by Amanda Vink
Then she saw it. On the tree, hanging just within reach, hung fruit. There was only one that she could see. Pictures of Eden she had seen in the bible showed a tree full of apples. This tree was not an apple tree. It was also not laden with fruit—there was only the one piece hanging from its limbs, taut-skinned and perfect and tempting.
“Marjorie! Don’t eat it!” She heard Frank calling to her, but his voice sounded far away. Her thoughts came to her as though from a great distance. Why isn’t he stopping me? she wondered. But she also couldn’t bother to care. She was enamored by the fruit, by its beauty.
She couldn’t stop herself. In a moment she stood before it and found herself reaching out to touch it. Its skin was deep purple, and it was firm. She just knew that were she to bite into it, the juice inside would be sweet. It would trickle down her chin. It would be the sweetest thing she had ever tasted. The saliva in her mouth built up, and she had to swallow.
But she could not pull it from the tree.
Arms circled around her, pulling her away from it all—the tree, the fruit. It was like awakening suddenly from a deep dream. Her body went into shock. She couldn’t move—she even had a hard time breathing. It was like the air was being forced from her body.
Richard towered over her, and she noticed her father’s map rolled up tight in his hand. His lips moved, but she couldn’t make out his meaning. She watched him try to pull the fruit from the tree, but he couldn’t either. Then he gestured to his men, and they brought Hamid forward.
The boy looked small in this space, standing among these adults and the tree. Tears streamed down his face—he seemed terrified. He shook his head, no. He would not go forward.
Richard grabbed Marjorie and jerked her into a choke hold. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to inhale, but his arm stayed tight against her throat. Hamid wailed—in fear and anger. He stumbled forward. Reaching out, he plucked the fruit from the tree. It detached easily in his hand.
Richard threw Marjorie to the ground and darted toward the fruit. Cupping it in both hands, he claimed victory.
Marjorie coughed, sucking air into her lungs. It was hard to focus, but she heard a tussle—Frank trying to fight with the soldiers. Her eyes found him and her heart sank. There were too many of them.
Then all Marjorie could see was Richard, drawing the fruit to his face.
“Wait!” she yelled.
“I’m sick of waiting! All I’ve been doing is waiting—a long time for this, in fact,” Richard said, glaring at her, “and I’m not going to wait anymore. Least not because some girl playing pretend that she’s some sort of adventuress tells me to.”
Now that she was out from under its spell, she remembered Frank’s warning. “Don’t eat it,” she said.
But Richard was already gazing at the fruit, his eyes wide. He wore the look of hunger.
“No!” But she was too late. Richard had already taken a bite.
The fruit peeled away from the seed at its center. Juice ran down Richard’s chin. He was smiling, and his pupils dilated. It must’ve been a spiritual experience—he looked overwhelmed.
“Richard,” Marjorie said his name, but she didn’t know what she meant to say afterward.
He turned to look at her. Now his eyes were completely white. He kept smiling—and he looked happy, although it was clear that he was mad.
“Oh my God,” he said. He said it again.
Energy rippled through him. “Everything!” he shouted. “It’s showing me everything.” He took a second bite. The fruit pulp stuck to his teeth. His eyes glowed now.
The energy increased. He began to shake violently, his body racked again and again with waves of knowledge. Wind picked up around him, and everyone else within the clearing had to turn away from him. He was a source of bright light.
Too bright, Marjorie feared. How can a human body handle so much?
“I know everything!” he crowed.
Just as suddenly, the wind changed. It blew cold—colder than the most arctic of winds. Richard, who had appeared elated just seconds before, looked all of a sudden afraid. He opened his palm. Glancing into it, he saw that the fruit itself was changing. He tried to throw it away, but it would not leave his hand.
The fruit grew and grew. First it reached the size of a matchbox, and then it became even larger—the size of a tennis ball. It continued to grow. Richard finally managed to fling it onto the ground, and still it changed. Soon it was the size of a small child. Marjorie gasped in horror as it expanded and morphed into an adult form next. The shape of a woman.
