Текст книги "Water Walker"

Автор книги: Ted Dekker

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

15

BOBBY WAS often with me when I went outside, particularly when I ventured to the woods that butted up against the swamp about seventy-five yards behind the house. Or to the lake, which was less than a minute’s walk, hidden from the house by a bunch of trees that grew on dry ground.

We’d been like glue for years, spending much of our free time together, protecting each other. He kept me safe from the swamp and the dark waters and whatever alligators might take a bite out of me, and I kept him safe from Mother.

I didn’t actually believe that Mother would hurt him, at least not while I was pure. But she reminded us both quite often that Bobby would be lost without me and by that she meant thrown out. In her way of thinking, God had restored all of us through me. If I failed, God would punish all of us.

At least that’s what she said, and I had no reason to doubt her. So I kept close to Bobby, like a guardian angel, if only to assure him at all times that I was there for him. Mother loved Bobby, I think, but her attention to me overshadowed every other concern in her life—I knew that no sacrifice, including Bobby, was too great to keep me pure.

Still, as Bobby and I grew older, we spent more time doing our own thing during my free hour. He might be off catching frogs while I worked on my dolls or helped Wyatt at the still. Now and then, I would find my way to the lake, even knowing that Mother didn’t favor it.

The afternoon after my big day in town, Bobby was messing around in the still with Wyatt and Mother had gone off the property. Unable to turn my mind off, I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and I was dead tired, but I decided to head down to the lake by myself.

Evidently turning eighteen was a very special thing. Suddenly I was valued for more than my purity. Important lawyers wanted to talk to me. I was worth a lot of money, which was a big deal to all of the adults.

For that matter, I was an adult now.

All of it was a bit mind-bending, but that’s not the only reason I wanted to be alone. It was Paul, you see? More to the point, his request that I meet him alone in the field the next afternoon.

The ‘field,’ as we called it, was halfway down the road to his house—a large portion of higher dry ground spotted with trees where Bobby, Paul, and I sometimes hung out when I was allowed. It was the farthest I had ever ventured from the house.

At four o’clock, having dressed properly in rain boots and black slacks with a long-sleeved T-shirt, I grabbed a small blanket, sneaked out of the house, and made my way to the lake. I wasn’t breaking any rules, but just knowing that Mother didn’t like the lake made me nervous. Either way, I felt I could take this liberty after giving such blessing to so many through the trust money now that I was eighteen.

Spreading the blanket on the grassy bank, I settled down and stared out over the crystal-smooth water. I’d always been afraid of water, but the one thing I liked about the lake was the view. I could see all the way across to the far side, so far yet so close. Everywhere else on the property, all you could see were trees. Here, the world looked almost never ending and it gave me some calm.

Mother had ruled out fishing because of the hooks and slimy fish and grime that might harm or defile me. Anyway, I was just as happy to hear Bobby wax eloquent about his skills as he hurled his line out and sometimes reeled in a small catfish with all manner of hoopla.

The water lapped gently on the bank and a hot, late-afternoon stillness hung over the water. It was peaceful, without a soul in sight. All was well.

I ran through the events of the day for a while, thinking about how grateful I should be. I was eighteen now. I was loved and valued. But the more I thought about the last two days, the more unsettled I became.

All should be well, but I didn’t feel well. My stomach was tightening into a knot and my brow was sweaty and I wondered why.

I picked up a stick and toyed with it between my pale, nimble fingers.

Maybe I’d become so used to the task of maintaining my purity through endless daily ritual that even the thought of being more than I always had been made me anxious. That’s what was happening, right?

No . . . no, it wasn’t that. It was this business with Paul. The fact that I wanted to know what it was like to be a girlfriend. To hold a boy’s hand. To be special to someone for more than just my ability to stay pure and take away their sin.

To kiss someone.

To kiss Paul.

My mind went blank for a moment. I flicked the stick into the grass as shame washed over me. Why couldn’t I just let the temptation go? I was wicked to the bone, that’s what it was. Here I was, eighteen years old, and I was growing more sinful with each passing day.

No, Eden . . . It’s natural to want to kiss a boy. What do you think all the rest of the people in the world do? Kathryn’s put you in a prison and you secretly hate her for it.

