When Through Deep Waters

by Rachelle Dekker

  Don’t be afraid, Alicen, the whispers called. You are light, and light never fears the darkness. There was a moment of silence, and Alicen held her breath until it was gone.

  “Maybe I am sick,” Grandma Joe said. “Or maybe you are. Either way, I am not going to Clover Mountain Retreat Center. I won’t.”

  Betty let out a heavy sigh, and Alicen imagined she was probably rubbing small circles with her fingers on both of her temples like she always did. Alicen wished her little heart would stop beating so hard while the silence was so heavy.

  Finally Betty spoke. “We can’t keep doing this forever. I . . . I just can’t.”

  Another moment of silence passed.

  “I think I’ll go lie down for a while,” Grandma Joe said. Neither one of them said anything else after that. The ground vibrated slightly as footsteps carried someone out of the room, and then a moment later more steps signaled the departure of the other. The house fell silent, and Alicen hugged her knees to her chest, tears falling down her cheeks. She’d never heard them fight like that before.

  “It’s okay, Alicen,” a small voice said beside her. Clear this time, and Alicen turned to see a sweet, familiar little face next to her. Evie.

  Alicen shook her head. “I’m scared,” she said.

  “I know,” Evie replied and wrapped her arm around Alicen’s shoulders. “It’s okay, I promise it’s going to be okay.”

  Alicen nodded and turned her chin back to her knees. Evie had never lied to her before, so she felt a little bit better.

  Alicen wasn’t sure how many minutes she sat there behind the couch, waiting for the silence to extend long enough to assure her that leaving was safe. It felt like an hour, though. A single thought beat in her brain. If only her mom could see Evie and hear the others like she and Grandma Joe could, then everything would be better.

  21

  Alicen shot up in bed, her breath escaping her mouth in thick waves. The memory of Grandma Joe hung fresh in her mind. She glanced down to see her body shivering, her covers kicked off onto the floor. She swung her legs free from her mattress and tried to steady her thundering pulse. She felt a bit nauseous and stood carefully; she didn’t want to lose her dinner on the hardwood floor. She moved unsteadily toward the bathroom and flicked the switch on the inside wall. Harsh light illuminated the small space, and Alicen squinted against it as her eyes adjusted.

  The voices of her mother and grandmother echoed through her brain in the dead silence of night. Their anger and frustration and hopelessness. Each standing on a different side of a cavern, trying to yank the other across. The emotion of it rumbled in Alicen’s chest, and she could feel their pain as if it were her own.

  And then the images of the last moment returned like a sledgehammer, crashing her reality into fragmented pieces. First the same voices she’d come to dread had filled the spaces of her memory, and then Evie had been sitting with her there. Little Alicen wrapped in the arms of the child who had been haunting her.

  Alicen took a deep breath. She could make sense of this, she told herself. Logic said her memory was being distorted by the psychosis ravaging her brain. Her mind had simply placed one of her delusions there to further torment her. There was no proof Evie had actually ever been there. There was no proof she had heard the whispers back then. This was just more of her diseased state.

  Even as her thoughts filtered through, even as she tried to make sense of what she’d remembered, a pocket of something stronger was opening deep inside her gut.

  Knowing.

  That was the terrifying reality she was trying to eliminate with logic. The little girl hiding behind the couch as her mother and grandmother fought had known the delusion next to her. Had trusted her. Had felt comfort from seeing her face. Had seen her many times before. Those voices that had reached out to her in her time of need had been familiar.

  Impossible, Alicen thought. This was just another trick of her broken mind. Another cruel side effect of letting her daughter die. She took a strong drag of air and ignored the shaking in the tips of her fingers. Her mind was imprinting her memories with her crazy. That was all this was. It had to be.

  Alicen.

  No, she thought, her stomach twisting into knots.

  Alicen, come see the truth.

  “No,” she said under her breath. “No, no, no.”

