The Long Journey to Jake Palmer

by James L. Rubart

  “What do you want, Ari?” Jake growled.

  “The same thing you want.”

  “You want to tell me what that is?”

  “All who call themselves humans want the same thing. We want to be known. Fully. Fully known and, despite being known to our core, fully loved. We want to be in a place where all our fear, our shame, our worries have no hold on us.”

  Jake didn’t respond. Ari looked at him as if he were a kid about to figure out the secret to a card trick.

  “I don’t even know you, Jake. But I see something more than what’s on your label. I see something so powerful rattling around inside your bottle, yet I don’t think you have any idea what it is. But I do pray you find it.”

  With that, Ari paddled hard to the left, and within minutes she was gone.

  26

  This time finding the corridor was almost impossible. Jake knew where it was, but there was no light this time, no flashing to show the way. The reeds seemed thicker than when he’d been here yesterday, almost as if the corridor was playing tricks on him. It took Jake more than an hour to slice through the cattails and find the path. And the tunnel of trees had closed in enough that he had to walk sideways.

  But Jake finally pushed the willow curtain aside and stepped into the meadow. His expectations scattered like seeds as he took in the glory of the field for the third time. Fear. Hope. Frustration. Exhilaration. Belief. Doubt. All fighting to be embraced. Would he be healed again? Maybe. Would it last? No, he couldn’t let himself believe that even for a moment. Was he willing to be healed for just a moment, to feel the power course through his body again, even if it crashed and burned the moment he left? Without question.

  He stood on the edge of the field staring at the meadow, trees, waterfall, their colors even more vibrant than last time. It seemed the grasses and trees had grown slightly taller in the past day. He wandered farther into the field and made his way toward the pond. The sun appeared to be brighter here. If this place was a slice of heaven, maybe it contained more light than what the sun threw off. God is light. Maybe this place reflected the light of his presence. But the field wasn’t heaven for Jake any longer; it was a place of aching for what he couldn’t have.

  But then a surge of adrenaline rushed through him, and even before he looked at his legs he knew they were restored again. Jake ran his fingers over his perfect skin, not sure whether to laugh or scream. He allowed himself a sprint forward, legs pumping like pistons, lungs burning, and the air of this Eden filling him with unquenchable life. But it was a cruel joke, and there was no point in putting off the agony he would have to face as his legs returned to their true state.

  He shouted at God, the field, the trees, the waterfall, but there was no response. No voices, no impressions inside his head, no answers, no direction. But maybe, just maybe, it would be different this time. He’d fought hard and well to find his way back. Wasn’t that what Leonard had said? Wasn’t that the key to having the healing remain? Time to find out.

  Jake strode toward the screen of willow branches, jaw tight, fists clenched. This time, even before he reached the curtain, he felt his legs go weak. Jake fought the compulsion to look down but gave in after only seconds. He stopped and screamed as he confronted the blotchy reds and whites of his contorted legs.

  He sank to his knees, ignoring the pain of his skin stretching far more than it comfortably could. That pain was nothing compared to the pain once again searing his heart. He hadn’t realized how much he’d believed this time would be different. How could he not? Hope knows no boundaries.

  Jake sucked in air through his teeth and reached for the willow vines, already thinking of the questions he would ask Leonard, because he had no doubt the old man knew far more than he was revealing. But before he could step through, a voice from far away stopped him cold.

  “You’ve chosen to leave so soon?”

  Jake whipped around and scanned the field for the source of the voice. It came from the other side, but he saw no one. But a second later the figure of a man emerged from between the apple trees to the right and strolled toward him.

  Jake’s heart rate should have spiked, but something extremely familiar about the man, or maybe it was this place, made his appearance seem almost expected. He was about six feet tall, with a lean, muscular build. Blond hair reached his shoulders. Early thirties? Late twenties? Hard to tell.

  “Hello, Jacob Palmer,” the man said as he approached. “It is indeed a high pleasure to encounter you here.”

