“I see.”
“You know how girls are supposed to subconsciously marry their dads?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”
“I did the opposite.” Ari flipped her hand over. “I married my mom.”
“Oh?”
“I loved Tony, but he had to win. In everything. I was a decent golfer in high school. I played on the team for three years and even came in second my senior year in district championships. When Tony and I got married we started playing together and I beat him easily, but soon after that he became obsessed with the game till he could beat me.”
“And he gloated.”
“No. It would almost have been better if he had. He pretended that wasn’t what he was doing. Said he only played so we’d have a sport to do together. Of course when I suggested we learn how to cross-country ski together, he had no interest.”
“Wasn’t something he could get better at than you. No winner and loser.”
“Exactly.” Another toss at the can, another swish. “At dinner parties he always had to top a story I told with one of his own that was more entertaining.”
“He was always onstage.”
“Yeah.” Ari tossed another stone at the can. Again dead center. Nothing but net. “There’s an old quote about Teddy Roosevelt from his daughter Alice that goes, ‘He wants to be the corpse at every funeral and the bride at every wedding.’ That was Tony.”
“And your mom.”
“Yes.” Ari gave a sad smile. “What about you? Who did you marry?”
It was the question he’d known the answer to the moment Sienna left him. Deeper down, the answer had been there from the early days of their dating. Too deep to stop him from promising to make her happy. Jake stared at Ari. Should he tell her? The truth he’d never spoken out loud?
Ari gave her head a slight tilt. “Please don’t tell me if you’d rather not.”
Jake rubbed his eyes. “She was beautiful and always into looking good.”
His mind flashed back to a moment with Sienna six months before his legs were destroyed. They’d been scanning through photos on Jake’s laptop to find a series of shots to enlarge and put on their kitchen wall. When a photo of them in the Bahamas during their fourth year of marriage flashed on-screen, Sienna pointed at it and said, “That one for sure.”
The two of them stood up to their ankles in azure-colored water. Sienna wore a black bikini and Jake had on his navy blue swimsuit.
“I love that shot.” She snuggled closer to him on the couch. “It’s perfect.”
“For the kitchen? Isn’t that a little weird to have a shot with us in our bathing suits up in the kitchen? How ’bout we put this one in your project room or the master bathroom?”
“No, it needs to go in the kitchen. I love that shot. It’s not a poster, you silly, it’s just four by six. Small. No one will even notice it.”
“Why that one?”
“You know why.”
“You want people to notice it.”
“Fine. I admit it.” Sienna smiled. “I was the ugly duckling—”
“Who turned into a princess and—”
“Married the prince.” Sienna waved her finger over the shot. “You and me. Royalty. I just want people to see us for who we are.”
“I’m not a prince,” Jake said. “Talk about the ugly duckling. I was the ugly frog.”
“Maybe.” Sienna laughed.
“Maybe? You’ve seen pictures of my bulbous form and my pimpled face. Maybe?”
“That’s the point! That was then, this is now. Someone kissed you and you turned into the perfect prince. Handsome, smart, athletic . . .”
“Are you trying to say you love me?”
“Maybe I am.” She giggled and kissed him. “Look at you. You’re Adonis. Tan. Six-pack. Muscles. Gorgeous face.”
“I don’t work out to look like Adonis and the only reason I’m tan is because—”
“But it is a nice side benefit.” She kissed him again, this time on his abs. “Let’s never grow old, okay?”
“Might have a tough time keeping that from happening.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t try.”
Jake rubbed his face again and glanced at Ari. “I stopped being enough for her. I couldn’t be what she needed any longer.”
Ari’s only response was to toss another stone at the can. Dead center yet again. Jake motioned toward her chair.
“Listen, if you’re going to force me to keep talking to you, you might as well get comfortable.”
“I’d never force you to do anything.” She stood, smiled, and strode away.
Jake rose and called after her, “I was kidding.”
