Beyond Eden

by Sherer, B. K. ; Linnea, Sharon

  Daniel’s mother, Eirene, had smiled at Eric and said, “Thank you, Eric, for being his friend. We are grateful to you, for being with him, and for being here today.”

  Then a young girl had stepped forward. She was tall and slim and dark-skinned, with large eyes and long hair. She was at that awkward age when girls start developing, but there was nothing awkward about her. She was a lovely girl, and Jaime could tell she’d be a lovely woman. She was wearing the bracelet Daniel had bought her for Valentine’s Day.

  “Daniel was so great,” Janel said, through much emotion. “I will always love him.”

  The group of teenagers who were Daniel’s friends looked frankly surprised by this, and Jaime could see that Daniel’s brother, Zeke, and sister, Sarah, were caught off guard, and impressed, by that one.

  It was then Daniel’s brother, Zeke, stepped forward. “Did—I mean, Daniel—I know he was my little brother, and all, but Daniel was the guy I always wanted to be,” he said. And then he stepped back to his father’s side.

  Little An Bao was getting restless and shifted enough that Inaba let her get down on the ground in front of her. The toddler looked around shyly; then a look of surprise crossed her face. She walked forward to the easel with the photo and grabbed it. “Nayal!” she said, and looked around, showing it to the others. “Nayal.” She hugged the picture to herself.

  Inaba hurried toward the girl, trying to return the picture to the easel, but the little girl hugged it to her chest fiercely. Daniel’s mother stooped down in front of An Bao.

  “Daniel,” Eirene said softly, pointing to the picture.

  “Nayal.” An Bao nodded.

  Eirene softly closed An Bao’s hands around the photo and nodded to the girl that she could have it. Relieved, the child hugged it to herself and walked back toward Inaba.

  Others in the extended family spoke, as did friends of the family.

  “My friends,” spoke Jaime with assurance, holding out her arms to include all the group. “I leave you with this charge, one which I believe Daniel in his few years had already fulfilled: Accept the adventure that is your life. Drive on with gusto, and without fear of what might lay ahead. Be slow to anger, quick to forgive, and live to the fullest each moment God has granted you.”

  As she said these words, she couldn’t help but think what a challenge they would be for her own life.

  Then she finished the end of the printed service, each word resonating inside: “Let us pray. Give us faith, Lord, to see in death the gate to eternal life, so that in quiet confidence we may continue our course on earth until, by your call, we are reunited with those who have gone before us.”

  After the benediction, the little congregation split into groups. Eric broke away from his father to pull Zeke Derry aside and speak with him privately. Jaime could see Zeke nodding and almost smiling as Eric’s hand motions betrayed the intensity of his storytelling.

  Ryan and his parents were reading the long inscriptions behind the Roosevelt statue, and Inaba and Jimi spoke quietly together, possibly saying their farewells before parting to go their separate ways.

  Jaime caught Abe’s eye and nodded her head toward a pathway that led along the river. She couldn’t help but notice how much he had aged, and how it seemed some of the great zest for life was muted from behind his eyes, even given his perspective.

  They came to a bench that overlooked the river and sat facing the water, neither one able to make eye contact with the other.

  “I am so sorry,” Jaime finally broke the silence. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Forgive you?” Abe was incredulous. “For what?”

  “One step different, one less delay, five minutes here, or even a minute there, Daniel would be alive right now.”

  “You don’t know that.” He was almost angry now. “You don’t know how one slight difference in the chain of events might have altered things, maybe for the worse. There were many people who did a lot of evil things here, who deserve at least some share of the blame, but not you. Certainly not you.”

  They were quiet for a while, at a loss for where to go next.

  “How old are you? Really?” Jaime blurted out suddenly.

  Taken aback, Abe said, “Gardeners who come to raise a family in the Terris world are usually young, somewhat equivalent in age to their counterparts here. I’m fifty-eight, which is only a few years older than my peers in the Army. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m sorry; I needed to know. And forgive me if it’s too personal, but do you now regret that you and Eirene chose to have, and raise, a family here in the Terris world? Things would be so different if you’d stayed in Eden.”

