The Garden of Eve Page 4

  “Evie,” he said, “Maggie’s come over for an early dinner. Sorry it took me so long to run my errands. I got a lead on some jobs in DuPont . . . Can you grab that?”

  Evie’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but she managed to catch the milk jug just before it fell.

  “Here, grab this, too.” Father handed her another bag as he and Maggie hurried inside. Evie had to balance both items on her hip in order to pull the door shut hard against the wind. The loud howl stopped abruptly with a snap as the door latched shut, but a circle of cold lingered.

  Father flicked every switch he went past and the house sprang to life, warm and safe. Part of the warmth was Maggie. She stopped in front of the portrait and chucked Rodney on the chin, pausing a moment to smile wistfully, and then she bustled into the kitchen as if she knew exactly where everything was. Which of course she did. She went straight to the refrigerator and started unloading eggs and cheese and sticks of butter. Then she opened the top two cupboards and stacked up cracker boxes and instant rice and cans of soup.

  “I was over here every day before Rodney died,” Maggie said, nodding at Evie’s questioning gaze, “but I only lived in this house when I was a child. My father would have sold it years ago if Rodney hadn’t insisted on keeping it.” She paused, looking around. “I never minded it so much myself. My brother wasn’t much of a housekeeper, but I always thought this old house had charm. Now your father tells me he has great plans, starting with whipping up a hot meal for an old woman.”

  Maggie winked.

  “Father invited you?” Evie asked, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. Maggie laughed and the sound filled the kitchen.

  “I think it’s safe to say I invited myself, but I didn’t have to twist his arm too much. I’d been hoping for an invite for a while now, but I wanted to give you time to settle in.”

  Father chuckled, grabbing the milk and the grocery bag from Evie and setting them on the counter. “I’ll start the fire,” he said. “We can eat in the living room.”

  He disappeared across the hall and left Evie standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She crossed her arms over her chest. Then she uncrossed them and kicked at the threshold, but the kitchen looked so bright and inviting with Maggie working away that at last she stepped through.

  “So how old are you?” Maggie asked cheerfully, looking Evie over from head to toe. “I’d guess eleven.”

  Evie frowned. “In two days I will be,” she said. She’d almost forgotten about that. “Most people think I’m twelve because I’m tall for my age, but Father says I’ll grow into it and be elegant and graceful like my mom, but I don’t know . . .” Evie stopped. It was hard to imagine being graceful when nothing about her seemed to fit.

  “Your father told me about your mom on the ride here,” Maggie said. “I’m very sorry to hear she passed away.”

  Evie shrugged and Maggie raised an eyebrow. Evie wondered if Maggie might say something else, but she didn’t.

  “Eleven is a good age,” she said instead, turning the conversation back to Evie’s birthday. “I remember turning eleven, although that was a looong time ago.”

  “How old are you now?” Evie asked, but then she regretted it. No one ever asked adults how old they were. Maggie just laughed.

  “Seventy-five,” she said, and Evie’s eyes went wide.

  “That’s right. I’ve lived a long time already. Long enough to see a few things, that’s for sure.”

  Evie waited for more, but Maggie didn’t say any thing else. Father came back in with his shirt covered in bits of bark and ash from the fireplace, and Evie turned to him instead.

  “What are you making for dinner?” she asked.

  The ends of his mouth turned up slightly and his eyes sparkled, the way they had back when Evie was small and they’d roasted marshmallows in front of the campfire and played tag in Farmer Dolan’s orchard until the sky got too dark to see. It had been a long time since Evie had seen Father’s twinkly eyes.

  Father swatted at her with the kitchen towel. “Just wait and see,” he said. “Probably some gruel, or maybe a bit of hard bread and moldy cheese. Why don’t the two of you wait in the living room?”

  Maggie looked up and shook herself as if from a dream.

  “Perfect,” she said. “I have something to give Eve anyways. Isn’t that right, Eve?”

