Eve

by Wm. Paul Young

  Today, John had another surprise. He succeeded in navigating Lilly’s mechanical chair up a moderate incline and out a door into an open patio above the rooms where she had been healing. For the first time she could feel the air and sun’s embrace without any sense of separation. The space was small and sat like a crow’s nest atop a mast and offered a stunning panoramic view. He left her to attend to other matters.

  A strong rail was all that stood between solid footing and a couple of thousand feet of open space. She opted not to approach it in her chair. Even from her position a sense of vertigo overwhelmed and exhilarated her.

  Face upturned, she reveled in the late afternoon sun. A playful wind tugged at her hair, which she had let loose from all ties or bands. In spite of the ever-present sadness, she was almost happy, when suddenly her reverie was broken by the sense of being watched. She flinched. It felt as if a hand of ice had touched hers. Not ten feet away, looking out as she was, stood Simon, positioned strategically between her and the exit ramp.

  Tall, slimly built, he was dressed carefully but almost too heavily for the day’s warmth. His white buttoned shirt topped by a scarlet bow tie enhanced his features and dark hazel eyes. Oddly, while the wind swirled around her, it seemed reluctant to approach him. Simon spoke without turning, his voice surprisingly gentle.

  “I am sorry if I startled you,” he stated. “Don’t be afraid!”

  She let herself draw in a deep breath, relieved without a reason. “You did! I didn’t even hear you, at all, and it . . . surprised me, that’s all.”

  “I am like that. Quiet, that is. I don’t draw a lot of attention, at least not directly. Where’s the Collector?” he asked, turning with a smile toward her. “I assumed he would be with you, your ever-present guardian.”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “It is just as well,” the Scholar declared. “I wanted an opportunity to talk to you alone, if that would be all right?”

  Lilly almost let her internal smile play on her lips but resisted. This man was a stranger and she needed her guard in place. But there was an aura of the dangerous and delicious about this one, and it felt good to be sought out.

  “That’s up to you,” she offered. “We could call for John to join us.”

  It was a game, and she knew it and suspected that he did as well. He smiled and looked away, out in another direction and then back before speaking.

  “Lilith . . .”

  “Lilly,” she interrupted. “My name is Lilly.”

  “Of course.” He pursed his lips. “Regardless, you have been chosen as the Witness to Beginnings, and that is unimaginably significant. I am deeply honored to have met you, no matter what any of the others have said.”

  “What others? What have they said?” The flattery she’d enjoyed vanished, replaced instantly by insecurity.

  Simon appeared to be embarrassed and quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean at all to cast aspersions. I’m sure they mean well.”

  “Who?” she demanded.

  “The others, the older ones.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Well, for example, that you are just a child, which is not at all how I see you. However, they are accurate in pointing out that you are young and lack experience. But that is not the point I was attempting to make. I actually agree with them that you have not yet grasped your singular importance and the significant choices that lie ahead of you. It is my humble opinion that you are going to need some very real and present guidance.”

  “From you, I suppose?” Lilly was irritated at everyone, her general frustrations now finding a focus. Simon didn’t answer.

  “Why am I so singularly important?” she finally asked.

  “Because you have the power to change history!”

  The staggering potency of his declaration was almost too much to consider, but his demeanor was as intense as his statement.

  “H-How?” she stammered.

  “Lilith, you are the chosen Witness to Beginnings. Focus on what you were told last night. As the Witness, not only are you the photographer, you are also in the picture as an active participant and your choices can change everything, everyone’s history.”

  Lilly was in such a whirlwind that she didn’t bother to correct him again about her name. What he was saying finally made some sense. There was a purpose to her being here, being the Witness. What if he was correct? By affecting history, could she also change her own? If one altered Beginnings, would one not also change the Endings?

  As quickly as the wave of possibilities lifted her, she dropped, the immensity of what she imagined too much.

