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

by Dekker, Ted

  She glanced around, wondering where Barbara was. Zeke normally took her to his office, beyond the earshot of his wife.

  “It’s okay, we’re alone,” he said, picking up the decanter.

  Kathryn sat on the end of the couch with her hands on her knees. A thick silence passed between them as Zeke slowly poured the liquor. Even from where she sat, Kathryn could smell the whisky’s sweet oak scent.

  He eased back, crossed one leg over the other, and sipped from the glass. “Chivas Regal.” He held the glass in front of him and turned it slowly. “Barreled the year I was born.”

  He took a drink.

  “Good year. Only two hundred fifty-five bottles exist, and this is my last one so I drink it neat. Always neat. Watering down such a thing of beauty would be a sin because it would make it less true to itself.”

  He looked at Kathryn and winked. “And the truth sets us free.”

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes, it does.”

  “Tell me something, Kathryn. What’s your truth?”

  She felt the weight of his gaze. “You, Zeke. The life you gave me.”

  He took another sip of his whiskey. “It’s been fifteen years since you came here. Isn’t that right?”

  “That sounds right.”

  “You were so lost when I found you. A vagrant on the streets. And now look at you. You’re the pride of my heart, Kathryn.”

  She felt herself blushing. “Why, thank you, Zeke.”

  “Everyone else tossed you aside like the trash they thought you were.” He paused. “But I, I saw a flower waiting to be opened. And flower you have.”

  “Because of you.”

  “I gave you beauty for ashes. The oil of joy for mourning.”

  Her mind spun back to those ashes. Her mother and father who’d both trampled on her and thrown her into the street. James, that monster, who’d taken Eden away and forced her into an institution.

  The painful memories spread through her like a wildfire.

  “Isn’t that right, Kathryn?”

  “I’m forever in your debt. All that I have is yours.”

  “Indeed. All. Because it was I who found you and gave you everything you have. I asked you to die to yourself—to give up what little life you had in return for a new one. Then I brought you back to life.”

  She absently rubbed the smooth nub where her pinky finger had once been. It had been Zeke’s idea to fake her death in the Las Vegas hotel room so that no one would ever come looking for her.

  “And then I found and gave you Eden, the daughter who would save your soul and make you whole.”

  “Yes, you did. Thank you, Zeke.”

  “Never forget that, Kathryn. And never forget that what is given can also be taken away.” He offered her a gentle smile. “One word from me, and the authorities would swoop down on you and take Eden away forever.”

  She said nothing.

  “Isn’t that right, Kathryn?”

  “Yes, Zeke. It is.”

  “I was very careful to make sure that my involvement couldn’t be traced. I wanted you to bear the full responsibility for your daughter. After all, each of us must stand accountable before God and men.”

  He’d only made the point once before and hearing it again made her a little anxious.

  “In this way you can also participate in the full blessing that Eden has been and will be for all of us.”

  “And I am so grateful. So very grateful.”

  “Then you will be even more grateful when you learn why I insisted we find Eden and just how great is that blessing.”

  Learn? She wasn’t sure what he meant.

  “Tomorrow, Eden turns eighteen,” he said.

  “Yes, she does.” What did Eden turning eighteen have to do with any blessing?

  “I’ve known for years that this day would come,” Zeke said. “I thought it best to wait until now to tell you. So you could give your full attention to being a mother.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “After you were institutionalized and Eden was turned over to child services, James Ringwald established a trust to provide for your daughter’s future.”

  She sat speechless for a moment. “But he wanted nothing to do with her. Or me.”

  “Never underestimate the power of guilt, Kathryn. Or the mysteries of God. Remember, the wealth of the wicked is stored up for the righteous. This has been a long time coming.”

  “Wealth? James’s wealth? How much?”

  “The trust was funded with five hundred thousand dollars. The investments have since grown to three times that.”

  She blinked. “More than a million? And the money belongs to Eden?”

  He smiled. “To all of us. But, yes, it’s your birthright too. As one family, we will all share in this great abundance together. For what is yours belongs to all, just as what I have belongs to you and all my children.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “The money becomes Eden’s on her eighteenth birthday. All she has to do is claim it.”

  “How?”

  “In two days, you and Eden will meet with a judge in town who is a very good friend of mine. He has arranged everything. The paperwork is drawn. Everything will be ready when you arrive.”

  “But what about the authorities? When Eden comes forward they’ll know. They’ll know we took her.” A chill chased her spine. “They’ll take her away from me.”

  “No. They won’t. We’ll have to be as wise as serpents, but I’ve handled everything. I hold all the strings, Kathryn. I always do. As long as you follow me, Eden’s safe and so are you.”

  “But how?”

  “The only answer to ‘how’ is ‘yes’. All of God’s promises are ‘yes’. All you have to do is embrace them. Can you say yes, Kathryn?”

  If there was anyone she could trust, it was Zeke. He’d practically gone to the ends of the earth to find her and give her a new start.

