Memory's Door (A Well Spring Novel)

by Rubart, James L.

  The look he’d seen in the mirror for so many years now was gone, replaced by a lightness on his face that brought back the days before he’d made the mistake that had killed Layne. Those innocent, beautiful, ignorant days when life’s biggest struggle was deciding what trail to mountain bike down or what new cheap restaurant they should try in the coming week.

  Marcus leaned forward on the cliff toward the valley as if he could step into that world and take into his arms the Kat he saw below and start over again from those days. Replay all the years of regret and this time live them right.

  “You can, you know.”

  “Can what?” Marcus glanced at the man, then back to the valley, but the vision of Kat and him was gone.

  The man pointed to the valley. “I can offer you that life, Marcus. You can step into it and live it and I promise you will never remember what you did to Layne. It will disappear as if it never happened because in that life down there, it won’t happen.

  “It’s a world where you went on the Enchantments hike with Dave and the others, where you’re close to Abbie, and it’s a world, Marcus . . . where you didn’t lose Layne.”

  At the last words Marcus’s heart tightened. “That’s not true.”

  The man nodded. “Yes, you can have him back. Your son. Returned to you along with all your memories of his childhood. Just give me the word and it will happen immediately.”

  Marcus spun and stared at the man. “What’s the catch? You said the choice would be made with great difficulty.”

  The man sighed. “Yes, I did. I also said your eyes need to be opened. So before I tell you about the price you would have to pay to live in this world, you must see what will happen if you don’t choose the valley you’ve just witnessed.” The man scooted closer to the edge and pointed to the valley on the left. “This valley is what will happen if you tell Kat about your role in Layne’s death. Are you ready?”

  Marcus nodded and again either they moved toward the valley or the valley moved toward them, and within seconds he watched Kat as she stood in their kitchen, her back to him, her hand clutching the counter as if she’d fall over if she let go.

  “Kat?”

  She turned. “I want to get it done quick for the sake of the girls.” She slid a manila envelope onto the kitchen table.

  “Get what done?”

  “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t get past it. I’ve tried for so many years.” Tears formed in her eyes. “I’ve filed.”

  “You’ve what? Divorce? I can’t believe you filed. I didn’t think—”

  “But you did think. You heard God tell you not to let him go and you thought about it and let him go anyway.”

  “Please, I don’t want to lose us. I don’t believe you want to—”

  “I know, and you’re right. You are.” Kat wiped her tears. “There’s part of me that wants to make it work, but I just can’t. You allowed my son to die, Marcus, and I so wish I could let that go. But I’ve tried and tried and tried and it’s never going to happen.”

  A moment later the valley morphed into a courtroom, the air stuffy, the smell of old papers swirling around the space as if pushed by an invisible fan. A judge sat hunched over her bench as if she’d just finished speaking.

  “I’m sorry, Marcus.” A woman placed her hand on his shoulder. “It’s final.”

  “You’re my attorney?”

  The woman smiled sadly. “Not anymore, unless you plan on getting divorced again someday.”

  Marcus turned, his sweat-soaked dress shirt plastered to his back, and stared at Kat who stood and shuffled out of the courtroom.

  The scene stopped and grew smaller. In seconds he was back on the ledge.

  “And the third valley?” Marcus asked the man.

  “Are you sure you want to see it?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. I mean no, I want to see it.”

  “This might be the most painful of the three.”

  “Can you give me a warning, a precursor of what will be shown?”

  “Yes, it is the valley if you choose to do nothing. What will happen if you stay in your current world, keep your silence, and Kat doesn’t find out about what you did to your son.”

  Marcus nodded and sighed. “Show me.”

  He stood in the middle of their bedroom, Kat stood at their closet. She pulled down sweaters and jeans and shoes as if they each weighed sixty pounds.

  “Are you going on a trip?”

  “No.”

  “Then what are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving. Going to my mom and dad’s for a while. Sort some things out. Figure out what I’m going to do.” She dropped a pair of shoes and they seemed to land on the carpet like bowling balls.

  “Do about what?”

  “Us.”

  “What do you mean, ‘us’? What’s wrong with us?”

  Kat turned and dropped the clothes in her hands to the floor. “I’m not sure. But I know when it started. It was the night you discovered Calen was Zennon and fought him right there in our dining room.” She paused and looked down and her voice dropped to a whisper. “He talked about a secret, about ‘what you did to him.’” Kat looked up. “I can’t get it out of my mind that he was talking about Layne.”

  Heat torched Marcus’s face. She knew. At the least she suspected what he’d done.

  She picked up the clothes. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  Marcus tried to imagine saying the words. Confessing what he’d done. But there was no point. He’d already seen what would happen if he did. He stared at her but dropped his gaze as her sad, questioning eyes looked into his and then filled again with tears.

  “Don’t say it, Marcus. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” A sorrow-tinged smile creased her face. “Just give me this time and who knows, maybe it will be okay.”

  The scene grew smaller and the sensation of moving backward came over Marcus again till the ground grew hard and he was back on the cliff staring at the three valleys below.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that, Marcus.” The man’s eyes were moist. “So much pain.”

