Water Walker: Episodes 1-4 Part 22

The third day after Paul's beating, my anger finally began to calm down and I knew that G.o.d had finally heard my prayers. But as my anger settled, my sorrow for Paul only grew worse, so it was just as hard to put on a brave face around Kathryn.

The fourth day was Sunday, and I'd never been so eager to be drowned. I asked Mother to make sure she got all the sin out. I was eighteen now.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" she asked.

"Yes. I have to be sure."

She smiled. "That's my brave little girl."

As she held me under the surface in that dark place of death, I felt the same panic that always came after a couple minutes. But I was surprised by a sudden temptation to just suck in a lungful of water and end it all.

It's too much, Eden. You can't do it. You can't spend one more day living in this h.e.l.l!

The thought roared through me like a ball of the blackest darkness, and with it a terrible rage at the injustice of my situation.

Mother pulled me up. I gasped and for a split second I was disappointed to be alive. And then Kathryn's hallelujah wiped the darkness away and I felt gratefulness sweep in to take the darkness away.

After Mother laid her lash against Bobby's bared back, she celebrated with more glory than I was accustomed to seeing. She was very happy.

My happiness, on the other hand, was fleeting. I was relieved to be cleansed, of course-I always was. But within half an hour of my baptism, the sickening sadness that had swallowed me the day before returned. And to make matters worse, my anger was back.

By nightfall, I could hardly contain my emotions. I wasn't used to having such a terrible struggle and that fact alone confused me, which added fear to a mix of terrible feelings that refused to be calmed.

Still, I managed to keep it all inside.

Until Monday afternoon, that is. On Monday afternoon it all fell apart.

It started early Monday morning, while I was sleeping. I often had dreams of being Alice, trapped in a hospital with mentally disturbed patients, and in those dreams I'm quite lucid, aware of how insane everyone but me is. It's a safe place for me, because I can play along as a patient without fearing the consequence because I know that I'm only in a dream. I even help other patients to see things differently.

But the dream I'd had of the Outlaw named Stephen was different, if only because I'd completely lost any sense that I was in a dream. Every detail had been fully fleshed out without any break in sequence. And when I awoke, I could remember every detail, as if it had really happened.

Just before waking early Monday morning I had another dream, just as real.

This time I was in a boat out on the lake and there was a storm brewing. The wind was blowing and foamy waves beat against the boat and I was terrified.

I'm going to die, I thought. I'm going to drown!

Then I heard the distant call and I turned to see a man on the sh.o.r.e. It was Stephen. He was smiling and beckoning me with an outstretched hand. My first thought was, He's back!

Then I remembered where I was.

"Come to me, Eden!" he called, voice distant. "Step out of the boat and walk to me."

I looked at the wood hull under my feet and then at the water, surging and slapping against the boat. Then at him, dressed in a black coat, long hair whipped by the wind.

"Step out of the boat, Eden. Walk to me. Be a water walker. It's okay, I promise. Step out of the boat and walk to me."

I was scared, but I knew that if I didn't do what he said, the boat would capsize and I would drown. So I slung my feet over the edge of the rocking boat, held my breath to fight back my fear, and, closing my eyes, stepped out onto the water.

But I didn't walk.

I plunged under the surface.

Flailing hopelessly, I dropped straight down, deep into murky black water that filled my nostrils and ears, cold as ice. It was like a baptism, only this time the water was a bottomless pit and this time I was going to drown, really drown.

I started to scream and jerked up in bed, soaked in sweat, panting.

I was alive. It had only been another dream. Thank G.o.d. I was safe. But the moment I thought that, a new awareness struck me, as cold as the water I'd dreamed about.

I was still in the lake, wasn't I? I was still drowning in the water.

Not real water in the lake, but here, in the house. My whole life was that troubled sea and I was drowning in it. I didn't understand why or how, really, but I was. That's what the dream meant.

And with that awareness, a simple question dropped into my mind, as if it had come from heaven itself. What if I'm being used? Just that, but for me, asking such a question bordered on blasphemy. I hadn't dared even think it before.

While I had dealt with raging emotions all week and embarked on a never-ending struggle to seek forgiveness for my anger, for the first time my mind dared ask that simple, logical question.

What if I'm being used? Or even worse, abused.

I mean, what if all of this had been an elaborate plan to get to the money all along? Not Mother's plan, no-I couldn't see that. But isn't that essentially what Zeke had said? His words reached to me from the field.

Without me, you would be nothing, he'd said. I gave you your life back and provided a way for you to bless us all in a very significant way.

As if he'd orchestrated my coming here so that I could give them all a significant blessing. Meaning the money.

