“Yes.” She laughed in spite of her lingering nausea.
The horizon where the ocean kissed the sky was fully in view when John announced that the day had been an unqualified success and it was now time to rest. Within minutes all the noise of activity dissipated, replaced by a refreshing quiet.
John left her for a brief time, returning with a bowl of broth that smelled wonderful. Lilly’s stomach growled.
“Soon we’ll have visitors,” John said, sitting next to her. “I’ve put them off as long as possible, but they’re increasingly insistent.”
“Why are they coming to see you?” Lilly asked.
“Not me. It’s you they want to meet. When you’re able to sit upright, I’ll allow it. Letty says it has something to do with an ancient prophecy. We’ll learn more when the time comes. But for now”—John spooned some soup out of the bowl—“as a reward for all your hard work, I am going to feed you. The Cooks and Healers concocted this just for you. Other than medicinal and herbal liquids, it’s the first thing of substance you’ve eaten. Eating and drinking are keys to your healing.”
He raised a spoon to her mouth. “Here. Try it. I already know it’s quite tasty.” He winked.
It was warm and savory and delightful, and she could feel its fingers of comfort spreading inside, awakening natural abilities that had lain dormant. At first she choked and sputtered. But she grinned as he wiped bits of broth off his face and again raised the spoon to her lips.
They did this, carefully, slowly, and methodically for a few minutes, then he leaned back.
“I know you want more, but that’s enough for now. Don’t want you puking all over, do we?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” She took a deep breath, feeling her lungs rise and fall, enjoying the scents of the sea and flowers as the day began to slowly melt into the horizon. Apart from the fact that she was still mostly immobile, she felt better than she had ever remembered. In her waking hours, anyway.
“If I knew God, I’d hope he was like you,” she said. John set the bowl aside and stared at her, his eyes welling up. “John, does the God you know have a name?”
She wondered if a name might open a door between her dreams and this reality: Adonai? Elohim? Eternal Man?
John blinked several times. “God has many names. Each is a window into facets of God’s character and nature, none sufficient but each helpful. Some are too deep for words, and by that I mean they cannot be formed in sounds. Others are easily identified. Easily spoken.”
“You said you think God let you find me because He loves you?”
“I do. On any given day any person might become a Finder; it is one of the truly wonderful risks of life. When you have lived as long as I, you discover that you can never truly walk away from a find. You can try, but it will seek you out until you care for it, or him, or her. The only thing that changes you more than becoming a Finder is when you yourself are found.”
“Did someone find you?” she asked, drawn in by his introspection.
“Again, an entirely different story.” He sighed and gathered himself to stand. “My cousin. It was my cousin who found me.” He laid a steady hand on her brow. “And now you need to sleep, but I will be here when you wake. May your rest be full of sweet dreams, and may only good be in your heart and mind.”
• • •
LILLY OPENED HER EYES to see Adam put his finger into Eden’s liquid boundary. Instantly a wave of the energy and water swept through him, lighting up his body as if with living particles. Every time he touched it, he giggled. Eve too was caught up in his delight. This is joy, Lilly thought.
Adam passed through the boundary and left the garden. He crouched low in the grass like a boy playing a game of hide-and-seek. The two followed, catching his excitement. Eve explained to Lilly that Adam had been tracking a specific creature near one of Eden’s borders for weeks, but every time he got close, it disappeared into the underbrush or down a hole, just a flash or glint of moving blurs of color. It was built low to the ground and hardly left a trail before vanishing.
Long hours of patience had failed to bring him nearer his quarry, but in the hunt he discovered countless other creatures living in the heights of the forest canopy or crawling inside the dirt.
Disguised in the dark browns and reds of river clay, Adam was sneaking through tall grass canes, moving like a passing breeze, when he was ambushed. An inch from his face was the creature he had been stalking. It so startled him that he fell backward and then began to laugh.