  Marcus swallowed and tried to swallow again without success, his throat raw and dry. “Why would you, why would God give me the gift of the middle valley? I don’t deserve it. What I’ve done has earned me the valley on the right or the left instead.”

  “That is true.” The man drew three lines in the thin dirt next to them.

  “Then why?”

  “Because he is good. In James it says every perfect gift comes from the Father . . .” The man hesitated. “And he longs to give good gifts to his children.”

  “But what will it cost me? You said when I’d seen all three valleys, you would tell me the price. And I believe the price will be high.”

  The man raised his head and stared at Marcus for over ten seconds before speaking. “Why do you think the price will be high?”

  “Because I see it in your eyes.”

  “It is true.” The man turned away and gazed at each of the three valleys. “Your perception serves you well, Professor. And the cost might be too great for you to bear.”

  “Tell me.”

  The man stood and walked to the edge of the cliff. “In the middle valley you will retain all of your healing and all of your memories except for the memory of that afternoon with Layne.

  “Your life with Kat and the girls will be the one you’ve longed for since before they were born. Your career, everything will be all you’ve ever imagined it could be. And Layne will be alive and well and enjoying the full life of a sixteen-year-old.”

  The man paused and locked his gaze on Marcus. “But one significant element of your life will be missing.” The man paused again. “Warriors Riding.”

  A chill washed through Marcus. “What about them? What do you mean, ‘missing’?”

  “Although all your memories of Reece and Dana and Brandon will be fully int
act, their memories of you will not be. They will not know who you are and will have no recollection of what you’ve built and experienced together.”

  “How could they not remember?”

  “It’s the way it has to be.”

  “Can I make them remember?”

  “No.” The man shook his head. “I know it is hard to think of what that would be like. I’m sorry.”

  “Can I tell them things about themselves no one else would know? Can I convince them those things happened?”

  “I don’t know.” The man’s gaze swept across the valleys as if he were searching for the answer. “Over time you might convince them something happened in another reality, but you can never bring back their memories and emotions and convictions about what went on at the ranch or your lives together.”

  “What about the healings inside Dana and Reece? What about Brandon getting his name and stepping back into the freedom he once sang with?”

  “They will not have happened.”

  “Does that mean they could still happen?”

  The man shrugged. “It is possible.”

  “Where would I start with them?”

  “You would have to start over from the very beginning. It would be as if the past year had never happened. Reece would come to you as he did the first time with an invitation.”

  “So we would all go to Well Spring again?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d have to relive all of it?”

  “Are you up for the challenge of that? Can you live through those weeks again, knowing what is going to happen and not saying anything about it? Can you live with knowing Reece will lose his eyes and knowing you are not allowed to do anything to stop it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “A fair answer.”

  “Will everything turn out the same?”

  “That cannot be known. Man has free choice. The decisions you make and Reece and Brandon and Dana make might be different next time. As you know, theoretically, the movement of a butterfly’s wing in the Amazon can cause a hurricane in Texas.” The man hesitated. “But to answer your next question before you ask it, yes, it is highly likely things would turn out very similar to what they are now. Highly likely, but not guaranteed.”

  The man lapsed into silence and Marcus did the same. There should be more questions to ask—at least he felt there should be. But there weren’t. He wanted a fourth option. How could he give up what the Spirit had led the Warriors into? If he went back to Well Spring, how could he fake it and not tell them what he knew? What if things turned out differently, turned into disaster, how could he live with that? Yet the other two valleys were certain death—one fast and one slow. And he couldn’t live with either.

  “Do I have to choose in this moment?”

  The man laughed. “No, it’s not like some late-night infomercial where you have to call now, or some business deal where you’re offered the world and if you don’t grab it, it instantly vanishes forever. This”—the man gestured with both hands toward the valleys—“is the place where the offer always stands, and you can choose it now, or choose it a millennium from now.” He paused and stared at Marcus with eyes that made him want to climb the mountain behind him or leap off the cliff knowing he could fly. “But why would anyone want to put off living the life they’ve always wanted for even one more moment?”

  “I need a few minutes to think and to pray.”

  “Take all the time necessary.” The man stood and walked to the far right side of the edge. “I’ll be here interceding for you, that you will choose well.”

  FORTY-FIVE

  TEN MINUTES LATER MARCUS SHUFFLED OVER TO the man.

  “Have you made your choice?” he asked.

  “I want to see more of the valley to the right.”

  “The one where Kat is about to leave.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why is that, Marcus?” The man seemed to stare through him—eyes full of kindness that seemed on the brink of tearing up.

  “Because she said she needed time. She didn’t say it was over. That means if I stay in the reality I live in, there is hope for things to work themselves out, if I stay silent and accept that God has forgiven me and ignore the voice of the enemy screaming at me to tell her.”

  “Yes, you can see. But only a glimpse. Ten years from now.” The man tapped both feet on the ledge in a fast rhythm and stared at the valleys. “I should warn you, it won’t be easy. Are you sure you want to go?”

  His answer came out in a whisper. “Yes.”