  “I thought I couldn’t interfere,” she said, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “Not interfere, participate,” Simon said. He didn’t react to her outburst. “I can help. And God will give you wisdom. Why would God put you in this situation, if only to abandon you to failure? You can do this, Lilith. I believe in you.”

  That was the little encouragement Lilly hadn’t realized she needed, and taking a deep breath, she relaxed into her chair. He took a step toward her but maintained a distance she considered safe.

  “So, what do I do now?”

  Simon took another step closer. “We must get you to the Vault. It seems to be the key. My advice, for now, is trust your own instincts. You have been chosen because of who you are. The right choices will arise from your knowing who you are.”

  “Simon, my past is all a fog most of the time. I have flashbacks, but they’re almost always terrifying.” Even as she said it, Lilly realized that she was already allowing this man into places where no one else had been invited. “How do I find out who I am?”

  “That, young woman, is why I brought you my gift.” And with a flourish, Simon withdrew from somewhere in his coat an elaborately framed mirror with an artistically crafted handle.

  “It’s beautiful.” Taking it, Lilly laid it on her lap. “Where did you get this?”

  Simon hesitated, a fleeting look of grief momentarily darkening his eyes. “It belonged to my wife.”

  “Your wife?” Lilly felt a rush of compassion for this man and was also repelled by the thought of such a gift. She tried to hand it back. “I can’t take this.”

  “But you must!” insisted Simon. “My wife . . . my wife is in a much better place. If she were here and knew who you were, she would want you to have it. Please. This is no ordinary mirror. This mirror reveals the truth, if you know its secret. Legend says that its power of reflection comes from the very first pond into which Adam gazed and saw his own face. Please take it.”

  Lilly hesitated, realizing that she hadn’t seen her own face since arriving at the Refuge. Even in the archives of her memory there wasn’t a face she was certain was her own. Lilly glanced at Simon, who nodded, encouragingly, so she lifted the mirror and peered into it.

  Nothing. It was only a moving cloud of gray, shifting as if blown by the wind around her. She looked up at Simon, confused.

  He smiled, playful and gentle. “I told you it had a secret.” Reaching out, he put his hand on hers and turned it upward. His touch was cold, but in a way that was bracing against her sun-heated skin. It felt good and she didn’t pull away.

  “See this brilliant red stone?” he asked, and she inspected it more closely. “The one here where the handle meets the frame. When you put your right thumb on that stone and raise it to your face, this mirror will reveal the truth of who you are.”

  She moved her thumb over the stone.

  “Before you do that, I must warn you.” His voice was firm, his manner focused. He placed his hand strategically over hers. “This is not a painless process. You will see the truth, which can be very difficult and troubling. But you’ll only fulfill your destiny if you commit wholeheartedly to believing what you see.”

  At that moment a shadow passed across them and Simon snatched the mirror from her hand and thrust it inside his coat. A massive eagle flew by, not a hundred yards away.

&n
bsp; “Simon, what’s wrong? It’s just an eagle. Biggest eagle I have ever seen, but just an eagle.”

  “It is a thief!” he said. “They look to steal reflections for their nests. Those creatures make me nervous.”

  They watched the wind rider disappear into the distance before Simon slipped his gift back to her, his eyes still fixed on the sky.

  “You must be on guard and keep it hidden. It is for you and you alone, a gift commensurate with your unparalleled importance.”

  He turned and again smiled, his intensity replaced by cordiality. From another pocket he pulled a cloth bag. “Here. When you place the mirror in this hood, both will be camouflaged by whatever they touch.” As he lowered the gift into the cloth, both vanished, not entirely but almost. Against the sky it looked like a barely shimmering but warped window. He placed the bag on her lap and it absorbed the colors of her blanket, blending in completely. The only indication of its presence was its weight.

  Lilly reached out and squeezed his hand. She felt conflicted, both repelled and attracted to this Scholar’s words. The ease that she took for granted with John was absent, but in its place arose an entirely different spectrum of emotions. How was it that she could feel both scared and intrigued, hopeful and tentative? Simon brought up all these feelings and more.

