In his thirty-seven years of life, Jake had rarely been at a loss for words, but this was a moment where all possible words had vanished from his mind. It made no sense. His burns weren’t even a blip of an issue for her. There was no one else in her life. She’d been widowed for three years. On top of all that, she all but came out and confessed her feelings for him. So what was the problem?
“I don’t understand,” he finally sputtered out. “Just a cup of coffee back home. Daytime. Anytime.”
She smiled at him, eyes as bright as he’d seen them. “I wish you great joy and much freedom, Jake.”
Ari rose from her chair, went over to the hammock, and picked up her book. Then she sauntered back to Jake, leaned down, and whispered in his ear.
“Please, respect my wishes.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Good-bye, Jake Palmer.”
With that, Ari strolled back to the deck, through the french doors, and vanished from Jake’s life.
33
Jake glanced to the east early the next morning as he slid the canoe into the water. Felt right to take it instead of one of the kayaks. Change of pace. New beginning. Adventure with Ryan coming. He was still stunned over his conversation with Ari, but he was determined to let it go. Not so easy, but what other choice was there?
Probably another ten minutes before the sun crawled over the low mountains to the east and lit up the lake like molten gold. The dull gray that hung in the sky was a perfect reflection of Jake’s mood. Would he get over Ari? Yes. Did he want whatever was waiting for him at the end of the lake? Yes. Did he believe the world at the other end of the corridor was real? Maybe. Ryan? Still impossible, yet Jake knew he wasn’t crazy and he didn’t think what he’d encountered was a vision. Ockham’s Razor: Of two possible explanations, the simplest one was most likely true.
With little warning, the first rays of dawn burrowed into his neck, and in that moment, his mood lightened. Maybe all of it was a dream, but a dream where he was restored—where he could run again and be healed permanently—was worth fighting for.
This time he spotted the shimmer at the end of the corridor while he was still seventy yards away. Its brightness grew as he eased through the water, and the sun inched down the cattails as if choreographed to fully illuminate the entrance at the exact time he reached it. The sight should have filled him with exhilaration, but a flag of caution fluttered at the back of his mind.
As Jake crawled out of the canoe and slipped into the chilly water, the cry of a blue heron ten yards to his left startled him. The bird jerked its head back and forth as if puzzled by what Jake was about to do. What was he about to do? Place his trust in a . . . uh . . . man he knew but didn’t know? Choose to believe that whatever journey he was on would lead to light in the end?
He stretched out his arms and stroked through the water. The debate could rage in his head all day. Right now there was only action or inaction, and he hadn’t come here to ponder. As he got closer to the entrance, the sliver of him that still doubted melted away, and laughter spilled out of his mouth as the light swirling around the tunnel of willow tree vines invited him to tango.
He pushed through the corridor, the path so narrow now that the trees on both sides brushed his back and chest as he stepped along sideways. But he barely noticed the inconvenience as his soul filled with the anticipation of his legs and stomach growing strong, of sprinting through the field again, of facing whatever challenge Ryan could toss at him and finding triumph in the end. This time, his body was restored ten yards before he reached the vine curtain. The earliest healing so far.
Confidence flowed into his mind and he swept the willow branches aside with boldness. But as soon as he stepped through, he gasped and lurched backward. There was nothing beyond the vine curtain but blackness.
He staggered back another step, fear surging through him. Where . . . what happened to the meadow? Another step back, his arms clutching at a handful of the vines, the only thing keeping him from falling backward onto the path. Then a confident voice rang out. Strong. From the other side of the curtain.
“Your actions bring confusion to my mind. Why are you leaving? Did we not agree yesterday to continue your journey this morning?”
Ryan. A moment later he pulled the vines aside and stepped into the corridor. His gray-blue eyes were intense, yet a hint of laughter moved across them.
“I was . . . when I pulled back the willow vines, I couldn’t see anything.”
“Yes, that is true.” Ryan glanced behind him. “Quite black. It will take your eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness we are about to step into.”
“Darkness?”
“Yes, did you not hear me?”
“Yeah, I heard. Ears are working fine this morning.” Jake pointed over Ryan’s shoulder. “I have to say, that doesn’t look anything like the meadow.”
“You are late.” Ryan zeroed in on Jake and his voice had a sharpness to it. “The morning grows old. I suggest we start on our journey and no longer waste time on questions that can be answered along the way.”
Jake swallowed and gave one nod. Ryan nodded back, then pushed through the vines and stepped into only he knew what. Jake lunged forward to push through the vine curtain. If he was about to fling himself into a world of darkness, he would be right behind Ryan when he did it.
Once he stepped through, he saw that the blackness was less grim than he’d first thought. A few moments later, his eyes did adjust, and he found himself standing inside a small cave. Enough light streamed in from the corridor to make the outline of Ryan’s body visible.
“Where are we?”
In the dim light, all Jake could see was Ryan’s hand pointing to the right of them. “Over there is a stone slide with the ability to deliver us to the bottom of this cave in less than a minute. However, given our assumed mutual desire to avoid broken limbs and cuts and gouges upon face and hand, I suggest we take the stairs to our left.”
