Finding Eden

CHAPTER TWO


Eden



I stood in front of the ornate, black door pulling air into my lungs and letting it out slowly. I was trembling slightly, my fists clenched at my sides. What if Felix was wrong? What if he was right, but she rejects me? What if? I hadn't even told Marissa my plans for that day. I'd taken the bus and walked the rest of the way to the address Felix had left for me. I'd felt like I needed to do this on my own, and if I changed my mind, only I'd know.
I stood there, staring at the brass lion's head knocker, trying to talk myself into using it. It looked intimidating in and of itself, never mind the fact that I was already shaking like a leaf, fear pulsing through my blood. I took a deep breath and used the knocker to rap twice. As I waited, I looked over my shoulder, down the long set of stairs leading to the street. This area of Cincinnati was filled with elegant, older homes, the yards lush, the trees huge and ancient, all with stories to be told. I took another deep breath and tensed my shoulders as I heard footsteps coming toward the door.
It swung open and she stood there, my mother. I knew her immediately. Not because I recognized anything in her face exactly, well, except my own, but because the feeling that swept over me was the same sensation I’d felt when I tried to recall her for the past fourteen years.
I started trembling even more. Once I had belonged to someone. Once I had belonged to her.
I blinked at her, just taking her in. She was a little taller than I was, probably five foot five or so and her blonde hair was cut into a straight bob that ended right at her jawline. She was wearing a pair of darker jeans with a white sweater. She was real. She was alive—standing right in front of me. Emotions slammed into me, too many to investigate.
She cocked her head, a small frown coming to her face. Her mouth opened and then closed as she took me in. "I'm sorry . . . how can I . . .?" She paused and blinked at me. "Do I know you?"
"I'm Eden," I said, so softly I wasn't sure I had actually spoken. "I think I'm your daughter," I squeaked out.
The woman's eyes, my mother's eyes, widened and she took a step back, bringing her hand to her chest. "Molly," she called, her voice breaking, turning her head slightly to someone who must be inside. "Oh, Molly . . ." And then she swayed as a young, blonde woman ran up behind her, catching her in her arms as my mother fell backward.
"Oh my God," the girl named Molly cried out. "Carolyn!"
I rushed in and helped Molly lead Carolyn to the couch in the large family room right off the foyer.
"I'm so sorry," I murmured, bringing Carolyn's feet up on the couch. "I didn't do that in a very sensitive way. God! So stupid, Eden. I was just so . . . I didn't think." I had prepared myself for this, at least as much as I could. She hadn't had any warning whatsoever.
I straightened myself and looked down worriedly at Carolyn who was lying on the couch. Her eyes now open, she looked up at me with shock on her face.
"Holy shit," the pretty girl next to me murmured. I looked over at her to see her staring at me. "You can't be," she said, and then shook her head slightly as if she was attempting to wake up. "What's happening here?"
I took a deep breath. "Should we get her a cool washcloth or something?" I asked, nodding down at Carolyn.
Molly blinked and then looked down as if just remembering Carolyn was there. "Oh, right, um, sure. I'll be right back."
Once Molly had left the room, I sat down on the couch next to Carolyn and I took her hands in mine. She was still staring at me, her large, blue eyes wide, her mouth parted in shock. I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," I whispered.
Her hands gripped mine and a tear rolled slowly down her cheek. Her chest rose and fell in quick inhales of breath and her mouth opened and closed, but no words came. "I know," I said softly, squeezing her hands back. "It's okay, I know."
"How? Where?" she squeaked out. Before I could answer, Molly came rushing back into the room and knelt down on the floor and put a damp, white washcloth on Carolyn's forehead.
Molly's eyes shot to mine. "Are you really her?" she asked. "Like, how? My God! Do we need to call someone? What's the protocol here? Jesus!"
"I'm sorry." I offered her a small smile. "I didn't even ask. Are you my step-sister?" I remembered the letter Felix gave me telling me my mother had never had more children, but perhaps her second husband had. My brain was buzzing.
