Finding Eve

By Jill Huckelberry

What if Eves temptation wasnt forbidden fruit? What if she fell in love with Adams first wife, Lilith, and their love was what provoked Gods wrath?

They bear the brunt of Gods curse upon their forbidden love; lifetime after lifetime, they find one another and fall in love. In the garden of Eden, He vowed that their souls would be entwined throughout the ages; they would find one another and fall in love, only to be cruelly torn apart again and again.

In the eighteenth century, France is gripped by the turmoil and danger of revolution. In one of Frances most violent eras, these two cursed but determined souls cross again. Now known as Anna and Katherine, they step up for their eternal dance with destiny and find themselves ripped apart when Annas parents force her into an arranged marriage. Heartbroken, Katherine flees to Paris where she takes work in a brothel and must find a way to thwart a madmans murderous rampage. But the two women find themselves in each others path again and they must break the curse or be pulled apart yet again, only this time its life or death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491701300

Jill Huckelberry

Jill R. Huckelberry, who works as a carpenter for a remodeling company in St. Louis, Missouri, has a passionate love for the natural world. Her hobbies and interests include writing, working with wood, and photography.

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Copyright © 2013 by Jill Huckelberry.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-0129-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-0131-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-0130-0 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013914323

iUniverse rev. date: 08/14/2013

CONTENTS

Prologue

Anna

Katherine

Anna

Katherine

Anna

Katherine

Anna

Katherine

Anna

Katherine

Anna

Anna

Epilogue

Much thanks to my brother for his cover design,

to Ginger who took the time to polish my work and Reebok,

Dex, L.B., and my girlfriend for their advice and support.

PROLOGUE

M y grandmother believed wholeheartedly that she was cursed. She began telling me her story in the summer of 1834 as she sat in an old rocking chair on our porch in Ithaca, New York. Her ancient and translucent hands lifted from the arms of the chair seldom as she spoke, but occasionally they would rise and caress the air as if she saw something beautiful in front of her and yearned to touch it. She seemed so frail to me.

When I saw her for the first time, sitting on her only trunk on the docks of New York, I remember being astonished that she had survived the voyage. I was in awe when she began to tell me about her life, the things she had seen, the places she had been with my grandfather, whose name was Oscar. He passed on the year before. Oscar’s family were traders of rare spices, and when he married my grandmother Anna, he took her around the world. Her stories, which my father assured me were true, were full of colorful people and beautiful places, and she would often entertain our whole family with funny or frightening tales. In the chill of the mornings or when we were forced to be inside in the winter, she would barely be visible in the colorful blankets we had purchased from the Onondaga. In the warm summer afternoons, when she could shed her blanket and the katydid’s lazy drone would resound from the hills, her voice would become hypnotic to me.

In the late 1790s, Anna and Oscar took a ship to India then traveled inland to Bangalore to purchase spice and amber. Grandmother was fascinated with amber that contained insects perfectly preserved for millions of years, and grandfather loved to make her happy. On their way to Bangalore, in a village named Hassan, they met a shaman. In a small hut, lit by a tiny fire, a blind and painted man told her of her curse. One of the porters who had accompanied them thus far translated for her. These were his words as she remembered them.

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In the beginning, the first God made two people, a man and a woman. The man he named Adam and the woman he named Lilith. Lilith grew to despise Adam in time as he wielded a heavy hand and used her body for his pleasure, so she left him to live in another part of the forest alone. God was angry with her but allowed her to leave, and so He created another mate for Adam whom he named Eve. He then forbade them from ever speaking to Lilith. It was His first rule.

Eve remained with Adam because she knew it was God’s will but she hated his hands and cruel words. She loved the forest and all of its creatures, however, and found solace there. She would spend hours silently watching birds and fish, serpents and insects while Adam would hunt for greater beasts. One day Eve came across a cascading waterfall. In the pool below was a beautiful woman bathing in the sunlight. Eve watched her through the tall ferns, enraptured by her grace. She knew this must be Lilith but couldn’t fathom why God had prohibited them from speaking with such a wonderful creature. Adam had never spoken of her and Eve had been afraid to ask.