She waved without turning around and kept going. He watched her till she turned at the end of the path, stepped onto the stairs leading up to the house, and disappeared. Jake sank back into his chair and considered whacking himself on the head. Idiot. Embarrassment turned his face hot. But the stronger emotion vying for attention was one he refused to acknowledge. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more at the moment than for her to turn around and come back.
19
The next morning, with the sun just high enough to toss some of her light in Jake’s direction, he sat in his kayak at the end of the lake and saw a shimmer from the corner of his eye. He whipped his head toward the spot, but before he could fix his eyes, the light vanished. He stared at the reeds where he’d seen the flash, willing it to return, but nothing came. But it wasn’t his imagination. Maybe it was nothing more than the edge of the morning sun reflecting off the green stems of the cattails, but he refused to believe that. He knew what he’d just seen: the entrance to the corridor.
Without taking his eyes off the spot where he’d seen the shimmer, Jake grabbed the tiny anchor between his legs and dropped it into the water. The splash wet his arms, and the chill strengthened his resolve.
He grabbed the sides of his kayak and pushed himself up, then dragged his legs back, lifted them over the side, and slipped into the water without a sound. With slow, smooth strokes he swam toward the place between the reeds where he’d seen the flash.
A sensation stirred deep inside. God’s voice, speaking so softly Jake couldn’t decide if it was real. It had been so long.
Believe, Jacob.
“I believe. Help my unbelief.”
Immediately the shimmer came again. Stronger this time. Longer. Jake kept his eyes fixed on the spot, and it shimmered a third time seconds later. Then again, flickering on and off like a lamppost that was coming to life. A few moments later the shimmer morphed fully into a razor-thin light, just enough brighter than its surroundings to illuminate a tiny opening far back in the cattails.
Another three strokes and Jake reached the cattails. He tried to stand but the water was still too deep and he went under. Panic surged through his body and screamed that when he surfaced the light would be gone. He sputtered to the surface, sucked in a mouthful of air, and searched for the light. Still there. Relief buoyed him.
He grabbed the cattails and pulled himself forward, then repeated the action and tried to stand again. This time his feet sank into the soft bottom of the lake, shallow enough for him to rest his legs, the surface of the water just below his chin. Deep breath. Push on. As he made his way forward, Jake watched the light grow wider, then narrow, then widen again. It . . . what? Pulsed? Was that the right word? No, it was more like someone was opening and shutting a curtain on the light.
By the time he reached the reeds where the light seemed to come from, the brilliance had faded into nothing, but it didn’t matter. He saw the path, hidden by the cattails unless you were standing right in front of it. And he was.
It almost felt wrong to part the plants, but Jake dismissed the thought. He hadn’t found the corridor as much as been invited in, and he wouldn’t let any negative thoughts keep him from finishing this journey.
After ten paces, the ground turned from damp, to dry, to covered in a fine green moss softer th
an any carpet Jake had ever walked on. The cattails were almost gone now. The ones that remained were small and scattered. After a few more steps, the last of them transitioned into poplar trees with leaves that kissed his arms with an otherworldly coolness and seemed to inject hope and strength into his whole body.
As he eased forward, the leaves, the branches, even the dirt at his feet grew brighter. No, that wasn’t the right word. Not brighter. The colors were different. More intense, as if the path were a photo and the color saturation had been amped up. Jake had no doubt he was still on this earth, but there was a feeling of holiness about this path as if heaven had infused it with a life he’d rarely seen, let alone touched.
He stopped for a moment and marveled at the trees. They formed a tunnel around him, giving him just enough space to walk through—maybe three inches of room on each side. As he looked back, he realized the trees were closing behind him as he passed, as if he’d been given an exclusive invitation into this Eden. The sounds of the birds on the lake faded and the quiet of the corridor was almost overwhelming. Anticipation rose in Jake till he thought he might explode.