It hit me square between the eyes, and once in my mind, I couldn't get it out. I didn't want to get it out. It was as if someone had turned a light bulb on in my head.

What if all of this-the baptisms, the teaching, the rituals, the prayers, the confinement, the rules-all of it was only to get me to be his obedient little girl so that when I turned eighteen, I would readily just hand over all the money to my mother who would just hand it over to Zeke?

What if it was all a sham? Not my belief in G.o.d, or that Kathryn was my real mother, but all this other business. And on the heels of that question, a whole slew that battered my mind and pushed my anger even deeper until my body began to display signs of it regardless of any attempt on my part to keep it calm.

I got out of bed and went through my normal morning cleaning rituals. I did my ch.o.r.es and said all the right things. But I couldn't stop sweating. Noticing, Kathryn asked me to wash my face three different times to keep it clean. Even worse, I couldn't keep my fingers from trembling when the thoughts overtook me, and twice I didn't hear questions put to me by Mother.

It all came to a head during lunch, when I inadvertently knocked over my water gla.s.s.

"Eden!"

I began to dab up the water with my napkin. "Sorry."

"What has gotten into you?"

"It's just water, sugar," Wyatt said, rising to help me clean up the spill.

"Sit down, Wyatt. It's her spill, not yours. She's been acting strange all day."

Wyatt hesitated, then retreated to his seat, knowing better than to defend me in front of the whole family, though I think he did so in private on occasion.

"It's just water, Mama," Bobby said.

"Shut up, Bobby."

We ate the rest of the meal in silence and Wyatt headed for the door as soon as Kathryn excused him.

"Bobby, go with your father."

"We're going to the still?" he asked.

Wyatt flashed Bobby a smile. "Wanna help me change a tire, boy?"

Bobby hopped off his chair and marched for the door as if to defend the fort against invading marauders.

"I can change the tire!"

"Of course you can."

Wyatt gave me a glance of understanding and followed Bobby, who was already outside, raring to go.

Mother turned to me the moment the door closed, hands on her hips.

"What's wrong with you today? It's like you're not even here!"

"Sorry, Mother. I just . . ."

You see, already I was feeling guilty. And then angry that I was feeling guilty.

"You just what? Stand up. Have you lost your mind?"

I stood and stared at her, feeling my face flush red.

"That's right. You should feel ashamed."

But it was anger, not shame, that heated my face.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there?" she demanded, expecting me to apologize.

I almost didn't. But my habits had grown too deep, like roots that had worked their way into every cell in my body.

"I'm sorry."

She eyed me suspiciously for a spell.

"You've been weak all day, haven't you? In fact, you've been off since last night. I could see it when you went to bed. We accepted our blessing in baptism yesterday and you went to bed ungrateful and in a foul mood, didn't you?"

I've been in a foul mood all week, I wanted to say. But I didn't.

"You answer your mother when she asks you a question, Eden Lowenstein."

So I did.

"Yes."

"And you didn't bother to confess?" Her face grew red. "What has gotten into you?"

"I don't know." It was a lie, but I was past feeling guilty for such small sins. My true demons were far more frightening and were tearing me apart.

"Well you had better start knowing!" Mother glared at me and for a second I thought she was going to blow up, something she rarely did.

"I've given you too many liberties, haven't I?" she said. "All this business of you turning eighteen and I've let my guard down."

"No."

"No? I think yes. I think your head's getting the better of you."

I could see the wheels spinning behind her eyes. She was suddenly worried that I was going to ruin things for all of them, wasn't she? For her and Zeke. All they wanted was my money.

"You're hiding something from me, I can see it in your eyes."

"I . . ." But I couldn't form a response. Anything I said would be a lie, and I suddenly couldn't bring myself to keep up the charade.

"You what? Speak up!" Mother snapped.

"I don't know."

"Well that's a problem, isn't it?"

"I guess."

"You guess? You guess? You can't do this to us, Eden! Not now. Not after all we've been through." She began to pace in front of me, and concern replaced her anger. Genuine worry, I thought. She was as much a victim as me, but realizing this didn't calm me.

"What do you think Zeke would say to this?" she demanded, turning on me.

It was the way she pulled him in to the conversation that pushed me over the edge of the cliff I'd been desperately balancing on.

"Zeke?" I asked.

Your voice is too loud, Eden.

"Zeke?"

You're falling.

"Since when is Zeke more important to you than your own daughter?"

You're shouting, Eden.

My face was hot and my breathing was coming quick but I was past making any attempt to stuff my emotions. It was suddenly all boiling over and I didn't have the strength to stop it.

"Eden!"