Dawn of Eve, MJ Howson [lightweight ebook reader TXT] 📗

High Line at the 23rd Street entrance. She would then follow the winding escalated walkway north to its endpoint at Hudson Yards. Access at 23rd Street also gave her the option of an elevator, should the need arise.

Dawn smiled, basking in the warm air, as she passed the curved eastern-facing benches above 29th Street. Dressed in a long black silk kaftan, oversized deeply tinted Prada sunglasses, and a cream chiffon scarf draped around her neck, Dawn took deep breaths as she enjoyed the fresh air. She soon found herself at the stairs descending to 30th Street adjacent to the shops of Hudson Yards. Her stomach growled in anticipation of the breakfast she’d soon be ordering.

The line in Mercado Little Spain wasn’t too bad this morning. Dawn ordered her usual–a large black coffee and miguelito pastry. She quickly exited back outside and headed upstairs to the public gardens and courtyard on the first level. Once there, she noticed Joe, a security guard who worked the area near the Vessel. Dawn waved to catch his attention. He waved back. She quickly made her way to meet her long-time acquaintance.

“Morning, Joe,” Dawn said.

“Good morning to you, Miss Easton.” Joe smiled, held the brim of his hat, and nodded. “Mercado will never go out of business with you here every weekend.”

Joe made for an imposing figure in both size and tone. Broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, the African-American’s voice registered so deep that it came across as both cartoonish and frightening. He’d joke that he should have gone into radio and voice-over work instead of being an EMT. Semi-retired, Joe now enjoyed the slower pace of life brought about strolling the area and keeping the peace. His shift varied week to week and day to day. Sometimes he’d find himself patrolling the indoor shops, other days the outdoor grounds.

“Their pastries are addictive.” Dawn tried to take a sip from her coffee, but it was still too hot. “How are you today?”

“I can’t complain. The kids are all coming over this weekend for Sunday dinner. We haven’t done that in ages.”

“Remind me again how many children you have?”

“Four. All married. With kids.” Joe laughed, his deep baritone voice creaking softly. “Can’t believe I’m that old.”

“Such a big family. That must be nice.” Dawn tried to smile as she attempted another sip of her coffee.

“How are you these days?” Joe briefly looked Dawn up and down. “I know you had a rough patch earlier.”

“I . . . I did.” Dawn awkwardly swapped her pastry bag and coffee as the hot cup was beginning to bother her fingers. “It’s so sweet of you to ask.”

“I’m not one to pry.”

Dawn looked around for someplace to put her coffee. She nodded toward the closest building, where it was shady. Joe followed her. Dawn placed her pastry bag and coffee down, resting them against the wall. She said, “It’s been a rough summer. But, well, I’m . . . I’m in therapy now.”

“Oh.”

“Talk therapy. Crazy, right?”

“Not at all.” Joe looked around and gave the outdoor space a quick review. “I never told you this, Miss Easton, but my wife suffered two miscarriages early in our marriage.”

“Really?” Dawn was shocked. A part of her almost resented hearing this now. She’d confided her loss to Joe back in June the first time she saw him after losing Eve. She wondered why he waited so long. “How, uh, how did your wife get through it? The loss.”

“It was rough.” Joe took his cap off and wiped his brow. The humid August air and all-black uniform causing him to sweat. “But we got through it. Together.”

Dawn smiled as she looked away. A young couple was walking by holding hands. She couldn’t help but think of Jacob. He’d recommended therapy, and she could only hope it would help bring them closer.

“It’s going to be a hot one today,” Joe said. “I’m required to wear this uniform. What’s your excuse?”

“Me?” Dawn looked down at her long black kaftan. The silk was thin and flowing. She found it to be quite comfortable, despite the sticky weather. “I happen to like it.”

“Just teasing.” Joe winked at her. “You always seem to be in black or white. A little pop of color never killed anyone.”

“I . . . I suppose.” Dawn forced a smile, although she did suddenly feel a bit self-conscious about her outfit. She looked around and noticed most other people in the area were in colorful shorts and shirts. “I’ve never really been one for color.”

“You look graceful with whatever you wear.”

“Thanks.” Dawn blushed and turned to stare at the Vessel. The honeycomb-shaped public architectural wonder, standing one-hundred and fifty feet tall, had opened earlier this year and served as the centerpiece to Hudson Yard’s outdoor garden. The curved copper walls and glass panels reflected the sun and surrounding buildings. She said, “It’s such a beautiful piece of work.”

“Have you ever been inside?”

“Me? No. I hate heights. My verandas are bad enough, but at least at home, I have the safety of my apartment a few feet away.” Dawn pointed at the Vessel. “Those walkways seem so narrow. I can’t imagine walking up all those stairs. How many are there?”

“Stairs?” Joe scratched his chin as he studied the structure. “Too many for these old bones.”

“Hmmm.” Dawn cupped her eyes as she scanned the interconnected stairways linking the Vessel’s multiple levels. “Look how low those railings are.” She shook her head and sighed. “Not me.”

“It’s not so bad.”

“I’ll just have to take your word.” Dawn collected her pastry bag and coffee. “I need to get going, Joe. I have my fourth session with my therapist soon.”

“Four already? Are they helping?”

“To be honest, I . . . I don’t feel I’m getting much from them.” Dawn frowned and gently bit her lip. “He makes me nervous—the doctor. So many questions, you know? I . . . I like my privacy.”

“If you aren’t happy with him, maybe you can try a different one?”

“Oh, no. He came highly recommended. He’s supposed to