  “Jaime, we’re not here to live long, uneventful lives. We’re here to make a difference. Daniel might be dead, but four children are alive who might otherwise be dead. There’s also a teenage girl who will never again doubt she’s worth loving. And I hope my other children, and Eirene and I also, will continue to have an impact on the lives of those around us.

  “And now, with the foundation to run, I know that will help Eirene.”

  An anonymous donor, whom both Jaime and Abe knew to be Geri Allende, had given a large bequest to start a charitable foundation in Daniel’s name. Their first donations would be to the children in the orphanage run by An Bao’s parents and to the African hospice headed by Inaba.

  “But this isn’t really about us, is it? Are you having doubts yourself, Jaime?”

  “There’s so much I don’t know, so much that’s been kept from me.” Jaime looked at the river, not at Abe, when she continued. “You see, sir, I’ve resigned. I’m not an Operative any longer. I couldn’t handle it. I’m not the right kind of person.”

  “Oh,” he said.

  “I’m still Army, and I’ll do everything in my power to be the best chaplain I can possibly be. I know now that’s my calling, and I’ll do my best.”

  “It was Daniel’s death that led you to this decision?”

  “That, and other things.”

  Together the friends sat, side by side. “Life’s hard,” Jaime said finally.

  “And then you die,” agreed Abe.

  “Yeah, but that’s the good part,” Jaime responded.

  “It is indeed,” Abe agreed, and put his arm around his former chaplain. “It is indeed. This year here, next year in the New Jerusalem.”

  This time it was her old commander who was looking off in the distance. “Here’s the thing. When push came to shove, my boy, he stood up. He took risks. He did it so all those other kids could live. He did it so Zeke and Sarah would know they had it in them, too. He didn’t do it so you could stand down, Jaime. He didn’t do it so I could, either.

  “I know you, Chaplain. I think you know that life is good, despite all you’ve been through. Or maybe because of it. So here’s my question to you: Are you sure you quit?”

  Jaime looked up, surprised. That wasn’t the question she expected.

  “Because, you see,” said Abe, taking a chain with a small pendant out of his pocket, “this is for you. From Clement. It’s your next assignment.”

  The general put it on her palm and closed her hand around it.

  “From one simple gardener to another, Godspeed,” he said.

  And he walked back to join the others.

  Acknowledgments

  We would like to express our gratitude to the following people, without whom this book would not be the same. First to our editor, Jennifer Enderlin, whose belief in Eden brought this story to life, and whose keen insights brought it into focus; to Susan Cohen, agent and friend; Sara Goodman, who keeps the ship on even keel; our copy editor Barbara Wild, who knows the difference between toward and towards so we don’t have to; and Bill DeSmedt, fellow thriller-writer and all-around brilliant guy, for the final catches.

  From Sharon: Thanks to James Shanahan, A, D.O. for continuing medical advice. We certainly tried to avoid that intercostal artery! Thanks also to anesthesiologist Tomi Prvulovic for information on
how to correctly dope someone up ineffectively.

  Thanks to: Deb Holton-Smith, Colleen Larsen, MaryAnn O’Roark, and Robert Owens Scott for early readings of the manuscript that led to substantial additions to the story. Thomas Mattingly and Stacey Chisholm for such important continued support. Barbara Rossing and Jurgen Moltmann for revelations on how one’s view of the end of the world influences your day-to-day life, and to Bob Scott and Mark Richardson, Jamie Calloway and Jim Cooper for organizing a life-changing Trinity Institute conference on the topic. With gratitude also to Pam Heatley and the Ladies of Newport Writing Circle (who are neither from Newport or necessarily ladies) for their company during the solitary days of writing.

  Thanks to Bob for living for months at a time with a wife who was under the gun and far from the mop; to Jonathan for being so thoughtful, funny, and creative, and for understanding the times I groused about helping with homework or didn’t make it to the soccer game; to Linnéa for being so self-possessed and creative and for learning to tack her own horse; and to my parents for their continuing encouragement.