She wore nothing, covered only by a long, thick mane of dark hair. The woman’s expression was mischievous and lovely. She was godlike—almost too beautiful to look at.
Marjorie saw that Richard looked at the woman with a mixture of awe and terror. “Lilith!” he cried. He clutched at his chest, as though he was having a heart attack.
Marjorie’s memory flickered, the familiar name worming its way through her consciousness. Suddenly, she remembered reading about it back at Saint Catherine’s. Lilith… Adam’s first wife.
Lilith!
The woman stepped toward Richard. With a smooth hand, she ran her fingers over the side of his face. She looked at him intently, as though nothing else existed. Marjorie forced her eyes away from them, and suddenly she saw that they were all in a serious jam.
The wind howled—it was almost like a hurricane. It grabbed Richard’s men and pulled them away, even though they tried to get away. Marjorie could hear the screams of soldiers and robed men alike, but she couldn’t see where they went. They were just gone.
She then saw Hamid lifting from the ground. No! She leaped from the base of the tree and scrambled toward him, and that momentum pulled both of them out of the direct wind tunnel. Still, Marjorie felt her feet drifting upward. With one arm, she held onto Hamid. She fought with all her strength to stay grounded, and then strong hands grabbed her. Frank was holding onto her with one arm, and with his other hand he clung to a root. The winds screamed, and Marjorie clutched Frank and Hamid, desperate for her life. She only hoped that Frank’s grip on both her and the tree itself were strong enough.
She turned her eyes back to Lilith and Richard. Lilith was still growing, and now she towered over Marjorie’s cousin-in-law. Her body coiled—her bones snapped and shifted, and she no longer resembled a woman at all. Marjorie recognized her new form—a snake, gigantic, powerful, and mighty.
And then that snake devoured Richard where he stood. His form disappeared into the black hole of her mouth as she continued to get bigger and bigger.
Marjorie felt herself scream, her vocal cords pulled tight. It was painful—shredding her throat. But it was a horrific event to witness, the stuff of nightmares. One moment Richard was standing there, and the next he was gone.
A strong gust pulled them apart, and the three of them scattered in different directions. But the wind died down then, and they were left panting on the ground. Marjorie pushed herself to a sitting position, trying to get her bearings. Lilith was nowhere in sight, and neither were any of Richard’s men. Frank and Hamid sat on the ground nearby, also struggling to stand. They’re alright. The relief of seeing them unhurt hit her like a brick. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sensation wash over her. Then she opened her eyes, and she noticed it.
Before her, right next to her hand, was the piece of fruit from which Richard had taken two large bites. She bent down and reached for it. She twirled it around in her hands, so the two bites were no longer visible. From the other side, the fruit looked perfect once more. She couldn’t help it—she longed to bite it. The feeling of longing was indescribable. All it would take is one bite, and I would know everything. She lifted it to her mouth.
“Marjorie.”
Her father’s voice called her. She let it wash over her, calm her.
She realized that she wasn’t hungry for more information like she’d been moments ago. She knew what was worth knowing—who her friends we
re and that some things in life are solid and unmovable no matter what. She knew that you couldn’t explain everything. She also knew what she needed to do.
With her nail, she dug into the fruit. Its flesh gave under the pressure. She retrieved a single seed, holding it tight in her palm. The juice slid down her arms. The remainder of the fruit she let go. It fell to the ground and disappeared into the soil.
Then Paradise disappeared as though it was just a mirage.
The three of them stood on top of Adam’s Peak. The sun rose in the distance—heating the air around them. They looked down on a beautiful landscape—green, vivid, and welcoming. It had just rained, and the ground was still wet.
Marjorie was surprised that her hands were completely clean, although she still grasped the seed tightly in her right fist. She felt completely at ease, calm, and rejuvenated. Even better, she was with her friends, and they were all okay.
