Water Walker (The Full Story, Episodes 1-4)

by Dekker, Ted

  What would it be like to hold hands with Paul? Or to kiss him? Or to tell him that sometimes I got butterflies in my stomach when I thought of him.

  I felt terribly guilty for both having these thoughts, and for not confessing them to Mother as I’d promised. I was living a lie, you see, and I knew that if I continued living it, I would put us all in hell.

  In fact, I’d already put myself in a hell, here on earth, at least that’s what it felt like, and the only way out was to tell Mother, at which point she would only put me in another hell of sorts, and that hell wouldn’t stop the thoughts from coming so I would only go back into the first hell. And God wasn’t helping me with my lustful thoughts, likely because he hated liars. No amount of pleading on my knees seemed to get his attention.

  And why would he listen to me? I was in hell.

  So you see, I had worked my way into a terrible spot by the time I turned eighteen, with no way out that I could see.

  And still, the moment I heard that Paul was coming for a few hours on my birthday, my heart began to beat faster. Mother had seen fit to invite him over to play with Bobby and me.

  I had dressed properly, in rain boots and a long, light-blue dress that covered my legs and arms. We spent an hour or so wandering around the property and in the still house where Paul talked about making moonshine. I had never helped with “the business,” as Paul put it, but I’d often heard Wyatt talk about it. Zeke made the finest shine and had customers from Arizona to Virginia who were willing to pay handsomely for his limited batches. Two nearby farmers supplied high quality, organic corn exclusively for Zeke’s mash and a natural spring on the property provided a steady flow of pure water that gave the shine its uniquely sweet flavor. The whole operation, from source to distribution, was sophisticated and Zeke ran it like a skilled businessman who was as shrewd as he was ambitious. From the custom-made copper kettles used to cook the mash to the selection of each season’s bottling, he oversaw every decision and was training his son to take over his empire someday.

  Paul wasn’t like Zeke, though. He was kind and short—Mother sometimes called him a runt under her breath—and he had curly blond hair and a smooth face and plump lips. I didn’t really remember other boys too much, so in my mind, Paul was all there was, and to me he looked about as magnificent as any boy might look.

  But it was the way he treated me that made my heart flutter. The way he would quickly open the door to the still house for me, as if I were a queen. The way he slowed to match my pace so he could stay close. The way he smiled at me, bright blue eyes flashing. How could I not return that smile?

  I asked Bobby if he could get a blanket from the house, which he was only too willing to do. Fifteen minutes later we had it spread it out under a tree behind the house, and I was seated with my legs folded back to my right, facing Paul, who sat cross-legged watching me make one of my straw dolls.

  “Eden likes making dolls,” Bobby said, picking at his nose.

  “That’s right, Bobby,” I said, mindful of where he might put his dirty fingers. “And this one’s going to be very special.”

  “Why’s that?” Paul asked.

  When I glanced up I saw that he was watching me with that look of great interest and for a moment longer than I had planned, I returned his gaze.

  He wasn’t required to follow my rules of cleanliness, naturally—none of the other kids were, he told me. And he thought that made me very special. I think he was actually in awe of me.

  And maybe I was in awe of him because he didn’t have so many rules, and could wear whatever he wanted, and get his hands dirty, and go into the swamps—not that I wanted to, mind you. I was terrified of both the water and whatever lived under its surface. But his freedom was as wondrous to me, as my cleanliness was to him.

  I looked back down to my hands, busy at work on the doll I was weaving from long stalks of half-dried swamp grass. But I wasn’t thinking about the doll. I was thinking about the fact that I was sliding, this very moment, down that very slippery slope my mother had warned me about.

  And I didn’t seem to be able to stop myself.

  “It’s just special,” I said. “Actually, they’re all special.” I had a collection in my room, eight of them, each one named and specifically appointed to match the personalities I’d given them. Mother wouldn’t let me have any real dolls but Wyatt had convinced her to let me keep the ones I made. Apart from Bobby and Paul, they were my best friends.