The sensation of every molecule in the trees growing more vibrant intensified. He reached out for the green leaf next to him. His skin tingled, and the green seemed to soak into his fingers and feed a hunger he hadn’t known existed till that moment. Was he imagining the changes? Maybe. Maybe his anticipation had somehow created the sensations he was now feeling. It didn’t matter. Whether it was truly happening or only in his head, at the moment all he wanted was more.
Jake looked down at his scarred legs. They should have tired by now from the swim and the push through the wall of cattails. But they felt okay. More than okay. He flexed his right leg and it felt stronger than when he’d slipped into the water.
He tilted his head back and pulled in a deep breath. The air was almost too thick to breathe, but as he pulled it into his lungs, Jake felt lighter. Stronger. Superman. He continued forward, the corridor now curving slightly to the left.
A few minutes later it straightened out again and twenty, maybe thirty yards ahead he spotted a thick screen of willow vines covering the end of the tunnel of trees. Jake stopped ten feet from the vines. He’d made it. Found it. More accurately, the corridor had found him. Nothing stood between him and his destination but a curtain of green. Laughter spilled out of him. He had no doubt what was beyond the veil. Only a few more steps and he would be in paradise.
He pulled in one more breath of that thick air, cleaner and more crisp than the air from the most glorious summer morning he’d ever known. Then he closed his eyes, thanked God, pushed the boughs aside, and stepped through.
As his eyes feasted on the field in front of him, the hope that he’d tried to kill shouted the truth about this world within a world. Here was a glimpse of the earth before the fall. More than a glimpse. This is how it was when life exploded out of every blade of grass. The world before it was broken and subjected to futility.
A rabbit streaked across the grass just in front of his feet and Jake wanted to laugh. A rabbit? It was faster than it should have been. Bigger. Of course it would be.
For a few minutes he wandered through the grass, spinning in slow circles, taking in the splendor of the meadow, the trees, the waterfall at a distance. When he reached the edge of a pond two hundred yards from the corridor, he stopped and watched the water flowing toward the lake.
No, he couldn’t make the night he was burned vanish as if it didn’t exist. It happened. No, he wasn’t going to get Sienna back. But he could be restored to what he was before. Get his body fixed. Get back to who he was before. That was his core desire, and God had brought him here to bring it to pass. A line from the book of Matthew surfaced in his mind. I have come to save that which was lost.
The sense of power that swirled around Jake was palpable. He let it soak into him and fill him with images of how strong he would be again once the healing of his body came. He knew his legs and stomach and lower back would start to change at any moment. He had no doubt. Eyes closed, Jake turned his face toward the rising sun.
A minute later, maybe less, a tingling started in his right foot, then his left. It slowly worked its way up over his ankles, then into his calves. Yes. It comes. Restoration. Freedom to be himself again. His heart slammed against his chest and his breathing quickened. The tingling sensation moved faster, up over his knees, then his quads, hamstrings, faster still, till everything from the soles of his feet to his belt line radiated with a power he’d never known. After he couldn’t hold them closed any longer, Jake opened his eyes and looked down. He cried out, but not in celebration. His legs hadn’t changed, and as Jake stared at them, the healing sensation he’d felt turned to a dull ache.
Jake staggered forward and pain shot up his right leg. But it was nothing compared to the pain ripping through his soul. A hurricane of confusion battered his mind as he stared at the red distorted flesh holding him up. A second later they couldn’t even do that. He slumped to the ground, all the strength in his legs sucked out.
Where was the healing? What had just happened? Why the tingling sensation and the feeling of strength shooting into his legs and stomach if they weren’t going to be healed? The absurdity of the situation struck Jake like a fist to his jaw. There was no one here to explain anything to him. No guide, no instruction manual. No Leonard to try to pull answers out of. The only thing he had was an expectation he would be healed. And that was based on what? Nothing more than fragments of a legend and the cryptic musings of an old man.
