chapter seven
Adam left again that afternoon. His stay so brief, Eden mourned, though in the mourning one terrific piano piece was artfully written and refined to reflect her inner sorrow. A song without words, the melody spoke of her aching heart and even of the anxious and turbulent waiting. Working was the only thing that could keep her mind off of Adam, which seemed essential for at least a few hours every day. To think of him every minute was overly obsessive and dangerous—she was wise enough to realize that.
When she wasn’t writing, she colored her hair, strolled the garden and even planted several flowers that Adam left for her to “find a place for.” With her hair returned to its real color, she let the natural curls appear again as well. They looked unkempt and awkward.