  “Simon,” she began, “thank you. There are some things I need to tell you . . .”

  Lilly intended to confess to this man everything she had hidden from the others, but as she opened her mouth to speak, the sound of whistling could be heard approaching from below. She turned toward the doorway to see John arrive, shielding his eyes as he left the darkness of the building.

  Lilly glanced back at Simon and did a double take. He was gone, evaporated or disappeared as completely as the mirror. Quickly she folded her gift inside her covers. The rush and flush of deception rose in her face. She hoped the sun would hide it.

  “There you are!” exclaimed John. “I can tell by the pink on your cheeks that you have enjoyed your time up here. But I’ve come to collect you.” He looked around, curiosity on his face. “Did I hear you talking to someone?”

  Already feeling trapped inside growing duplicity, she expanded the lie slightly.

  “Perhaps you heard me talking to the Invisibles?” she offered, waving her hand at the emptiness around her, and he laughed.

  It wasn’t an actual lie, she justified it to herself, only a suggestion. If John chose to accept it, that was his problem.

  “Perhaps. Are you ready to leave your perch? The Scholars may join us for supper, and you should rest a bit first.”

  As they slowly descended, Lilly kept her hands folded on the mirror that lay hidden beneath. It felt ominous and intriguing, like a gift that lay unopened. It would have to wait.

  “John, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Of course,” he responded.

  “I’ve been resting all afternoon. Do we have time, before the meal, to read me the remainder of Eden’s story?”

  “I certainly do.” John was quiet for a moment. “Why the sudden interest?”

  “I’ve been thinking that it might help me understand why I’m here and what I’m supposed to do. Up till now all the Adam and Eve stuff has been on the same shelf in my mind as fairy tales and make-believe, so I would like to hear it again, from the Scriptures. I guess I want to be prepared.”

  “Hmm.” Once he’d parked Lilly in the receiving room, John excused himself, returned quickly with the large book, pulled up a comfortable chair, and opened it once again at the back.

  “Let’s see, where did we leave off?” He looked up at her and she nodded to start.

  “This is the account of the heavens and the earth on the day . . . ,” he began. As he read he would occasionally look up. Lilly was always intent and focused, listening and absorbing. A few times during the reading she asked him to repeat a line or phrase but other than that asked for no additional explanations.

  He concluded with, “So God drove the man out and at the east of the Garden of Eden, God stationed two Cherubim and the flaming sword, turning in every direction and keeping the way back to the Tree of Life.”

  “Wow,” Lilly stated, heaviness in her voice. “I don’t think I ever heard the actual story before. It’s beautiful and incredibly sad.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” asked John, setting the book on the nearby table.

  “Not now. I just want to let it sit for a while. Would you, please, take me to my room?”

  He nodded, stood, and wheeled her out and down to her room. “I’ll come get you when the others arrive. It won’t be long.”

  “One more question?” she asked.

  “Of course.” He smiled. “It wouldn’t be normal without one final question.”

  “Were you a Witness too?”

  He looked surprised. “Lilly, I have no idea how you knew that.”

  “Someone said it a long time ago, while I was still flat on my back. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

  “That’s all right. And, yes, it is true.”

  “What did you witness? Beginnings?”

  “New Beginnings, I suppose you could say. I witnessed Eternal Man come as the second Adam.”

  “The second Adam?” she blurted, but then she held up her hand and shook her head. “Tell me later. Did you know what to do?”

  “Do you know this makes five last questions so far?” He laughed, gently and easily, but then answered. “Yes, I knew I was a Witness, and that I would have to learn to trust. Everything else came as it came and I responded, some say not very well. But even after all these years I wouldn’t do it differently.”

  “John, did you change the world?”

  “I did, Lilly. I changed the world,” he stated, with a smile. “It’s what Witnesses do.” Then he quietly closed the door.