Jake trudged over to the stairs in the far left corner of the cave and studied them. He’d been in his grandma’s apartment complex last week. The stairs that led from the lower level to the one above were designed for the elderly, easy to navigate, each step only a few inches higher than the one before, so walking up and down was simple.
The stairs before him now were designed for the antithesis of his grandmother. Each step was at least a foot-and-a-half high, and describing them as semiflat would be generous. Describing them as barely wider than a shoe would again be generous. And of course no handrail to steady a descent. Impossible to traverse these stairs with his burnt legs, they would still present a challenge to his restored ones.
“Are you ready?”
Jake pointed into the inky blackness below. “We’re going down there?”
“Yes. Don’t fall. You would die.”
Ryan’s laugh was not kind and it sent trepidation through Jake.
“I’m not liking that plan.”
“No, we couldn’t have that happen, could we?”
Ryan chuckled again. He took the first step as if walking through the field with one of the orchard’s Gala apples in his hand. Jake followed, all of his concentration on reaching the bottom alive.
By the time he reached the last stair, sweat had broken out on every inch of his body, but the sensation was exhilarating. To once again feel his skin the way it was supposed to be, to feel the sweat and the coolness of the cave on it, to feel the sensation of his feet on the steps, brought life to him.
“Well done. That cannot have been easy for you.”
Ryan plucked a torch off the wall of the cave and strode toward the opening on the other side of the landing. A faint blue light ebbed beyond the curved passageway, and something about it struck Jake as familiar.
He followed Ryan through the breach in the cave wall and found himself standing on a kind of underground beach. Gray sand mixed with silt and a few pebbles, and a lake lapped at the shoreline as if trying to make itself known even in the absence of tides or
wind.
A rough-hewn, narrow wooden boat big enough for three or four men sat halfway in, halfway out of the water. From the stern hung a lantern, which cast the dim, gray-blue light Jake had seen from the bottom of the stairs. A surge of memories rose in him. The boat, the shoreline, the curve of the caverns as they rose out of sight above them were all familiar. He’d been here. Not in real life, but in his imagination.
“I know where we are.” He stared at Ryan, almost expecting the man to dissolve into the air.
“Oh?” He stared at Jake with playful eyes.
“ ‘Many sink down, but few return to the sunlit lands.’ ”
“I would certainly hope so, if it is indeed your favorite of the Chronicles.” Ryan winked and motioned toward the crude wooden boat, resting halfway on the sand. “So The Silver Chair truly was your favorite.”
“I’ve read it more than a dozen times.” Jake let his gaze sweep 180 degrees. “It’s exactly as I imagined it.”
“I should think so.” Ryan pulled hard on the oars. “You created this.”
“What do you mean—”
“Just as you created me and brought me to life, you created this. Without you, this version of Underland wouldn’t exist.”
“That makes no sense. I had nothing to do with this. I expected to step through the curtain into the field, not into a suffocating cavern.”
“And a noble job of creation it is, indeed.”
Again the thought struck Jake that the corridor, Ryan, the kayaking experience, all of it was nothing more than a delusion he’d concocted inside his own brain. That he was breaking down emotionally from the loss of who he was before. In Susie’s words, the fact he was now living two lives had finally shattered his mind.
“Let me ask again, is any of this real? Or am I slowly going insane and just don’t know it?”
The question was a ludicrous one. If he was going crazy, asking Ryan this question would essentially be asking himself to figure out a question he would have no way of answering truthfully.
“We must go, Jake. Again, these are questions that can be answered as we traverse the water.”
Ryan got into the boat and Jake followed. They shoved off into the darkness, no sound except the oars on the jet-black water.
“We’re going to her kingdom, aren’t we?”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”
“We’re going to your imagination’s version of what that kingdom looks like. Don’t ask this question again. It grows tiresome.”
He stared at Ryan, whose face was distorted in the dim blue light from the boat’s lantern. Ryan’s tone sent a chill snaking down Jake’s spine. He wasn’t dreaming, wasn’t going crazy. Not a chance. All of this was real. If only he could convince himself.
As if sensing Jake’s apprehension, Ryan said softly, “From your holy book: No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no heart has imagined. Yet you doubt all that is happening to you. Might I inquire as to why?”
“This is impossible.”
“With God all things are possible.”
Jake didn’t respond. He needed a moment to figure this out. But that was probably the point. There was no logic that could make him believe. The only answer was faith. Faith that whatever kind of bizarre journey he was on at the moment, it was exactly where he was supposed to be. And that in the end, answers would come.
As he stared into the darkness, he pulled up his memories of the book. They would soon reach the witch’s kingdom where Rilian was held prisoner. Where the great lion Aslan and the children, Jill and Eustace, and the Marsh-wiggle Puddleglum set Prince Rilian free from ten years of dark enchantment.
“We’re almost there.” Ryan’s voice seemed to come from all around Jake.