  “How do you make it so smooth?” Paul asked.

  “By tucking in every strand.” My attention returned to my thin fingers working nimbly with the grass. “It just takes a little practice and some patience. See?”

  “You do it so well,” he said.

  “Eden likes to make straw dolls,” Bobby repeated. At fifteen he was nearly the same he’d been at ten—maybe a couple of inches taller.

  “What’s her name going to be?” Paul asked.

  “How do you know it’s a girl?”

  He hesitated. “I don’t know. I guess I just think of dolls as girls.”

  My dolls looked like miniature scarecrows, complete with arms and legs and different colored seeds for eyes, some dressed in pants for boys, some in dresses for girls.

  “Then I’ll name her Alice.”

  “Alice?”

  “Eden dreams about Alice,” Bobby said.

  “Hush, Bobby. Paul doesn’t want to hear about my dreams.”

  “Sure I do.”

  “Sure he does,” Bobby said.

  I felt shy—Paul might think that my recurring dreams were stupid. I mean, who dreamed they were named Alice and lived in a psychiatric hospital? Nobody sane, right?

  “Just dreams,” I said, embarrassed.

  “Silly dreams,” Bobby said.

  We were quiet for a little while, but I could feel Paul’s eyes on me as I worked, which made it hard to concentrate.

  “Bobby, do you want to go on a mission?” Paul finally asked.

  Bobby perked up. “I’m good at missions.”

  “You think you could run to the house and bring back a drink?”

  “I’ll go to the house and bring back a drink,” Bobby said, pushing himself to his feet. And then he was ambling off, consumed with his mission.

  The thought that Paul had sent Bobby away so that we could be alone didn’t occur to me until Bobby was already halfway across the back yard. One look at Paul’s face and I knew that I was right.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “If you like,” I said.

  “Have you ever kissed a boy?”

  My face flushed and I glanced at the house, afraid that Mother was close. But we were still alone.

  “We shouldn’t talk about that,” I said.

  “Randal has a girlfriend.” One of the other boys who I hadn’t met. “He likes Susan. He told me that they hold hands and kiss. His father doesn’t mind. He says it’s normal.”

  “And maybe normal’s not so good.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe normal’s okay.”

  I knew I was defiling myself by not running away right then, but I didn’t want to run away. So I kept working on Alice.

  “What would Zeke say about that?” I asked.

  “My father kissed a girl when he was fifteen. He knows that I’m growing up.”

  “And what would he say if he knew you were talking this way to me?”

  Paul didn’t answer, but I suspected that Zeke would beat him silly if he knew he was trying to tempt me. We both knew that I was different from the other girls.

  “I think you’re very pretty,” he said.

  By now my face had to be beet-red. Paul wasn’t as sheltered as me, but I had a feeling he wasn’t as experienced as he would like to be. I should have reprimanded him right then.

  But I didn’t.

  “Thank you,” I said, embarrassed.

  “I like you.”

  Liking was good, right? It was okay.

  “I like you too, Paul.” />
  Like a brother, of course. But that’s not what my heart was telling me. And my mind was telling me that I was going to hell.

  “Will you be my girlfriend?”

  I stopped my fiddling on the doll and looked up at him. Then past him to see if anyone was coming. We were still alone.

  “You know I can’t do that!” I whispered.

  “I know. So we don’t have to tell anyone. Even our parents got married, you know. We aren’t just kids anymore. And besides, I think you like me too.”

  “Of course I like you. But not . . .”

  “I can tell by the way you look at me.”

  “Me? You’re the one always looking! And you have to stop it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because!” I whispered. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Why? Because you like me too?”

  I couldn’t just lie to him, so I hesitated, suddenly at a very uncomfortable loss.

  “Eden!”

  I jerked my head up and saw that Mother was rounding the house, walking our way.