  The man’s clothes would have fit in at a medieval fair, and yet they weren’t tacky. They were strong, bold, if that was the right word. His shirt and pants were cut to flow as he walked. The dark green fabric seemed perfect against the lush surroundings.

  The clothes, combined with the way the man moved, gave him the air of a regal warrior. Ten feet from Jake, the man stopped, hands on his hips.

  “Do I know you?” Jake stared at the man.

  “Of course you do.” He gave Jake an inquisitive smile and looked to the side as if to present his profile, then pounded his chest twice with a fist. “Don’t you feel it right here?”

  That was exactly where Jake felt it.

  “Who are you?”

  “A friend.”

  “Does my friend have a name?”

  “Let us choose the name Ryan, that should work quite adequately. If you are in accord, of course.”

  “Who are you?”

  “A guide.”

  Ryan strolled around Jake, not getting any closer, but Jake had the sensation the man was closing in. Jake eased to his right, matching his pace. They circled in their slow dance, their eyes never leaving each other. Jake felt no fear, no sense of foreboding. If anything, he felt a strange kind of comfort and confidence. He repeated his earlier question.

  “Who are you?”

  “You have inquired twice now as to my identity, and twice I have answered. That is enough for the moment.”

  “A friend. A guide. That isn’t an answer.”

  Jake had met this man. No doubt of that. Spent time with him. A great deal of time. But not in the waking world. In a dream then, yes? But it wasn’t a dream. Jake’s dreams had always been filled with an ever-shifting cast of players, and none of them returned for a visit more than two or three times. Ryan, or whatever his name really was, had been a recurring player in Jake’s subconscious for decades. From somewhere deep in his past, he was certain. But from where?

  “You say I know you. I don’t. But you do remind me of someone.”

  “Yes. Quite.” Ryan stopped circling, placed his hands behind his back, and tilted his chin up. “As we just discussed, we know each other, so it follows that you would remember me.”

  “No, I don’t know you.” Jake stepped back two paces. “Or remember you.”

  The man’s amused, cryptic smile was his only response.

  “If I do know you, then from where?”

  “This place”—Ryan moved his upturned palm slowly back and forth—“is beyond the realm of earth. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now, given the condition of your body, so why couldn’t more than one miracle occur here?”

  An instant later a story and an image from a story flashed into Jake’s mind.

  “You can’t be him. He doesn’t exist.”

  The man shook his head, a kind but sympathetic look on his face, as if he were dealing with a toddler. “Instead of allowing your mind to convince your heart that what is happening here isn’t real, why don’t you let go and continue to believe. It will serve you better.”

  “When I was a child, I read The Chronicles of Narnia. My favorite story out of all of them was The Silver Chair. The fourth in the series, where Prince Rilian didn’t know who he was any longer. Enchanted. Deceived.”

  “Yes.” Ryan’s face grew serious. “Believe, Jacob.”

  “You look just like I pictured he would when I read that book as a child. Your clothes. Your hair, your height, weight. Even your tone
of voice. Everything.”

  “That would certainly follow.” Ryan moved to his left till he reached the apple trees he’d appeared from. He plucked an apple off a tree. He took a bite. After a few moments of chewing, he said, “Delectable. Have you sampled one of these Galas? Perchance you won’t want to. I would certainly suggest you carefully consider the ramifications of tasting this fruit. For I fear it would spoil you for any other apple the rest of your days.”

  Jake stared at Ryan with a fascination. His mind warred with that young-boy part of him that still believed in fairy tales. Who was this guy? An actor? An angel in disguise? His mind finally, fully cracking?

  “What do you mean, ‘that would follow’?” Jake narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying you’re Rilian from The Silver Chair?”

  “No. I am not.” Ryan tossed the apple to the base of the tree and winked at Jake. “Not in the least.”

  “But you’re saying you’re real.”

