Eve: In the Beginning (35 page)

“Can you smell the waters of the sea?” Adam asks, his eyes bright with anticipation. “Think of all the living fish below the surface.”

“Not more fish,” I say, and he laughs.

Then the sound of an approaching storm reaches my ears, but as I look above the waters and across the sky, I see no clouds.

“What’s that sound?” I say. It’s quiet yet all-encompassing, reverberating down to my feet.

Adam is looking around too, and when our gazes meet with the same question, he says, “It must be the sound of the waters.” With his free hand, he points to the white tops. “There is a lot of strength in that water as it pushes back and forth.”

We continue down the ridge, and something tugs at my heart, whispering.
This is your home.
I shiver as a breeze passes over me, touching my skin in a caress. This is a sight I could wake up to each morning.

Adam’s hand tightens in mine, confirming that he feels the same way.

And Adam knew Eve his wife; and she conceived, and bare Cain …

Genesis 4:1

NINE MOONS LATER

Adam stretched his back, pleased that his day’s labor was nearly finished. The garden of herbs that he’d plotted and cultivated was coming along fine in the warm weather. He felt grateful for a mild winter season compared to what they’d experienced inland, but he was most grateful that any day now, he and Eve would welcome a new child.

If the movement within his wife’s stomach was any indication, this child would be born alive and strong. Joy pulsed through him as he thought of Eve’s happiness. Her face had taken on a serene quality, and she seemed at peace more than ever before, including when they lived in the garden. Since arriving at this place, the land of vast, blue waters, they’d created a permanent dwelling — one that pleased them both.

Adam pulled up a few young roots, deciding to add them to the evening meal. In his most recent hunt, he’d acquired an adult deer, so he wouldn’t have to hunt for a while. He didn’t want to leave his wife when she was close to bringing forth the child.

Nine moons
, Elohim had told them in the garden. Without the sun setting, Adam knew tonight would be the full-moon phase, the ninth moon since Eve believed she’d first conceived. Over the past few days, every part of Adam’s body had been tense with anticipation — for Eve, for the child, and for how he could protect them both.

Carrying the bundle of herbs, he headed for their shelter. It was more elaborate and sturdy than anything he’d built so far. With time and practice, he was figuring out how to create more than one living space and how to fit together branches and arrange animal skins so that he and Eve were protected from the elements.

As he passed the herb garden, the wind picked up, carrying the scent of cooking. Eve had already started the evening meal, it seemed.

She would be surprised to see him back earlier than usual.

Halfway between the herb garden and the dwelling, Adam passed by the altar — where he spent each morning praying. Elohim had been generous, he knew, although it had taken him time to realize that Elohim had been watching over them all along.

Lucifer was always nearby, lurking in the trees, sometimes near the vast waters. He hadn’t made an effort to penetrate their dwelling yet, but Adam knew he would continue to wait for an opportunity — one that he and Eve didn’t intend to ever give him.

Adam ran his fingers across the altar as he walked by. The sturdiness of the rock formation seemed to transfer its strength to him. Even in this lone wilderness, there was much beauty to be found. And much love.

He saw the curls of smoke first. The smoke was blacker than usual. Adam increased his pace without really knowing why, but as his heart thumped, possibilities came to his mind.

Then he heard Eve cry out his name.

He looked around, trying to see where she was. No one was by the cooking Fire, and he could see that the animal flesh was overcooked, nearly black. “Eve!” he called out as he began to run.

She didn’t answer back, so he ran straight for the shelter, dropping the herbs he carried.

Bursting inside, he couldn’t see anything at first. The interior was dim, and his eyes had to adjust from the brightness outside. Then he heard a soft cry — not his name, more like a moan.

“Eve? Where are you?” he said, his heart pounding in his chest, making it difficult to speak.

“Back here,” her voice came to him in the dimness.

The sound was from the second living space, which connected to the front area. Eve was in the place where they had their soft bed of skins.

He stumbled through the shelter, holding his breath. By the time he reached the back area, his eyes were nearly adjusted to the dimness. Eve was crouched next to their bed of skins, her hands on her stomach, her gaze staring through him, wide and unfocused. He wasn’t sure that she saw him.

