Revealing Eden (28 page)

“I’m a hunted man.” His hand swept in front of him with a show of disgust. “What can I do for the Huaorani like this?”

“Perhaps if others like you existed,” her father said, as his eyes took on a feverish shine. “A new race of highly adapted human. Then we might reset the clock with you, Bramford, as the first New Man. It’s the only way.”

“I’m just trying to survive, doctor.”

Bramford pinned Eden with his penetrating stare. She wished she could read his mysterious expression. Why did he make her work so hard? And why on Holy Earth did he have to go and kiss her?

Then he turned and headed for the door.

“Wait, don’t go!” she cried.

He spun around, his expression as expectant as when he’d believed she was Rebecca. Or was Eden foolish enough to think he really wanted to talk to her instead?

She blustered on. “I’m sorry, but it’s all wrong. Don’t you see? What will happen to us if you get killed? And what about your son?”

His eyes went flat. “What about him?”

“If you’re not concerned for our welfare, at least consider your son’s before throwing yourself in the path of a deadly animal.”

“I’m no good to him or anyone else now.”

You’re good to me
. But the words wouldn’t come.

“Exactly,” Bramford said.

He gave her one last, cold look and ran out. Eden’s heart sank as he sped by the window.
Selfish beast
.

Her father mused. “I’d say the odds are in the jaguar’s favor, although if you factor in Bramford’s intelligence—”

“Father, you’re talking about a real person, not an experiment.”

“I suppose you could look at it that way. Certainly, I’ll be more disappointed than anyone should he lose the fight.”

“You said he had a chance. For Earth’s sake, do you think he’ll be killed?”

“But Daught, do you care?”

She snapped at him. “Of course not. I’m just thinking of his son, Logan.”

“What? What child is this?”

Eden nodded towards the portrait on the wall. “Rebecca was Bramford’s mate, though he claims she’s dead. I suspect he’s hiding their son in the gated hut.” She sketched in the story Bramford had told in his dream-state and puzzled once more over the missing details. “What could the FFP possibly use against him?”

“Hmmm,” her father said. “As far as I recall no incriminating data on Bramford was available.”

Eden wanted to probe deeper but he struggled to his feet, his exhaustion palpable.

“Wait and see,” he added as he shuffled off.

Wait for what?

Bramford’s affection undoubtedly would be lethal when he reached full adaptation. No, if Eden ever wanted to feel the burning heat of his kiss, or the strong press of his body, or hear his tender purr, only one way remained.

Adapt?

She laughed out loud. Why lose what little physical appeal she had for someone who loved another? Besides, a real jaguar probably would kill him. She simply couldn’t think about Bramford another minute.

And yet, as Eden closed her eyes, the wild feelings he aroused ran through her, as inescapable as the blazing light of day. And the kiss—the memory of their long, burning kiss—brought a moan to her lips.

E
DEN AWOKE the next morning to a startling dream.
I’m speeding through the jungle. Nothing scares me. I’m fearless and free
. It was only a dream. And yet, she had changed, hadn’t she?

She no longer flinched from morning’s golden light. Even the vast spaces and lack of boundaries intrigued her more than they frightened. And after spending time in the lush jungle, the modern room seemed as garish as makeup on a little girl’s face. Or did Rebecca’s presence repel her now?

Eden studied the lush painting, which evoked her time with Bramford in the jungle with a bittersweet feeling. Had Rebecca painted it as a ploy to convince him of her sincerity? Despite their strong physical resemblance, Eden now understood that she and Rebecca were as different as night and day. She doubted if her so-called twin ever had wanted to be a brave she-cat.

But I do
.

It also struck Eden that if by some crazy circumstances she and Bramford were to mate, their child might look a lot like Rebecca’s son. She simply had to meet him. Then, as her eyes fell on the torn window mesh, she thought of the
curious spider monkey that had paid her a nocturnal visit or two.

Could it have been a small boy? Logan, perhaps?

He had left a clue, she realized with growing excitement. She gently knelt on the floor, happy to find that the pain in her side had improved. She brushed away the cobwebs under the bed with Maria’s bamboo cutter. There, stuck against a bump in the floor, she spied something. She fished it out and examined it by the light of the window.

Why, it was a paintbrush, which must have belonged to Rebecca. That would explain her son’s frustration over its loss. Even more, the lost object suggested that, as Eden suspected, Logan had visited her. And he still might be in the gated hut.

How heartless to lock away an innocent child. Had Bramford tried to bully the poor boy when he boxed in the rain? Once more, she puzzled over the fact that the hut opened to the forest. That arrogant bastard probably didn’t want anyone to see his son’s mixed race.

Eden angled the brush in the window so that it stuck out like a flag, hoping to entice Logan.
Come play, little boy
.

At a soft, gasping sound, she jerked around to find Maria staring. She detected wariness in her eyes, as well as the eerie knowingness she seemed to possess. In fact, she had the weird feeling the Huaorani woman knew what might happen if the boy returned for his toy.

“Logan?” Eden said, fingering the brush.

A sad look came over Maria. She didn’t reply but returned to the task of cutting bandages. Her shiny hair closed like silk curtains around her wide face, as she bent forward,
and seemed to shut off the possibility of further questioning. Naturally at ease, her bare breasts and stomach pleated against her torso.