  “Here, Mother,” I called, waving a hand.

  Paul spoke quickly, under his breath. “Come to the field at four o’clock on Wednesday. I’ll be there.”

  I kept my eyes on Mother, heart pounding.

  “I just want to talk to you. Wednesday at four o’clock, okay? In two days. I know four is your free hour before dinner. Just sneak out to talk to me.”

  “It’s getting late, sweetheart,” Mother called. It wasn’t getting late—that was her way of ending whatever was going on. “I think it’s time for Paul to go home.”

  “Don’t forget,” he whispered. “Four o’clock.”

  “Sweetheart?” Mother walked up from behind Paul, glancing between us. “Did you hear me? I said I think Paul needs to go home now.”

  With a parting gaze into my eyes, Paul pushed himself up and flicked a stick he was fiddling with into the grass.

  “Why don’t you walk, Paul. Be good for you.”

  He dipped his head. “Sure. Thank you for having me.” He faced me. “See you around.”

  And with that he walked away.

  “I don’t trust that boy,” Mother said, watching him vanish from sight around the house. She looked at me. “Why’s your face red?”

  “Only because it’s hot, Mother.”

  She cast a disapproving glance down my dress, and I was afraid she might question me further, uncover my lie, and make me spend the rest of the day in penance.

  I had lied to her; guilt racked my mind.

  Instead, she sat down across from me and drew her legs back like mine.

  “Did you enjoy that?” she asked. Something had shifted her mood.

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “I know we don’t celebrate your birthday, sweetheart, but you’re eighteen today. I know you don’t get to spend a lot of time with friends.”

  “Thank you.”

  She smiled. Reached forward and brushed my cheek with her thumb. “You’re such a beautiful angel.”

  Relief cascaded over me. “Thank you, Mother.”

  “You don’t think I’m too hard on you, do you?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Tell me why I keep you away from dark waters.”

  “So that I don’t fall in and drown.”

  “Good girl. The only drowning you’ll do is in the clear waters of salvation.”

  She was referring to my baptisms. “Yes, Mother.”

  “What would have happened if we’d never rescued you?”

  “I would have drowned.”

  “And did you come willingly?”

  I knew this part all too well, and having narrowly escaped being caught in a lie, I was only too eager to rehearse my rescue.

  “Not at first. But sometimes children don’t see the danger they’re in. They have to be disciplined so they don’t get too close to the water. Or the fire.”

  “Fires of hell,” she said, offering me a proud grin. “That’s right. God delivered you and restored me. And today is a very, very special day. Do you know why?”

  Besides my birthday, which wasn’t a very special day at all, I had no idea. So I just looked at her.

  “It’s a very special day because today God is returning what the locusts have eaten sevenfold, Darling. I have some very exciting news for you.”

  I had rarely seen Mother so excited.

  She continued, beaming. “All of our hard work is paying off. You’ve been faithful and remained pure and now that you’ve turned eighteen, God has seen fit to bless us all beyond our wildest imagination.”

  “He has? How?”

  “By giving us a large sum of money. For all of us to share. Isn’t that wonderful, sweetheart?”

  I hardly knew the value of money, but it clearly made her very happy.

  “That’s wonderful,” I said.

  “All we have to do is go and get it.” She took a deep breath. “So tomorrow I’m going to take you into town and we’re going to meet with some important people and they’re going to give us our blessing.”

  I blinked. “Into town?” I’d never been off the property.

  Mother placed a reassuring hand on my knee. “I know it will be a challenge for you, but Mommy will be right beside you the whole time.”

  “Why do I have to go?”

  “Because you’re the one through whom all blessings flow, sweetheart. That’s how God works. He’s blessing me and Wyatt and Bobby and Zeke and all of us through you. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  I was going into town?

  “Yes. Yes, it’s wonderful.”