But Lilly was shocked. It was the snake she had met on her first visit to this place. Immediately internal alarms sounded. She glanced at Eve, who also seemed unsettled.
“What do we do?” Lilly whispered.
“It is not our place to interfere,” Eve replied, her voice tinged with anger.
Why not? Lilly thought. But she had heard the warning in her mother’s words.
This snake was like a living vine, thick as a tree trunk. Two eyes of piercing onyx fixed inside yellow gold were recessed in its swaying head.
“Why do you pursue me?” A split tongue darted out to taste the air.
“You speak?” Adam exclaimed. “And not a rudimentary communication like other beasts’. Your words are clear! They are like the melodies of the Cherubim.”
The snake raised its head off the ground, meeting Adam’s eyes. Its hood fanned out. Lilly could feel her pulse racing as a combination of fear and rage rose within her. There was something very wrong here and she couldn’t find the words to give it voice. Lilly felt Eve take her elbow, as if to hold her back.
“You are a wonder to behold,” admired Adam. “In all my explorations I have never before faced another beast like you, none in Eden’s garden, so tell me what you are.”
It didn’t answer immediately, offering only the sway of movement and flash of tongue.
“A wild and wise beast of the field!” it declared. “I am a shining one and my domain is outside Eden’s boundaries. And what are you, who boldly speaks to me and is so frail but unafraid?”
“I am Adam, son of God,” he declared.
“Adam! Don’t talk to that thing!” yelled Lilly, but Adam didn’t hear. The snake, however, turned in her direction.
Seven
* * *
VISITORS
For a long while Lilly lay quaking as the dread slowly drained. Could the serpent have the ability to pursue her to the Refuge? This fear was irrational, but so was everything else she had witnessed.
Reaching up in the early morning light, she rubbed an itch on her nose. That movement was a first. It broke through her anxiety and brought a smile. And even better, it didn’t hurt. Something in her body had changed. Lifting both her hands, she examined them in the early dawning light, moving her fingers in front of her eyes.
A snore erupted from a nearby sofa, startling her. John had spent the night close by, probably in case she needed him. Lilly was finding it difficult to resist her growing appreciation and affection for him.
Voices drifted in from a nearby room.
“I think we have visitors,” she indicated.
He woke slowly. It took him several moments to collect himself.
“Visitors? Really? Already?” He mumbled, starting in one direction and then changing course, then halting until Lilly pointed toward the receiving room. He noticed she used her hands and beamed at her.
Taking a deep breath, John asked, “Would you rather meet them in here or out there?”
“Out there,” she affirmed. “I haven’t been out there yet.”
Pushing buttons tilted the bed again, and when Lilly nodded she was ready, he wheeled her toward the room where guests were hosted. It was a grand space, windowed on three sides and sitting high atop an outcropping of cliff wall, offering a magnificent view of the shoreline, the hills beyond, and even the vague purple shadows of distant mountains.
This beautiful morning three Scholars stood waiting for them, teacups in hand, look
ing out over the sea below. They turned in unison, dressed in similar garb—fairly disheveled, tutorial vestments covered by a fine layer of what appeared to be chalk and road dust. Two were old, older than John perhaps, and while weariness slept in the lines of their faces, their eyes were bright and clear, as were their smiles.
The woman was tall, over six feet, made taller by a hat perched on her crown. She had a thin and angular body, her nose almost like a bird’s beak. Overall she looked like a stork, except that the colors of her clothes were all wrong, mostly browns and blacks. The other elder was a stark contrast to her, almost as round as he was tall, which was barely over four feet. He looked about to explode, his breathing labored, as if he had run up the many flights of steps from the bottom of the cliffs where the sand and water met.
The third Scholar appeared significantly younger, though age lines had etched memories into his face. He was taller even than the woman, hair combed and hanging loosely around dark and striking features. Lilly sensed an odd familiarity about him, which was both attractive and disquieting.
