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

understand what Dawn was talking about. Her eyes darted between Dawn’s distraught eyes and the stained cotton blanket in her arms. A sadness descended across Janet’s face as she tried to piece it all together. “Show me.”

Dawn placed the blanket on the glass countertop near Leo, causing the cat to stand up. Her hands shook as she began to unfold the blanket and black towel, exposing the dress and shattered remains. She said, “He killed her. He killed my baby.”

Janet reached over and helped Dawn finish peeling the coverlet open. The doll’s red dress and porcelain pieces popped against the dark black towel. Leo stood nearby, watching with intense curiosity. Janet gasped when she saw Eve’s fractured face with only a single eye staring back. In a hushed tone, she asked, “What happened?”

“I tried.” Dawn took a few steps back and stared at Eve’s remains. “You said I had to protect her. To keep her safe.” Dawn wailed and flung her hands to her eyes. “I tried. I did. But, I . . . I failed. And now she won’t talk to me anymore. I can’t hear her. Can you help?”

As Dawn cried, Janet leaned forward, lowered her glasses, and began to sort through the porcelain fragments. Janet picked up one of the plastic joints and studied the chunk of porcelain still glued to it. A frown spread across her face. She paid no attention to Dawn or offered any words of comfort.

“I tried to piece her back together,” Dawn said. “There are too many pieces. So many many pieces.”

Janet continued to ignore her as she removed each chunk of the doll, setting it aside on the towel. She tipped Eve’s partial head upside down, causing the eye to snap closed. The bow Dawn had so painstakingly put back in place fell off. Janet then held up Eve’s tattered red velvet dress, now free from the debris, and ran her fingers through the dirt-covered folds.

“Where is it?” Janet asked, her voice filled with concern. “The locket.”

“What?” Dawn’s gaze moved from Janet to the countertop. Her eyes shot back and forth across the bits and pieces spread out in front of Janet. “The locket?”

“Eve’s locket.” Janet dove her fingers deeper through the folds in the doll’s dress. Her brow tensed and then eased as she slowed her search. “I . . . I don’t feel it.” Janet flipped the torn dress inside out. “Or see it.”

Dawn took a small step forward and watched as Janet gently placed Eve’s dress back on the towel. She looked into the shop owner’s eyes. Dawn’s mind raced as she thought back to last night when she dug through the brush alongside the High Line walkway. Tears filled her eyes, and she said, “I . . . I don’t remember. I . . . I thought I got everything. Why? I brought you as much of her as I could. There must be something–”

“The doll was just a vessel.” Janet shook her head and sighed as she tapped her fingernail against the glass countertop. “The locket held Eve’s heart and soul.”

“The locket?”

“Yes.” Janet looked down at the collection of pieces and gently ran her hands over the doll’s wavy hair. “I’m sorry. But this . . . this here isn’t Eve. Not anymore.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Dawn moved closer and stared at the remains. She looked up at Janet and asked, “Is . . . is there anything you can do?”

“No.” Janet’s face was despondent as she stared at the shattered remains in front of her. She fought back tears and, with a cracked voice, said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” What little hope Dawn had clung to all morning vanished in that very moment. “I’m the one who failed Eve.”

Dawn softly cried as she rolled the blanket and towel around Eve’s red velvet dress and scattered remains. She ignored the crunching sounds as she scooped it up into her arms. Dawn walked to the door, stopped, and without looking back, said, “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” Janet slid her glasses to the top of her head and sighed. She brushed her knuckles against her damp eyes and allowed a small smile to escape. “Tomorrow would have been her birthday, too.”

“What?”

“Remember the date on the back of the locket?”

Dawn’s eyes burned, and her head throbbed. She briefly closed her eyes and pictured the front and back engravings on the locket. She looked back at Janet and said, “The twenty-second.”

“Yes. She . . . she would have been twenty.”

The news piled onto the despair already weighing on Dawn. She had nothing left to give or to say. Dawn lowered her head, opened the door, and went up to the sidewalk. She placed Eve’s remains back into the stroller. The wind felt especially cold as it bit into her damp cheeks. As Dawn pushed the carriage down Charles Street, she let the tears fall freely, and the world around her soon faded away.

Dawn took her time during the long walk back to the Spire. The sights and sounds felt like a blur, her sunglasses acting like a shield. Everything appeared to move in slow motion. Sounds were muffled. Even the wings of the birds flying by seemed sluggish. The once blue sky appeared gray and drab as if the entire world lacked color.

Before returning home, Dawn wheeled the stroller to where she’d found Eve late last night on the High Line. She stopped and knelt down at the pathway’s edge and walked to the adjacent train tracks. Bits of porcelain chips wavered in the wind as they clung to the grooved rails. Dawn ignored the stares from others as she sifted through the nearby landscaping. Her heart jumped as a glint of light sparkled from within some foliage. She reached in and discovered Eve’s other eyeball.

Dawn collected the few additional pieces she could find. The locket, sadly, was nowhere to be found. She slid what she had into her pocket and went back to the carriage. She looked inside