  Do you hear us, Alicen?

  Another voice echoed in her mind. “She is the light of the world! Don’t you want her to know that shadows are only shadows?” Grandma Joe’s words toyed with her heart and resounded in her chest. Alicen’s mind pounded painfully as Josephine’s words filled her brain.

  “She’s connected with the only thing that can change the world.”

  “You couldn’t strip her of that if you tried.”

  “It will always be a part of her.”

  “Enough, Alicen,” she said out loud to herself as she stood. “Stop this. You can control this.” But the logic trying to pull her back from madness wasn’t convinced. It was starting to feel less like she was losing her mind and more like she was discovering something that she couldn’t explain. How was that even possible?

  The itching curiosity and sense that she was missing something sneaked through the drugs flowing through her system. The urge to leave her room and venture toward the voices called to more than her body. It summoned her soul. Tears stung her eyes as the tone of her grandmother’s lovely voice filled her ears.

  “Her ability to believe in what isn’t always seen is overwhelming.”

  A final voice bounced around inside her mind, powerful enough that Alicen found it difficult to breathe through. “The little girl I knew understood something more significant about this world than the woman standing before me. Something that runs deeper than logic. Something powerful.” Stephanie’s words from earlier lifted what was left of the stone shield Alicen was trying to maintain. She swallowed, blinked hard to wash away her tears, and turned to look at herself in the mirror. Had she once believed in more? Was she brave enough to really discover the truth? That last question struck a chord deep in her gut, and Alicen knew, even as the thought was crystallizing behind her eyes, there was only one way to find out.

  Within seconds she was dressed, jeans buttoned, sweater pulled tight, coat secured, boots on, and carefully descending the stairs.

  Alicen.

  The familiar voice touched her as she cleared the last step and turned toward the back door. The house was covered in darkness; the ticking of the living room clock echoed through the sleeping home.

  Alicen. Come and see. Don’t be afraid, Alicen.

  She moved softly through the kitchen and out onto the back porch, making sure to shut the door carefully. Her steps were now assured and motivated. She sought an understanding that felt bigger than the world around her. Insane perhaps, but something that felt necessary for more than her mind. She needed to know if any of it was real.

  Come and see.

  Halfway across the lawn, the pull seemed to have injected energy into her legs. She began to run, the chilly midnight air sweeping over her as she plunged into the thick of the forest, following her instincts toward the river. Children’s laughter echoed across the wind as she ran, and out of the corners of her eyes, she saw small beings moving alongside her. The children.

  A transformation was taking place as she ran. As if each step she took were shaking loose a lie that she had assumed was reality. As if each impact of her legs brought her back to a place where she didn’t know the rules and instead felt open to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she could change the world.

  Alicen broke free into the clearing she’d been in before. She slowed. Her chest heaved with hard, jagged breaths, her pulse beating quickly underneath her skin. The river rushed before her, the small wooden bridge arched across it, reminding her of all the times she had sat on a similar one with Grandma Joe.

  “You came,” a small voice said.

  Alicen whipped around and saw Evie. T
he two stood, locked in one another’s gaze for a long beat of time, before the little girl continued.

  “You felt it.” Evie grinned, her eyes sparkling against the stars. “The part of you that knows me.”

  Emotion tugged at the frayed edges of Alicen’s heart. A sense of fear began to boil in her gut while longing fingered at her soul. “Who are you?” The question slipped off Alicen’s tongue before she could stop it.

  “Who do you think I am?” Evie asked.

  “Someone my mind created to help me cope with the loss of my daughter,” Alicen’s logic said through her lips.

  Evie smiled. “Maybe you thought that’s who I was before, but I can see something different in you now.”

  Alicen shook her head, her mouth gaping open. She stared forward as her mind whirled. Could she actually accept what her heart was begging her to believe? That there was a truth greater than her perceived reality? That maybe there was something beyond what she saw, beyond what she knew as fact? What if all Grandma Joe had been trying to teach her was real? Yet even as her body started to open to something new, the familiar doubt she knew too well surfaced.