“If this is my imagination, how do you know that?”
Ryan didn’t answer, but thirty seconds later, the dark kingdom Jake remembered from the book emerged out of the darkness. Towers with murky light in the windows rose in the center of a city made of stone. But there were no oddly shaped gnomes as he had remembered. Only empty streets and silence.
Before he had time to consider the implications of what that meant, Ryan stood on dry ground, beckoning Jake to join him. Jake got out and they climbed the stairs in the center of the city. They would lead to the chamber where Prince Rilian in the story had been tied to his silver chair for the hour when the enchantment could not hold him prisoner.
As they reached the door leading to the room that had contained the chair, Ryan lurched forward and stopped his fall with an outstretched hand against the thick dark-gray stone next to the door. He blew out a long breath and raised his face upward, eyes closed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I know you cannot understand how I can be truly real, since I’ve explained that you created me. Consequently, you cannot imagine how I could have emotions similar to those that humans have. I, however, do not need to imagine myself having feelings of sorrow. At this moment, I am remembering what occurred here many years ago.”
“In the way I saw you reacting when I read the stories as a child.”
“Yes.”
Something broke inside Jake. Whether any of this was real, he felt true compassion for this being called Ryan who stood before him. “I’m sorry. This can’t be an easy moment for you.”
“It is not.” Ryan pushed off the wall and clasped Jake’s shoulder. “But it is good. One that ends in triumph. And it is right. This is the site of a freedom you learned from when you were young, and that is a good thing.” Ryan reached out for the door. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Jake hesitated, then asked, “Are you?”
Ryan didn’t answer. Instead he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Jake entered and stood next to Ryan and glanced around the chamber. The size, or lack of size, struck him. He’d expected it to be bigger. The sensation was familiar to anyone who had returned to a childhood home or playground or ball field. He was returning to a children’s story that wasn’t real. But Jake knew if he let the truth in his heart take center stage, that story would prove to be more real than many things in his life.
Ryan moved around the room like a cat. His footsteps were light, his pace steady. When he neared the center of the chamber, he leaned in and circled as if upon seeing the chair sitting there, he needed to examine it up close. After he’d paced around it three times, he straightened and focused his eyes on Jake.
“In this room, in this spot, on that wretched chair, Prince Rilian knew who he was for one hour each day. But for twenty-three he did not know. He forgot. The enchantment took hold of him and he could not see through the darkness during those hours. In those hours he was inside, to use your analogy, his bottle. Deceived. He could not read the label.”
Ryan pointed at Jake. As he did, something in the being’s eyes shifted. From intense to malevolent. A smile played on the corners of his mouth, but not even a millimeter of mirth reached his eyes. Jake’s heart rate doubled as Ryan stared at him, eyes on fire.
Ryan’s gaze darted to his right. Along the floor, hidden in the shadows, lay a short sword. Two strides and Ryan stood over it. Another moment and he held it in his hand, his eyes again fixed on Jake. Ryan slowly lifted the sword till it was pointed at Jake’s chest.
“What are you doing? What is wrong with you?”
“Wrong? Nothing.” Ryan slid his foot forward.
Ten feet was all that separated them. Seven feet from the tip of the sword.
“You’re making me nervous.”
“Oh? This isn’t the way you remember the story going?” Ryan was on his toes now, bouncing slowly.
“What’s going on, Ryan?”
Ryan’s only response was to cover the ground between them faster than Jake thought possible. Another flash of movement and the tip of the sword hovered half an inch from Jake’s heart. Ryan’s breathing now came through clenched teeth.
Jake tried to back up but slammed against the stone wall beh
ind him. Ryan advanced, the sword touching Jake’s clothes. Now the point pressed into the skin beneath his compression shirt. Sweat broke out on Jake’s forehead and his heart slammed against his rib cage. Ryan had gone nuts. Jake had to think, figure out a way of escape.
But if he got away from Ryan, where would he go? Ryan knew this realm. Jake, on the other hand, knew nothing about the paths and tunnels that would lead him to the surface. His only chance was to talk Ryan down.
“Again, why are you doing this?”
“It is necessary.”
“Necessary for what? What do you want from me?”
“I want the same thing you do.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“You want the truth. You want to be free. Isn’t that what you came here for?”
“Free from what?”
“What is your chair, Jacob Palmer? The one that holds you in an enchantment so powerful you cannot break free? One that has held you all the days of your life? Think!”
“Killing me isn’t going to help me figure that out.”
“ ‘From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and violent men take it by force.’ From your book of Matthew.”
Ryan’s eyes grew wilder. He pushed the sword harder against Jake’s chest, and it broke the skin. He felt blood ooze into his shirt as Ryan’s face contorted. A moment later, the world went black.
34
When Jake opened his eyes he stood at the bottom of a long, steep road enclosed by a tunnel.
Ryan stood next to him, eyes bright. No sword, no strange look in his eyes. It was the man who had saved his life and spoken wisdom with every word.
The Long Journey to Jake Palmer Page 23
