that even the trees seemed surprised by their presence.

Once again Eden suspected that someone was watching them. She bent over to whisper in Bramford’s ear.

“I think someone is spying on us.”

“That’s true,” he said.

“But who?”

“Nature.”

“Nature?”

Eden sensed something more—a hidden layer of life that she still couldn’t grasp. Or could she?
Open your mind, Eden
.

Through the passing miles, she studied Bramford’s signals.
The quick dart of his head directed her to a harpy eagle that flew in the upper canopy. She understood that he gathered information from its trajectory, probably the location of water or small prey.

She spotted the myopic bee following the dark veins of a
Cattleya
orchid towards the inner yellow track of pollen. An iguana hid on a shadowy branch, camouflaged. A slight shift in the wind pressed upon her skin. By the location of the sun, she estimated their northwesterly direction.

The rhythm of her breath began flowing naturally as she relaxed.
Animals breathe that way
. So that was what her mother had meant, Eden realized. Her cares slipped away. There was only the present moment, and then the next.