  Get a grip, Alicen.

  Act like an adult, Alicen.

  What would your mother say, Alicen?

  Alicen shook her head to disrupt the flow of insults and tried to reconnect with logic. But that was nearly impossible to secure now. Belief in what logic would call insanity felt like her only path. Or the one she desperately wanted to travel. It was too tangible to erase now. The wind picked up around her and whipped through the branches that hung overhead. It was almost warm, though the night should be chilly, as it seemed to draw her farther away from her doubt.

  Evie took a step toward Alicen, her face calm and certain. “Do you want to see?”

  “See what?” Alicen asked.

  “The truth you knew once.”

  She looked at Evie, who was waiting patiently as Alicen’s mind battled with her soul. Her soul won. “Yes,” Alicen said.

  Evie’s face broke into a wide smile, and she gave Alicen a playful wink before turning and racing off through the trees.

  Shock made Alicen hesitate a moment before she too began running. She tried to keep her gaze locked on the little girl as Evie bounded over forest ground and around thick trees. The sky overhead rumbled, and the once-clear night sky was suddenly covered with storm clouds. Alicen ignored the fear ramming inside her chest and picked up her pace as drops of rain started to fall around her.

  A small voice somewhere in her head was yelling that she had lost all sense of sanity, but her heart and soul were so fixated on discovering the truth that she couldn’t have stopped her legs if she wanted to. Something else was calling to her now, something as warm as the wind, even through the icy rain.

  Come and see, Alicen.

  Alicen’s feet landed in puddles as the rain soaked the ground, and mud splashed up her legs. Still she pushed forward, keeping her eyes on the bouncing child who seemed to still be reflecting the starlight even though the sky was covered with clouds. She wiped water from her eyes and gasped as her lungs struggled to keep up.

  A crack of lightning shot across the sky, and the screaming voice of sense kicked into overdrive. Again Alicen felt the pull at her spirit and managed to keep her eyes on Evie as the child ducked around a final tree and out of sight. Alicen did the same and stumbled into another open clearing.

  She huffed to a stop, twisting her head in every direction in search of Evie. She found nothing. She was alone in the clearing, the line of trees standing around its edge marking a perfect circle, her breath the only sound against the night. Odd, she thought. She wasn’t feeling rain anymore. She glanced up and saw the sky was clear, stars beaming down, the half moon bright. Not a storm cloud to be seen.

  She turned and glanced back toward where she’d just come from and saw raindrops through the darkness. She stepped toward the line of trees that encased the clearing and moved her gaze around the circle in either direction. Where she was standing it was dry, but just on the other side of the tree line, rain was still falling.

  Impossible.

  The laughter of children caused her to pause. She spun back around toward the center of the clearing, but still she was alone. For the first time she noticed a pool of water in front of her. Big enough to swim across but small enough that one could easily walk its circumference within minutes.

  The sight of it caused Alicen to gasp, confused. Had it been there just a moment ago? Had she just not noticed it before? She took a step closer, her eyes drinking it in. The water was crystal blue, green hues swirling throughout, clean and breathtaking. Not like lake water at all, not like what one would expect to find in a body of water tucked into the forest. No, this was something else entirely.

  A buzzing sensation started to work its way up her fingers as her eyes drank in the water before her. The call to her soul grew, and she could feel the pull of her body toward the pool. She wanted to touch the water, experience the way it felt on her fingers. She suddenly wanted to dive below its surface or see if she could walk across it. The thought jarred her enough that she took a step back from the strange crystal surface, afraid of what she might actually do.

  “Don’t be afraid,” a small voice said, and Alicen froze. A voice she knew so well, as well as she knew her own, one that haunted her constantly. She turned to the right and saw Jane standing across the water, her face shimmering with the glow of the moon, blonde hair dancing softly on the wind. Perfect and beautiful. Her eyes as blue as the water between them.