  Last but not least, thanks to B.K. for decades of friendship, the perfect research delivered in a timely fashion even when she was deployed, for making trips to Europe to write so much fun, for skilled writing, and generally being the other half of a creative team.

  From B.K.: Living and working in a place like Iraq does not make one an expert on all things related to it. So, recognizing my own limitations, I am grateful for people whom I consider to be the real experts, and who provided input for this book with great flair. Howard Cordingly, you were not only a talented Staff Weather Officer, but you found some really cool Google Earth satellite photos! Steve Powell, your insight was very helpful, and I appreciate that you didn’t tell me so much that you had to kill me. Ed Moschella, James Griffith, Mike Doyle, you offered great insight into the military medical system.

  I am also thankful for the opportunity to work with a very unique command team the likes of which may never be seen again: Becky Halstead, you taught me about compassionate leadership; Sue Sowers, you were such a diligent prayer partner; and Sharon Duffy, you always kept our feet on the ground. Whose week is it to buy the pizza?

  To my sister Linda and her husband Mark, I guess I finally got something in return for all those years of being your ground crew with radio in hand. Thanks for a helpful “pilot’s-eye view.”

  For Jim Mercer, Andrea Pfaff, and Bill Webber… your collective abilities to be pastors and yet real, down-to-earth people helped a young woman seeking God’s direction for her life understand that you don’t have to lose yourself to find your calling.

  Finally, I am eternally grateful for a special friend and role model who is no longer with us, Bennett Basore. You were never too busy to help someone in need, whether an individual in distress or an entire community responding to disaster. You introduced me to the dedicated work of the Stillwater Amateur Radio Club and the thrilling activity of tornado spotting. But most of all, I will never forget returning home after a long day at church to find you mowing my lawn. You will always be the truest example of a “gardener.”

  From Both: Thanks to our readers who gave us a reason to write. Godspeed.

  Sharon and B.K., Memorial Day, May 2007, Villers-Agron, France

  SHARON LINNÉA is the author of the new mystery These Violent Delights as well as the three Eden Thrillers. She has also written award-winning biographies of Raoul Wallenberg and Hawaii’s Princess Kaiulani. She lives outside New York City with her family. Visit her at SharonLinnea.com

  B.K. SHERER holds a Master of Divinity degree from Princeton Theological Seminary and a Doctorate of Education from Oklahoma State University. A Presbyterian minister, she currently serves on active duty as a chaplain in the U.S. Army.

  The authors first collaborated on a play about the French Underground for their 6th grade talent show in Springfield, Missouri, and have been friends ever since.

  EdenThrillers.com

  A portion of the proceeds of this book will go to the Wounded Warrior Project, (WoundedWarriorProject.org) which supports soldiers and the families of soldiers who have been severely wounded in the service of their country.

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Treasure of Eden

  by

  Sharon Linnéa

  and

  B.K. Sherer

  Prologue

  January 23, 2007, 9:10 p.m.

  Geneva, Switzerland

  * * *

  It was the end of a long day and the CIA Political Officer working with the Geneva Terrorism Task Force was ready to go home, grab some dinner and a Belgian beer. But first he picked up a new file that had been left on his desk earlier in the day.

  Frank McMillan was just back from three years as Chief of Station in Tunisia. Three long years. Suffice it to say some of the higher-ups had not been pleased with his performance as Chief of Station of Kuwait City during the early days of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Nor had they been pleased that certain items he’d procured for them had been found to be less than authentic.

  Ah, well. Another assignment. A fresh start.

  His time in Iraq had piqued his interest in the black-market trade of antiquities. Even though it had nothing to do with his official duties, Frank had one of his assistants tasked to monitor all known venues for newly available items. The folder before Frank was half an inch thick with printouts and Xeroxes of the current crop of antiquities being offered for sale illegally. He opened it and thumbed through the papers under the circular pool of illumination from his desk lamp.

  Nothing especially interesting.

