Eve: In the Beginning (18 page)

Eve was all smiles as they walked to the river. They washed quickly in the cold water, but even the cold didn’t seem to dampen Eve’s spirit, and for that, he was grateful. He knew that this was temporary, though: they had another long day of walking ahead of them and another cold night, unless he could find shelter and a way to stay warm.

The glorious and delicious sun warmed Adam’s skin as they walked toward the east mountains. He breathed in the crisp, cool air and reveled in the new warmth. The sky was free of clouds and impending mist. Tonight would be a dry one.

Eve seemed to walk with renewed energy as well. Adam caught her looking at him more than once. He was surprised she hadn’t already asked dozens of questions about their new world. Finally, he laughed. “Do you have something you want to ask me?”

He was surprised to see her face redden as she looked quickly away.

Adam took her hand. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

Eve’s gaze was trained on the ground, her face still red. When she lifted her gaze, Adam’s heart lurched. Her eyes were even bluer in contrast to her reddened complexion. He had the unexplainable urge to pull her into his arms. So he did.

She melted against him, nearly clinging to him.

“Tell me, Eve,” he said, resting his chin on top of her sun-warmed hair. He’d never noticed how every part of their bodies seemed to blend together, and instead of being two separate people, they were like one.

Her head moved back and forth.

Adam drew away. “You aren’t going to tell me what’s bothering you — why you keep looking at me with questions that you refuse to ask?”

She blinked up at him, then looked to a spot beyond his shoulder.

He slid his hand behind her neck and said, “The Eve I know wouldn’t hesitate.” He received a half smile in return, and a jolt shot through Adam. He wanted to press his mouth against her smile. Dropping his hands, he released her, not sure where his thoughts had come from.

Was this what Elohim had said about
natural desire
? It must be, Adam decided. Then he felt his face heat up, and suddenly he knew what Eve had been thinking about.

He released a deep breath and said, “Are you thinking about what Elohim said in the garden — about multiplying and replenishing the earth?”

A deep red flushed Eve’s face, and she said in a quiet voice, “Have you been thinking about it?”

He held back a smile. “Yes.” When she met his gaze, his heart pounded, and it was hard to take a normal breath. “I can feel the difference in my body since we Fell. There are so many things that feel different.” He stepped closer to her and moved his hands to her waist. Her hands lifted to rest on the outside of his shoulders, and she stared at his chest.

“Do you feel different?” he asked.

“Very.” Her eyes closed. She leaned slightly toward him and moved her hands down along his arms, as if she were tracing every muscle there.

Adam couldn’t explain what was going on inside his body and heart, but he couldn’t move as Eve moved her hands down his arms and then interlaced her fingers with his.

They stood together, neither moving nor speaking for several moments, the sun wrapping around both of them.

When Eve stepped away, Adam felt as if he had just awakened from a dream, and he hovered in the moment between sleep and full wakefulness.

“Those bushes look as though they grow berries,” Eve said, moving away from him.

The wakefulness came, but the acute awareness was still there. Adam followed her, seeing the high, dark green bushes she had spotted.

He took several deep breaths, trying to steady the churning inside of him. Had Eve felt as he did? Is that why she wanted space between them now?

She stopped in front of a bush dotted with small fruits that were a deep berry red and that looked perfectly good. Adam reached out to pluck one of the berries, and his hand rubbed against the stem of the bush. It pricked his skin, and he drew his hand away quickly. “That bush causes pain. We shouldn’t eat of its berries.”

“Let me try,” Eve said, a smile on her face. “See the stems? They have sharp edges poking out. Don’t touch them as you pluck a berry.” She pulled a fruit from the bush and lifted it to Adam’s mouth.

He opened his mouth obediently and ate the berry. It was sweet and moist on his tongue. “Very nice,” he said. Eve popped another one into his mouth. He rather enjoyed her feeding him. Adam breathed out, new hope growing inside of him. They had found food.

Eve smiled as she chewed the next berry. “
Much
better than fish.”

“You really don’t like fish, do you?”

Eve plucked another berry and popped it into her mouth. “No.”

He loved the warmth in her eyes as she ate the berries. “What about bear?” he said, holding back a smile.

Her eyes snapped to him, her face paling. “You can’t mean it.”

“Or maybe an insect?” he said.

She took a step back and gasped. “How can you even think of that?”

He grinned and grabbed her at the waist. He wanted to be close to her, to never let her go. “I’ll never make you eat an insect ... unless you’re sleeping.”

Eve pushed against his chest, both squirming and laughing. Then she stopped and lifted her face to his.

He watched her as she moved closer — the dark brown of her eyelashes and the way her tangled hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back.

“Adam,” she whispered, her breath touching his lips.

Tingling spread through him, making him feel numb and alert at the same time. He lowered his head, still watching her. Her gaze went to his mouth, and her lips moved toward his as if they had been meant to be together all along.

Adam closed his eyes, and a breeze seemed to push up from the ground and move between him and Eve. He realized that she was no longer in his arms.

He opened his eyes to find that she’d stepped out of his hold and turned away.

“Eve?” Adam asked, his words coming out strangely thick, as though he had something in his mouth he was trying to speak around.

She lifted a shoulder, but she didn’t look at him. “I think I feel ... afraid.”

