When Through Deep Waters

by Rachelle Dekker

  “Louise—”

  “And I know, it isn’t me, it’s your medication—I get that—but what, now you’re fine? I mean, you were buckled over in pain, Alicen. You should probably see one of the doctors. Maybe you’re having a bad reaction to the medication.”

  “Louise—”

  “I mean, I’m not an expert, but I don’t think it’s normal to go from a near-vegetative state to terrible pain to this . . . whatever you are now. I really think you should get back in bed and let me go grab a nurse.”

  “Lou—” Alicen tried as she reached her hand forward to touch Louise’s shoulder.

  But Louise was working herself into a panic and yanked away. “No, Alicen,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “You need to get back in bed. You’re sick.”

  “And what if I’m not?” Alicen said calmly.

  Alicen, come and see.

  Louise was shaking her head, and Alicen stepped forward and softly grabbed both of Louise’s shoulders. She held the woman’s eyes with her own and watched a tear slide down her cheek. “Louise, what if we have been seeing the world incorrectly? What if we have been missing the truth all these years? What if my Grandma Joe was right, and there is a different way?”

  Louise’s lips parted, but no words came out. Alicen could see the way Grandma Joe’s words had affected her, had spoken to something deep inside Louise just as they had sprung to life something in Alicen. Something they had both forgotten.

  “Look at my eyes, Louise. Something real is happening to me. Happening to my soul.” Alicen could feel her own emotions rumbling to the surface. “Something beyond the pain. Something I didn’t think was possible. I thought all of my life would be pledged to mourning the loss of my daughter.” Tears dampened Alicen’s face as she spoke, matching the ones falling down Louise’s. “But what if I was wrong? Lou, something is calling me beyond what I can see right in front of me.”

  “Alicen, I don’t—”

  “I know you feel it too. I can see it in your eyes,” Alicen said. “That truth deep inside your soul, the way your heart felt hearing Grandma Joe’s words, the way it feels listening to me now. There is more than all of this around us, more than form alone, and it sings to me, which I know sounds crazy, but it sings, and I have to listen. Otherwise I’ll get lost in my suffering, and I want to be free from it. I’m actually starting to believe I can be free.” Alicen let a soft chuckle escape her lips because saying the words out loud stoked the flame of hope burning in her stomach.

  Alicen, come and see.

  “What if you’re wrong, and I let you go, and I lose more of you?” Louise asked, sorrow playing across her tone. “I can’t lose more of you. I won’t.”

  Alicen smiled, salty tears touching her lips. She moved her hands from Louise’s shoulders and placed them gingerly on either side of Louise’s face. She swiped a tear with her thumb and felt the warmth of her friend’s skin. “Look at me—really look at me. Do I look sick or confused or lost? I’m not, Lou; for the first time in a long time, I’m not. You know me, better than anyone ever has. You’ve believed in me more than anyone ever did. So I need you to see me now. Believe me now.”

  Louise sniffed, the battle of her mind and heart dancing behind her expression. There was a sliver of silence between them as her mind churned and her heart fought. Then she whispered, “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy and well. And I never know if what I’m doing is good for you or just making it worse. I’m so afraid that all of this was a huge mistake and that it’s my fault.”

  Alicen’s heart broke. She’d spent so much time lost in her own pain that she’d never considered Louise’s at all. The pressure on her friend’s shoulders, the responsibility and desperation she was taking on. The blame she was carrying. She was as trapped in her suffering as Alicen was. Maybe they all were. Hadn’t that been what Grandma Joe was saying? There is darkness in the world—shadows and evil. You cannot avoid it. It comes for all of us. Maybe everybody had their own set of shadows.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Alicen said, repeating the words she had been hearing for months that were finally starting to take root in her soul. “Don’t get lost to your fear, my dear friend. Maybe we are the light of the world, and the rest of this is just shadows.”

  Louise shook her head again, speechless but not resistant.