Molly shook her head. "No, I'm your cousin." Her eyes widened. "Oh my God! My cousin is alive." She put her hand to her chest and took a deep breath, composing herself. She shook her head back and forth, almost as if she was trying to remember who she was. "Um, I've been living with Carolyn since my mom, her sister Casey, passed away five years ago."
"Oh, I'm so sorry." I frowned. "It's so nice to meet you." This feels surreal. Molly stared back at me as if she was thinking the same thing.
I looked back at Carolyn as her head shook back and forth and she pulled on my hand so I would help her sit up. She came up slowly, breathing out and leaning back on the couch as the washcloth slipped into her hands and she handed it to Molly. We both watched her carefully. She gripped my jeans, almost clawing at me although I'd let go of her hands. Her eyes swept over my face, down my body, and back up to my face. "Eden," she breathed out. "My girl."
I nodded my head. "Yes."
"You're so beautiful," she squeaked out, her hand coming up to my cheek as she touched me tentatively and then pulled her hand away.
Her eyes moved down to the locket I wore around my neck and she gasped out. "The locket!" she cried. Her eyes flew back to mine. "Your father and I gave you that for your sixth birthday." Tears coursed down her cheeks and her hands trembled as she reached forward to touch the small round piece of jewelry.
I nodded, tears coming to my eyes, too. I had known it was mine the minute I saw it.
Molly, who had stood up, returned now with a small glass of amber liquid from the bar on the other side of the room. She handed it to Carolyn who wiped her cheeks, glanced quickly at the shot, and then downed it in one gulp, breathing out and relaxing back into the couch again, her eyes returning to me.
I looked back at Molly who was downing a shot as well. Her eyes got big and she motioned her head to the bottle asking if I wanted one. I shook my head and returned my attention to Carolyn–to my mother.
"How? Where?" Carolyn asked again, only this time her voice was stronger, calmer. "Eden," she breathed out. Her face crumpled. "Did anyone hurt you?" She grabbed at me and I grasped her hands. "Please tell me no one hurt you. Were you safe? Please tell me you were safe." Her voice sounded pained, desperate.
Had I been hurt? Yes. Had I been safe? No, not at all. But I didn't say that because the explanation of both answers was complicated and required more than I had in me to give right at the moment. Instead I said simply, "Hector, I was with Hector."
Carolyn squeezed her eyes closed for a few seconds and then opened them. "You escaped from Acadia," she whispered.
I breathed out. "You saw it on the news? You saw Hector?"
She nodded. "There have never been pictures of Hector Bias, which I'm sure you know, and I didn't know him by the name Hector. But I recognized the description of Acadia. I notified the police on your case, but they said," she moved her head from side to side again, "there were so many bodies . . . so many of them unidentified." Her eyes flew up to mine. "How did you escape before . . ."
"I didn't," I said. "I was there."
Carolyn's eyes grew big with shock. "You were . . . But how? How did you survive that? And how did you find me?"
"I'll tell you all of it, all I can remember anyway." Taking her hand, and relishing the fact that I was touching my mother, I continued, "I want to know what you know as well, and I have so many questions, too." I hoped Molly didn't really see the need to call anyone, especially the police. I wasn't ready for that course of action yet. I needed time to prepare.
Carolyn gripped my hand and nodded her head. "Yes, Eden, whatever you need. Eden . . . my daughter . . ." She started to cry and as she looked at me, her cries turned to sobs. Molly sat down on the couch and leaned forward to hug Carolyn. I watched them for a moment and then they both grabbed my shirt and pulled me toward them. We sat crying and hugging as the world somehow continued to spin around us.

**********

Twilight descended on Cincinnati as we sat together on the poolside patio. All around me potted flowers perfumed the air and the water sparkled in the dwindling sunlight. Soon the curtain of night would be closed. I turned to my mother and Molly. "And that's where I've been living for the past three years, with Felix and Marissa. I've been teaching piano. I even have a few more clients now, I make some money. . ." I trailed off as I took in their shell-shocked expressions.
It had been the very first time that I'd uttered a word about Acadia since I stumbled away from it that day . . . and though I'd relayed it all in a colorless voice, my emotions carefully tucked away, for me, it was another small survival. I let out a big breath.
"My God!" Molly said. "That's . . ." She swung her eyes to Carolyn. "She's been ten minutes from us for the past three years now."