“Hamid!”
They turned, and Marjorie’s mouth fell open. Nadine rushed from the top of the stairs. She was out of oxygen, her breath coming in short gasps, but she moved quickly. Marjorie had never been more surprised to see someone in her life.
“Mama!” Hamid cried. He ran toward her, tumbling into her arms. She scooped him up, breathing in his scent and kissing his hair.
“I knew I’d find you here. The cards told me so,” Nadine panted. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach you sooner. You were very brave. Are you hurt?”
Hamid shook his head, no.
After their reunion, Nadine held onto Hamid as she made her way over to Marjorie and Frank. They still stared at her, dumbfounded.
“You have been successful,” Nadine said.
Even though Marjorie was touched at the reunion of mother and child, a shot of white anger flooded through her. You sent him into this! Nadine noticed Marjorie’s expression, and she looked down. “I know what you’re thinking,” Nadine said, “but before you lash out at me in anger, consider that this was his destiny, and I could not help him. But I knew you could.”
Marjorie opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She closed it again.
Frank took Marjorie’s free hand, weaving his fingers through hers. He brought it to his lips, kissing the back of her hand. “Let’s go home,” he said.
“First …”
Marjorie bent. With her fingernails, she dug into the earth until there was a small hole. She dropped the seed into it. Covering up the seed again, she pressed the soil down to hold it in place.
There. That’s done. She didn’t know what would happen to it, but she knew her part was over.
She stood, wiping the dirt from her hands on her pant legs, and turned to fix Frank in her gaze. He was smiling at her. She smiled too. They leaned toward one another, their lips touching.
Hamid groaned and hid his face in his hands. This earned him a chuckle, and Frank ruffled his hair.
Cairo
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A black-and-white photograph hung at the entrance of the new exhibit at the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. Within it, the pyramids at Giza stood like sentinels before the desert. The foreground held a young man in traveling pants, boots, and a button-up linen shirt. He stood tall and proud, a dashing smile spread over his face. Next to him a precocious young girl of about thirteen years of age shaded her eyes from the sun, a camera clasped between her hands at the center of her body. Underneath the photograph, a new bronze plaque read, “This exhibit is dedicated to the intrepid explorer Dr. Julian Hart.”
Marjorie and Frank lingered before it, taking in the new exhibit. She threaded her arm through his and rested it there. He smiled and pointed to the photograph. “That’s a fine picture, that is,” he said.
“That’s when I was young, on one of my first trips with my father.”
“You look happy. Got any other pictures of you as a wee one?”
“No, thank God,” Marjorie said with a laugh. “I usually take the photographs.”
“We could change that,” he said. His eyes showed with possibilities.
She nudged him. “How’s your artistic eye?”
“Bloody awful,” he said.
She laughed. “I’ll stay behind the lens, thank you.” She studied the photograph of her father again. It seemed to belong in Cairo and in Egypt, where he had so many wonderful memories and had spent so much time looking for lost histories.
“It was taken the first time I came to Egypt with him.”
He looked down on her, and his free hand found hers resting on his forearm. “Glad you came back.”
“Me too,” Marjorie replied.
It took them a few weeks to return to Cairo. In that time, Marjorie had written to Jenkins to have some of her father’s pieces sent along. Marjorie was determined that his research should be shared with the rest of the world. At the center of the exhibit was father’s map, a focal point for exploration. Little did everyone around them know that it had made its way to Paradise and back. After discussing it, Marjorie and Frank decided it was best that no one know of their supernatural journey.
In the museum now, she and Frank maneuvered through a small crowd, stopping here and there to admire the wondrous finds. Finally, they came upon a statuette of Lilith, which looked exactly as Marjorie remembered. The statuette’s sharp black eyes bored into hers, and Marjorie had to look away. She couldn’t see it without remembering the real woman who had devoured Richard. She wondered if she would ever stop having nightmares about it.
Frank tugged on her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts.