“Greetings to you,” John said, raising both his hands. Each in turn took his hands and then touched foreheads with him. Lilly guessed this to be the customary greeting.
“I’m John, a Collector. And, I’m happy to add, a Finder, as you are aware.” He nodded toward Lilly. “This is Lilly Fields. The Refuge is our home and you’re welcome to stay as long as you desire. I apologize for not seeing you sooner. It wasn’t the right time.” He extended a hand toward their cups. “I see an Attendant has brought you tea. Would you like a biscuit too?”
“We needn’t bother you for biscuits yet,” said the woman, seating herself on a sofa. “Immensely pleased to finally meet you, John. Your story is renowned.”
The rotund Scholar, who had smiled and opened his mouth at the mention of a biscuit, closed it again and kept his smile fixed.
“Where are you from?” John asked.
“Beyond the Thrain,” she said.
John’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know there was anything out there. Well, that explains why I didn’t recognize you. Beyond the Thrain, really?”
Nodding, the rest of them settled into chairs. John sat next to Lilly, and the sudden scrutiny of the group made Lilly uncomfortable. She turned her eyes toward her feet and tried to hide the one that did not match the rest of her body.
“It must have taken you a long time to get here,” John said.
“Suffice it to say that we are from a place that is months in the traveling . . . beyond the Thrain.” The woman enunciated the last words slowly, her eyes locked on John.
“And as regards a biscuit—” interjected the round man.
The woman raised her hand.
“—I can certainly wait.”
“How did you travel so far?” asked John. “I’m trying to imagine such a long journey.”
“Riders,” she began. “We do not have many Fliers in our parts and I, personally, am a bit acrophobic, at least regarding unprotected heights. The Riders have been well looked after here—thank you! But it has taken us weeks to recover.”
Lilly stole a secret glance at their unkempt clothes and wondered if they had no others.
“And why have you traveled all this way?”
The female Scholar hesitated, tilting her head in the direction of Lilly without taking her eyes off John. “This is the foundling, I assume?”
“She is.”
“Then it is about her that we have come.”
Lilly bristled. “I am sitting right here. Don’t talk about me like I’m not even here—”
“As if,” the woman interrupted.
“What? As if? As if what?” Not only was she confused, she was now annoyed.
“What she means,” offered her portly companion, “is that it is probably better to say ‘as if’ you are not here, than ‘like’ you are not here.”
“Well, excuse me!” Lilly snapped, enunciating the words for effect. “Like, I don’t, like, care! As if! And while I am, like, on the subject, as if, doesn’t anyone around here have an actual name?” She was now gesticulating with her hands and arms, partly because she could. “This is so aggravating,” she continued her rant. “Am I the only one on this island who finds this, like, utterly annoying?”
The conversation flamed out into an awkward silence punctuated by the waves breaking on the shore below.
The woman’s eyebrows rose, and the stout man shrank into the back of his chair as if he was trying to disappear. The third Scholar didn’t flinch. In fact, the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Oh my!” the woman finally exhaled, her face flushed. “That was all rather exciting, and almost worth the trip by itself, I must say!”
John beamed proudly, a distinct twinkle in his eyes. “Did I forget to mention that Lilly is, like . . . an introvert?”
In this space where shocked stares met rising embarrassment, Lilly could hear nothing but the beating of her heart and the ringing of her ears.
The she-Scholar cleared her throat, in a delicate sort of way. “Lilly,” she said softly, “my name is Anita. It is an honor to meet you.”
And then, as if the meeting had no chance of going well, a tiny, high-pitched voice called out from beyond the room, “Where is everyone? Have I missed the party? Those stairs are going to be the death of me, I swear.”
Lilly recognized Letty’s voice. What followed was the patter of tiny feet, then the minuscule woman’s arrival. It was the first time Lilly had actually seen the little hummer. Letty was a tiny bundle barely three feet tall, with cane and shawl. To Lilly, she looked like a teeny house sitting on slender mismatched stilts. She was an impossibility of physics and Lilly tried to avoid staring. With the aid of her walking stick, she headed directly toward the Scholars.