  Until, tired as he was, one item toward the bottom of the stack caused an intake of breath. He sat up, running his hand through his thick brown hair, feeling his adrenaline surge. He grabbed for his reading glasses, closed the folder, and put the printed paper in the center of his desk. It read:

  eBay Item Number: 150 126643 1598

  Realistic Jewel Cask Prop From ’50s Classic Movie Jenii

  Starting Bid: $50.00

  End Time: Jan-27-07 00:30:00 PST

  (3 days, 12 hours)

  Shipping Costs: E-mail seller before making bid

  Ships to: Worldwide

  Item Location: Classic Props Warehouse

  Description: This is it, the jeweled treasure box at the heart of the classic film Jenii, set in the mountains of the Judean wilderness. This box has been guarded carefully since the 1954 production, no nicks or scratches. Six realistic gems: ruby, carnelian, turquoise, lapis, jade, mother-of-pearl. Cask itself is heavy, measures twelve inches long, ten inches wide, and six inches deep, and comes with a lifetime Certificate of Authenticity. This is a fantastic blue-chip investment piece and was acquired directly from the prop maker. One of a kind. Only time available. Don’t miss this once-in-a-lifetime chance to own a piece of film history!

  Seller: Classic Props

  Feedback: 100% Positive

  Member: since Aug-04-01 in United States

  Frank put his hands over his face and leaned back in his leather desk chair.

  This was it. What he’d spent the last four years waiting for. A clue.

  It wasn’t a prop, of course. He’d become well versed in the language of the black market and knew the entire listing was code. It was an ancient box found in the Judean wilderness in 1954. Furthermore, in this auction, every dollar bid was $1,000.

  He turned his computer back on, went to eBay, and pulled up the auction. He clicked on the photo to enlarge it. It was exquisite. The gold leaf on the outside of the box, the black onyx interior. He moved through the series of photos. Incredible. The hinges, too, were the right kind for Judea of 2,000 years before.

  But what had caught his attention were the jewels: ruby, carnelian, turquoise, lapis, jade, mother-of-pearl. This was a rare instance when it was possible that even the canny dealer might not fully understand the significance of what he had.

  Frank McMillan was aware that many of his com
patriots thought he’d gone to Iraq a pragmatist and returned an obsessed man. He had been dealing there with two powerful men, both of whom believed that the place called Eden actually existed. Both men had died in their quest.

  If, by any stretch of the imagination, it was true—if Eden did exist—the implications were staggering. One of his partners, Coleman Satis, claimed his own mother had been born there. She had told him stories of Eden’s incredible wealth, of jewels so abundant they were used for home décor. More to the point, she’d told Satis of an advanced society with a wealth of technological and medical advances that would be worth billions to the outside world. And she said they had no army at all. No defense. Anyone with power who found this hidden society could walk in and take over. The ramifications of being that person were enormous.

  There was a saying that Satis’ mother had passed along to him, a saying that had driven Satis, who was already one of the most powerful men on earth: Who Rules Eden Rules the World.

  Sounded like a worthy job description, at least to Frank.

  Satis’ mother had been so persuasive that Coleman Satis—the ultimate pragmatist—had been willing to risk everything, including his life, to find and conquer this place.

  Now Satis was dead.

  Frank himself wasn’t completely convinced it actually existed. But there were loose ends. Unsolved mysteries. And he was not a man who could tolerate loose ends or the feeling of being thwarted.

  He’d come back from Iraq knowing two things. One was that these six jewels—ruby, carnelian, turquoise, lapis, jade, mother-of-pearl—were connected with the mystery. They were the jewels listed in the book of Genesis as jewels plentiful in Eden. He still didn’t know how they figured into whatever the hell happened in Iraq, but he knew they did. At the heart of the incident had been a bracelet worn by an Arab girl with those six jewels.

  The other thing he knew but could not explain was that a female American Army chaplain, Jaime Lynn Richards, who’d been involved in the secret Eden operation, had disappeared off the face of the earth, from Iraq, for three years. Then she had returned as mysteriously as she’d left, and reassumed her duties, seemingly without anyone in the Department of the Army batting an eye.