Molly's statement hit me in the gut and I could tell it affected Carolyn the same way. I wasn't sure how to feel. In one sense, the knowledge that we'd been so close and not found each other brought a certain grief with it, but in another sense, if I had found my mother right away, somehow, I'd have missed out on my time knowing Felix. And I couldn't wish Felix away, I couldn't.
Carolyn grabbed for my hand again and squeezed it. "Oh, my sweet girl, you lived through hell, Eden. Truly, you survived hell." Grief passed over her face, but she took a deep breath, paused, and continued, "Like I said, I went to the police when I heard about what happened at Acadia, but of course, your body wasn't found there . . . I knew though, I knew that Hector Bias was the man who had taken you, even though they could never identify him to show his face on the news. I thought my deepest fears had come true—that he had killed you at some point." Her eyes squeezed shut for a few beats before she opened them again. "Everything about Acadia just sounded so familiar. Hell, truly hell." Her eyes filled with tears for the hundredth time since I'd begun my story.
I lowered my eyes. "Not all of it was hell," I said. "Sometimes I was scared, and I was very lonely . . . for a time. But," I raised my eyes to look at her, "some of it I wouldn't give up for anything in the world."
Carolyn's faces crumbled and she shook her head vigorously. "No, none of it should have happened. None. It was all my fault that Hector took you. All of it."
"Carolyn," Molly said, "we've all told you that's not true."
She continued to shake her head. "No, it is true. It is."
"Carolyn—" I said.
"Mom," she interrupted, "please call me mom. You always called me mom."
I felt the words flow through my insides, a cool summer breeze calming me, setting me at ease. "Okay, Mom." Emotion swept over me as the word fell from my lips. I was still loved. I belonged to someone again. Perhaps I wasn't going to be alone after all. I breathed out and smiled, trying to keep a hold of my emotions. "Mom, will you tell me what happened?" I asked. "How Hector—"
"Yes. I'll tell you all of it. But Molly, will you get a bottle of white from the wine fridge? I think this requires it. Eden, would you like something to drink? Water? Pop? Apple juice! You always liked apple juice." There was almost a pleading in her expression.
I nodded my head, keeping the confusion I felt inside off my face. Did grown-ups drink apple juice? "Uh, sure. That sounds . . . good."
"Oh, and how rude of me. I didn't even offer you dinner—"
"No," I said, "just the juice, please. I ate before I came here." Molly stood up and walked toward the French doors off the patio.
"Okay," Carolyn said. "Well, if you change your mind, of course, this is your house, too." She reached out and took my hand. "You'll move in tonight, of course."
"Oh . . . I, well. We'll talk about that—"
She shook her head vehemently. "No, Eden, please. I can't bear it. I won't be able to sleep another night if you're not under the same roof." She started to cry quietly again. "Now that I have you back, I'll die if you don't stay."
"Carolyn . . . Mom," I said, "I'm not going anywhere." I smiled at her. "I'm back, and I'll never go away again."
"Promise me," she said, her voice cracking.
"I promise." I smiled up at Molly as she handed me a glass of apple juice and set a glass of wine in front of Carolyn.
Carolyn took a big sip of her wine and leaned back. She looked away from me, out over the pool. "Your father helped build an investment firm from the ground up. It was very successful. We suddenly lived a lifestyle we had never dreamed of . . . cars, houses, vacations . . ." She waved her hand in the air. "We learned that all the material things meant nothing in the end. But of course, at the time, it seemed like everything we'd ever dreamed of." She was quiet for a minute, looking lost in thought. "Anyway," she looked back at me, "one of your father's co-workers was caught stealing money he was supposed to be investing. There have been higher profile cases like it on the news in recent years, and everyone has heard of those, but back then, I barely understood it."
"So my father wasn't the one stealing?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No, but he had looked the other way. He knew what was going on and his failure to act allowed it to continue. His failure to report what he knew resulted in hundreds of people losing their life savings. In the end, the whole company, they were all disgraced." She waved her hand through the air again. "The details don't matter so much, Eden, trust me, I knew them all and they still didn't help me make sense of it, other than to say that it came down to greed—levels of it, yes, but all greed in the end." A brief look of pain skittered across her features as if she was living back there for just a moment.