  Alicen searched the room behind Louise and saw that on the corner of her bed lay Grandma Joe’s letter. She stepped around Louise and grabbed it in one swift movement. She scanned it, turned back to Louise, and read aloud.

  “‘Learn to forgive yourself because you’re forgiven. Shame will be your accuser; it will try to blind you. Learning to let it go will be your greatest struggle and your greatest gift. I know, because it has been mine. Listen to the voice of love that holds no record of wrong, and when the accuser comes to remind you of your inadequacies, hear the voice of love in the stillness singing the song of your true identity.’”

  Alicen held the letter to her heart and gave a small cry of joy. The well inside her felt full enough to burst. How long had she missed what was right in front of her? How desperate she was to dive into the fullness of the truth held in Josephine’s words. Alicen locked gazes with Louise again, both women teary-eyed and stunned by the way simple words written decades earlier could be manifesting through their beings. It was an undeniable charge of energy, and neither could ignore it. “I don’t understand it all, but I’m certain enough that I have to follow where it calls me,” Alicen said.

  Alicen, do you hear us?

  Louise, still in a state of awe that teetered on the edge of uncertainty, took a sharp inhale. Alicen closed the gap between them and placed her free hand on Louise’s arm. “I have to go, but I need your help.”

  Another beat of silence passed. Another battle warred behind Louise’s expression. Another deep inhale. And then she nodded yes.

  Alicen knew getting out of her room wouldn’t be logistically possible on her own. She was under the constant watchful eye of the nurses who walked the hallways and checked the rooms. Thankfully she had Louise. Still hesitant, but willing, and unable to deny the change in Alicen, Louise agreed to help her navigate the halls, in case they met unwanted company.

  “Where are we going?” Louise asked, looping her arm through Alicen’s.

  “I don’t know yet,” Alicen answered truthfully. “But I will.”

  “Right,” Louise said, shaking her head. “You know this is crazy?”

  “Yeah,” Alicen said. “But that never stopped us before.”

  Alicen wasn’t sure where she was going but could sense the child the moment Louise opened the door from Alicen’s room to the main hall. Louise led Alicen out, and there she was. Pigtails, white dress, bright smile, standing at the end of the long hallway and motioning her to follow.

  Fear buzzed harshly inside her rib cage. It was such a stark contrast from the flood of peace she’d just experienced that it caused her to pause. Was she really going to do this? Follow a child that no one else could see? Risk returning to a place of insanity because of some old words written by her grandmother? A grandmother who may have also been insane? The desire to turn back and reenter her room was strong; all the longing to follow the still and quiet voice suddenly felt foolish.

  Don’t be afraid, Alicen.

  Come and see another way.

  “Now what?” Louise asked, smiling to a passing nurse and keeping her words soft so as not to draw attention.

  Follow or don’t follow, Alicen thought. The next step she took would set her path, and the choice was hers alone. Follow. She took a deep breath and started down the hallway toward Evie, her courage returning with each step. Fear still pounded in her chest, but she could feel it being shut out by the charge of her spirit. Follow, she thought again. Louise walked beside her, the two silent as Alicen kept her eyes fixed ahead on the child leading her.

  “Alicen?” came a warm voice, and Alicen looked up to see a nurse with a familiar face. “What are
you two doing?”

  Louise tugged Alicen closer and interjected before Alicen could speak. “Oh, I just thought maybe a walk through the building might be good for her; is that all right? One of the other nurses—Patty, I think it was—mentioned she hadn’t been out of her room much the last few days.”

  The nurse smiled. “Adjusting to the new medications can take some time. I’m glad to see you’re out of bed.”

  Alicen didn’t speak but just faked a half grin, and the nurse gave Louise’s shoulder a soft tap. “Don’t wander too far; she’ll tire out pretty quickly.” The nurse’s tone was hushed, as if she thought maybe Alicen wouldn’t hear her.

  “Okay, thanks,” Louise said with a wide Watson smile, and the nurse passed on.

  The two women made sure to put several yards between themselves and the nurse before Louise whispered under her breath, “I had better not get arrested for this.”