  “Now . . . it’s very important that you are especially pure tomorrow. If anyone asks you any questions it’s very important that you give only the answers God would have you give to show how grateful you are for his provision all these years. He rescued you from the hell you were in and brought you into the loving embrace of your mother.”

  I nodded but my mind was spinning with thoughts of town. And with Paul. What would he say if I told him I was going to town? He would be proud of me and for some reason that made me happy.

  “I’m going to help you prepare for our big day tomorrow,” Mother said. “You have to be perfectly pure or God might withdraw his blessing at the last moment. You wouldn’t want that would you?”

  “No, Mother.”

  She shook her head slowly, smiling gently. “No, I didn’t think you would. So I’m going to suggest we start preparing by having you spend the rest of the day in darkness, praying. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  The closet? A chill washed down my back.

  Then I thought about Paul, and how proud he would be that I was going into town and that brought me some comfort. If I was blessing Zeke, I was blessing Paul as well because Paul was his son.

  “Yes, Mother,” I said.

  14

  WYATT DROVE the truck down the gravel road as the morning sun crested the tall, moss-draped trees to Kathryn’s right. It was a thirty-minute drive into town if they followed the main streets, forty-five if they took the back roads, which they would. Kathryn had chosen the route herself to make sure of that.

  Zeke had arranged everything, he always did. Still, the uneasiness that haunted her whispered its worry, like a ghost trying to get in where it wasn’t welcome. But it was always there, wasn’t it? No matter how pure Eden was. No matter how many baptisms.

  Always, always there.

  Kathryn stared out the passenger window, chewing her fingernail, trying to quiet her mind. She should be happier, more at peace. It was a day of great blessing, wasn’t it? But she was also all too aware that danger crowded in on all sides.

  What if something went wrong? What if this was a test from God and she failed? She could live without money; she had for a long time. What if someone recognized her? What then? She couldn’t live without Eden.

  The moment they drove off the property, Eden would be in harm’s way. That was the truth and no one, not her no
r Zeke, could guarantee Eden’s safety off the property.

  “Right here. Stop the truck,” she said.

  Wyatt brought the truck to a stop. She could see Zeke’s house just ahead to the left, surrounded by trees. His Dobermans were barking, probably because they’d stopped the truck.

  Kathryn turned and looked at Eden, who sat behind Wyatt in the crew cab’s back seat, face pressed close to the window. She passed a black hood over the seat.

  “You need to wear this, sweetheart,” she said. “Just for a little while.”

  Eden took it without a word.

  “It’s for your own protection.”

  Eden stared at her with round blue eyes, then shifted her gaze back out the window.

  “Are you all right?” Kathryn said.

  She hesitated. “It’s just . . . the dogs.”

  “Don’t you worry about them. We’re safe. Isn’t that right, Wyatt?”

  “They’re chained up during the day. Nothing to worry about.”

  Eden held the hood in her hands. Ran her fingers over the fabric.

  “You’re quiet this morning,” Kathryn said. “This is a wonderful day for all of us, and especially you. You’re not excited?”

  “I didn’t sleep well. That’s all.”

  “I’m a little nervous too, but soon enough we’ll be back home where it’s safe. I promise.” She smiled. “Now, go on. Put it on. It’s a short drive to town so I want you to lie down in the back seat and rest your eyes until we get there.”

  “Yes, Mother.” She carefully pulled the hood on, lay down, and rested her head on the seat.

  They resumed their drive down the gravel road and past the other houses, which were scattered between Zeke’s and the county road.

  There were now eleven families in the community, all who lived on plots of land not unlike their own, and all who were as much a part of Zeke’s family as his own children. They did what he said, and nothing less. He owned the land, didn’t he? He guided them in the ways of truth. He was the one who kept the law off their backs and food on their tables.

  No one really expected moonshine to flow from the swamps, which was why Zeke had bought the land and set up his operation in Louisiana, he said. It made sense if you were smart.

  Everything Zeke did was smart.