I looked down.
"Your father took it hard. Not just the loss of his job, all the stuff, but the disgrace. The shame ate at him like a cancer. And that's when Hector came along."
My eyes flew to hers.
"He first came to us as a man who had lost everything and understood where we were. At first we were skeptical, naturally, but . . . the more he talked . . . told Ben, your father, that it wasn't his fault, that the greed of society had seeped into his soul . . . well, it sounds ridiculous now. But at the time, and with how far we'd fallen, I guess we were searching for something, anything—"
"I understand, Mom. I do."
She looked back at me sadly. "Of course you do. I'm sorry for that."
I shook my head. "Please go on," I said.
She sighed. "Well, your father, he became almost obsessed with Hector, although, at the time, we knew him as Damon Abas. Your father was intrigued with this society that Damon . . . Hector had started, this place where there was supposedly no greed or sin, no pain or competition. This community had started several years earlier, but Hector had spent that time constructing the buildings and finding the first people who would live and work there. Hector and your father talked non-stop about how it would all operate . . . the things people would need down the line, what was working, what wasn't." She shook her head again. "Even with the talk of gods and visions and other things that were difficult to believe in . . . it healed something in your father for a time, gave him something to cling to, a purpose, an escape, and so for that I was so very grateful. I ignored my suspicions about Hector . . . I did just what your father had done. I looked the other way because I was benefitting from it." Tears welled in her eyes again. "I guess if you choose to trust a snake, you deserve his venom."
"Carolyn . . ." Molly said, but Carolyn shook her head and wiped at her eyes.
"Anyway, Hector came to your father specifically because Hector had this idea about a council. I know now from the news reports on Acadia what came to be as far as that went, but when he first spoke of it, he spoke of a group of men who understood what it was to fall in the "big society" as he called it—a group of men who had personal knowledge about the evils of our culture—men who could guide and mold this 'land of plenty.'"
I thought about what I'd learned from the news reports on the Acadia council—things I hadn't understood when I'd lived there. Hector had gone around the country gathering together a group of men who had been disgraced in one way or another and were desperately looking for a place to find respect again, to reclaim some small measure of the power they'd once had. And of course, there was the financial gain. Hector was paying them a yearly salary—far more than any of them had been making in their previous jobs. The police had looked for the money trail, but apparently Hector had known how to hide it. The property had been paid for in cash and put in his false name as well. They'd never found a thing that would clue them in to Hector's true identity.
And of course, the council had been chosen to benefit Hector in a myriad of ways as well . . . a judge . . . a police officer . . . I moved that aside.
Sadness welled inside me as she discussed Acadia, even the idea of it. It had been my home. It had been where I fell deeply in love. And somewhere inside me, just speaking of it, sparked a longing so intense, it shocked me, because it had also been the place where life ended. Of course, it wasn't the place I longed for, but a person. And for me, that's where he'd always be. I swallowed heavily.
"What happened to make my father see Hector for who he really was?"
"You," my mother said quietly. She looked off behind me as if she was recalling something specific. "He had met you, but one day you ran in while your father, Hector and I were talking, and you had a sundress on. Hector saw the birth mark on your shoulder and he got this look." She shivered. "The look in his eyes . . . it was . . . hungry." She paused for a minute. "Things changed after that day. Your father saw the way Hector looked at you, the way Hector became obsessed with you. He was obsessed with this idea that you were the key to this journey to the afterlife the gods had planned for the people that would live in this perfect utopian society of his." She shook her head. "After that, your father started distancing himself from Hector . . . made excuses when Hector asked to come to our home. I had hoped your father was on his way back to being the man he had been. But then one day, we came home from a hearing about your father's old company, and . . . you were gone. The nanny we'd left you with thought you were playing in your room." Tears welled up in her eyes again. "Just like that, you were gone. And then," she sucked in a breath, "your father was, too."
I scooted my chair out, stood up, and leaned over to hug my mother as she cried in my arms. I wiped the tears from her cheeks and then hugged her again. After a minute, I returned to my own chair. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. "Everything you've been through . . . I'm so sorry." I knew, that when it came to unthinkable grief, the best someone could do for you was recognize and acknowledge your pain.
