Fate Forgotten (48 page)

Peace, Adam,
Gabriel said as he burst into Eve’s room and found him inside.
We must have peace, now, or risk everything.

The angel sat on the edge of the bed, taking Eve’s hand in his own and stroking her hair from her forehead with grave tenderness. “God grants me leave to take your pain, Eve. You will not suffer.”

Her eyes widened, and she reached for Adam. He sat down on her other side and she took his hand as the angel released her. She sobbed, but it wasn’t from the contractions that shook her.

He squeezed her hand. “It’s all right, Eve. He’s only come to help.”

“Angels always gather at the birth of gods and prophets,” Gabriel said, smiling. “You have nothing to fear from me, nor does the child. You must tell Elah this is so. She must trust me, now.”

“Gabriel isn’t Michael,” Adam said, when Eve looked to him for reassurance. “He won’t harm you. Either of you. Or I wouldn’t have let him come.”

She let out a strangled laugh. “As if you could have stopped him.”

His jaw clenched, and he held her eyes with his. “There are ways to stop even the angels, I promise you.”

“Peace,” Gabriel reminded him, his eyes sharpening. “I beg of you both. Even without her full power, Elah can unmake Eve with a thought in her desire to leave the womb, and it will not be clean or painless if she does so. She needs your reassurance, not your threats.”

Adam gripped Eve’s hand that much harder, forcing himself to calm, urging her to do the same, because he could feel the edge of fear in her mind.
This is God’s plan, remember? Everything’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. She loves you.

Elah. Our daughter is named Elah.
And he felt her grasping for that comfort, the knowledge that she had been right. They were having a daughter. And that choice she had made so long ago, it had been the right one. Eve let out a breath, the tension leaving her body, and she tipped her head back, closing her eyes.

He smoothed her hair back from her face and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
I love you. Remember that.

The baby’s joy was impossible not to feel, and Gabriel, with God’s power, made the delivery quick, though whether it was for Eve’s sake or the world’s, Adam couldn’t be certain. Whatever the reason, Eve felt no pain, and the angel brought the baby from between her legs, and swaddled her in white.

Eve held out her arms and Gabriel did not deny her the right to hold her child, her daughter, for the first time.

“She’s beautiful,” Eve murmured, kissing the small, wrinkled brow. Instead of crying, Elah smiled, little arms reaching for her mother’s face, tiny fingers curling around her nose. Eve laughed and looked up at him. “Adam, look at her. She’s so perfect.”

He forced himself to smile. “Doesn’t every parent think so?”

But he took the baby into his arms all the same, his heart swelling with love and sorrow, both.
It’s crueler to let us keep her, only to take her later.

But necessary,
Gabriel said, watching in silence at the bedside.
Just as the risk itself is necessary, or this day would never have come
.

“I will leave you,” the Archangel said softly, bowing his head.

“Wait.” Eve struggled upright, catching his arm as he turned to go.

She drew her hand back quickly, as if she’d been burned, but Gabriel only smiled, taking her hand in both of his, and kneeling beside her.

“How might I serve, Mother?” he asked gently. Adam had never heard an angel speak so kindly. “You need only ask, and if it is within my power to give, you shall have it.”

Mother?
Adam demanded.

Gabriel’s eyes laughed.
Did you never wonder who Jesus might be?

Adam snorted, and Elah cooed at the sound, reaching for his face. It hardly mattered. Whatever Jesus had preached, Elah changed everything. For better or worse, but when he looked on her, looked into her eyes, so brilliant blue one moment, and the emerald of her mother’s the next, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to care about anything else.

“What does this mean?” Eve asked almost shyly. Adam lifted his gaze and found her watching him, felt her hope, her need. “For us?”

It was the last of her fears, he knew, but he couldn’t have brought himself to ask the question. No matter what the angel answered, it wouldn’t change anything between them. It wouldn’t change how broken they would both be when Elah was torn from their arms and Eve learned that Adam had given up all right to stop it.

“Ah,” Gabriel said, his smile widening. “God would not teach you to love one another only to have you suffer for eternity apart, if that is your fear. Until and unless Elah is lost, there will be no more children between you. That purpose has been fulfilled at last, through her birth.”

Adam wished he could share in her relief. Instead, when the angel turned to leave them again, he gave Elah back to her mother and followed.

“How long?” he asked, when the door to the house had shut behind them both, and he was sure Eve wouldn’t hear him.

Gabriel lifted his gaze to the sky, his wings twitching in what seemed very much like a shrug. “Long enough for the child to bond with her mother. Beyond that, I can promise nothing.”

He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. “Long enough to break her heart utterly when the time comes.”

“It isn’t as though she’ll be left to die, Adam,” Gabriel said. “Isn’t it enough that you’ll have one another, after all this time?”

“You know it won’t be.”

The Archangel sighed. “She could have chosen otherwise. You both could have. The world would have gone on as it has since Creation, and perhaps God would have risen again another way. More likely, though, he would only continue to diminish, and Michael’s authority would have become absolute. Either path would have brought its own risks, its own sacrifices. Death and betrayal and pain for both of you. We can only do now what must be done, to preserve the world as best as we are able. But God asks nothing of Eve He did not ask of Himself, when He gave her up into your keeping. At least you might console yourself with the knowledge that Elah will be well loved and cared for. She will suffer no abuse at our hands. Whether the reverse will be true, we can only pray.”