  She made an exaggerated wink, and Father scratched his beard, his brow furrowing. Evie didn’t know if that was right at all, but Father nodded.

  “Well, go on then,” he said. “Takes time to boil thin broth.”

  Evie caught herself before her mouth could turn into a smile. She realized what she’d almost done and looked around quickly, as if something bad might happen, but nothing did. They just went into the living room, where Maggie slipped off her shoes and stretched her feet in front of the fire. The rest of the house was cold and drafty, but the fire roared and crackled.

  “You must be wondering what I have to give you,” Maggie said, and Evie started. She hadn’t believed there’d really been something. It was just a game, wasn’t it?

  Maggie reached into her pocket and took out a box. It was made of stone, and it looked quite heavy but was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. The lid was held fast with thick twine that was wrapped around it again and again. Evie had never seen anything like it. What kind of present could possibly fit into such a small space? Earrings, maybe, but Evie didn’t have pierced ears.

  “Take it,” Maggie said, handing her the box. “It isn’t from me, and no, I don’t know what’s inside. It was very tempting, but I never looked, because Rodney asked me not to. He was very adamant that you be the one to open it. He said, ‘This is for Eve, whenever she may come.’ It’s a birthday present, I suppose, although how my brother knew it would be your birthday I cannot guess.”

  Maggie paused, and Evie could tell she was thinking hard.

  “The odd thing is,” she said, “we once had a sister named Eve. She disappeared just after I was born. I assumed he meant the gift was for her. Rodney never stopped waiting for Eve to come back, and the older he got the more he would talk about the past, telling and retelling that old story of her disappearance. I got tired of it sometimes, if you want to know the truth.”

  Maggie’s eyes were far away.

  “I’d forgotten about the box entirely, but last night as I was standing by my dresser, my window latch broke and a gust of wind blew everything onto the floor. I was straightening up when I saw the box, even though I’m certain I had put it in my jewelry case for safekeeping. That’s when I wondered if perhaps this wasn’t meant to be yours.”

  “But how would Rodney even know about me?” Evie asked.

  Maggie paused, watching the fire.

  “Good question,” she said. “I suppose your father mentioned you when they spoke on the phone, like he said.”

  She stopped, as if turning the thought over in her mind.

  “Rodney insisted on selling this house to your dad. He told me it was so that I would have the money from the sale, but he sold it for a pittance. Not that I cared. I haven’t got any children, and I’ve got everything I need with the store and my own little apartment above it, but still . . . Why sell this place? He would have had to move in with me if he hadn’t passed away, and Rodney would have hated that. He was a private man and my apartment is very small.”

  Maggie leaned in.

  “I’ll tell you the truth, Eve,” she said. “I thought your dad was just like my brother—a tough, weathered old bachelor come to live out his days alone. Even when I met him to finalize the sale of this house, I thought I was right. But then when he showed up with you, and you have the same name as my long-lost sister! Well . . . strange, isn’t it?”

  Maggie’s eyes were watching Evie the way a wise old owl watches the world below its treetop. Steady and sharp, taking in every movement.

  Evie turned the box over in her hands. “Why would he leave me a present?” she asked out lou
d, just as Father came in carrying trays full with steaming bowls of soup and crusty bread with honey.

  “Who left you a present?” Father asked, setting the trays down on the small table in front of the fireplace. Evie looked at Maggie, wondering if she should tell, but Maggie nodded.

  “Rodney did,” Evie said, holding up the box so Father could see. He sat down on the floor between Maggie and Evie.

  “Well, open it.”

  “I can’t get the string off,” Evie said, trying to force it with her fingers. Father took out his pocketknife and worked at the thick cords.

  “Someone sure wanted this little box to stay shut,” he said, struggling to cut through the twine. When the last cord snapped he handed the box back to Evie. Maggie sat up straight and leaned forward, and Evie found herself holding her breath, even though that was silly. What did she expect to find? Still, she slid the lid off quickly.

  She didn’t expect what was inside.

  A single seed.