My mom sniffled and nodded. "Your father, Eden. He wasn't a perfect man. He had made a terrible mistake. But he loved you more than anything in this world. It broke him to lose you. And he simply couldn't put the pieces back together."
I nodded, picturing the man in the photo Felix had given me, the man whom I recalled so very little of. We both sat quietly, my mom and Molly sipping their wine, me thinking about everything I'd been told in the last hour. It would take me a long time to organize all the pieces. After a minute I asked, "So Hector told you his name was Damon?"
"Yes. Damon Abas. Another false name."
I nodded. I wondered if the police would ever determine Hector's true identity. Now that I knew more about him, it was almost as if he had simply materialized at my parents’ house that day so long ago.
"Did the police look for a place like Damon Abas had described once I was taken?"
"Oh yes. Damon . . . Hector had indicated Acadia was here in the Midwest, somewhere close by." She shook her head. "He never disclosed the location and we had no reason to press the issue at the time. We figured we'd learn more when we began planning our relocation. The police scoured every community that was anywhere near the description Hector had given us. They came up empty. I never realized how many alternative societies are out there, most of them completely under the radar. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack." She looked off behind me for a minute. "I see it so clearly now that I know about Acadia, and I imagine the police do, too. As for the whys and the hows, there are so many things to understand. Half of me wants to, and the other half wants to brush my hands of it and thank God you're back where you belong."
I nodded and offered a small smile, feeling joy in the word, 'belong'. Finally—the thing I'd been searching for my entire life.
We talked for hours. My mom had many more questions about how I'd been treated in Acadia. I told her of my loneliness and confusion. I spoke of Mother Hailey and felt a pressing on my chest. I didn't speak specifically of Calder or Xander. I couldn't—not yet. But I did tell her there'd been happiness for me there, too, and that I'd had friends. And I filled her in haltingly on more of the horror I'd experienced at the end, most of it, at least. My mom cried some more and so did Molly.
We filled each other in on what our lives were like now, about what it'd been like for me to re-enter a new and different society, about Felix, and the things my mom had done to keep my memory alive all the years I'd been gone.
Finally, as the night grew darker, I covered my mouth to stifle a yawn. I was emotionally exhausted. "I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head. "It's been a long day. I should get going. Do you think you could give me a ride?"
"You'll do no such thing," my mom said, setting her wine glass on the table. "Please, Eden, I meant what I said. Please stay here. Please."
"Seriously, Eden, she has rooms to spare upstairs. And you said you were looking for a place . . ."
"All right. That would be wonderful, actually. Let me just call Marissa and tell her. She's going to be thrilled. Really, I can't wait for you to meet her."
"Meet her? I'm going to squeeze her so hard. She's been taking care of my baby!"
I breathed out. "Thank you, Mom." I looked over at Molly. "Thank you, Molly. You made today so much better than I ever could have dreamed."
We all stood up and hugged, my mom shedding a few more tears, and then Molly showed me to my new room, in my new home, and brought me a few of her things to borrow until I could retrieve my own the next day.
When I'd slipped into bed, my mom came in and sat beside me on the mattress, gazing down at me in wonder and running her hand over my hair. "My little girl," she said softly. She hummed to me for a few minutes, a look of awe-filled joy in her expression.
"My beautiful Eden," she whispered, "I never thought I'd see you again."
"I love you, Mom," I said, blinking at her, trying not to tear up. "I never forgot you."
She caressed my cheek, a tear escaping her eye. It rolled slowly down her cheek as she said, "Oh, my sweetheart, I love you, too. I never thought I'd get the chance to tell you that again in this life. We have so much lost time to make up for." She wiped the tear away and hummed again for a few minutes.
I lay there after she'd closed the door, looking around in the dim light of the moon outside, reeling at how life could change in an instant.
All my life I'd dreamed of my mother, held on to the belief that I'd been loved before. And now I had her back. I said a silent thank you to the God of Mercy, hoping against hope that being back in my mother's arms would help heal another piece of my broken heart.