Water Walker: Episodes 1-4 Part 7

He'd explained that I had to wear the blindfold so that I wouldn't know where they lived in the event I decided I didn't want to stay. The authorities would force me to tell them where they lived and they couldn't risk that. And I had to lie down because if anyone saw a girl wearing a blindfold in a car they might be suspicious and call the cops. They couldn't risk that either.

On one hand, that made sense to me. On the other hand, I already knew their names-wasn't that enough information for the authorities to go after them?

So why the secrecy?

But I still chose to believe that I really would be able to leave if I wanted to, so I had no problem lying down blindfolded. I didn't want anyone to hurt Wyatt, however strange that might seem. In fact, I even wondered whether I should have given his name in the note I'd left. If it led the authorities to Wyatt, they might put him in prison, like he said.

He might have been wrong in taking me the way he did, but part of me didn't blame him. He and Kathryn had only gone to terrible trouble and risked so much because they were so eager to have me back. Part of me felt desperately wanted and maybe that's what being a daughter was supposed to feel like.

"Okay, sweetheart. You can sit up and take the blindfold off."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. We're almost home."

I pushed myself up and pulled off the blindfold. The sight that greeted me through the windshield was unlike any I'd ever seen.

It was late afternoon, dusk, and a bit gloomy. We were on a narrow, gravel road with tufts of gra.s.s growing down the center. But it was the thick blanket of trees that struck me. Huge trees, with drooping branches and vines as far as I could see. The road dropped off into deep, wide ditches on either side as if they'd been dug to protect the road from the tangle of encroaching trees.

"Where are we?"

"Home."

I stared at the huge trees on my right and saw that the gravel road was built up, higher than the ground, which looked wet. No, not just wet.

Flooded with water.

"What's that?" I asked.

"The swamp," he said. "You're going to love it. Lots of water. We have lakes, rivers . . . Our house is just around the corner.

I immediately thought about what little I knew of swamps and images of snakes and beady-eyed alligators strung through my mind. The sound of the road crunching under the tires somehow worsened the sudden fear that gripped me. I felt totally isolated and far away from anything that was familiar or safe.

And then we were around the corner and driving down a dirt driveway.

"End of the line," Wyatt said. "This is as far as the road goes. We already pa.s.sed the last house half a mile back. We have all the land you could dream of down here. You'll see."

We pa.s.sed a square outbuilding with a sloping tin roof. No windows that I could see. Maybe it had something to do with moonshine because barrels were stacked behind it. Three old trucks sat out front, one of which was on blocks, missing its rear wheels.

We pa.s.sed a swing set-metal tubes that formed a teepee with hanging chains that held two tires. A small woodshed sat by itself just past the swing set. Maybe a toolshed. The ground was partly gra.s.sed, partly bare, without any care given to it. Bushes and trees grew up here and there, wherever seeds had happened to fall.

It was hard to believe that I was somehow connected to such a strange place hidden away in the swamps. It was all so foreign.

An old, white house with a porch loomed between the trees ahead, to our right. Windows across the front, a black roof, three steps leading up to a porch-about what I might expect in a house.

What I didn't expect was the large, paper sign with the words Welcome Home written in red that hung from the porch's roof. Nor the sight of the dark-haired woman wearing a flowered dress with long sleeves, standing under it, watching us intently. Nor the short boy who stood next to her.

"That's your mother and your brother," Wyatt said.

I don't know what I expected because up until that moment I had only thought of 'mother' in terms of an idea without putting any face or body to it. But now I was looking at her and I panicked.

What if I didn't like her? What if she wasn't as kind as Wyatt? What if she was disappointed in me?

What if she wasn't my real mother?

"Don't be nervous, sweetheart. It's going to be just fine, you'll see."

Wyatt brought the car to a stop at the end of the driveway fifty feet from the house, put the shifter in neutral, and turned off the engine.

