Water Walker: Episodes 1-4 Part 29

And now she had to break Eden's leg so that she couldn't stray and fall off a cliff and bring them all down with her.

So why did it break her heart? Why did the thought of breaking Eden's leg feel like an order had been given to break her own leg? Or worse.

Because you love Eden, Kathryn. Didn't G.o.d love his child?

She walked straight to her bedroom without checking on either Bobby or Eden, knowing they wouldn't dare make another attempt. Not tonight anyway. And not tomorrow because Eden wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow.

She lay in bed and stared at the dark ceiling, only dimly aware. An hour pa.s.sed. Two. Three, and sleep didn't even bother tempting her. Slowly her mind began to settle into that place of deep understanding that was far beyond the world's way of knowing.

There were times when you had to shut your mind down and trust in what you knew at a deeper level. She'd invested her whole life in Zeke, and, in some ways, he'd invested his in her. All she knew now was that she had to follow him, regardless of where he took her. Regardless of how terrifying the path or sickening the thought.

And that meant she had no real alternative but to do exactly what he said.

Break her leg. She's the lamb who would stray into guilt. By breaking her leg, you will save her.

Spare the rod, spoil the child. Give them an inch and they'll take a mile. Put them on the slippery slope and they'll slide all the way to the bottom. That's just how it was. Hadn't G.o.d put Jacob's hip out of joint to help him understand?

Didn't the good shepherd lovingly break the leg of the wayward lamb to teach it not to stray, just like Zeke had said?

And hadn't G.o.d asked Abraham to sacrifice his only son, Isaac? It didn't matter that G.o.d had sent a ram from the thicket to spare Abraham; what did matter was that Abraham had been obedient. Sometimes the righteous were called upon to do what seemed humanly impossible in order to bring blessing to the world.

Truth was, the first time she'd drowned Eden in baptism, she'd been terrified. And yet she'd been obedient, and held her daughter down, covering up her own fear with exclamations of praise and long quotes of scripture.

And, having died to the flesh, hadn't Eden come out of the water with tears of gratefulness? Hadn't they all been abundantly blessed for her obedience?

That was the path of being dead to the flesh.

So Kathryn shut down her reasoning mind and embraced the word of life that had saved her for this day of great blessing.

"Praise be to G.o.d," she whispered, and doing so she felt even more calm. "Praise be to G.o.d."

By the time first light was graying the sky outside her window, Kathryn had found a measure of resolution. It wasn't her place to think or reason; only to obey. And the only way to obey was to shut out the tempting voice of the serpent that would seduce her into eating from the tree of death.

Kathryn lay in bed for another hour, trying her best not to think, remaining as best she could in that place of obedience, until it occurred to her that she might only be procrastinating the good will of G.o.d, which was only another clever temptation of the serpent.

She swung her legs off the bed and placed her feet on the floor.

Break her leg. So she would.

She stood, took up the small package Zeke had given her, and walked to the door, aware that she was moving slowly, as if through water. Drowned. Numb. Dead to the flesh.

She opened the door and listened in the silence for a long moment that might have stretched into a full minute. Not a sound in the house. They would be fast asleep.

Walking slowly so as not to disturb the children, she headed to the kitchen to retrieve the ball of twine. She'd never tied Eden up before.

Dead to the flesh, Kathryn. This is the path, walk ye in it.

She opened the drawer next to the refrigerator, removed a pad of paper and a small tray filled with incidentals, found the string in the back, and withdrew it. How many times had she pressed forward toward the goal through seemingly impossible situations, keeping all tempting thoughts in the grave where they belonged? This was no different.

So why did it feel different?

No Kathryn. Stay dead. Keep the flesh in the ground. Lean not on your own understanding. Take up your cross. Follow. Just follow Zeke.

Back across the living room, into the hall, to the bathroom. She reached for a white towel, then stopped, thinking that there might be blood. Red would stain the towel.

She closed her trembling hand, turned to her right and reached for a dark blue towel instead.

Back out of the bathroom and down the hall, one step at a time, just one step at a time, that was all. Walk, walk, walk. Placing one hand on Eden's doork.n.o.b, she took a deep, shuddering breath, let it out through her nostrils, and twisted the handle. Slowly pushed it open.

