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Back Daughter of Eden
Chapters (68)
  1. Title page
  2. Dedication
  3. Part I
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-one
  25. Twenty-two
  26. Twenty-three
  27. Twenty-four
  28. Twenty-five
  29. GAIA YOUNG. SUBJECTIVE IMPRESSIONS.MISSION DAY 20. 20:25 MT.
  30. Part II
  31. Twenty-six
  32. Twenty-seven
  33. Twenty-eight
  34. Twenty-nine
  35. Thirty
  36. Thirty-one
  37. Thirty-two
  38. Thirty-three
  39. Thirty-four
  40. Thirty-five
  41. Thirty-six
  42. Thirty-seven
  43. GAIA YOUNG. SUBJECTIVE IMPRESSIONS.MISSION DAY 22. 20:05 MT.
  44. Thirty-eight
  45. Thirty-nine
  46. Forty
  47. Forty-one
  48. GAIA YOUNG. SUBJECTIVE IMPRESSIONS.MISSION DAY 25. 15:30 MT.
  49. Forty-two
  50. Forty-three
  51. Forty-four
  52. Forty-five
  53. Forty-six
  54. Forty-seven
  55. Forty-eight
  56. Forty-nine
  57. Fifty
  58. Fifty-one
  59. Fifty-two
  60. Fifty-three
  61. Fifty-four
  62. Part III
  63. Fifty-five
  64. Fifty-six
  65. Fifty-seven
  66. Fifty-eight
  67. Also by Chris Beckett
  68. Copyright page

And yet, even though she wasn’t acting, she was riding those feelings skilfully, like some of the kids back on Knee Tree Grounds used to ride the waves that came rolling in from Deep Darkness when a storm was coming, to break on the edge of our little water forest. She would pace about, fall to her knees, stand up again, cry, laugh, and then look into people’s eyes and, without even hesi­tating, boldly tell them what was going on inside of them. Words would pour from her: warnings, bright flashes of truth that ­suddenly came to her, words of comfort, tellings-off, messages of hope. Just as the kids who rode the waves would turn their little bark boats first this way and then that so as to keep the force of each wave behind them as long as possible, so Mary would move quickly from one thing to another, from grief to joy, from one person to the whole group and back to another person, somehow sensing the exact heartbeat when it was time to change. It was wonderful to watch. You couldn’t help but be moved by it. You couldn’t help admiring her smartness and her courage and her skill. And you couldn’t help admiring how much she gave of herself, so that at the end of it, when we’d left the cluster and moved on, she’d be pouring with sweat, trembling, dazed. I just had to hold her sometimes, like you’d hold a child. I had to cook for her. I had to rub her shoulders and her neck to loosen her tense tense muscles. Sometimes I even had to feed her and make her open her mouth to take a drink.