Water Walker: Episodes 1-4 Part 34

She heard Eden's door slamming shut.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of death I will fear no evil.

Kathryn settled on the pillow and closed her eyes, still tied hand and foot, breathing as deliberately as she could, attempting to shut her mind down. It was the only way.

It was... She knew this too, but it wasn't working.

What have I done? Dear G.o.d, what have I done?

What happened next came in small chunks that Kathryn tried not to comprehend.

A long period of impossible silence.

A soft blow and a crunch.

A bloodcurdling scream.

Eden's.

The shepherd had broken the leg of the lamb who would otherwise lead them all off a cliff.

Dear G.o.d, what have I done?

26.

"WELL, WELL . . . Now you're in a pickle, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what happened."

The voice belonged to Outlaw, though I couldn't see him. It's like we were two souls on the edge of a great dark void and we were looking down into empty s.p.a.ce, reflecting on the tragedy that my life had become.

I felt strangely disconnected from my body, which I couldn't see or feel. But I could remember what had happened easily enough. So I told him.

"Zeke broke my leg."

"My, my. A tear in the costume."

"He didn't tear my clothes. He broke my leg."

"Like I said. Your costume seems to be broken. Did it hurt?"

"Yes."

"How bad?"

"Very bad." Saying that, I felt a throbbing ache in my right leg, the first sensation I'd felt in some time. "It hurts right now."

"And how long has it hurt?"

"I don't know. How long have I been asleep?"

"That's for you to tell me. A couple days, I would guess."

"How could I sleep a couple days?"

"Perhaps because you refuse to wake up and face the pain."

And with those words, self-pity swept in and swallowed me whole. It was too much to hold and I began to cry. I don't think I was just dreaming that I was crying . . . I really was crying, like a little girl who'd run totally out of hope.

I was lying on my bed, silently crying in my sleep. I'd been there for two or three days, refusing to wake because I wanted it all to be over. Sleeping forever was far more attractive to me than waking to spend even one more hour in that living h.e.l.l my mother forced me to call home.

Or maybe Zeke had given me some drugs.

"Why do you cry for yourself, Eden?"

"What do you mean? I've been hurt!"

"Is that really why you're crying? Because you were hurt?"

"Of course that's why I'm crying. Zeke dropped his knees on my leg with all his weight and I felt my leg snap." A shiver ran through my bones at the thought of it. "How could anyone do such a thing?"

"You're not crying because your leg is broken," he said. "You're crying because you think your leg is part of who you are, and so you think you've been attacked and you're feeling sorry for yourself."

"Well, don't you?" I demanded.

"Don't I what?"

"Feel sorry for me?"

"I have compa.s.sion for you because you're crying. But there's nothing wrong with you, so I don't feel sorry for you."

"Of course there's something wrong. My leg's been broken!"

"Your leg? Well, that's only your costume. And as long as you hold onto the belief you are somehow your leg and have therefore been hurt, you will see yourself as a victim and continue to feel sorry for yourself."

I hated him saying that, I really did. I thought it was cold and inconsiderate and I didn't want to listen to him anymore, so I turned away and tried not to listen.

"Do you want to walk on water, Eden?"

I didn't answer.

"When you do, I'll be waiting to show you how."

"You already showed me how! And now I have a broken leg."

"Then maybe you weren't listening. When you're ready to listen, I'll be in the boat. Maybe this time you'll actually hear me. If so, you'll be able to walk on water."

"I already did walk on water!"

"And why aren't you doing it now?"

The questions stumped me because I knew by water he meant trouble, and he was right-I was drowning in all of my troubles.

"Meet me in the boat, Eden. I'll show you how to walk on water."

But I didn't want to talk to him or think about it anymore. So I retreated into the darkness of a more comforting dream that was immediately and entirely forgettable.

Sometime later I woke up and opened my eyes to see that my mother was at my window with her back to me, staring out. There were fresh bandages on my leg. She'd set it?

I quickly sealed my eyelids and lay perfectly still, not wanting her to know I was awake.