A shot of both fear and wonder coursed through Adam. The time had come. He knelt beside her, murmuring her name. “What can I do?”

Eve was breathing rapidly, and she gripped his arm tight. Adam didn’t dare move, although he knew there would be bruises from the pressure of her fingers. Her face and arms were moist, covered in perspiration, and her hair hung in damp tendrils about her face.

She continued to stare forward, but at least Adam knew she was aware of his presence. Her body started to shiver, and her eyes clenched shut.

Adam felt her scream almost before he heard her. Eve’s scream extended from her, vibrating through his body. She grabbed for him with her other hand. “Hold me up,” she gasped. “The child is coming.”

The dark curls crown his round face, warming my heart.

Our son.

Born and alive.

I lean against Adam, whose arms encircle me as we recline against our bed of skins. Our son is at my breast, his body warm against my own, and he and I are surrounded by love, by Adam.

“We are a family,” I whisper. I have never felt safer, more protected, more content, or more at peace. The joy is almost incomprehensible, almost painful because it expands within me, and I feel that it might escape me at any moment.

Adam’s chin rests on my shoulder as he watches our son, who is eating and somehow sleeping at the same time. I close my eyes, exhaustion consuming me, but I don’t want to sleep — not yet.

I am grateful that my husband returned from the herb garden early to find the meal burning and me in the throes of pain. The memories of pain are already fading, and I silently thank Elohim for that. For a moment, I wonder if my soul was really in my body at the time.

It was as though this was happening to someone else and I was observing as my body became a medium for bringing forth a child. I could not feel hot or cold or even hear Adam’s words of comfort. All I knew was the pain. It was its own force, claiming and controlling me.

And now it seems far in the past.

To be replaced by the sweetest gift of all.

My eyes open, and moisture runs down my cheeks.

My son’s hands are so small, his tiny fingers each with their own nail. Dark lashes touch his round cheeks, and I marvel at his small ears, his faint eyebrows, his feet, his toes ... all that has been created and has grown inside me.

Adam sighs, enveloping me in the sound. His sigh tells me that he is content too. We’ll worry about other things tomorrow, but tonight, there is only us.

Three of us.

Disbelief and joy course through me. At one time I thought this day impossible, especially after losing our daughter. Only now I realize that my heart has healed, day by day, as this new child grew inside me. And his birth — his perfectness — has at last healed the deepest sorrow. It has replaced the anguish with hope and love and promise.

“What should we call him?” Adam whispers, his breath against my neck.

I look down at the tiny living, breathing child and marvel at his existence, at his creation. “Elohim has sent him to us,” I say. “He is our first son.”

“The first son we have created,” Adam says, his voice quiet, reverent. “How about Cain?”

“Cain,” I repeat, testing out the sound of it. The child stirs in my arms, his small noises touching my heart. “I think he heard me.”

Adam chuckles, his chest vibrating against my back. “He did.”

“And perhaps he approves,” I say. “Cain is a strong name.”

“One that will never be forgotten.”

I nod. “We’ll raise this son in joy and protect him from all that we can.”

“Yes.” Adam strokes my arm. Then his fingers meet mine as we touch Cain’s small fist. “We’ll teach him in righteousness, and he’ll grow into a man who will be a strong leader and who will be remembered throughout the generations.”

Adam’s words are comforting, washing over me like the sea, and my heart turns to prayer. I pray that this son of ours will embrace Elohim and bring us great joy. I can’t imagine anything more sweet as I touch his dark curls against his forehead. His presence has already filled me with unspeakable gratitude.

I lean down to kiss his brow, his skin warm against my lips.

“I love you, my sweet child,” I say. “In this life and forever.”

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Eve: In the Beginning
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H. B. Moore

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The story of Adam and Eve is certainly a timeless one, and, I believe, an eternal one. Although my rendition has plenty of fictional world-building aspects, I hope that the selfless nature of our first parents shines through. While researching, writing, and subsequently editing this story, I was struck time and time again by the remarkable events that took place in the Garden of Eden and before and after the Fall.