Eden lay on her side, still dressed in the same pajamas she'd worn to bed, watching her with empty eyes. Defeated.

Terror sliced through Kathryn's mind. She was awake.

For a few seconds, she looked at her daughter and knew she couldn't follow Zeke in this. How could she? He was asking too much!

But only for a few seconds, because she was mature enough to realize that this objection was only the flesh, trying to climb out of its grave. If the serpent tricked her into turning away from obedience, there would be h.e.l.l to pay. In this life and the next. Zeke might even kill Eden. She had to do this for Eden's sake, not just Zeke's. That would be the most loving thing. And she loved Eden more than she loved her own life.

The seconds ticked by and the terror eased, but Kathryn found that she still couldn't move. It was Eden's eyes. They watched her without so much as blinking. A hardness seemed to have set into them. She felt no ill will toward her daughter for this-she might feel the same way if their places were exchanged.

A knot filled her throat. The room blurred as tears seeped into her eyes. The only way was to obey quickly, without further thought, before she lost her nerve.

Taking one last deep inhale, she ignored the voices of protest in her head, walked up to the bed, lay the towel and the string on the nightstand, and reached for Eden's shoulder.

"Roll onto your back, sweetheart," she said.

Eden hesitated a moment, then did so, turning her head away to face the window.

It was almost as if Eden knew what was coming and had accepted it. An obedient lamb who knew not to resist anything her loving mother would do to her. She'd never been physically harmed, had she? She had no reason to suspect what was coming.

I'm sorry, Eden. I'm so sorry.

Kathryn opened the package, withdrew the syringe, slipped off the protective sleeve, and jabbed the needle into her daughter's shoulder.

Eden jerked her head around, startled by the pain.

"I'm sorry," Kathryn whispered, shoving the plunger to its hilt.

She didn't know what was in the syringe, only that Zeke had promised it would put Eden to sleep immediately and keep her that way for a long time.

Kathryn jerked the needle out and stepped back.

Eyes wide with fear, Eden tried to push herself up, got halfway, and faltered.

"What's . . ." She tried to sit up again but failed. "Mommy? Mom . . ." Her voice trailed off and her eyelids drooped and her head settled on her pillow. She was out and limp within five seconds.

Kathryn swallowed hard, blinking away tears. Now, Kathryn. Finish what you've started now, without thinking.

She stepped up to the bed, gently took Eden's right wrist and tied it to the metal bedframe above her head, unable to stem the flow of terrible emotions battering her. Then walked around the bed and tied her left wrist in the same fashion, then her left leg to the bottom of the bed, leaving only her right leg free.

Without daring to hesitate even a moment, Kathryn lay the towel over Eden's leg, climbed onto the bed so that she was standing over her daughter's feet, and lifted her right leg by the heel.

With one last look at Eden's peaceful face, she threw one leg over her towel-draped shin, took a deep breath, and pulled hard, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut.

The leg didn't break, so she pulled harder.

"Use a sledge hammer," Zeke had said. "Bones are hard to break."

Lying on her bed in the early morning hours Kathryn had decided that she wouldn't be so cowardly. This was her correction as much as Eden's-she would do it with her hands, flesh on flesh, feeling the pain of inflicting pain as much as her daughter.

But the bone wasn't breaking.

She groaned and tugged, tears now streaming down her face. Her mouth parted and she moaned as if it was her own leg under such pressure.

Still, the leg didn't break.

And then Kathryn was wailing, because it was in that moment, while her head was tilted toward the ceiling and her veins bulging on her neck, that she came into the sudden realization that she couldn't bring herself to use the force needed to break Eden's leg.

Which meant that they would both end up dead. And surely in h.e.l.l.

But she just couldn't do it. She couldn't. She couldn't!

Kathryn slowly sank to her knees, straddling Eden's leg, lifted her hands to her face and wept into them, feeling utterly worthless in her failure.

"Forgive me . . . Forgive me, Father. Please . . ." Her mind swam in a dark sea of fear and desperation from which she could see no escape. At another time she might have suggested that Eden be baptized or at the very least ritualistically cleansed to appease her mother's failure, but Eden was unconscious now, put to sleep by her wicked mother who was failing Eden, Zeke, and G.o.d through one profound act of disobedience.