Eve returned to the pool every day at the same time in hopes of seeing Lilith again. She would crouch in the shadows and marvel at the lines of Lilith’s body, so different from Adam’s. She saw that Lilith had scars and as she watched Lilith in the pool, Eve would subconsciously touch her own, knowing they were all put there by Adam. Eventually Eve gathered her courage and joined Lilith in the pool to bathe as well. Lilith didn’t seem surprised as Eve waded into the water; she just smiled shyly at her. For days, when they met in the pool, they stayed far away from each other, but in time the distance closed. Eve felt Lilith behind her one day. Her heartbeat raced and she closed her eyes. Her muscles tensed when she felt Lilith’s body against hers for the first time. She felt Lilith’s breath upon her neck and ear, and she shivered. Lilith caressed Eve’s body like it had never been caressed before, so different from Adam’s touch. When Lilith turned Eve around to face her, Eve looked into the most beautiful green eyes, and the two women kissed for the first time. It was a slow and gentle kiss.

Lilith had seen Eve many times before in the forest. She had become adept at staying hidden, knowing that Adam could hurt her terribly. She was quite fine with God’s rule because she wanted nothing to do with Adam ever again. She had learned how to fend for herself quite well without him. God had indeed provided them with everything they needed to survive. Often, when Lilith would be out foraging, Eve would pass within inches of her, but Lilith had learned to paint her skin with mud and grasses so only the green of her eyes could give her away. She also saw the bruises and cuts on her and she knew the cause. Lilith yearned to talk to her, but she feared God’s wrath and didn’t want Eve to suffer anymore. She would watch Eve as she would coax a wounded animal to her or as she would return a lost fox cub to its mother. When Eve found the waterfall where Lilith would bathe, Lilith almost never went back, afraid for both of them. But she found that she couldn’t stay away and was overjoyed when Eve joined her.

The two women would meet at the pool every day after that, embracing each other and exploring one another’s bodies. They never spoke. They both held their silence to protect each other. They learned to use their hands to speak to each other. They laughed together though, the first laughter to ring out in the world, and it was a beautiful sound. There were many animals that would come to watch the young women. They would lie down on the moss covered rocks around the pool as the women swam. That was how Adam came upon them. He had tracked a doe and found her standing amidst the ferns of the pool. As he was about to send his spear into her heart, he heard laughter for the first time. He looked through the ferns and saw Eve and Lilith in an embrace, and hatred was loosed upon the world. Adam stormed from the forest and sent his spear flying, not caring which of the two women he hit, such was his anger. Both women looked up just as Adam released his spear, and Lilith turned Eve so she was out of harm. Adam’s spear struck Lilith in her chest. Eve cried out and held her lover while blood turned the clear water crimson. Eve looked down into Lilith’s beautiful green eyes and said I love you for the first time. God’s voice cracked the air like thunder as the words were spoken. He invoked a curse on them for breaking his first rule. And the curse was this: Because you defied Me, your souls will be intertwined throughout time. You will find each other and then be torn apart in each life that you have until one of you can break the spell. His voice echoed throughout the forest. Lilith raised her hand to Eve’s cheek, and as she died she said, I’ll find a way. Her lifeless arm fell back into the water, and Eve’s tears mixed with her blood.

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My grandmother was silent when she finished the shaman’s story. She was looking at her hands, fingers entwined together, resting on her lap. I had no doubt she believed in the curse and that it was hers to bear.

When my father wasn’t around and it was just the two of us, my grandmother told me of her childhood in France and about Katherine. She told me my father would not approve of these stories. Her story about Katherine took over a year to tell. As a child, I knew very little about love, but as I grew older, I began to understand what she had with Katherine and with Oscar, both of whom loved my grandmother very much. I eventually traveled overseas to see the places she told me about, and even though she had passed years before, I felt closer to her than ever.