  Unfolding her covers, she sat looking into the mirror, the surface the same swirling cloud of gray. The promise that lay on her lap was an enticing invitation to truth, but it seemed dangerous too. Did she even want to know the truth about who she was?

  She rolled her chair over to a dresser and opened the top drawer, placing the mirror next to her other gifts: Gerald’s ring, Anita’s key, and John’s journal. Whatever truths her reflection held for her, they would have to wait a little longer.

  • • •

  AS PROMISED, JOHN SOON knocked and wheeled her down to the waiting meal. The seasonings of grilled meats and fresh vegetables teased her nose, but on Lilly’s plate was a boring concoction of bland grains, herbs, and medicines. She didn’t question any of it, her mind caught in things that seemed much more relevant.

  Lilly sensed the prickle of his presence before he stepped into the room. Simon entered dressed the same as in the afternoon, still wearing his brilliant red bow tie.

  “I’ve seen a similar tie only one other time,” John stated. “Belonged to a character named the Caretaker.”

  Lilly laughed. “You have a friend named the Caretaker?”

  “I suppose that in a twisted sort of way his relationship to me would be that of a friend, but I confess”—he grinned—“he is one friend that I have been avoiding, for quite a long, long while.”

  “A friend with a flair for fashion,” suggested Simon, and both the men laughed.

  “I have never understood that accessory,” returned John. “Overstated. Not in your case, Simon. On you it seems fitting.”

  Possibly because of her heightened senses, Lilly believed every conversation had a subtext, an underlying intent and meaning that no one was directly addressing. Trying to deduce the layers was tiring, and soon she gave up.

  Over dinner Lilly would occasionally glance in Simon’s direction, but he never acknowledged her. He acted as if nothing had transpired between them. This made her doubt herself somehow. Had she imagined their chemistry?

  As the meal ended, Lilly excused herself and John helped her to her room. A moment after he left, a night Nurse entered and assisted her with nighttime
routines. As requested, she was left in a sitting position. She could make adjustments when ready.

  Moving the chair to the dresser, she opened the top drawer and touched each gift in turn, her hand pausing on what appeared to be empty space, where she had laid the hidden mirror. Finally she picked up her journal and pen and began again.

  I am more confused than ever about pretty much everything. Simon came to see me, alone, up in the Castle Patio (my name for it), at the very top of the Refuge. We almost got caught by John. Simon makes me feel alive, but I also feel bad about keeping more secrets, especially from John. When I start to think about it, I mean really think about it, it feels all wrong . . . so I try not to think about it. Lame!

  Anyway, Simon gave me a magical gift, a mirror that will always tell me the truth about who I really am. It has a secret too but I haven’t tried it yet. I’m scared and there really hasn’t been the opportunity. What else . . . John and Simon talked about a friend of John’s named the Caretaker, like I need more mystery people in my life. Actually, John seemed a little uneasy about the Caretaker, so “friend” might be overstated, to use a John word.

  It feels like a big adventure is just beginning, but with Simon’s help, I think I can do whatever I’m supposed to. I’m glad that Anita and Gerald and John will be with me, and I hope Han-el is real. It’s all messed up, keeping secrets about what I saw, Eternal Man and Eve and Adam and Creation. I really miss Eve. Maybe she can give me some answers. Then, maybe I’m just crazy.

  Lilly closed the clasp, her left thumbprint sealing it shut. Odd, it had not occurred to her before that the journal and mirror were activated in opposite ways. Her left thumb locked the journal’s secrets; her right unlocked the mirror’s.

  A vague scent of incense and sage began to fill the room, as if a combination of herbs were smoldering close by. She dismissed the idea as exhaustion and placed the book and stylus into the drawer.

  But her perceptions were changing; the room shifting. She felt giddy and unbalanced and then, as if strangely through the mists, she thought she heard the sound of Letty’s humming at a distance.