  Evie studied the seed in the flickering firelight, and she thought she felt the brush of a breeze, but then it passed and the fire crackled loudly.

  “Well, I’ll be . . .” Maggie’s face was suddenly the color of ash.

  Father leaned over and plucked the seed from inside the box. He held it between two thick fingers.

  “I’ve never seen a seed that looks like this before,” he said. “It seems to be quite old, which is a shame, because I’d love to know what would have grown from it.” He frowned. “Must be a symbolic gift, wishing us success with the orchard.”

  Maggie didn’t say anything, just leaned back in her chair, staring at the fire, and Evie had the distinct impression she wasn’t telling them something. Father handed the seed back to Evie, and she turned it over on her palm. It made her uneasy, as if she held something alive, and she shivered despite the heat from the fire.

  She put the seed back in the box and shut the lid tight. For a moment she couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to change.

  Then Father’s voice broke the spell.

  “Soup’s up,” he said, reaching for the bowls and passing them to Evie and Maggie. Evie shook herself and turned her attention to the smell of the warm meal. It was a creamy chicken and rice soup—she’d seen the grocery store cans—but Father had added things to it, like he used to do back when he’d cooked for fun. There were carrots, celery, a little bit of corn, and sliced mushrooms. It was quiet while everyone ate, then Evie turned to Maggie.

  “So what happened to your sister?” she asked.

  Maggie clutched the side of her chair. “Now that’s a story,” she said. “Are you certain you want to hear it?”

  Father nodded, but Maggie was looking straight at Evie.

  Slowly, Evie nodded, too.

  Maggie took a deep breath. “Then I shall start at the beginning . . .”

  Chapter Eight

  Maggie’s Story

  “Rodney used to say that before Eve disappeared my family was happier than anyone had a right to be. Papa was a botanist and a treasure hunter who traveled all over the world collecting exotic plants and all kinds of artifacts, and Mama stayed home with Rodney and Eve because that’s what women did in those days. Papa bought the orchard as a gift so Mama would have a beautiful place to raise their children.”

  Maggie glanced around the old house as if some shade of her family’s happiness might still be found there, but then she shuddered.

  “Hard to believe things could change so quickly.”

  “What went wrong?” Evie asked.

  “Well,” Maggie answered, “it started with a promise that my father broke. When Mama found out she was pregnant with me, she made Papa promise he wouldn’t leave on any of his far-flung trips, and Papa agreed, but not very long afterward he got a phone call from an old friend. As soon as Papa got that call, he packed his bags and took off, and there was nothing Rodney or Mama or Eve could say to change his mind.”

  “He left?” Evie said, her face growing hot. “After he promised he wouldn’t?”

  Maggie chuckled. “That’s exactly how Eve reacted. And I won’t say she was wrong, but when Papa’s friend called and said that two archaeologists claimed to have found the original site of the Garden of Eden, Papa couldn’t resist.”

  Evie’s eyes widened with excitement. “Mom used to tell me stories about the Garden of Eden!” she said. “Was that really what they’d found?”

  “No one can say for certain,” Maggie said. “I know Papa believed them . . .”

  “Was there any evidence to support their claim?” Father asked. “Sounds a bit far-fetched to me.”

  Maggie shrugged. “Well, there were signs of four dried-up rivers that matched those mentioned in the story, and the archaeologists had done quite a bit of research to find the place, but most important, they found a tomb inscribed with an old legend. It didn’t date back to the original garden, of course, but it was built many years later by a people who believed the site marked Earth’s lost paradise. The tomb held some . . . relics . . . that Papa brought back with him, and they were by far his greatest find.”

  Evie shook her head. “He still should have stayed home.”

  “Yes,” said Maggie solemnly. “You are very much correct. That was the year Rodney turned fifteen and Eve turned eleven. And Mama . . . well, she died.”

  Evie drew in a sharp breath.

  “I’m afraid it’s true,” Maggie said, sighing deeply. “She died giving birth to me. I was born earlier than the doctors expected, and Papa didn’t make it home in time to be with her.”