ANNA

T he last time I saw her was over my shoulder in a mirror as she fastened a strand of pearls around my neck. Her hands were trembling and her fingertips were cold. There were tears in her eyes that were threatening to overflow. She was begging me with those beautiful green eyes to not go through with it, begging me not to leave, but she never spoke. Her breath tickled the hairs on my neck, and the warmth of it almost had me undone. I yearned to turn around and embrace her, to lay my head upon her shoulder and kiss her neck. I yearned to taste her skin and to warm her hands with my body. But I could do none of those things. When I lowered my gaze for a moment, in shame and remorse, I heard her turn, and when I faced the mirror again, I was alone. It never occurred to me I’d never see her again. If it had, I’d have turned and run after her, begging her not to leave, promising to stay with her forever. Or better yet, I would have escaped with her. But, I was not to know these things. I had obligations, and for whatever reason, those mattered to me then. It was my wedding day.

Her name was Katherine, and we met when we were both in our seventeenth year. We were from two different worlds, and I can honestly say we hated each other for months after our first meeting. It was wasted time, because she would become the most influential and profound presence in my entire life. But when one is young, little matters in life but petty dramas and fashions. Admittedly I was one of the most self-absorbed, willful, spoiled brats in the world, and in hindsight, Katherine deserved to be sainted. But her patience was literally beaten into her and for that, I will forever be ashamed. I enjoyed seeing her punishments meted out. As a matter of fact, I had her beaten on the first day we met.

Our family was from the upper echelon in Paris, France. My family wasn’t nobility, but Papa had done well enough as a merchant that he often found himself in the same circles. When the Revolution began and brought such violence to the streets, my father decided to move us to the country. Riots had plagued the city for weeks, and one of the neighborhoods close to us had been looted and burned. Papa quietly agreed with the peasants about their constant dissent and said Louis XVI was digging his own grave. When the rioters laid fire to the homes close to ours, Papa joined in the water brigade and was a changed man when he returned. He never spoke about it, but within a short time, he told us of his plan to move. Most of the aristocrats and nobility were already leaving the city, and France for that matter. We were essentially quarantined to our house; it was no longer safe to walk the streets. We had no political ties, but the cut of our clothes was like placing a target on our backs. Several of my father’s friends had been pulled from their carriages and beaten, and some had not survived. The people were angry and rightfully so, and their anger was directed at anyone with money and not just the aristocrats and nobility, who had done the damage. The price of bread had risen from eight sous to twelve in a few short months, and the peasants could no longer afford to feed their families. Urchin children and beggars were everywhere. Even I, who at the time had not had an unselfish thought, felt pity for the filthy, hungry little ones.

Papa announced at dinner one evening that we were to move the following week. I looked to Mama to gauge her reaction. She looked both resigned and relieved. I promptly threw a fit. My family included my father, Jacques Cartier, my mother, Vivienne, and my brother, Julian, but he was a man grown and a revolutionary. Julian sided with the rebels early on. He and my father would have horrible fights. I believe Papa just wanted to keep him safe, but Julian wanted to convince Papa to make a stand. He left when I was fourteen, before the revolution had even begun in earnest. So, for a few years, I was essentially an only child, used to getting everything I wanted. Julian and I were not close, as he was a few years older than me, and I was glad to be rid of the fighting between him and my father. But when it came to our father moving us out of the city, I was distraught and made certain everyone heard my wrath. The servants would scatter at my footsteps, and even Papa would leave the house when I was in a full rage. I didn’t want to leave my friends and my home. I was scared, in truth. Still, a decision had been made and although my father wasn’t a confrontational man, he rarely backed down. I think it broke both of my parents’ hearts to leave Julian behind, but no one had heard from him in weeks. It was a fact that people were being plucked from the streets and never seen or heard from again, and I know the thought of that happening to Julian weighed heavily on their minds.