Adam exhaled. He knew what she was saying, and understood it even, but yet ... “Of me?”

“No,” she said in a quiet voice, then, “Yes.” She turned to face him, and there was moisture on her cheeks. “Not of
you
, but of what this is ... this desire Elohim spoke of. It’s something that I’m not sure I understand.”

And it’s only growing stronger
, Adam thought. He didn’t want to tell Eve that, didn’t want to concern her. He didn’t comprehend it all himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about holding her and kissing her either. “Come on,” he said, reaching for a berry. “Let’s pick as many as we can. Then we’ll finish the distance to the mountains.”

And the rib, which God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man.

Genesis 2:22

My heart won’t slow its pounding. I almost touched my lips to Adam’s, and he almost touched his lips to mine. Then I pulled away, and I could no longer look into his gold-green eyes. Does he understand even a small portion of what his touch does to me or how his gaze warms me from my very toes until the hairs on my neck raise up? The sun has lost its purpose when it seems my husband can warm me from now on.

I am still warm as the sun descends below the western hills and we reach the base of the eastern mountains. It has taken nearly three days to reach them, and now we’ll surely find shelter.

The questions burn inside me: What is Adam thinking? What is he feeling? But I can’t ask any of my questions. My heart speeds up as I consider them. I can’t stop stealing glances at him, and I notice that he is looking at me as well.

My throat is tight, and my hands perspire. The journey has been exhausting, but there is energy welling up from somewhere deep inside me that continues to surface time after time. We have pressed on for an entire day, and still I could walk without slowing.

The berries that we picked are almost gone. Adam caught another fish along the way, of which I ate a few reluctant bites.

Adam is walking a little ahead of me, and I watch the movements in his shoulders and back. His hair brushes the top of his shoulders, and from time to time, the wind lifts it. I can almost feel his hair in my hands. I can’t stop thinking about the way it felt to be in his arms, holding him close, feeling his heart beating as rapidly as mine.

When Adam stops and turns to face me, I wonder if he can see into my thoughts. My face warms quickly, and I’m grateful for the fading light.

“These trees will provide a decent shelter for tonight,” he says, walking toward a group of trees that grow close together at the base of the slope. The mountain rises high and sharp above us.

Stopping makes me realize how tired I really am. “Those trees look fine,” I say. I think of our alcove back in the garden and miss the soft bed of leaves and the protection from the heat — although now I wouldn’t complain about a little more warmth from the sun.

Adam walks to the wild grove and snaps off some branches. The sound echoes against the mountain.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m going to build an alcove,” he says.

“From tree branches?”

He tosses a branch to the ground, the fading sun glowing against his skin. “We need something to call home as we explore our surroundings.” His eyes meet mine, and my heart thumps. The thought of sleeping next to him in a small space makes me feel hot again. The past two nights, we slept next to each other but in the open wilderness, space all around.

Although my legs ache from all the walking, I cross over to help Adam. I tug on a branch. It bends but doesn’t break off. I tug harder but still don’t have the strength to snap the wood. Adam comes up behind me, his arm reaching past me, and snaps the branch off.

“I’ll break them,” he says. “Why don’t you gather them into a pile? Tomorrow we can weave the leaves together so that we can strap the branches into a shelter.”

“All right,” I say, moving away from his closeness.

We work quickly, and we lean the branches against a large boulder that we find. This creates a cozy, but also a very narrow, sleeping place.

“Will we both fit in there?” I ask.

“Yes,” Adam says, looking a bit surprised at my question, but there is a slight smile on his face.

I exhale slowly, thinking I may not sleep much after all. The sun makes its final farewell, and darkness crowds us fast, so we finish the shelter in the faint moonlight.

Then there is nothing left to do but go to sleep. I crawl in the shelter first, pressing myself against the stone.

But when Adam peers inside, he says, “Move to the other side. The stone will be colder.”

I slide over, and Adam crawls in. He stretches out, the edges of his body touching the edges of mine.

“Do you think it will get much colder tonight?” I say, folding my arms for some warmth. It has already grown noticeably cooler with the absence of the sun.

“It will be plenty cold.” His voice rumbles over me. “But we should stay dry at least.” Then he pulls me against him until my back is against his chest. Warmth moves through me, and my heart starts its rapid beat.

I say nothing, and Adam remains quiet. I wonder if he can hear my heart thumping and my rapid breath. I make an effort to breathe slower, to concentrate on getting warm and not on the man holding me in his arms.

“Are you hungry?” he asks after a moment.

“Not very,” I say. “Not enough to eat fish or insects.”

Adam laughs, and I revel in the way his chest moves with that laughter.

We are silent again, and a few times I think he has fallen asleep until he makes a slight movement or whispers a question. I’m grateful that he doesn’t kiss me. I don’t know what my reaction would be, and I’m not sure I want to find out.

At last sleep comes with the deepening of night and the warmth of Adam keeping out the cold.

I wake alone, but I am not cold. The sun is well into the sky, piercing through the openings between the shelter’s branches. I hear a loud snap and know that Adam is breaking off more branches. The sound reverberates through me, each snap reflecting Adam’s strength. In the garden we would have never broken the branches of the trees nor eaten the flesh of any fish. It seems this world is centered on destruction.