  They walked around the end corner of the hall and into a larger walkway. Again Evie was there. A rush of tiny giggles filled the air around Alicen’s head as she started toward the girl. Down a staircase, along another, thinner hallway, out a back door, across a well-laid sidewalk, into another building. Louise walking steadily beside her, never releasing Alicen’s arm, never pulling her back or making her stop.

  The second building was smaller, one Alicen hadn’t been in before, and nearly empty. Alicen mildly remembered Victoria mentioning this building was used for physical therapy when she’d had her initial visit. The building felt hollow and stale. As though it hadn’t seen much human presence in a while. They moved through its interior, across the main entry floor lined with smaller rooms for group gatherings and offices that sat unoccupied.

  Reaching the back of the open first-floor room, Alicen could feel the pull on her heart drawing her down a small hall to her right. She turned and saw Evie standing at the end, a door slightly ajar behind her. Before Alicen could move, the child spoke out loud. “The rest of this you need to do alone,” she said.

  “Alone?” Alicen replied.

  “What?” Louise asked.

  Louise couldn’t hear Evie, just as she couldn’t see her. The familiar wave of fearful uncertainty zapped the ends of Alicen’s mental resolve and began to burn away her strength. The questions returned. Was she really going to do this?

  “Don’t be afraid, Alicen,” Evie said. “Come and see another way. The journey is yours alone to take.”

  Hers alone, she thought as the fear grew in momentum. But still present through her building uncertainty was the pulse of her spirit. The mysterious desire she couldn’t explain, the one her logic told her was insane, beckoned her onward. Toward freedom and life. She turned toward Louise.

  “What is it?” Louise asked, and Alicen could see the fear dancing behind her expression.

  “Thank you for believing in me, for trusting me,” Alicen said.

  “Alicen?” Louise questioned. She knew her friend well and wasn’t fooled by Alicen’s opening.

  “But I’m going to need to do this part by myself, Lou.”

  “No,” Louise said nearly on top of Alicen’s last word.

  “You trusted me before—”

  “Absolutely not. I am not going to leave you here!”

  “This is my journey.”

  “Do you see me standing here? It’s my journey too; you made this about me, too.”

  “Louise.”

  “Don’t ask me to do this, Alicen,” Louise said, her words cracking under the emotion weighing on her. It made Alicen’s heart ache, but the whispers summoned her.

  Alicen, come and see.

  Alicen gently grabbed Louise’s shoulders. “I know that you’re afraid, but don’t be,” she said. “I need you to trust me and wait here. I have to go on alone.”

  Louise shook her head, shock and disbelief coloring her face.

  “Look at me, Lou. I’m not confused. I’m not lost. There is more—there has to be—and I have to go see it for myself. And I’m being called to it alone. I have to go.”

  Alicen released her hold on her friend and took a step away. Louise stayed, her face still filled with worry, the war of head and heart waging inside her madly. Alicen knew that battle well.

  “I’ll be back,” Alicen said and then took off toward the end of the hall, now empty of the little girl who had been leading her. But she didn’t need Evie to be there; the drag on her soul was enough. She was nearly to the open door when Louise broke the gathered silence.

  “Alicen!” she croaked out.

  Alicen reached the door, placed her hand around its knob, and turned her head over her shoulder. Louise was still where Alicen had left her, both of her hands placed over her heart, as if she were trying to still its beating.

  “I love you, Lou,” Alicen said before Louise could say anything else.

  Louise paused and then gave her a small nod. “I love you, too.”

  And then Alicen disappeared around the wooden door and out of Louise’s sight. She pulled the door closed behind her, sealing herself off from the hallway behind her and her terrified friend.

  The moment she was alone, Alicen could hear the whispers strong and clear.

  Don’t be afraid, Alicen.

  The waters of sorrow will not overwhelm you.

  You are the light of the world. The rest is just shadows.