  “Yes, of course. Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “It just doesn’t seem real. A million dollars? That’s . . . that’s a lot of money.”

  He chuckled softly. “Well, it won’t all be yours, naturally. But, yes. It’s a generous blessing indeed.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  He set the glass down, reached across and laid his hand on top of hers. A rush of warmth filled her as he squeezed her hand gently. “Thank you is a start.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you, Zeke. Thank you so much.”

  “When God’s blessing comes, it’s important to embrace it with a heart of gratitude, Kathryn. Always remember that. I want you to dream about it tonight. Imagine what it will be like to finally see your harvest come in after all these years.”

  “I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

  “When the time comes, you will.”

  She nodded. “Of course I will. Anything you ask.”

  “I’ve taken steps to make sure Eden’s claim draws as little attention as possible. What you don’t know is that the way I first found Eden was through her birth father’s attorney, John McDermott. It was then that I also learned of the trust fund the congressman had established in her name. I saw fit then to dig up some—let’s call it leverage—that would ensure the attorney's cooperation. Some details of his life that would ruin him if ever exposed, if you catch my meaning.”

  He offered her a whimsical grin, the boyish kind that always made her heart flutter just a little. The ways of God were mysterious and sometimes beyond the law. Isn’t that how they’d rescued Eden in the first place?

  She nodded.

  “It’s a private matter and he’ll do what we need him to do—there’s virtually no chance the authorities will ever learn of her claim. But we also need Eden to do what’s right.”

  “She will. Of course she will.”

  “Still, we can’t take any chances. This will be the first time she’s ever left the property. It’ll be a controlled environment, but there’s always the chance she’ll ta
lk to someone we don’t have control over.”

  “I’ll be with her.”

  “You can never be too careful. It’s important that she really knows what happened to her the night Wyatt rescued her in case she happens to talk to anyone.”

  “She’ll say anything to stay with me.”

  “I know she will. She’s a wonderful girl, Kathryn. You’re raising her right. Now you’re being rewarded for your faithfulness.”

  “Thank you, Zeke.”

  “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

  He picked up his glass and took another drink. The darkness that sometimes crossed his face filled his eyes.

  “Don’t fail me in this, Kathryn. We’ve come too far.”

  “I won’t. I’ll do exactly as you say. I owe you my life.”

  “Never forget that.” He set the glass down. “There is one more thing.”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “I know I’ve prohibited you from celebrating Eden’s birthday, but I’d like to make an exception tomorrow for Paul. She seems to enjoy my boy’s company and it would be fitting to let them spend some time together. Consider it a special gift on this day of redemption to soften Eden’s heart. I need her to be in good spirits tomorrow.”

  “Whatever you think is best.”

  “Your redemption is at hand, but you must remain steadfast.”

  “I will.”

  “Good. Make sure Eden does as well. I know I would hate to see judgment fall on her unexpectedly.”

  13

  I CAN’T say that I really kept track of how many years had passed since I’d been saved. But I was eighteen today, and that meant I’d been with my mother and father for about five years.

  I had grown taller, but not by much, and I was still rail thin, maybe because of my special diet. I looked more like my mother each day, that’s what my father kept saying, and that made me happy.

  But the passage of time wasn’t marked by years or birthdays. Mother thought celebrating the flesh in any way only drew attention to what was fallen. Bobby’s birthday was always special because he was fallen and couldn’t help it. I, on the other hand, was special, so we didn’t celebrate my birthdays, although I think Wyatt secretly wanted to.

  For me, time’s passing was marked by how well I followed the rules every day and by the weekly baptisms. I wasn’t as fond as I should be about being drowned every Sunday, but the baptismal ritual was a blessing because it meant I could start over each week and set things right for all of us since I never failed to defile myself during the week.

  Mother was patient with me most of the time, and with so much making and changing of rules, I felt sorry for her. There were many times I felt sorry for myself too, because following her rules wasn’t easy, I can’t lie. But the real burden was on Mother, because she was the one who had to make sure I stayed pure—she reminded me of that often in the early days when I used to cry.

  At times I thought that my life was just one long purification ritual, but that was my privilege—I was set apart. Sometimes I even took some pride in my purity, even knowing that pride always came before a fall—maybe that’s why I kept falling each week. I couldn’t properly remember how it was to live without rules, or how my life had been before my father had rescued me from a situation that would have ended terribly for me. Even the memory that I’d decided to stay with Mother for Bobby’s sake had faded. My old life, in my old wineskin, now seemed like a distant dream of another world.

  The number of rules had increased over the years as I became better about following them. The only way to follow the rules properly was to love them, my mother taught me. Every time I hardened my heart and thought of the rules as restrictions, I felt a sickness in my heart because that’s what sin does to you. It makes you feel upside down inside. That was the Holy Spirit’s voice whispering to my conscience.

  If Mother told me that, for the next month, I wasn’t to go outside because it was the seventh month of the year and I had to stay extra pure, feeling sorry for myself only made me angry which was sin and then I only felt guilty and would have to endure more purification.