  Jane smiled, and it felt as if someone had punctured a new hole through Alicen’s heart. Flashes of their grocery-store encounter sparked within her mind. Jane hadn’t really been there then, and she couldn’t really be here now.

  Jane stepped forward toward the water, knelt down, and ran her small fingers across its perfectly still surface. Her touch started a small ripple effect that spread out into the center of the water and then faded into nothing. “You can touch it if you want,” Jane said, her tone sweet as it ever was. “It’s warmer than it looks.”

  Alicen wanted to respond, but she couldn’t get her mind to form any words. How many times had she dreamed of her sweet girl? How many times had she begged to be able to go back to the day she’d let her die?

  “I love the water,” Jane said, glancing up at Alicen. “Do you remember how much I loved the water?”

  Alicen nodded, tears filling her eyes. The little girl standing before her was different, though. She was more tangible, more familiar. As if she’d been plucked from heaven and placed on the edge of this pool. Alicen wanted to protect her heart from believing, but it was slipping away from her too quickly.

  “I really did want to be a mermaid,” Jane said with a giggle. “Would you have let me become a mermaid, Mom?” The little girl stood, removing her fingers from the water and looking up at Alicen.

  “Yes,” Alicen said. “You could have been anything you wanted.”

  “Well, that’s not good to teach your children,” said another voice. It was her own, and it drew Alicen’s attention to the near side of the forest pool. There, standing a couple yards away, was herself. A living reflection. A duplicate. Dressed in the Marc Jacobs dress she’d starved for but never worn. A glass of wine in hand. Eyes fixed forward and full of mockery.

  Suddenly the forest was gone, and Alicen was standing in her backyard in Santa Monica, the sky clouded and dark, their family pool before her. She turned in a circle—the trees, the small lake, Jane, all replaced by the sight she dreaded most. The place where she had killed her daughter.

  “Do you remember that day, Alicen—the day she told you she wanted to be a mermaid and you told her she was just a girl?” her dress-clad twin asked, her tone maniacal.

  “How—?” Alicen started but couldn’t finish.

  “Of course you remember,” the woman spat. “It’s all you can remember, and for good reason.” The scary reflection took a sip from her winegla
ss. “Well, Jane can’t be a mermaid now, because she’s dead.”

  Pain exploded through Alicen’s chest, and raw emotion choked out her words. She stumbled back a couple steps across the familiar ground, away from the swimming pool’s edge.

  Her doppelgänger shook her head and sneered. “Murderer.”

  A crack of lightning slashed through the sky. The ground shook with a roll of thunder, and Alicen felt her knees tremble with the overwhelming sense of guilt. Her legs gave out, taking her to the ground with force. She struggled to find a breath, to control the rage of shame slicing through her chest. She struggled to tear her eyes from her own reflection, the one that stared at her with judgment. She was right. Alicen had done this.

  A soft touch brushed her shoulder, and she looked up to see Jane standing beside her, face bright and clear, blue eyes shining in the midst of the darkness. The backyard swimming pool was gone; the forest lake had returned. Peaceful and calm, a warm breeze licking at the surrounding leaves and pulling at the ends of her daughter’s perfect curls.

  Jane, who seemed to have light shining through the ends of her fingers, reached her hand down and laid it against Alicen’s cheek. A comforting energy flowed from her daughter’s skin, and the raging sorrow she’d felt seconds before stilled.

  “Don’t be afraid, Mommy,” Jane said. “You are the light of the world, and the rest is only shadows.”

  “No, I killed you; I deserve this pain,” Alicen said through tears.

  “Your pain is only a shadow compared to the light inside you,” Jane said.

  “Oh please,” the mocking version of herself countered. “Light inside you? You’re just a woman, Alicen. Get a grip.”

  The other version of herself was back, standing close, reminding her of reality.