The day we moved stands out clearly in my mind. Standing amid trunks and scattered furniture, walking through empty halls, hearing the echo of my footsteps in our house for the first time, feeling as if I were in everyone’s way and forgotten. It was the first time I was heartbroken, too devastated even to yell at anyone. Only one servant was kind to me that day by attempting to give me a farewell embrace, and I pushed her away. I don’t think I ever even knew her name, but I remember she was at least sorry to see us go. Even me. I’m quite certain the rest of our staff were happy to see me off.

When the carts were loaded, Mama and I entered our carriage and I looked back at our home for a last glimpse. There was really nothing fancy about it. It was a stone townhouse that resembled all the others on the tree lined street, but it had always been my home, and I would miss it. My new home was only a vision in my head planted by my father, and regardless of the pretty picture he painted, I hated it already. My mother had been stoic throughout the whole process, from the decision to move till the last belonging was packed. But as she looked out of the carriage in that moment, she began to cry, her tears falling silently down her face. I don’t think I had ever seen her cry before, and I saw her cry only one time after that. She was a very strong woman. My father rode up then, beside our carriage and leaned down to place his hand over my mother’s where it rested on the window. She wiped her face, looked up at Papa and smiled. Papa gave a whistle and we were off to the country life. Our ride through the streets of Paris was nerve wracking to say the least. Everywhere, people were gathering and gauging whether or not we were worth the effort of accosting. Papa had hired a modest guard to escort us, but I know he was concerned if it would be enough. Some of the riots had involved thousands of people, and our guardsmen were few. Many buildings I had known since I was a child were laid to waste, including our famous Bastille, and the air had a feeling of anger and desperation. We made it safely to the town line, and I know each of my parents breathed a sigh of relief. Almost immediately, the air became richer, and I was secretly overjoyed at seeing the countryside pass by.

It was a three day ride to our new home. It most likely would have taken only two without all of our belongings or more if the weather had been inclement. It was early summer though, and the skies held true. My first sight of Greystone Rose caught me off guard. I had fully intended to loathe it immediately, but what I saw was a bit like a fairytale. It wasn’t a mansion by any means, nor was it a cottage; it was simply a large house. It was set off the main road, quite a distance down a winding lane. Giant oak trees stood sentinel along the way and shaded our path. The house became visible like a light in a tunnel. There were three other large buildings as well, a barn, a stable, and what I later found out was a press for the orchards and vineyards. There were at least six other smaller buildings and two small houses that I assumed housed the staff. The main house wasn’t necessarily all that beautiful. All of the buildings were made with a light gray stone that had been roughly hewn to fit together, and they all had wood shake roofs and whitewashed shutters.

The beauty of the main house was in the roses. There were roses of every shade of red adorning the front courtyard. There were rose bushes growing in rows and competing for space, and climbing roses that spanned the front of the house on trellises. As gorgeous as that was, my attention was drawn beyond the homestead. For as far as my eye could see, there were rolling hills covered in fruit trees and vineyard, each in neat rows and vivid green in the early summer sun. It was stunning enough to keep my mouth closed until the carriage came to a stop in the front courtyard. Papa was beaming as he dismounted his horse and held his hand out for my mother and then me. A handful of servants emerged from the house and stable. Papa introduced my mother to the seneschals of the property, stating that their family had been on the land for centuries. I noticed their smiles wavering a little as he said this, but Papa never stopped his practiced speech. He knew Mama wasn’t happy about the move and was determined to announce all of the estate’s virtues to sway her in his favor.

The man and woman Papa was introducing turned out to be John and Beth Hawthorne. Their brood and siblings made up the vast majority of the staff. They ranged around us in varying degrees of curiosity and blatant dislike. As the introductions were made, I was virtually left out of the conversation. I began kicking the rocks at my feet and feeling sullen. When I noticed a silence and heard my name spoken by my mother with impatience, I looked up and saw everyone staring at me. Three or four feet away stood a young woman approximately my age but taller and with a sprinkling of