  There was no movement this time. Marcus instantly stood in front of a tunnel at the base of a smooth stone wall. And this time the man was with him. “In there.”

  “After you?” Marcus said.

  “No. You first.” The man smiled and patted Marcus on the shoulder. “But don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.”

  Marcus shuffled down the tunnel, the click of his shoes echoing off the walls. It smelled like antiseptic gone bad. It seemed like there should be stagnant water on the floor of the tunnel but it was dry. Ahead of them, framed in the curve of the opening, sat a man at what looked like an old kitchen table, no tablecloth, the only chair the one he sat in.

  Marcus gazed at the man as they moved slowly through the tunnel. “Is that me?”

  “You know it is.”

  Marcus stared at the figure who was him but wasn’t him, and a moment later he sat at the small table hunched over a baked potato smothered in sour cream and bacon bits. A glass of vodka sat next to a bottle of Stoli.

  Under his left hand was a photo of a young woman who looked to be in her midtwenties with sad eyes holding a blond baby boy as they both sat on a park bench, the trees in the background bare of leaves. Something about her was familiar.

  A ring of a cell phone shattered the silence and he jerked his head to the right and left searching for it. On the small microwave on the counter. He lurched out of the chair and picked up the phone. The face of the woman in the photo filled the screen. There was no button to push to answer. “Hello? Hello?”

  “Dad, thank God I got you.”

  “Jayla?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “My daughter Jayla?”

  “No, Jayla your son. Who do you think it is?”

  “I’m sorry, I just . . . it’s just that—”

  “You’re not drunk again, are you? You just got out of rehab three months ago. At least make it last a little longer this time. The U-Dub has been pretty nice to you, but my guess is their patience is getting tissue-paper thin.”

  Marcus glanced at the bottle of Stoli again. “No. I’m clean.”

  “Glad to hear it. Okay, now I know I just asked, so no lectures, okay? I need a little bit of cash. Just a little to get me through to next month. He says he’ll get me two months’ worth really soon.”

  “Who is he? And what do you need the cash for? I—”

  “I told you not to start, Dad. Please. Kids cost money.”

  “Yes, I apologize. I mean if you need it, but . . . let me talk to Kat about this. She’ll—”

  “You’re going to talk to Mom? Yeah, sure. And my ex is going to morph into Prince Charming and waltz through my front door this afternoon.”

  Perspiration broke out on Marcus’s forehead. “I talk to her every day.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you do. I’m sure you and Mom and her new husband sit down over a nightly cup of Earl Grey tea and talk about how she’s making millions in the pastry business and you’re staggering through your classroom lectures.” A sigh came through the phone. “Wow, Dad, I really thought you’d stay sober this time.”

  Marcus’s back grew damp and his hands shook. “Kat is not married to someone—”

  Jayla’s voice went up three notches. “Listen to me. I know you probably won’t remember this once the booze wears off, but once the truth came out about your choice causing Layne to die, she left you. For good. And she’s never, ever coming back. Okay? But I’ll tell her you s
aid hello if that makes you feel any better.”

  Marcus’s mind reeled. It wasn’t true. He wasn’t really here. It was the future. But it felt so real. “Your mom is married to me!”

  “You are so living in fantasy land.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m—”

  “Make it a good one this time, Dad. You just woke up, or you were immersed in a novel or a sci-fi film, or you are just about to prove Einstein wrong on his theory of relativity. Any of those will work as to why your brain took a vaction, or do you want to try another?”

  “Where’s Abbie?”

  “Are you on crack? What is wrong with you? Just trying to drop another Stonehenge-size rock of pain into your mind? Dwelling on the might-have-beens?”

  A sick feeling swept through Marcus and somehow he knew in whatever reality he was currently in, he’d never speak to his older daughter again. “Tell me where she is, Jayla.”

  “How should I know? Tibet or Bali or wherever she went when she cut us off entirely, forever and ever amen. If you think you’ll ever find her, you’re delusional. I mean, it’s been eight years for you and three years for Mom and me without a peep from her. Now I don’t mean to be rude, but can I have the money or not?”

  Marcus spun to find the man who had brought him here, but no one was in the kitchen. His gaze scraped across the worn cabinets and the counter stacked with books and a collection of battered coffee cups. In the middle of the refrigerator a photo riveted his gaze. Kat, the girls, and he stood in front of the Disneyland castle, broad smiles on their faces, bright sun lighting up their Tigger, Winnie the Pooh, Peter Pan, and Snow White T-shirts. Marcus closed his eyes and let out a soft moan. Why would he put up that shot? To torture himself every time he wanted something to eat?

  He opened his eyes and called out to the ceiling, then out the small window over the sink that framed a setting sun. “Get me out of here. I’ve seen enough. I’ve seen too much.”

  There was no answer and Marcus slumped back in his chair and over the next hour watched the sky turn to the color of ash, then to black. He stood, walked to the sink, and stared at his reflection in the window. His hair was thinner and streaked with gray, his face gaunt, lines etched into it. And his eyes. Hollow and dead as if their hue had been changed to black and white.