  Maggie studied Evie carefully.

  “I’m sorry I never got to know my mother,” she said, “but I’ve had a happy life despite everything. Papa was softer and kinder with me than he’d been with Rodney and Eve . . . I believe Mama’s death taught him things he never would have learned otherwise. Someday I expect to meet my mother in the afterlife so she can see how her baby girl turned out. Won’t that be exciting?”

  Maggie’s eyes twinkled, but Evie bit her lip.

  “What happened to Eve?” she asked.

  Maggie sighed again. “Rodney said she never forgave Papa, and I suppose that’s why she ran away.”

  “They never found her?”

  “No.”

  For a long time everyone was silent, then Father glanced out the window. “When did the trees stop bearing fruit?”

  “Not long after Eve disappeared. Papa didn’t take care of them and they withered away.”

  Evie knew what Father was thinking. Not caring for trees wouldn’t cause them to shrivel up into blackened scarecrows, but Maggie didn’t pause.

  “You can imagine what kind of stir Eve’s disappearance caused,” she said. “There were more than enough stories about my family to begin with, but when the trees died . . . that’s when the rumor mill really geared up.

  “We stayed in this old house for years hoping for Eve’s return, but eventually Papa couldn’t stand it any longer. He wanted to sell the place, but by that time Rodney was an adult and insisted on taking over, so Papa bought the store in town and we shared the apartment above it while Rodney stayed here.”

  “Did you mind having to leave?” Evie asked, but Maggie shook her head.

  “No. It’s difficult to live with tragedy hanging over your head. People lurked around the property, and children dared each other to step foot in the orchard. Some folks blamed Papa for everything, saying he’d unearthed a plague in his travels and it took his daughter and killed all his trees. Others said Rodney had killed our sister and buried her in the apple orchard and that’s why the trees were cursed.

  “Rodney worked with me at the store and picked up odd jobs here and there, but his life was never the same. Plus, he never stopped waiting for Eve to come back. He was the last one to see her alive, and he swore he’d be the first to see her return.”

  Maggie paused.

  “I suppose we’ll never know the truth of what happened to Eve,” she sa
id, but she glanced at Evie’s box as she said it, and Evie had that same strange feeling she’d had before, that perhaps Maggie wasn’t telling them the whole story.

  Father leaned back. “That’s quite a tale.”

  Maggie nodded and the fire cast shadows on her face.

  “You’ll hear a lot of talk about the curse around here. People blame it for everything from the orchard being dead to losing their house keys. And it does bother me—can’t say it doesn’t—but Rodney tried just about everything to bring the orchard back to life. He planted new trees again and again, but they never grew . . .”

  Maggie stopped short.

  “Dear me!” she said. “That’s not what you wanted to hear, now is it?” She looked at Father apologetically. “Honestly, it’s been many years since Rodney was fit enough to work in the orchard. I’m sure whatever disease was creeping through those trees is long gone by now.”

  Then Maggie stood up.

  “Why can’t I ever stop talking?” she asked, shaking her head. “Here it is growing late . . . You folks certainly didn’t need to hear all these old stories tonight.”

  Father got to his feet.

  “We’ve worn you out,” he said, and truthfully Maggie did look tired. For the first time since they’d met her, Maggie looked old and her eyes had lost their sparkle.

  “I wish I could stay longer,” she said, but Evie didn’t believe her. In fact, something about the way Maggie hurried made her think the old woman was anxious to leave.

  Father followed her to the front door.

  “Wait!” Evie said, catching up to them. Father and Maggie turned around, but Evie wasn’t sure what it was she’d been going to say.

  “Thank you,” she said, “for the present.”

  Maggie nodded slowly.

  “I suspect,” she said at last, “that your present holds many secrets.”

  Then Maggie came close and took Evie’s hands in her own, holding them tight.

  “Careful, Eve,” she whispered. “Careful.”

  Chapter Nine