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The Garden of Eve, by K. L. Going
PDF Download The Garden of Eve, by K. L. Going
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Evie reluctantly moves with her widowed father to Beaumont, New York, where he has bought an apple orchard, dismissing rumors that the town is cursed and the trees haven't borne fruit in decades. Evie doesn't believe in things like curses and fairy tales anymore--if fairy tales were real, her mom would still be alive. But odd things happen in Beaumont. Evie meets a boy who claims to be dead and receives a mysterious seed as an eleventh-birthday gift. Once planted, the seed grows into a tree overnight, but only Evie and the dead boy can see it--or go where it leads.
- Sales Rank: #736487 in eBooks
- Published on: 2009-04-06
- Released on: 2009-04-06
- Format: Kindle eBook
Review
"Believably and with delicacy, Going paints a suspenseful story suffused with the poignant questions of what it means to be alive, and what might wait on the other side."--"The Horn Book ""Symbolism abounds in this beautifully written book."--"Booklist
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About the Author
K.L. Going lives in Glen Spey, New York, where she writes full-time for children of all ages. She is the author of Saint Iggy, an ALA Best Book for Young Adults; Fat Kid Rules the World, a Michael L. Printz Honor Book; and The Liberation of Gabriel King, her first book for middle-graders and a Children’s Book Sense Pick. They are all available on audio from Listening Library. Visit K.L. Going at www.klgoing.com.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One
The Fork in the Road
The final bend on the last road would take them to Beaumont. Father wanted to go straight but there was a fork in the road, so he stopped their old truck, packed full of their belongings, and got out to stare down each darkened, narrow lane. Maybe they were lost and they’d have to turn around and go home to Michigan.
Evie hoped they were lost.
She rolled down the window despite the cold. “Let’s go back,” she called, but as she said it Father took several steps forward and disappeared into the thick fog. Evie waited, and when he didn’t answer she sat up straight in the front seat, her heart pounding in her chest. She pushed at the door, but just as it opened Father reappeared piece by piece, his solid figure emerging from the deep gray.
“Can’t tell which way to go,” he said, coming back to the truck and leaning on the edge of her open window. He was wearing his padded gardening jacket and thick leather gloves, but his cheeks were red and the skin around his beard was windburned already. Cold filled the truck. “Fog’s too thick, and I sure don’t remember there being a fork in the road.”
He scratched his chin and took the crumpled directions from his jacket pocket. He’d gotten them months ago, before he’d visited the property, scribbling them onto the back of a grocery list because it had been nearest to the telephone. Milk, eggs, peanut butter, whole wheat bread, take Route 71 east until you reach exit 7, then go 70 miles on Route 77. . . .
Evie brought her knees up to her chest and shivered in the late October air. Her pant legs rode up her ankles, letting the cold sting her bare skin. The pants were too short, but they were the last ones her mom would ever buy her—the last of her pretty clothes with no grass stains on the knees from rolling down hills or holes in the sides from catching on thorns. She wouldn’t get rid of them no matter how small they got. She’d tried to stop growing instead, but it hadn’t worked. Her legs were long and gangly, like a boy’s.
Evie pulled her socks up as high as they would go and tugged at her winter coat to bring it lower. She peered down each road, only they both looked the same. Nothing but trees on every side, stretching as far as the eye could see—a thick forest between two great mountain ridges. The day was bleak, and the trees stood like sentries standing guard.
The truck door opened and Evie’s father slid back into the driver’s seat.
“I wrote down ‘straight,’” he said, pointing toward the crumpled paper. “I’m certain it was straight until town. It’s the strangest thing.”
Evie twisted her hair into a curl, but it fell flat again as soon as she let go. Mom’s had never done that. She sighed, and a flock of crows lifted up at once, as if released by her breath. They spiraled into the fog and their calls filled the air like a thunderous warning.
Evie shivered.
“We should go home,” she said again. “We must have made a wrong turn.”
She thought over the drive from Michigan to New York, and each turn seemed like a wrong turn. How could they move so far from Mom?
Everyone thought Father was making a mistake. Everyone. She’d heard them whispering, and no one had come to help them pack or see them off because Father wouldn’t let them. Not even his own mother had been allowed over.
“I don’t intend to take help from the same people who are talking behind my back,” he’d told her, but it had felt awful to leave with only the neighbor next door waving from his front window. After that there’d been highway after highway and an overnight stay in a hotel that didn’t have a TV and smelled like stale crackers.
Father had tried to say it was an adventure they were on, which wasn’t like him at all, but Evie only scowled and stared out the window, occasionally kicking the dashboard. Adventures were things that Mom went on, not Father, and they didn’t begin at five thirty in the morning with a stalled truck that took half an hour to start and empty roads going nowhere.
“This is all wrong,” Evie muttered, but Father shook his head.
“Nah,” he said, “this is it.”
His dark eyes flashed the way they did when there was trouble to be figured out. They’d flashed that way the day he’d told her about buying the land. Only seven months after Mom died, he’d come to dinner all excited about a phone call from an old man.
“Fifty acres, Evie, and he’s practically giving them away because the orchard hasn’t been producing fruit. People around there think it’s a curse, but they’re just superstitious, that’s all.” Father had paced around the kitchen, waving his arms as he spoke.
“They talk themselves into believing in curses and bad luck, but that’s just foolishness. It was disease that made those trees sick and it’s hard work that will make them better.”
Evie didn’t care whether the stupid trees got better. Why should trees get better when people didn’t? Even the old man had died not long after that phone call. She’d crossed her fingers and toes that the deal would fall through, but it hadn’t. The old man’s sister had sold them the property instead, just as her brother had wished, and now three months later they were on their way.
Evie frowned and stared out the window.