“How’s it going?” he asked. His voice had a concerned edge to it, as if he too were reliving that moment.
“Oh, it’s fine,” Marjorie responded. Everything was fine. She shook her head to clear it.
“Come on,” Frank coaxed. “Let’s go find some lunch.”
“Bang on,” Marjorie said.
Up ahead she caught the eye of Dr. Hafez, who lifted a finger, indicating they should wait. He wrapped up his conversation and came running over. Following a little bow of his head in greeting, he didn’t wait for any formalities. “Oh, Mr. Ryan,” he said. “I’m glad to catch you. I have a proposition I’d like you to consider.”
“Yes?” Frank asked, squaring his shoulders.
“You may know this already, but the current curator of the Egyptian Museum is taking an extended leave. They came to me, asking if I might know anyone who would be interested and qualified to take the position. Your name came to mind, and I was wondering if you might consider?”
“Really?” The excitement in Frank’s voice was palpable.
“Should I let them know you’d be interested?” Dr. Hafez asked.
“Yes—well, um, I’ll let you know soon.”
“Please don’t wait,” Dr. Hafez said. “It’s a prestigious position, and I’m sure they won’t want to wait long.”
“I won’t,” said Frank. “Thank you.”
As Dr. Hafez turned to leave them, Marjorie pulled Frank out the door and into the sun. Outside, the city carried on as it always did, so very different from the reverent, quiet nature of the museum. Marjorie felt as though she were coming back to life.
“Should I consider it?” Frank asked.
Marjorie tilted her head in his direction. “Do you want to be the curator of the Egyptian Museum?”
The tips of his ears turned red. “Wow, what a—Yes, I think so. I don’t know. But what about—? How do we—?”
“Take the job,” Marjorie said, giving him a reassuring glance. “There’s nothing like doing the work you were meant for.”
He waited, looking at her like he wanted her to say something else. “Congratulations,” she added. She smiled, trying her best to relish the news and cheer him up.
***
The call to prayer woke her. Marjorie laid in the small bed in Frank’s apartment, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the long call. Marjorie let the sound wash over her. It felt good to be still for a moment after so much t
ravel—but how long would that feeling last?
Next to her, Frank slept deeply, his face pushed into the pillow and supported by another arm underneath. He looked relaxed in the half golden light.
A pang of longing passed over her as she thought about the sounds coming off the park at home in winter. In Buffalo, she could hear sleigh bells, children ice skating, and the fresh crunching through ice. In Buffalo, it would still be dark at that time in the morning, and everything would have a fresh layer of snow over it.
She considered asking Frank to come home with her. But if he did, would he end up resenting her for the opportunities lost? Would she move across the world for someone? She wasn’t sure she was that romantic. She could travel frequently to the Near East—maybe that was the solution. She sighed. That was no life for him, always waiting for her. It seemed an impossible situation.
Frank started to stir, and he sleepily draped his arm over her. She settled back in, comfortable.
“Going back to sleep, are you?” Frank asked. His eyes were still closed.
“I don’t have to,” she whispered, moving closer.
He rolled over on top of her and kissed her deeply. She relished the feeling of his weight on her, and she allowed it to crowd out the uncomfortable thoughts in her head—thoughts about choices and consequences.
“Breakfast?” Frank asked some time later.
“Mmhm,” she answered with a nod. She rolled out of bed and reached for her travel chest. Digging through, she chose a long linen dress and a light sweater—perfect to wear now that the severe heat of the summer had dissipated.
“You could unpack, you know,” Frank said, watching her dress out of the corner of his eye.
“My things everywhere? Trust me, you don’t want that,” she said. She wanted her voice to sound pleasant and chiding, but instead it landed flat between them. She tried again. “It’s easier this way.” She could tell it wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but he didn’t push it.
She buttoned up the front of the dress then looked around for her hairbrush—and a hat. She picked up his shirt off the floor. “Come on, lazy bones,” she said, throwing it at him.