  Ryan bounded forward so quickly Jake didn’t have time to respond. The man stood two feet from Jake and extended his arm. “Take my forearm and I shall take yours.”

  Jake grabbed Ryan’s sinewy arm hard, and his was squeezed the same in return.

  “Is that the arm of imagination?” He released Jake’s arm and grinned. “I think not.”

  “But you’re saying you came from my imaginings of a fictional character created on a page?”

  “You’re not able to embrace that conviction?” Ryan tilted his head. “You cannot take hold of the idea that a fictional character can come to life?”

  “Good. Now you’re hearing me.” Jake took two steps back. “No, I’m not tracking with the idea that a character in a book can come to life.”

  “Why not? It happens quite often in the movies and TV shows that the men and women of your world have created.”

  “That’s my point. They might come to life within the boundaries of a story. Movies. TV. Books. That’s made-up. Pretend. It doesn’t happen—”

  “Here? Ah, yes, therein lies the crux of your lack of faith.” Ryan spread his arms wide and his gaze swept over the field. “Here you have reached a realm where there are no boundaries. But you fail to believe this.”

  Jake shook his head and pushed out a breath as if the action could blow his confusion away. “I have faith. I know there’s a spiritual realm, and I know there are things I can’t explain, but this is not even close to reality.”

  Ryan glanced from one side of the field to the other, a puzzled look on his face. “Your statement retains no hold on my mind. This”—he again swept his hands over the field—“is extremely close to reality. The first time you came to be on this side, were the meadow, the trees, the pond the same as they are now?”

  “No.”

  “Your eyes are now open, able to see much more closely the way things truly are.”

  “Including having a man talking to me who claims to be a character out of a childhood story?”

  “You misunderstand. I am certainly not claiming to be that. I am not that character at all.”

  “Characters who exist in novels do not jump off the page and become real. Even here.”

  “Even if I did claim to be Rilian, again you would be in error. The character Rilian does not exist between the pages of a book. At all. The words of a book are only ink stains shaped in a way that you understand them. A person who cannot read English would only see unfamiliar markings and have no idea those markings described a character, a place, an emotion, or anything else.”

  He pointed at Jake’s head. “No, the only place any character in any book truly exists is in the imagination and, if you come to love that character, in your heart. You cannot tell me your imagination isn’t real. We both know it is.”

  “Of course my imagination is real. But the things in my imagination don’t jump out of my brain into a field at the end of a lake.”

  “On the contrary, the event you mention has just occurred.” Ryan gave a sweeping bow. “I am the evidence that the image you saw in your mind’s eye has indeed manifested itself in this realm.”

  “Impossible.”

  “But I am not the only evidence. Nay. The rest exists inside you, because you cannot deny I am the exact replica of what you created inside your mind and heart.”

  “Then where do we go from here?”

  “I’m here to help you.” Ryan again thumped his chest with a fist. “Help you attain what your soul craves the most.”

  “I don’t understand.” Jake narrowed his eyes. “I made it through. I’ve been given what I want the most in the world. But when I leave, it vanishes.”

  “I am your friend, Jake Palmer. And I will move as much of heaven as I can to help bring about what you want, but I cannot do it alone. You are the key.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Have faith.” Ryan began to back away in long, quick steps. “Do not give up, Jacob. You can do this.”

  “Do what?” Jake jogged after him, but Ryan raised his hand and Jake staggered to a halt.

  “No. Our time together has come to an end. But I do bid you come again tomorrow morning. It is then that our adventures together shall begin.”

  Ryan turned and strode behind a tree.

  “Wait!”

  When Jake reached it, the man, or whatever he was, had vanished. A ten-minute search throughout the field ended in futility. There was no Ryan, no evidence he’d ever been in the meadow. Was Ryan more right than Jake knew? Was Ryan a figment of his imagination and nothing more? Or better said, a psychotic hallucination?