“But it’s possible that Eve is right. That we could raise Elah to love us all.”

“It is too great a risk,” Gabriel said, the words hard.

Adam shook his head. “But Eve—”

“It is not Eve we cannot trust, Adam.” Gabriel spread his wings, and rose, the downstroke blasting dust enough that Adam had to shield his eyes.

And then he was gone, and Adam hated himself that much more.

Because every sorrow, every grief, every heartbreak that Eve would suffer in the coming days, was because of him.

Adam stroked Elah’s cheek with the back of his finger, and his daughter laughed, making Eve smile and hold her that much closer. He had never seen anything so beautiful, anything so perfect. Seeing Eve holding his child, their child, made his heart soar. How many times had he dreamed of this moment, while she had held Garrit’s children in her arms? How many times had he watched Mia hold his baby and wished she were Eve?

His heart was already breaking, knowing it couldn’t last.

“You see?” Eve said. “I told you everything would be fine. And she’s so happy, Adam. Can’t you feel it?”

He couldn’t answer, couldn’t force a single word from his lips, too afraid she would hear the pain beneath, the grief.

“And we can be together,” she went on. “We don’t have to be afraid of another baby, or Michael coming in the night to tear us apart. It’s all over, Adam. We’re free from all of it.”

He wanted to weep. “Evey—” he cleared his throat when his voice broke on her name, and tried again. “It isn’t quite…” the words caught and jumbled, almost choking him. But she had to know. He had to tell her.

But if he did, what then? What if she didn’t love Elah the way she should, knowing what was going to come, protecting part of her heart from the pain of that loss. And what if Elah knew it? What if, because of that hesitation, that reservation which she was sure to sense, Elah didn’t love them back, not enough. Not when whatever pain Eve shared with her daughter combined with Adam’s own faults and imperfections.

“What’s the matter?” Eve asked, frowning up at him. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

He forced himself to smile and kissed her forehead, then Elah’s. “I’m just relieved that you’re both safe and sound, that’s all. Even as practiced as you are with childbirth, I couldn’t shake this fear that you wouldn’t… that something would go wrong.”

She laughed. “I’ve never had a single husband who believed me when I told him I knew what I was doing. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you didn’t, either.”

“I suppose you shouldn’t,” he said, the lie bitter on his tongue, twisting his stomach into knots and souring it with bile.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t risk telling her, and he couldn’t stand here and pretend nothing was wrong, pretend that everything spread out before them was sunshine and roses and happily ever afters.

Gabriel’s words echoed in his thoughts.
It is not Eve we cannot trust…

“I’ll go get you some water,” he managed to say, and hoped she understood what he didn’t.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
“I’m sure you’re thirsty.”

She laughed again, looking up at him, glowing with beauty and adoration and love.
I love you, too. And now we have forever, Adam. We can have forever.

But it didn’t matter how much he loved her or she loved him, if there was no world left, if they were both destroyed in its unmaking. If forever were only the next few months, or few weeks, or few days. Eve had to bond with Elah. They had to love one another with their whole hearts, and he couldn’t…

He couldn’t stand by and let her, knowing what he did. He couldn’t encourage her when he knew what was coming, and how much it would break her heart. He couldn’t be part of making it worse. For her. For the world. No matter what he chose, it would bring ruin and destruction. And maybe there was another way. A way to give Eve more time.

Because it wasn’t Eve that they didn’t trust to raise her.

Adam raked his fingers through his hair, and allowed himself one last look. One last memory of Eve holding their daughter, radiant with peace and love and everything he had always hoped to give her.

And then he left his wife and his daughter behind.

For the world.

For Eve.

For love.

Chapter Forty-six: 1920 AD

Ra may have been old, but he was hardly weak. He had only to shake Dr. Meek’s hand, and the poor man was bowing and scraping, eager to do anything he could to help them. The release forms were produced at once, without any hesitation, and Ra signed them as Eve’s grandfather. How long the illusion would last, Thor didn’t know, but with any luck, Eve would be in France before her husband learned she had been stolen from his keeping. And long before any other god learned exactly who had helped to free her.

“She’ll need to take the lithium at the least,” Dr. Meek said. “Or I fear her other personalities will surface all the more strongly, and there are a great many. Better still if you brought her back to us at least once a week for the electro-shock therapy Dr. Williams has been testing.”

“Of course,” Ra said, studying the bottle of pills gravely. “She’ll have the best of care, with all the proper medication and treatment. Perhaps if you’ll just provide us with a copy of her records, I can ensure a seamless transition with her new doctors.”

“New doctors?” Dr. Meek adjusted his glasses, his forehead creasing. “I’m not at all certain—”

“It’s for the best,” Ra said, his voice ringing with an authority Thor had never heard him use. Meek blinked, the troubled lines clearing. “I’m sure you understand, Doctor. Evelyn is very dear to me. After everything that’s happened, and all you’ve done for her, I wouldn’t want to place you in an awkward position with her husband.”

“Of course,” Meek murmured. “Of course, yes, I do understand. It’s very kind of you to consider…”