I stared up at the two people on the porch, mind suddenly blank. The blond-haired boy was staring in wide wonder, and I could see the strangeness of him immediately. His head seemed a little large for his body, and his face looked . . . well, I didn't know quite how to think of it except . . . off.

I shifted my eyes and looked at the woman. Kathryn. Who was peering at me through the windshield, looking as tense as I felt. For a moment I thought she might be frightened.

This was the mother who'd gone to such great lengths to find me?

Maybe she was afraid . . . I was, wasn't I? Maybe a voice in her head was telling that it was all too good to be true. Or that I was too skinny to be her daughter. Or maybe she was afraid that I wouldn't measure up to her expectations for the daughter she'd dreamed about for so many years. Or maybe she was just nervous.

She was suddenly moving, rushing down the steps in her ankle-length dress with long sleeves, then running toward us, nearly frantic.

I didn't know what was expected of me, and a glance at Wyatt told me that neither did he. He just watched, hands on the wheel.

Kathryn flew up to the car, gripped the door handle on my side, yanked the door open, and stared at me, speechless, lips trembling.

I was only distantly aware of the heat and humidity that rushed into the car when she opened the door. I barely heard the chorus of a million bugs and insects that might have otherwise convinced me to quickly shut the door.

This was my mother?

Her hair was dark, pulled into a bun at the back of her head, and she wore black leather flats. I wasn't terribly given to style, but hers was like nothing I'd ever seen. She looked like she'd stepped out of the pages of an old magazine.

Tears suddenly flooded Kathryn's eyes and her face began to relax as relief washed over her. She lifted both arms and held trembling hands out to me.

"It's really you. G.o.d has brought you home. Come to your mother, sweetie. Come into your mother's arms."

I didn't know if I really wanted to go to her, because I wasn't sure she really was my mother. But I didn't know what else I could do, so I climbed out of the car.

Before I could go to her, she closed the distance between us, wrapped her arms around my body, and pulled me close to her bosom.

"Thank you, Jesus." She held me tight, with one hand behind my head, pressing me into her shoulder. "Thank you. Mommy has missed you so much." She was speaking through tears, overwhelmed. "You're here. You're really here."

Bobby walked up beside her, staring in wonder. Quiet.

Kathryn eased me back arm's length and studied my face, my hair. She brushed a gentle thumb across my cheek as if to wipe away a tear. "You're more beautiful than I could have imagined. My precious lamb." She sniffed. "So beautiful. All will be made right. All will be made right."

Then she leaned forward and placed a light kiss on my forehead.

"Welcome home, Eden."

I was too flat-footed to react. A strange mix of fear and comfort ran in circles through my mind, like a fox chasing a rabbit.

Wyatt had climbed out, rounded the car, and now rested his hand on Bobby's shoulder, smiling.

"Eden, this is your brother, Bobby." He looked at the boy. "Say hi, Bobby."

Bobby's face flushed red and he offered me a toothless grin. "Hi." He was pressing the tip of his forefinger against his thumb down by his side as he spoke-a nervous tic. Eyes peering up at me because he was a foot shorter. "You're my sister?"

I had to answer. I had to because I immediately liked Bobby. But I wasn't sure if I should say 'yes, I am your sister' unless I knew for certain.

I glanced up at Kathryn who was smiling warmly.

"It's okay, sweetie. You can tell him."

So I looked at Bobby. "I think so."

He was smiling wide enough for me to see his gums. Then he did something I couldn't have antic.i.p.ated. He stepped up to me and took my left hand in his.

"Bobby's been waiting for you for a long time," Kathryn said. "We all have. Haven't we, Bobby?"

"I'm your brother," he said, looking up at me.

"I'm so sorry we had to get you like that, sweetie," Kathryn said. "If there was any other way, we would have taken it. But . . ." She looked like she might break down. "I'm sorry if you were frightened."

"Are you going to stay with me?" Bobby asked, still on his own track.