“Good day to you, my friends, and to you, dearie.” She nodded to Lilly, who was speechless.
“What do you think of all this?” the miniature old thing asked John, pointing her cane toward the Scholars. “It’s been ages since we’ve had a visit from the realms beyond the Thrain.”
John threw up his hands. “You knew about lands beyond the Thrain and didn’t tell me?”
The little thing just grinned. They all greeted her properly, the Scholars forced to kneel to touch Letty’s brow, and then sat again. Letty hefted herself up onto a stool and precariously perched on the edge. Once seated, she began humming quietly. No one but Lilly seemed to take notice.
Lilly nudged John with her elbow and he leaned in to hear. “Why does she hum?” she whispered.
“Curmudgeon,” he said quietly, then turned immediately to the others. “Letty, we were just making introductions.” He nodded to the smaller man.
“I am Gerald,” he said to Lilly. “Vanguard Scholar of Antiquities.”
“And my name is Simon,” said the youngest, leaning back against his seat and crossing his ankle over one knee. “Vanguard Scholar of Systematics and Philosophy.”
Lilly was both strangely attracted to and repelled by the sound of his voice. It reminded her of silky chocolate.
“May I ask your area of study, Anita?” asked John.
“Anita,” interjected Gerald, “is a Vanguard Scholar and First Order Counselor.”
“First Order!” John exclaimed. “Then I’m doubly honored! Your specialization?”
“Soul psychology with a focus on ENI,” she answered, and John reflexively glanced at Lilly.
Even though he looked away quickly, she caught it. “What is ENI?” Lilly asked. Her throat, too long unused before her outburst, felt tight and swollen.
“Epigenetic neural integration,” chimed in Letty. “Think of it as putting together a shattered mirror, reconnecting the relational spaces within the backdrop of neural networks in the mind and the relational heart.”
“Ah, we used to have one of those on the farm,” observed Lilly. No one laughed. “I’m joking,” she explained. “It’s my way of saying I don’t understan
d anything you just said.”
They nodded and laughed politely. Again, Lilly felt awkward.
“Dear one,”—Anita leaned in—“the prophecy told us that your arrival would be through significant tragedy. Even a minor crisis can shatter the human soul. I’m skilled at mending the cracks between pieces. Those were just big words to say I’m a Healer who participates in restoring broken souls.”
“You think I’m a broken soul?” Lilly kept a rein on her offense this time.
“Certainly!” Anita was firm and gentle. “Like everyone in this room.”
“Even Letty?” Lilly asked, and that broke the tension.
“Especially Letty,” John said, and laughed with the others. “From what I have heard, she was seven feet tall before arriving. What you see is the best we could do.”
Anita reached across the space and patted the girl on her hand.
The tiny woman smiled and then pointed a long and bony finger directly at Lilly. “Do you understand, little girl, that you are the reason we are all gathered here?”
“Me?” she exclaimed. “Why?”
“Why indeed!” emphasized Letty. The woman crossed her tiny dangling feet. “I do not begin to fathom God’s wisdom, but it seems that the destiny of this place and time, and perhaps of the cosmos, has been linked to you and to the choices you make!”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve all made a huge mistake,” Lilly exclaimed. She noticed a tremble in her fingers. “I don’t even know who I am exactly, or where I am.”
“You’re the daughter of Eve, is that not enough?” asked Letty.
Everyone now faced Lilly, seeming to wait breathlessly for her response.
“I suppose so, if by Eve you mean the Mother of the Living.”
The elder Scholars sighed in unison and sat back in their chairs. Gerald shook his head. Had she said something wrong?
“Of course,” Anita said, and placed a hand on Lilly’s knee. “But we were also referring to your distinctive genetic makeup.”
Lilly had no idea what she meant. It was Gerald who directed a question at John.
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