Again, Eden’s dream of running free flitted through her mind. She tried to imagine herself living like Maria. But the woman’s lack of self-consciousness felt out of reach, even dangerous, like swimming or walking in the light.

Eden sat on the edge of the bed, watching the woman’s nimble handiwork.

“Maria,” she said, pantomiming her question. “How did you know when we would arrive at camp?”

“I talk to you.”

Eden shook her head. “But we didn’t speak.”

Maria swept her hand through the air with a whooshing sound.
“El viento.”

“The wind?”

“Sí.”

Love’s gentle wind?

“You remind me of my mother, Lily,” Eden said, wistfully.

“Lily,” Maria repeated, and her face broke into an infectious grin.

They began to giggle, though Eden wondered if they laughed at the same thing. But then again, maybe Maria understood far more than Eden thought. Maybe her mother had, too. And just maybe she could gain some of that same intuitive knowledge.

Maria gently began to wrap a long bandage around Eden’s ribs. Eden held up her long tresses, but a lock slipped and caught in the bindings. She couldn’t stand the sweaty mess,
not for another minute. Once, it had been a small source of pride, but she had hidden behind it.
For long enough
.

“Cut it, please—
por favor
,” Eden said. She touched the ends of Maria’s hair then marked the same length on her jaw. “Like yours. Okay?”

The excited gleam in Maria’s eye suggested she knew Eden sought more than convenience. She knotted the bandages, then reached for the bamboo cutter. As she held it to Eden’s jawline, Carmen and Etelvina burst into the room. At the sight of their mother pointing the sharp instrument at Eden, they stopped short. Etelvina hid behind her sister. Even the delicate
Cymbidium
orchid in Carmen’s hair seemed to tremble with fear.

Eden took a deep breath and nodded. “Go ahead.”

Maria made the first cut and Eden grabbed her hand as the strands fell to the floor. Long-repressed, painful images of her mother’s hair falling out in chunks loomed in her mind. By then, the dark coating only had covered the tips of the red strands, as if her mother’s true essence had flooded in before she left.

Breathe, Eden. Stay in the moment
. That’s what her mother would have said.

Maria made the gentle, calming sound of a breeze, letting her breath rise and fall, over and over. Outside, the ever-changing melodies of the forest reminded Eden that, for the Huaorani, only the present existed. And right now, nothing threatened her but old fears.

If she could stay in this moment and then the next, and the next after that, would she become fearless and free? Perhaps just like in her dream. She had to try. Yes, she admitted,
she hoped to be somebody’s she-cat. But mostly, she wanted to shed her fear-logged skin.

Calmer now, Eden released Maria’s hand. “Go ahead,” she repeated.
“Por favor.”

The little girls settled on the floor to watch, their arms wrapped around each other. Snip by snip, the hair cuttings pooled at her feet. She wondered if the children thought it held some potent magic or evil.

Soon, Eden’s head grew light; her spirits, frisky. Looking at the growing pile of golden hair, she imagined a bowl of honey, a reverie Aunt Emily might have enjoyed.

The pedigree of honey

Does not concern the bee;

A clover, any time, to him

Is aristocracy
.

Maria stepped back to appraise her work when she was done. Eden waited, wondering at the quizzical look on her hairdresser’s face. Then Maria offered Carmen the bamboo cutter in exchange for the lavender orchid. The girl seemed happy with the trade. Her mother smiled, as she tucked the
Cymbidium
behind Eden’s ear. Its bewitching fragrance drew Eden’s lips into a soft smile.

“Tu eres muy bonita,”
Maria said.

Me, very pretty?

Eden swung her head, delighted by the tickle at her jaw. She felt as naked as when her dark coating first had washed away, but without the fear. More than that, she felt liberated. Maybe there, in that wild place, anything was possible.

Even beauty, Eden
.

She studied herself in the hand mirror. Definitely less timid, she decided. If nothing else, she might pass as a tribeswoman.

But not quite
.

She held out her long, flowing skirt to Carmen and gestured for her to cut it. The sisters muttered between themselves, deciding. When the older girl stepped forward, Eden had a clear view of Etelvina and caught her breath. The red straps of the backpack were slung over the little girl’s shoulders.

That’s when Eden remembered the Huaorani principle of exchange. She scooped up the pile of hair and pointed to the bag. Once more, the sisters conferred. Then they nodded, and the exchange was done.

At last, freedom, Eden hoped, shrugging on the pack.

Again, she held out the skirt and Carmen began to cut it. Eden turned around and around until the dress was almost as short as Maria’s little flap. Carmen pointed the cutter at the top of her dress, but Eden politely declined her offer.
Not that free
.

The demanding shrieks of the macaw rang out in the air. Its mistresses fled, clutching their golden bounty. Maria quietly left before Eden could thank her.

She laid the backpack beside her on the bed with a heavy sigh. Yes, the Life-Band was there, she confirmed. And yet, it failed to bring her the joyous relief she had expected. From the moment she had been ripped away from home, her only aim had been to return.
Why hesitate now, Eden?

Thoughts of Bramford produced a dull ache in her chest.
If she left the jungle, she might never see him again. Was that what she really wanted?

Eden gazed out the window at the vibrant forest, imagining him on the hunt. Hungry and dangerous, he would slip through the shadows, his body rippling with energy. Even in deep darkness, he could see and smell his prey. When ready, he would pounce with a bloodthirsty roar. The law of the jungle required that he violently take what he wanted.