The thought came out of nowhere and stopped me cold. How could I think such a thing? I suddenly felt panicky, dreadful, sick to my stomach. If Mother knew I’d had such a thought she would confine me to my closet for a week. I couldn’t allow myself to think that way!

I was a blessing, not a prisoner in my own home.

It’s not even your real home.

“Stop it!” I muttered.

I had to get back to the house.

I jumped to my feet, grabbed my blanket, and ran back to the house where I went straight to my room and lay down in the comfort of my own bed. This was where I belonged, right? Whatever pathetic complaints might tempt me, this room was my home. I belonged here.

It may seem strange, but the thought of being confined brought me peace, and I embraced it, as I often did. Soon the world around me faded and, tired to the bone, I fell asleep.

I don’t know how long I’d been asleep before the vivid dream visited me. In it, I was back at the lake that same afternoon, as if I hadn’t left. The breeze blew in my face, the water stretched out to a distant horizon, I was in peace and I closed my eyes, grateful.

That’s when I heard the gurgling of water to my right. I snapped my eyes wide and spun around.

There, less than a stone’s throw away, just rounding the bend in the shore, came a small rowboat. And in that boat, a man pulling at two oars, guiding the boat toward me.

I froze. A part of me knew that I was in a dream, but only a very small part because the dream was as vivid as any I’d ever had. And right there in front of me was a boat. It was actually there. But in a dream.

I’d seen a few boats on the lake but never so close, and never angling for the shore. My heart pounded and I thought I should turn and run, but my feet didn’t want to move.

The man had dark, wavy hair that fell to his shoulders, and he eyed me with interest, wearing a smile. But it was his eyes that drew me as the boat came closer, faster than I would have guessed, effortlessly gliding through the water.

I had to run! I had to get back to the house! Mother would never approve of this.

Why, Eden?

It didn’t matter why. She just wouldn’t. I was hers and hers alone. No one was supposed to even know I was here!

“Hello, my dear.”

The man’s voice was low and gentle. He lifted the oars from the water and let the boat slide forward. A wooden boat maybe four feet wide with a single board across the center on which the man sat. He was dressed in blue jeans and a denim jacket, wearing black boots.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” the man said.

I wasn’t sure if I should run, or talk to the man. My mind said run, my heart told me I was eighteen now. It was okay to speak to a stranger even if he was a man.

The boat slid to a stop on the bank and the man looked at me, smiling, eyes as blue as the sky. He wasn’t as large as Wyatt, but he looked strong enough to throw me over his shoulder with one hand and hardly notice I was there.

“You’re an awfully pretty girl,” he said, voice as gentle as a dove. “What’s your name?”

I hesitated for a moment.

“Eden,” I said.

“Eden.” He said my name as if it held great significance. “Like the garden of life. You’re very lucky to have such a beautiful name.”

Run, my mind screamed.

Wait. Hadn’t I just run, only to end up right back here?

Stay, my heart demanded.

“Thank you,” I said.

He dipped his head. “I don’t mean to intrude. I saw you sitting alone.” He scanned the shore. “Are you okay?”

No, I thought.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m fine.”

He looked at me for a long moment, as if trying to decide if he could believe me. And why should he? He’d caught me in a discombobulated state of mind.

“Well, Eden, do you mind if I get out and stretch for a spell on your beach? It took me a bit to row this boat across the lake.”

I forgot that I was in a dream. It all felt absolutely real. The breeze, the smell of the water, the sight of the stranger, the sound of his voice. Which meant that I was at a crossroads, because this was the first unfamiliar person I’d ever met alone. Sure, I’d briefly met some of the other men and women who’d come to our property over the years—all members of Zeke’s community—but always in the company of Kathryn, and then only to say hi as instructed by my mother.

“No need to be afraid, my child,” he said with a whimsical smile. “The alligators lurking beneath the waters in your mind pose far more of a threat than me. And I’ve been known to take care of even those. Besides, you look like you could use a friend.”

I was at a crossroads, but suddenly I was past it, because suddenly I thought, why not? There’s no sin in making a new friend. And I’m eighteen now.