  She started down the new walkway before her. There wasn’t as much light here. The corridor was filled with stale air and dust. A couple yards forward, the wall to her left became windows that peered into a full-size gym. Weight racks, benches, hanging bars, cardio machines, and mirrored walls spread farther back. The room was larger than a person would have thought from the front of the building.

  She continued past it, and the smell of chlorine nipped at the insides of her nostrils. Water. Memories of the forest lake pricked at the back of her mind, and her spirit flourished.

  Alicen pressed forward, toward a set of double steel doors and through them. On the other side the smell of a swimming pool filled her senses. She glanced around the room covered in shadows, only a trace of afternoon light peeking in through the windows at the back walls. She was standing on a metal ledge, five feet wide, a barred railing around its edge to keep people from walking off. The ledge ran along the entirety of the room and had a single descending metal staircase to her left.

  Alicen walked to the railing and looked over it. Below lay an Olympic-size swimming pool. Three-foot markers indicated the shallow end, and the depth increased steadily as it ran down toward a twelve-foot cap. A thick, blue-tiled edge outlined the large rectangular shape. White square tiles filled the rest of the surface around the pool and patterned the inside below the water and up all four sides to meet the dark-blue outer edge.

  Alicen noticed all those details within seconds, and then her attention was drawn to the water itself. The pool was full to the brim, but its color was abnormal. Blue and green swirls danced in circles throughout, their clear and bright crystal appearance reflecting what little daylight was streaming in through the high windows and turning it almost gold. It was the same brilliant water that had filled the pool in the center of the forest.

  Before she realized she was moving, Alicen had descended the staircase and was a couple feet from the water’s edge. It lapped peacefully, which seemed odd since there was no circulating air to cause its movement. Stranger still, the water was drawing her close, calling her near, speaking to her without words.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a small voice came.

  Alicen looked up from the water and saw Jane standing on the other side of the pool. The same blue that swam through the water danced in Jane’s eyes. Peace and light reflected off her skin, and a warm energy surged through Alicen’s chest. It wasn’t actually her daughter; Alicen knew that. Her Jane was dead, some would say by Alicen’s hand. The surge of warmth was matched by the shame and horror of remembering she would never have Jane back.

  “Is freedom real?” Alicen asked the lit
tle girl. “Can I actually have it?”

  Jane smiled. “You already do.”

  Get a grip, Alicen.

  Act like an adult.

  Alicen’s chest ached with sorrow. It seemed the moment she felt any certainty toward hope, that voice of damnation was programmed to reappear and douse it with flames.

  “Shame will be your accuser,” Jane began, echoing the words from Grandma Joe’s letter, “and it will feel powerful.”

  What would your mother say, Alicen?

  “It’s just a shadow,” Jane continued. “Learning to let it go will be your greatest struggle and your greatest gift.”

  Foolish, stupid girl, you deserve this sickness.

  “Listen to the voice of love that holds no record of wrong.”

  You don’t deserve to be free.

  “And when the accuser comes to remind you of your inadequacies, the voice of love can be heard in the stillness.”

  Alicen could feel the back-and-forth pulling on her resolve. Both voices resounding in her mind, tearing it in two. The soft voice of Jane warring against the harshness of her inner accuser. One on each side of her, calling her down two different paths, one beckoning her toward heaven, and the other yanking her toward hell. She had been here before, and it had nearly killed her. Alicen could feel the powerful drag of self-doubt yearning to pull her away from the water’s edge, but something was different in her spirit this time.

  Something Grandma Joe had awoken and stirred. And it too drew her. Toward the water, into it. Alicen closed her eyes and searched past the voice of shame, beyond it, and felt the perfect peace that had only started to blossom. She wanted it to flourish, to consume her.

  “When you are called through deep waters, don’t be afraid,” the sweet voice of Jane said. A small hand laced itself within her own, and Alicen opened her eyes to see her daughter standing beside her. The heat from her bright energy pulsed up Alicen’s arm and wormed into her chest.

  “Go to the waters that summon you,” the child said. “Dive deep, and be transformed. I will show you.”