  Jake didn’t care. He’d wanted answers. Didn’t get them. But he did get an invitation he would accept in the morning. One way or another, he would get the resolution that Leonard refused to give.

  27

  The rest of the day, he played the meeting with Ryan over in his mind, searching for clues. Jake debated whether to talk to Susie about it, but after lunch she made the decision for him.

  “So, did you go back?” She cornered him after lunch down on the grass to the left of the deck.

  Jake glanced behind her. No one else around.

  “Yeah.”

  “Anything new?” Susie sat beside him on the thick lawn. “I see a sliver of hope in your eyes.”

  “True, but at the same time, it got even more bizarre.”

  “Oh?”

  “Remember reading The Chronicles of Narnia when we were kids?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you remember my favorite?”

  “The Silver Chair.”

  “There’s a copy of it in my room. Must have been the owner’s daughter’s room. Lots of kids’ books.”

  “I’m sure there’s a point to this,” Susie said as she raised her eyebrows.

  “You want the headline version, huh?”

  Susie waved her hands. “Sorry, but Peter and Camille said they were coming down to set up cowboy golf sometime before dinner, and I’d really like to hear the rest of the story before they arrive and interrupt.”

  “Right.” Jake glanced over her shoulder up at the deck. Safe for a few more minutes at least. “This is the part where you say I’m nuts.”

  “I will not.” Susie held up three fingers, a mock-serious look on her face. “Scout’s honor.”

  “You weren’t a Boy Scout. You weren’t even a Girl Scout.”

  Susie motioned with her thumb toward the house, and Jake hit the highlights of his encounter with a person he’d made up inside his head, inspired by Lewis’s fictional character. When he finished he searched Susie’s eyes.

  “Well?”

  “You’re nuts. Yes, definitely.” She circled her forefinger around her ear. “Loco. Wacko town, city, and country. I’m so glad I’m not a scout and have to go back on my promise.”

  Jake fell back and laughed. “You crack me up.”

  “Okay, let’s get serious.” Susie grabbed his forearm. “What did this figment of your imagination mean when he said, ‘It is then that our adventures toget
her shall begin’? And do you—I’m not trying to insult you here—really think any of it happened, or could it have all been inside your head?”

  “All joking aside, I’m not crazy, Sooz.”

  “I’m not saying you are. I’m just exploring all possibilities.”

  “You’re saying it’s possible I’m nuts.”

  “Jake! Focus.”

  “I’m not saying it’s real. Maybe it was just a vision. Or I went to sleep at the end of the lake and it was simply the most vivid dream of my life. But I don’t believe that for a second. I’m not crazy, and what I experienced down there was every bit as real to me as sitting right here, right now, talking to you.”

  “And a character you created in your head, literally a figment of your imagination, shows up and pretends to be your friend and wants to take you through some kind of soul-searching journey that will get your legs and stomach healed up good as new.”

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  “Good. Now we’re on solid ground.” Susie grinned and started to ask another question, but the sound of footsteps approaching stopped her. Peter and Camille again wrecked the moment.

  By the time dinner came, Jake was ready for a distraction, which the coming evening would provide in spades. One of Jake’s favorite nights of their annual trip was about to begin.

  Toward the end of dinner, Camille glanced at her watch and announced, “Quick reminder that our annual poker tournament starts in thirty-five minutes. Don’t be late. And be ready to change into the appropriate attire at the end if necessary.”

  “Appropriate attire?” Ari glanced around the table, a questioning smile on her face.

  Andrew grinned. “Sounds like no one has told you the stakes of this poker tournament.”

  “Didn’t I tell you about this?” Peter picked up his plate and strolled toward the kitchen. “Whoops. Sorry.”

  “We don’t play for money like regular people?”

  Susie chuckled and said, “I think you’ve figured out by now we are definitely not regular people.”

  “Not money?” Ari raised her eyebrows and glanced at Andrew. “Losers have to jump up and down in front of the whole group, perform some kind of dance?”