“I guess,” I said.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” He promptly set the oars down, slung a leg over the boat, dropped into foot-deep water, and walked up onto the shore, not bothered that his boots were soaked.

He stretched his arms over his head, then leaned this way and that, working the kinks out of his bones. “Ah, that’s better. Sitting so long can give you the cramps.”

Without further invitation, he strolled up to me and sat cross-legged on the grass beside the blanket, which he promptly patted.

“Have a seat, Eden.”

Again I hesitated. The sudden appearance of the stranger had taken me completely off guard and now here he was, sitting by my blanket, speaking as if we’d been friends our whole life.

But that was just it. In a way, as strange as he was, I actually felt as though we had. So I sat on the blanket beside him, cross-legged.

“You can call me Stephen,” he said, reaching his hand across to me. “Some call me Outlaw.”

Thoughts of touching unclean flesh spinning through my head, I took his hand. “Hi, Stephen,” I said. His hand was warm and strong but it held mine gently and only for a moment.

We sat in the still afternoon, staring out at the lake together and at first I thought how strange and awkward it was, sitting there doing nothing together. But as the silence stretched I thought how nice it was, sitting there staring out at the water, doing nothing with someone new.

For no reason that I could understand, emotion suddenly rose through my throat. Good emotion. Warmth and contentment. Here I was, just being with someone new. What a strange and wonderful thing.

“So . . .” he finally said. “How long have you lived here, Eden?”

“Five years.” Then I added, for no good reason, “I’m eighteen now.”

“Eighteen. That’s wonderful. How do you like it?”

“I just turned eighteen yesterday.”

“I meant living here. How do you like it?”

I shrugged. “It’s all I know.”

“Well, it’s not a bad thing to know.” He took a long draw through his nose. “Reminds me of where I grew up.”

“Where was that?”

He chuckled. “A long way from here in a jungle across the world. On a mountain near swamps not so different than these. We had crocodiles instead of alligators, and more kinds of birds than you could count in a day. It was a wild place. Every day brought enough adventure to last a lifetime.”

“You were there with your family?”

He eyed me kindly. “I grew up with my . . . father.”

“Just your father?”

“Just my father until I was twenty.”

That was a little bit like me, I thought. And with that thin connection I began to feel like I really did know this stranger named Stephen.

“It’s a long story,” he said, looking out at the still water. “Brimming with freedom.” He took another draw of the air. “There’s nothing like the clean smell of freedom, wouldn’t you say?”

I didn’t really know what freedom was.

“I guess so,” I said.

Stephen nodded. “One day you will know so.” He lifted his arm and motioned out to the middle of the lake. “When you climb in a boat and row out into the middle of the lake, all you see around you is water and all you hear is stillness, and you think, I am safe. I am at peace. There are no troubles that can touch me. Tell me that isn’t so.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m afraid of the water.”

He faced me. “You’re afraid of the water? But you’re in a boat, yes? You’re protected from the water.”

“I’ve never been in a boat.”

“You live on the lake but you’ve never been out on a boat?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because we don’t have a boat. Besides, like I said, I’m afraid of the water.”

“Well then . . . today is your lucky day!” He stood and held out his hand. “Step into the boat, my dear, and see how wonderful it feels to float, carefree on the water beneath your feet!”

“Oh no! I could never get in the boat.”

“Why not?”

My mind swirled with images of Kathryn and dirty water and baptisms. “I would get dirty. It’s not safe!”

He lowered his hand and eyed me gently for a moment, then sat back down. “Well now, dear. There’s nothing in life that’s safe if you think about it. No matter what you do, there’s always a threat lurking, isn’t that what they say?”

He was right, in a way. That’s why I had to stay pure.

“Think of the water like the trouble that comes your way in life. And think of the boat like the kinds of things you have to do to save yourself from those troubles. As long as you stay in the boat, you’re safe, right?”

“I suppose.”

“You keep yourself free from the trouble that wants to drown you and you do so by doing all the right things and following all the rules, because you don’t want to drown. God knows that wouldn’t be a good end.”