  If Mother told me that I couldn’t have any chicken for dinner because she’d decided to leave the tasty skin on for the rest of them, feeling sorry for myself as I watched them bite into their drumsticks wouldn’t put the chicken in my mouth. I already knew that I couldn’t eat any meat with skin on it because I had new wineskin—I should be thankful.

  There were too many rules for me to keep track of so I kept an eye on Mother, who warned me if I was about to forget one.

  The rules I’d been practicing for a long time were easy enough to remember. Like not allowing my bare feet to touch the ground outside, ever. Or my legs. Or my arms. Or any part of my skin except the palms of my hands, and then I was to cleanse them with moonshine or soap and water before coming inside.

  Like never going outside without material covering my legs to my ankles and my arms to my wrists. The sun damaged my skin.

  Like bathing every morning to rid my body of all the invisible bed mites and at night to wash off all the oils and dust that collected in my pores during the day. Complete with a hair wash, nail scrub, and ear cleaning each time.

  Like reciting my long and very specific prayers as I knelt beside my bed at six o’clock each morning, at precisely noon, and at six o’clock each night after which I went straight to bed even when it was light outside and Bobby was still up, playing. Rest and my special diet made sure my organs stayed healthy.

  Those kinds of rules were easy to remember. The rules that Mother announced out of nowhere—only for that day, or that week, or that month—were harder, because just when I was getting used to them, the rule would change, to keep me on my toes, she said.

  Like not speaking any words that began with the letter s on certain days, a rule Mother had made a couple years ago to help me watch my tongue. There were many impure words that defiled me—like dirt, and garbage, and bug, and pee—and, so that my mind would stay constantly vigilant, she added all words starting with s on some days because s started the word snake, and a snake led to the deception of the first woman in the garden of Eden. To further help me remember on those days, every time I said a word that started with s I would be made to keep moonshine in my mouth for ten minutes without spitting it out or swallowing it. The moonshine made my mouth raw.

  The rules went on and on. For example: “For the next two days you will not sit on any of the furniture, angel.”

  “Why, Mother?” I knew better than to ask, but she would allow me this curiosity with only a harsh glare before explaining.

  “They aren’t clean enough and I don’t have time to clean them until Friday. So you won’t sit on any furniture and you’ll stand at the table when you eat.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “You will not so much as touch any of the furniture. That will help you remember.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  All of the rules were there for my own good, and as soon as I began to understand that, I was able to practice loving them. Which I did. To the best of my ability. At least I think I did.

  But there was one rule in particular that I struggled with more than any of the others. Mother had always made it perfectly clear that I was to have no impure relationships with any other person. By this, she meant no impure contact with any girl or boy or man or woman. And even more, no impure thoughts.

  “What are impure thoughts?” I asked her.

  “You must not think about their flesh, especially the flesh that’s covered. Adam and Eve were covered by God for a reason. Only animals engage in fleshly activity, and even they don’t think about it. A human only reverts to the animal in them when impurity sets in, only worse than an animal because humans think about it too, which is doubly worse. You’re not an animal so you don’t act like one.”

  “What about everyone else?” I wanted to know.

  “The rest of us can’t help acting like animals at tim
es. But you’re pure, sweetheart.”

  I didn’t really understand her comparison, but I accepted the explanation at face value.

  “If you ever have an impure thought, or if you ever let anyone touch you where your skin is covered, you will tell me,” she said.

  “Like who?” I asked.

  “Like Paul, Zeke’s boy. Or like any other boy you ever see.”

  I hadn’t seen any other boy besides Paul, and I thought of Paul, who was my age, like a brother.

  “And you’ll tell me immediately if so much as a single impure thought crosses your mind,” she said.

  “I will, Mother.”

  “So we can cleanse your mind of it.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  At first, the rule was easy to keep, but as Paul and I grew older, he began to look at me with tenderness in his eyes. It made me feel special and one day about a year ago, as he helped me clean a brown smudge off my dress before my Mother could see it, it occurred to me that he liked me. I mean really liked me. I wasn’t sure what to think of that.

  As time went on, I began to think about Paul more and more, and words from my prior life, like boyfriend, would pop into my mind without warning. Sometimes even crazier thoughts like being married and maybe even having a baby one day. With Paul, because I didn’t know any other boys.

  I only told my mother about the thoughts once when the thoughts first came to me, and then only in general terms without mentioning Paul. Her reaction was immediate: she gripped her head and paced back and forth, nearly frantic, informing me in no uncertain terms that I was on a very slippery slope to defilement that would forever bring ruin to not only myself, but to her, and to my father, and to Bobby. And to Zeke.

  I spent the next twenty-four hours in my bedroom closet, where the darkness was meant to wipe away all of my imaginations. She baptized me twice that next Sunday, just to be sure.

  But neither the darkness nor the extra baptism worked. I didn’t tell my mother about the defiling thoughts that kept jumping into my head, because I didn’t want to upset her. But the harder I tried to guard against them, the more frequently the thoughts seemed to come.