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

lip. “It happened right after the ultrasound. That same evening.”

“I know. I heard about it at my next shift.”

“Ask her,” Eve whispered.

Dawn lowered her head and looked into Eve’s sapphire blue eyes. She turned back to Gwen and asked, “What . . . what did you do to me?”

“Excuse me?”

“The ultrasound. Did you do it wrong? Did . . . did you cause my miscarriage?”

“What?” Gwen took a couple of steps back, stopping when her back reached the railing. “Ultrasounds don’t cause miscarriages.”

Dawn stared at Gwen and then looked at Eve. She leaned closer to the doll and pressed her ear against Eve’s lips.

“Hurt Gwen,” Eve said.

“What?” Dawn replied as she stared into Eve’s eyes. “No.”

Gwen recoiled and asked, “Who are you talking to?”

“Hurt Gwen,” Eve repeated.

Dawn stood upright and stared at the steam rising from Gwen’s coffee. Dawn thrust her arm forward, smashing her hand into the cup. The hot coffee flew from the container, splashing against Gwen’s face, causing her to scream in pain.

“Baby killer!” Dawn yelled. She looked around at the handful of people that had gathered nearby. “Stay away from her! She’s a killer!”

Dawn grabbed the stroller and glared at the people watching her. The crowd slowly parted as Dawn flipped her Pradas down across her face and stormed away. The squealing wheels of the Silver Cross Kensington Pram broke the stunned silence engulfing the High Line.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Gwen cried out.

Thirty Three

The Last Page

Dawn flung the door to her apartment open, relieved to finally be home. She pushed Eve’s carriage ahead and let go of the handlebar, causing it to roll until it banged into the spiral staircase. Dawn ripped her brown mink coat from her body and tossed it across the stroller.

“I can’t believe Gwen caused my miscarriage.” Dawn stopped beside the stroller, recounting the exchange she’d had with Gwen on the High Line. “She’s lucky all she got was hot coffee in her face.”

Dawn reached into the carriage and retrieved Eve, leaving her purse, pastry bag, and cold coffee behind. Eve’s shoe caught the edge of the cup, tipping it sideways and spilling the rest of the coffee across the white cotton blanket and satin lining. Dawn took Eve to the kitchen and sat her on the counter, bending her legs to hold her in place. Her hands trembled as she positioned Eve.

“This day’s been . . . overwhelming,” Dawn said to Eve. She shook her hands to calm her nerves. Dawn knelt down and went through her wine collection, grabbing the first bottle of merlot she saw. “You’re the only one I can trust, now, Eve.” She opened the bottle and poured herself a glass. Dawn took a sip as she welcomed the tingle of the alcohol as it flowed down her throat. “You’re all I have left.”

Dawn frowned when she noticed the brown and red stains covering Eve’s face. She ran her fingers through the doll’s matted copper hair and said, “When did you get so dirty?”

Dawn walked to the sink and turned on the faucet. As the water warmed, she grabbed some liquid hand soap. Once the water became hot, she plugged the drain and brought Eve over to the sink. Dawn submerged the doll, fully clothed, beneath the running water and began to clean her with a two-sided sponge, alternating between the soft and rough sides.

“You’ve taught me so much.” Dawn smiled as the stains began to fade. She rubbed harder, focusing on the dirty dress. “It’s just you and me now. We’re done with Jacob and the doctor. I . . . I can’t trust them anymore.”

The running water soon became too hot. Dawn yanked her hands away, leaving Eve beneath the streaming faucet. Steam rose as the water cascaded across the doll’s white porcelain face, soaking her dress. Dawn grabbed a pair of dish towels from the counter and turned off the water. She removed Eve from the sink and stood her upright, leaning her against the backsplash. Water dripped from the tips of Eve’s red velvet dress. Her white leather shoes, speckled with paint, oozed soapy suds as Dawn began to pat the doll dry.

Eve’s hair remained matted, and her bow unraveled. Most of the coffee stains had disappeared, but the older wine stains remained, most notably the line running down the side of Eve’s face. Dawn had managed to scrub away part of Eve’s right red-painted eyebrow. The dress now had several missing rhinestones.

“Read to me,” Eve said.

“Read what?”

“Read my diary.”

“Now? But . . . .” Dawn sighed. Her temples throbbed from the emotional roller coaster she’d just gone through. “I . . . I guess that would help me unwind.” Dawn wrapped the doll in the two towels and cradled Eve in her arms. Eve’s sapphire blue eyes remained open as she stared back at Dawn. “We’re almost at the end, aren’t we?”

Dawn grabbed her glass of wine and brought Eve up to the second-floor nursery. She placed Eve on the changing table and retrieved another towel from the drawer. She patted the doll a few times, flipping her over in the process. Eve’s eyes clicked and clacked as Dawn spun her around. Finally, Dawn placed Eve on her back on a fresh towel. Eve’s eyes slowly closed. Dawn turned on the nightlight projector, setting the color pattern to a rainbow setting. She glanced at the nearby gel beads and realized she could barely smell them.

“I’ll be right back,” Dawn said.

Dawn ran upstairs and dove beneath her bed to get the diary from the wooden box. Her fertility pills rattled inside as she slid the container across the carpet. Dawn ran her fingers across the cherry wood’s ornate carvings. She flipped the box open and welcomed the smell of cedar. Dawn took a moment to stare at the bottle of fertility pills resting beside the diary. She grabbed the small leather book and held it to her face, inhaling its earthy, slightly smoky scent.

She pulled