I’d never thought of it that way, but it made perfect sense. That’s why I followed all of Mother’s rules. That’s why she put me under the water every week, so that the rest of them wouldn’t have to drown in their own sin.

“Yes,” I said. “And that’s why the water is dangerous.”

“Yes, but we have a boat. For now, think of the boat as your freedom. You do want to be free don’t you?”

Yes. Yes I did. But the thought of being free seemed scandalous to me. Wrong even.

“As long as you live in fear, you aren’t free, I can assure you. Wouldn’t you like to step into the boat just once to see how it feels to be free of even that one small fear?”

“Why are you trying to talk me into doing something I don’t want to do?”

“Because you seem like you could use some help.”

“You only just met me. You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh, but I do, my dear. I know you’re afraid of water. And I know that you are afraid of so much more.”

I stared at him, suddenly wondering if he really did know me. And all I saw in his eyes was kindness and love. They pulled me in a way I had never felt.

“You must know, Eden . . . If I could rush you away from all of your troubles, I would. But only you can free yourself from your fears. Only you can take the path to freedom. In fact, you must. It’s your destiny.”

“My destiny? How do you know?”

He lifted his hand and swept his hair behind his ear, staring out over the water. “Because it’s my destiny too. It’s everyone’s destiny.”

His words were unlike any others I’d heard. Who was this man that he seemed to know so much?

“You are in a prison of your own making, my dear Eden,” he said softly. “As are the vast majority of those who walk this earth. The troubled waters always come, threatening to drown us all.”

Stephen faced me and a glint came to his eyes.

“But before you can deal with those troubled waters, you have to find the courage to step into a boat. What do you say? Just to prove to yourself that you can. Is it forbidden?”

I thought about that.

“No,” I said.

“No. Do you think you will drown?”

I looked at the small boat. At the dark water slapping up against its hull. At the dirty slope disappearing into that water.

“I can’t get dirty. Mother wouldn’t like it.”

“No? Well then . . . I will carry you!” He bounded to his feet and held out his hand as if expecting me to jump to my feet and agree. “What do you say?”

“Carry me?”

“To the boat. I’ll just pluck you up and set you safe and sound in the boat.”

I don’t know why I didn’t just get up and run away then, but I didn’t. Maybe because his words about freedom were working their way into my mind in a way that was both terrifying and thrilling at once. I was eighteen, right?

“How do I know you’re a safe person?” I asked. But I knew he was safe. At least as safe as Mother.

“Because I am. I think you already know that. But it’s your decision. I can put you in the boat and you can float for just a minute. Then you can get out and I’ll be on my way.”

“Just like that.”

“Just like that.”

“And nothing bad will happen to me.”

“On the contrary, my dear. You will have found a slice of freedom.”

So I thought, why not? Why not? It’s just a boat.

I stood to my feet, eyes on the boat. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, and he stepped toward me, put one arm under my knees and the other around my back and swung me from the ground before I could protest.

“Careful!”

But he was already down the bank and in the water, which was a foot or so deep and sloshed as he strode forward. I was too stunned to speak.

And then he hoisted me over the edge of the boat as if I weighed no more than one of my straw dolls, and set me on my feet.

The boat wobbled a little and I flung my arms wide, terrified.

“Oh no! Oh no!”

“Jika jika jawa. You’re floating on water! Look at you, Eden. You did it!”

The boat settled and I tentatively stared down at my feet. They were on solid wood. Not a speck of water was leaking through.

He splashed at the water with his right hand, beaming.

“Ha! You see? You see? You’re on the water. What did I tell you? You just stepped beyond one of your fears only to learn that it was an illusion. That, my dear, is quite an accomplishment.”

His excitement was infectious, and I couldn’t help but return his grin. I was standing in the boat! Like a statue, tall and proud, albeit with arms spread wide just in case.

“Jika, jika, jawa,” I said.

He winked. “Now you’re talking.”

I stood there for a few moments, feeling more courageous than I had for a long time. It was nothing, I knew, but for me, it was something. And no one was watching, so I didn’t feel stupid.

I shifted my weight and felt the boat shift a little. Actually, it was nothing, even to me.

“Now all you have to do is get out and walk back to shore,” he said.