She could only hold her face in both hands, and sob, begging G.o.d for mercy in this dark hour of weakness.

"Give me the strength," she whispered. "Please give me the strength you once gave Abraham. Let me rise in righteousness and wield your sword of judgment as commanded by your servant."

"Mommy?"

Kathryn spun her head to the door to see Bobby standing there, staring dumbly.

"Shut the door and get back to your room," she cried, shoving her finger at him. "Now!"

He spun away, pulling the door shut.

The interruption snapped her out of her mindless s...o...b..ring. Eden rested with her eyes closed, pale face tilted to the right, oblivious to any harm. Or so it seemed at first glance.

Kathryn blinked to clear her vision and looked at the corner of her daughter's eye. There, a single tear slid slowly toward her temple. She was unconscious, but crying? In her sleep?

Or was Eden somehow aware of her surroundings?

The sickening voices of objection that Kathryn had silenced earlier were back and this time she made no attempt to stop them. She had to listen now because she knew that she had a new problem.

She could not break her daughter's leg. She was too weak. G.o.d wasn't going to give her the strength he'd given Abraham and he wasn't going to send a ram from the thicket to take Eden's place because Eden was the ram as much as she was the lamb.

Kathryn slumped back to her haunches and turned toward the window, swallowing against the ache that tightened her throat. She simply couldn't follow through.

But Eden still had to learn her lesson in a way that she hadn't. She'd been too easy on her daughter-nothing else explained Eden's seditious rebellion and betrayal. Just as importantly, Zeke had to be appeased. He had to be a.s.sured that they wouldn't fail him again.

Even so, Kathryn could no longer bring herself to break her daughter's leg, not while Eden lay crying in her sleep. In fact, not ever. It was too much to ask of this mother.

Which left her with only one option, a small idea that had been whispered by the darkness during the night. One that now rea.s.serted itself as a solution, never mind if it might also be a clever temptation.

How was a horse broken? Couldn't 'breaking' mean bringing under full submission? If she was unwilling to actually snap Eden's leg, couldn't she 'break' it by disabling it?

The point was to keep Eden from walking and escaping. That and teaching her just how evil her sin really was while offering correction. But both could be accomplished as easily with a bad sprain as with a break. Eden's mobility and her rebellious spirit would both be broken.

It was the only option Kathryn could think of other than going to the toolshed for a sledgehammer. She would sprain Eden's ankle badly enough to keep her from walking, then wrap it up to look like a break.

Kathryn turned back and studied her daughter. Saw another tear follow the trail of the first.

She had to do it now, before her nerve for even that was gone.

So she did. She quickly scooted to the end of the bed, ripped off the towel to expose Eden's leg, grabbed her foot, and twisted hard, grunting as much with anger at G.o.d's cruel nature as with exertion.

There. Surely that was enough.

Eden lay in peace, save those tears.

Her ankle began to swell within the first minute.

24.

THE FIRST sensation I felt was a sharp pain in my knee and I think it was the acuteness of that discomfort that jerked me out of a dark, peaceful oblivion.

Immediately memories flooded me. My escape attempt with Bobby had failed miserably. Back in my room, I'd lost all hope and fallen into a deep despair, recalling all of the torment I'd suffered since I'd been kidnapped by my own mother five years earlier.

Every hour of forced prayer. All of the guilt heaped on me for not being perfect. Every day in the closet, every meal withheld from me, every turn of my mother's psychological screws, all of the abuse.

I was a slave. I had no rights. I was being used like an animal, a lamb, an offering . . . By whatever name, it was all the same to me.

And for that I realized that I really did hate Kathryn.

The moment this realization came to me, my hatred grew into something more. I loathed her. She disgusted me. Rage boiled in my veins as I lay staring at the wall, unable to sleep.

Then Kathryn had come in and injected something into my arm and my world had quickly vanished. Only to be jerked back into my awareness when the sharp pain hit my knee.

It was strange. I was unconscious, I knew that much. But I could hear and feel my mother standing over me, breathing hard and applying terrible pressure to my leg, as if she was trying to hurt me.