Maybe this was just the first stage, to test his belief. Maybe the true healing was still to come. But Jake knew that was a fantasy. There was no healing coming. As he looked around the meadow, he realized the colors he’d thought were so brilliant were simply that way because of the early morning sun. Now they looked muted. The trees? The pond, the grasses? Beautiful. And ordinary.
Jake dug his fingers into the thick, wild grass. “Why, God?”
He bowed his head as the anger simmering deep inside fought to break out. He’d believed. How could he have found the corridor if he hadn’t? How could he have gotten through if he hadn’t believed? He’d made it. But there was no restoration here. No granting of his greatest desire. Nothing but a beautiful oasis that mocked his deepest need. Unbidden, tears welled in his eyes, and he didn’t fight the grief of loss.
An image of Sienna, disgust and loathing on her face, formed in his mind so clearly it sucked the breath out of him. For the first time, he didn’t fight that look or try to rip it from his memory. Jake embraced it, let the pain flood his mind and body and soul and heart.
His tears turned to heaving sobs that racked his body, and still more tears came. After an age had come and gone, he opened his eyes and let his gaze sweep over the field. It made no sense. But maybe this was it. Maybe Susie was right, and the legend had grown out of this beautiful place that was nothing more than a hidden oasis.
But the sliver of hope inside Jake had been unleashed, and it wasn’t going back underground. Not yet. There had to be answers. Jake would find them. And he would start with Leonard.
20
As he clambered back into his kayak, Jake glanced around for Leonard, but the old man wasn’t at the end of the lake. No matter. Jake would find him soon enough. The wind sliding in from the northwest whipped up a sizable chop on the water but Jake pushed through it, toward Leonard’s house, ignoring the burn in his arms. It’d been too long since he’d had a decent upper-body workout, and this would make up for lost time. He reached the small cove in front of Leonard’s house in thirty-five minutes and peered at the property.
The house was small with a battered deck out front. A weeping willow tree just off the corner of the deck to the right held the remnants of a kid’s tree house. In front of the house was a carport. An old blue truck sat under the covering along with a small red scooter with a basket on the back.
A brown garage stood ten yards from the house. A midsized t
rawler that was probably once a brilliant white sat next to the garage. Probably designed for ocean fishing, given the build and the two motors hanging off the back. Leonard was tinkering with one of them.
Jake slid his kayak up to the small wooden dock in front of Leonard’s property and tied it off on a dinged-up cleat. He climbed onto the dock and clumped across it. Leonard didn’t give any indication he’d seen Jake as he crunched across the gravel driveway that led up to the garage.
“Hey, Leonard.”
Leonard slipped a socket wrench over the boat’s drain plug and gave it eight fast turns. “There. She’s ready.” He spun and stared at Jake. “You liking it here? Forgot to ask that yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He stuck his fists on his hips as a smile touched the side of his mouth. “Glad you took my advice.”
“Me too.”
“Same with your friends?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Good. Nice to hear that.”
Jake eased up closer to Leonard as the man rose and wiped off his hands on a purple shop rag. “I want to ask you about the corridor.”
“You like fresh food?” Leonard pointed over Jake’s shoulder and to the right.
“Can I ask you a few questions about it?”
Leonard cocked his head and squinted at Jake. “How ’bout I give you a tour of my garden.”
“Sure.”
Leonard’s took up at least twenty-five square yards. As they strolled through it, Leonard pointed out his corn, chickpeas, zucchini, and cabbage. When they came to the northeast corner of the garden, Leonard bent down and squinted at Jake.
“You and your friends like cantaloupe?”
“Definitely.”
Leonard reached down, pawed at the leaves, and plucked the largest of the cantaloupes from the vine and handed it to Jake. “Best-tasting cantaloupe you’ll ever sink your teeth into. Guaranteed. So much better than that cataloged store-bought crud.”
“Thank you.”
“When you finish that one, come back for another. More here than I can ever eat.”
The Long Journey to Jake Palmer Page 13