I could imagine the pain that she must be in, seeing her broken daughter lying helplessly on the bed. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. I hoped she was so sickened by her own cruelty that she couldn't bear herself. I hoped it gave her an ulcer and kept her awake for weeks. Whatever pain she felt, she had it coming because she was right: we do reap what we sow. Now it was her turn to do a little reaping of her own.

She must have given me some drugs and set my leg when I was under, because I had no recollection of having my leg set, and I still felt groggy. Maybe she kept giving me drugs to keep me asleep; that way I could never run, what with a broken leg and being asleep.

Dream, Eden. Go back to sleep and dream. Dream of walking on water. Find the narrow way that so few find. The way to be saved from all of your troubles.

The thoughts were mine, coming from me, like a long-lost memory calling to me. The words weren't Outlaw's; they were actually my own. It's like I was calling to myself.

Go to the boat, Eden. You were born to walk on water.

And then I was asleep because the next thing I knew, I was lying at the bottom of the boat in a dream that felt far too real to be a dream.

I gasped and scrambled to my knees, then pushed my head up to peer around. The boat was in the middle of the lake, as before. And the moment I stared out at the water, the wind began to gust and I knew that a storm was gathering.

Fear welled inside me as the boat began to roll with surging waves whipped by the strengthening wind. I searched the distant sh.o.r.e but there was no sign of Outlaw, and I thought, Oh no! I'm going to drown this time. Oh no!

A soft chuckle startled me, and I spun around.

Outlaw sat on the rear bench, leaning back on the boat's stern, smiling.

"h.e.l.lo, Eden," he said.

I stared at him, both relieved at his presence on my boat and slightly put off that he was so nonchalant while there was a storm building.

"Are you ready to step out of this boat that seems to keep you safe from a sea that seems to boil with trouble? On your own this time?"

So here we were again.

"I don't want to walk on water," I said.

"Why not?" He was still leaning back, arms hooked over the side of the boat, legs stretched out before him, as if he didn't have a care in the world even though the waves were now foaming and the wind starting to whistle.

"I could drown," I said.

"Well then, you seem to have a problem," he said. "Because the only way back to sh.o.r.e is over those waves."

"We can row the boat."

"Not without oars, we can't. Besides, the wind would only push the boat back, no matter how hard you rowed. Eventually, the water will splash over the side and the boat will sink and yes, you will drown." He shook his head and tsked. "Such a problem to have."

"Then you can save me," I said, thinking of the last time. The waves were slapping the hull with anger now, tipping us like a cork on a raging sea. "You can lead me."

"But I am, Eden. I am."

He drilled me with kind eyes, smiling mischievously, and it was only then that I noticed his hair. It was long and should be whipped about by the wind, but it wasn't. In fact, the storm wasn't having any effect on him.

"You're wondering why I don't feel the effects of the storm," he said. "It's because this is your storm. You see the threats and so they're real."

A larger wave slammed into the boat and sent me reeling. I grabbed the bench in front of me and hung on for dear life.

"Help me!" I cried, twisting round to see that the waves were growing larger by the minute. "Help me!"

"I am helping you," he said.

I whipped around and faced him. "Stop the waves!"

His smile faded and he stared straight at me with such intensity and certainty that for a moment I thought he was angry. But only for a moment because when he spoke, there was only kindness in his voice.

"You stop them, Eden."

"How?"

"I told you how last time."

Panic crowded my throat and I searched my mind, but I couldn't remember what it was that I was supposed to do.

"Tell me again!"

"Let go of the offense these waves cause you," he said. "Forgive the water."

"Forgive it? That's impossible! Forgive it for what? There's nothing to pardon!"

He unhooked his arms from the hull and stood, undaunted by the storm.

"I didn't say pardon. I said forgive. When I say forgive, I mean to see no fault or offense in the troubled sea. Let go of even the thought that it threatens you or has offended you. See it as innocent. Offer it no blame or defense. Stand tall and offer it, instead, your other cheek, no longer offended."

I didn't see how that was possible. We were wasting time! I quickly scanned the horizon and saw only an endless stretch of bucking waves, all flowing toward the boat.