“I hope we never get there,” she mumbled, but Father just glanced across the front seat of the truck and sighed. He reached over and smoothed the hair from Evie’s forehead. Her bangs hung in her eyes because Father never got around to cutting them—not even when Evie asked him to. “Tomorrow,” he always said. “I’ve got a sick tree that needs attention, but I promise to do it tomorrow.”
Except tomorrow never came and now the scissors were packed along with everything else. Evie pulled away and Father put his hand back on the steering wheel.
“We’re almost there,” he said, real soft. “I’d guess another five miles will get us to Beaumont, provided we pick the right road.” He paused, then looked over, catching Evie’s eye.
“You pick, Evie.”
Even now her stomach still turned somersaults.
“You pick, Tally.”
It was Mom’s job to pick. Always had been. Father said she had a perfect sense of direction, but Mom always said the wind told her which way to go.
Evie could picture her mother getting out of the truck to inspect the fork where the roads met. She would stand still and tall, her spiraled hair pulled back in a headband. She’d be wearing the cargo pants Evie loved, with all the pockets in them, and the thick leather sandals she wore all year long, even in the winter. Then she’d wait, breathing long and full until she knew which choice to make.
“The answers are always out there, Evie,” she used to say. “You just have to wait until they whisper in your ear.”
Evie wanted to get out and stand in the exact spot where she’d pictured her mom standing. The wind was blowing strong and seemed to have something to say, as if this time when Evie stood still, she might hear something other than deafening silence. She wanted it so badly her insides stung like scraped knees on pavement, but already she could feel her muscles tightening and her ears closing until even the sound of the crows faded into the distance.
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Most helpful customer reviews
10 of 11 people found the following review helpful.
Courtesy of Teens Read Too
By TeensReadToo
Evie's mother used to make up stories for her. They were magical, beautiful, and so terribly missed when her mother died. Evie is miserable without her mother, and her father decides to sell the home their family had once shared and move onto an apple orchard. That only makes life more miserable for Evie.
The apple orchard is grey, the trees are all dead, and they haven't produced fruit in years. Evie's father is busy beyond belief working in the orchard. That leaves Evie with endless hours of time alone. In the cemetery she meets a boy who tells her his name is Alex. Except Alex is the little boy from their new town who died. His gravestone is right there.
Evie begins to spend more and more time with Alex. She also receives a mysterious seed that grows into a tree overnight. And that tree produces apples. Apples that, when bitten, take Evie and Alex to a magical place--lush plants and life are everywhere. It's exactly like the town they live in now, except everything is beautiful. Plants are growing everywhere. Father's orchard is growing well; beautiful curtains are on her house. It is the way it would be if her mother lived there.
Is this the place where her mother told her she'd meet her? She said that after she died, she'd wait for Evie in a beautiful garden. Evie had given up on all of that magic and nonsense. But, maybe, just maybe, she'll find her mother. But why does Alex keep running around? What is it that he's looking for so desperately? And won't her father be worried about her?
Should she stay in this beautiful place? Should she go back? Is this where Alex is supposed to stay? Should she leave without him?
It's difficult to explain the complexity of THE GARDEN OF EVE. It is beautiful, painful, and I wasn't even able to convey the suspense and surprises that fill the pages without giving away too much of the story. This book is sad. It is hopeful. It is magical. This will be another award-winner for the author, K. L. Going.
Reviewed by: Dianna Geers
4 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
Allegorical Apples
By yankeerat
Dead mothers are always a good plot device. There is nothing like the absence of a mother to create a suitable amount of angst, heartache, uncertainty, and self-doubt. Think of the Alice books by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, where the first couple of books in the series are driven by the fact that pre-teen Alice is growing up without a mother, surrounded by men in her family, and suffers the nagging fear that she is not approaching the formative years of her life with due female influence. And more recently we have had the mother-less Bee from Being Bee, and Jack from The Night Tourist. Now there is Evie Adler in K.L. Going's The Garden of Eve. Her mother is ten months dead from cancer, and Evie is left with her botanist father who has never appreciated--or even understood--magic the way her mother did. He is too much of a scientist to put much stock in fairy tales, or stories in general. When he takes on the job of trying to revive a dead apple orchard in Beaumont, New York, far from their Michigan home, Evie is resentful. They move into a house right next door to a cemetery--but the only cemetery Evie cares about is the one back in Michigan, where her mother is buried. Her father devotes his time to the orchard--but all Evie can think of is the magic garden she used to plan with her mother, a perfect garden with magnificent trees and noble beasts where the three of them would always be together. When Evie is given a seed supposedly from the Garden of Eden, Evie thinks she has her chance to find that perfect garden, and consequently find her mother, too.
There is a lot going on in this book, some of it allegorical and some of it just old fashioned mystery. There is the boy Alex, whom Evie meets hanging around in the cemetery. Is he really dead, as he claims to be? Is the orchard where Evie's father toils really cursed, or has it simply been abandoned? When Evie plants her seed and enters the magical garden--by way of eating an apple, of course!--is she in Eden or is it a trap? There is another Eve who grew up in Beaumont and disappeared many, many years ago. What happened to her? And will Evie find peace after the death of her mother?
Some of the pieces in the book are tied together a little bit too neatly, but for the most part this is an engaging and thoughtful book. Evie is disillusioned without being broken. The father is pragmatically devoted to his work but all open-hearted and open-minded business when Evie needs him most. The supporting characters range from saintly (the dead mother)to utterly convincing (Alex). Readers who like their books with magic and symbolism will enjoy this.
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
This book was beautifully written and captured my attention from page 1
By Mollie Marie Guy
Once in a while I dabble in young adult fantasy and this book was so much more. It had a heart and humor and raw emotion that just spoke to me. This book was beautifully written and captured my attention from page 1. I highly recommend this book to anyone who has lost someone or just wants to believe again.
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