Seeking Eden Read online

  “I love them,” she said, injecting as much sincerity into her tone as she could.

  The Reb looked at her for a long time. Elanna noticed the lines around his eyes and the streaks of gray in his hair and beard. The Reb looked tired. And old.

  “I’m an old man,” Reb Ephraim said, as if echoing her thoughts.

  “No,” Elanna began in protest, but he waved her to silence.

  “Hush, my dear. I’m an old man, and I know it. I suppose I’ve forgotten what it is that young girls like.” He leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Now, what would you really want?”

  She was treading uneven ground. If she told him what she really wanted, he could become insulted that she didn’t like the earrings. If she insisted the jewelry was fine, he might get angry at her lies, and she’d get nothing. Elanna swallowed, hating the games she felt forced to play.

  “I’d like longer than a year,” she ventured. Her words emboldened her. “I’d like to raise a child as my own.”

  She half-held her breath, waiting for him to strike her. At the very least, to shout. Reb Ephraim was a kind man, but there were limits even for him.

  “Elanna,” Reb Ephraim sighed and touched her cheek gently. “I wish we all could have what you ask for. But I’m afraid…”

  “It’s not possible. I understand.” She ducked her head to hide her disappointment and anger.

  Getting up, she straightened her clothes and began to fix her hair. She held her shoulders straight as she looked into the mirror. She didn’t want him to see her agitation.

  “Elanna,” Reb Ephraim said. “Come here and sit down.”

  Her first thought was: Again? But she shrugged it away as she did what he ordered. It was unlikely he’d be able to manage again so soon, but if he wanted to try she had to comply. It was her job. Her duty to the Tribe.

  “Yes, Reb Ephraim.” Her voice shook a little and so did her hands.

  “My dear,” the Reb said, turning her gently until she looked at him. “We’ve spent many nights together like this, haven’t we?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The Reb smiled at her. She could not force herself to return the expression.

  “You’ve borne me children, Elanna,” the Reb continued. He looked over her shoulder, his gaze far away. “Do you think I don’t remember that each time I lay with you?”

  “I don’t know what you think,” she blurted. The Reb had never spoken to her like this before.

  He was still looking far away. “You’re a beautiful young woman, you know that. But that alone is not enough to bring me to your bed. I’m a married man. I love my wife. I don’t come to you out of lust. That would be a violation of the vows I shared with Miriam under the chuppah.”

  Now he looked at her directly, his face seeming older but his eyes alight with fire. “I know you keep appointments with any who’ve been deemed an acceptable match, as is required by our law. I know, too, that the motives of some of those men aren’t pure. But that doesn’t matter, my dear. You’re a hopemother. You have a wondrous, precious capacity. You’re the future of this tribe, Elanna. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “As if I could,” she said more bitterly than she had intended.

  Reb Ephraim’s eyes grew soft. “Aren’t you happy?”

  “I don’t know.” Her honesty stung even her.

  He shook his head. “You live a privileged life. You can have what normal women only dream of. You can bear children.”

  “I can’t get married.” Elanna got up from the bed. It would make saying what she felt easier, if she didn’t have to see his face. “I can’t have a family. I can bear children, but I can’t keep them.”

  “How else would a hopemother be able to perform her duties? If she’s emotionally and physically taken up with raising a child, how can she be expected to open herself up? How can she expect to start keeping appointments again, or get pregnant again?”

  “Women did it.” She whirled on him, fists clenched. “Women had lots of children, and they didn’t have to give any of them away!”

  “Two hundred years ago, perhaps,” the Reb said, undaunted by her sudden temper. “But you know that’s not possible now. And what of the women who can’t have children? Would you deny them the joy of motherhood, simply because you choose to be selfish?”

  But they’re mine, she thought, even as she knew she could never have raised eleven children herself. Even as she knew she didn’t care. “It’s not fair.”

  “Really, Elanna,” Reb Ephraim said reproachfully. “I’m surprised at you. This behavior I might have expected from some of the other hopemothers, but not you. You’ve always been such a good girl.”

  She had nothing to say. So she swallowed her anger as she’d done so often over the years and stood aside to watch him leave. When he’d gone, Elanna looked down at the bed, at the rumpled sheets and strewn covers that had everything to do with lovemaking and nothing whatsoever to do with love.

  She wanted to scream and could not. She wanted to cry and would not. Elanna sank down onto the bed and pressed the heels of her palms hard against her eyes. Her breath felt thick and heavy, and she forced it to calm.

  This sudden lack of control over her emotions scared her. She always felt a bit weepy in the first weeks of pregnancy, but this time was different. She’d been walking on eggshells for weeks now, struggling with her temper and fighting tears at the slightest provocation.

  Everything and everyone grated on her nerves. Even the things that used to bring her joy -- sharing a meal with friends, gathering in the social hall, visiting the gardens, nothing satisfied her anymore. It was as though she were made of glass, and anything could make her splinter.

  She checked the mirror to make sure she looked all right. Aside from a little redness around her eyes, she looked as she always did. Reb Ephraim had called her a beautiful young woman, and Elanna supposed he was right.

  Men had told her they loved her blue eyes, or her dark auburn curls. They loved her full red lips, her heavy breasts, her rounded belly. Most of all they loved the womb they hoped might fill with their child. Men loved every piece of her, but not one had ever loved all of her.

  She didn’t want to stay here any longer. The room was just one of a dozen exactly like it. It was only large enough for a bed, a chair and a washbasin, and it was as bland and featureless as oatmeal. It suddenly disgusted her.

  Yanking open the flimsy door, Elanna burst out into the hallway and straight into a solid male body. She hit him so hard he staggered, knocking against the corridor’s opposite wall. He coughed, rubbing the elbow that had received the brunt of the blow.

  “Job!”

  “About today,” he began.

  She shook her head, shushing him. “Forget it. I was being stupid.”

  “I’m sorry, Elanna.” Job touched her shoulder. “I wish I knew how to make you happy.”

  “Don’t I seem happy?”

  “No,” he answered. “You don’t.”

  She felt the carefully constructed wall of her expression begin to break. “Let’s not talk, okay?”

  Job had been determined to be genetically incompatible with her. The risk of a child born with deformities, disease, even something as simple as poor eyesight, was too great. The Tribe desperately needed children but didn’t have the resources to care for babies with problems.

  Job had been forbidden to her, and maybe that was why she’d let him have her. That small defiance hadn’t seemed like such a terrible thing at the time. But now, knowing they’d created life and the consequences both of them would face if she couldn’t somehow make this right...All at once she wanted nothing more than to sag into his arms and let him stroke her hair. Let him touch her if he wanted, let him make love to her if he insisted. At least he would be holding her. She wanted to tell him the truth, that she carried his child.

  “Come with me,” she said, and took him into the dark. The shadows. It wasn’

  t quite love, but it was all she could