“Walk to shore? No, I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. Is it forbidden?”

I wanted to say yes—it would give me an excuse. But technically, it wasn’t.

“And even if it was, not all forbidden things are wrong. If your mother told you to cut off your hand, would you?”

I blinked at him. Did he know about Mother?

“No, I didn’t think so,” he said. “The fact is, boats really offer you only an illusion of safety. There’s still the water, you see? What if the boat sprang a leak or broke? Or what if a storm rose up? The only way to really be safe is to have no fear of the water under any circumstances, but that’s a bit advanced for today, I would say. Now . . .”

He pointed to the water at his feet . . .

“I can guarantee you this water, which is only a foot deep and won’t even come above your rain boots, can’t hurt you. All you have to do is get out of the boat and step in it. You’ll see. Do that, and you will be more free than you have been in a very long time.”

“But . . .”

But suddenly the thought sounded quite appealing. Not stepping out of the boat. Being free.

And the water was only a foot deep.

I’m not sure what came over me in that moment, but I was flooded with a surge of courage and I found myself grabbing the edge of the boat, flinging one leg over, then the other, and dropping into the water.

My boots landed in mud and I came to a jarring halt.

“Jika jika jawa!” Stephen said, stepping back. “Look at you!”

I looked down at the brackish water around my boots, a foot up. And a balloon of giddiness rose through me so that I felt like I was on a cloud.

I gripped my hands together and squealed, knowing that I sounded like a little girl and not caring.

“Walk!” Stephen urged, backing out of the water. “Walk out of the water.”

So I did. And it was simple. I just put one foot in front of the other and I walked.

What would Mother say to this? In that moment, I didn’t care. I was eighteen and I was bold and I was free.

And then I was also out of the water, standing on the bank. Staring up at Stephen, who wore a grin as wide as my own.

He stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you, Eden.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Know that you are loved, my dear,” he said in soft voice. “Know that you can and will rise above all of your fears. I now call you water walker.”

“Water walker?”

“You walked through the waters of fear, didn’t you?”

Yes. I had, hadn’t I? And that immediately brought to mind my other fears. Like being afraid to see Paul. What was wrong with seeing Paul?

“Do you think it’s wrong of me to have a boyfriend?” I asked.

He stared at me, and at first I thought he would think the idea absurd. Who did I think I was, asking a stranger what he thought about such things?

But he didn’t feel like a stranger, and when he answered, his voice was sincere.

“You’re eighteen. In this country that gives you the right to make that decision for yourself.”

“It does.”

“Only you will know if that helps you or hurts you. Always remember one thing: God isn’t a boat, or the water, or any boy for that matter. He’s in your heart. Let go of your fears of this world and find him there.”

His eyes seemed to be melting me. I suddenly felt like I was going to cry.

He lifted his hand and held my shoulder in his gentle grasp. “I wish I could save you from all of your troubles, my child. But you must walk the path before you and walk your own waters to the place where only love resides.”

He kissed my forehead, stepped passed me, and bounded into the boat, which glided deeper into the lake.

“You’re leaving?” I asked.

“So pleased to meet you, Eden. You give me courage. I have to go . . . Not to worry, I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” He grinned wide. “Go find yourself a boyfriend, you look like you could use some fun.”

And then he was rowing.

I watched him until he was around the corner, still glowing with courage at my accomplishment. It struck me that in just two days I had turned eighteen, I had been asked to be Paul’s girlfriend, I made my first visit into the city, I had become very wealthy, I had met a new friend, and I had walked on water. Kind of.

What would Mother say?

The question jarred me and my eyes snapped wide. The ceiling, not the lake, hung in my vision. It had been a dream. Yes, of course, a dream.

But that was just it: it hadn’t felt like a dream—not at all. And thinking about that, something else struck me: I was going to honor Paul’s request and meet him at the field the next day during my free hour, wasn’t I?

My heart was racing and my skin was wet with sweat. Yes, I was. I was eighteen, I could do that. I wanted to do that. In fact, I had to do that.

Mother will drown you if she founds out.

No . . . No, she couldn’t. I was a water walker.

How little I knew.