I was unnerved, but I felt sorry for these people, you see? Especially Bobby. And now as I thought about it, I could see parts of my reflection on Kathryn's face. She had my nose, and my mouth, I thought.

She really must be my mother. Which meant that Bobby really was my brother. They were simply acting a bit strange because they had no more experience at reuniting with a long-lost daughter and sister than I had with finding my mother and brother.

"Of course she's going to stay with us, Bobby," Kathryn said when I didn't respond. "She's just in a little bit of shock. This is all new to her, that's all."

I still wasn't sure how to rea.s.sure Bobby, but I didn't have to because Wyatt shifted our focus.

"Zeke's here," he said, looking back down the road.

I followed his gaze and saw that a black truck, much newer than any I'd seen on the property, was headed our way up the driveway. Zeke, the man who'd helped them find me.

Bobby removed his hand from mine and pointed a stubby finger. "That's Zeke," Bobby said. "He's the apostle."

"Hush, Bobby," Kathryn said, turning to face the truck.

We all watched as a man with dirty blond hair and a short beard, dressed in black slacks, jacket, and boots, stepped out of the truck. For a few moments, he just stood there, staring at me, as if trying to decide if I measured up.

He walked up to us, smiling gently now, a good sign, I suppose. But like everything else, I didn't know how to feel about this man. His eyes were dark, but his face was kind, I thought.

Zeke nodded at Wyatt. "Saw you coming in. I'm a.s.suming you got here clean or you wouldn't be here."

"He's clean," Kathryn insisted adamantly.

Zeke looked at her, brow raised. Somehow that simple expression shifted her demeanor, because she immediately softened.

"No one saw them," she said quietly. "It was just like you said it would be."

He studied her a moment longer, then turned his eyes to me.

"So you must be Eden," he said, then waited for me to respond. And I felt compelled.

"I . . . Yes, I think so."

He grinned. "But of course you are. I'm sure this must be a bit of shock to your system. But I can a.s.sure you-one look at both of you and a person would have to be a fool not to see mother and daughter, side by side. Alice has become Eden; the prodigal has finally been brought home." He hesitated. "Did you have a comfortable trip?"

"I'm okay," I said. "Wyatt was very good to me."

"Of course he was. You'll find nothing but goodness here. But it's not every day the hand of G.o.d works in such a mysterious way. I'm sure all of this has been a little confusing."

"A little."

"More than just a little, I'm sure," he said.

What could I say?

"I . . . I just don't know what to think."

"No, of course you don't, darling." He walked up to me, touched my hair, then lifted my chin in his large, warm hand. "Poor thing must be terrified. But I can promise you that will all change." He released me and smiled kindly. "You're a very fortunate girl, Eden. I've never known a mother as resolved as yours. She's moved the hand of G.o.d to bring you home and now here you are, a vision of heaven itself."

At this Kathryn moved next to me and placed her arm around my shoulders, facing him, as if to lay claim to me. Or maybe just to offer me a.s.surance.

"She's yours Kathryn," Zeke said. "Your inheritance. The daughter G.o.d promised you. Be sure to raise her as appointed. She's one of G.o.d's children now."

"I will."

"Without wavering."

"Without wavering," she said.

I had no idea what they meant and I wasn't sure I wanted to. So I let it go. After all, everything about his place was strange to me, including all of the G.o.d talk.

Wyatt stepped up to Zeke, withdrew his hand from his pocket, and handed him a piece of folded paper. I immediately recognized the note I'd left under the mattress.

"Here's the note she wrote," Wyatt said.

Zeke palmed it and slipped into his pocket. "Thank you, Wyatt."

And that was that. My note had been discovered . . . Of course it had. They didn't want to be found. Zeke was no idiot.

I felt slightly nauseous.

Zeke wagged his head toward the outbuildings. "I need two barrels. Give me a hand." Exchanging a nod with Kathryn, he headed back to the truck, followed quickly by Wyatt.

"You want to see my room?"