The Long Journey to Jake Palmer

by James L. Rubart

  “I’d never learned how to handle a knife, but I didn’t see much choice. The fight was over minutes after it began. There I was, kneeling on the ground, trying to stop the blood seeping from my wounds. As the ground beside me darkened with my blood, I staggered up and tossed my blade at his feet.”

  Leonard pulled up his sleeves. Long, thick scars ran up and down his arms. He ran his finger along the longest one, glanced at Jake, then returned to the story.

  “ ‘Is that all you have?’ Arthur mocked me with scorn in his voice. ‘Where is your courage? Your valor? Will you not die for the one you love?’

  “ ‘I’ll be back,’ I shouted to Anna as I staggered toward the corridor. But before I could push aside the willow branches, Arthur called out in a voice that haunts me in my dreams.

  “ ‘If you leave here now, you’ll never return, and you will never see Anna again.’

  “I didn’t believe him. I’d been to the corridor every day for four days in a row. I knew I could find it again.” Leonard sighed.

  “Part of me did believe him. But I convinced myself I could get back with my shotgun and kill Arthur and be with Anna forever. I looked at Anna and told her I loved her and that nothing would stop me from coming back for her, then pushed through the branches. I never saw her again.”

  Jake didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Simply waited for the revelation to settle. It all made sense now. Why Leonard seemed to have a love-hate relationship with the corridor. Why he seemed to want to help Jake one moment and thwart him the next. His friend was shattered by what he had done, or what he hadn’t done. Part of Leonard wanted to see Jake find what he wanted most in the world; another part believed he would be sending Jake to his destruction. Destruction no matter which path he chose.

  “She was my prize, the one I lived for. I never figured out how someone so beautiful, so kind, so perfect would love me. But she did. And I gave up on her. Gave up on us.”

  “Could you have beaten him?”

  “My mind says no. Logic shouted it would have been impossible. I was bleeding out. Cut in six different places. The doctors said if I’d gotten to the hospital any later I wouldn’t have made it.”

  Leonard let out a bitter laugh. “They asked if I had cut myself. That was of course the only explanation for what happened. Apparently I was incoherent. Kept babbling about the corridor and the meadow where I’d seen my dead wife and fought a man with knives.”

  Again, Jake let the emotions of the moment subside. He handed his blue water bottle to Leonard. Leonard took a long drink before handing it back.

  “But there’s only one thought that I’ve never doubted. For forty years now I’ve never wavered in this belief.”

  Leonard peered at Jake with haunted eyes. “I should have stayed, Jacob Palmer. I should have continued to fight. Maybe I could have beaten him, figured out a way to win. At least I would have tried. At least I wouldn’t have had to live these past forty years wondering what if? I should have realized Arthur was telling the truth and if I left, I would never return.”

  “How could you have realized that?” Jake said. “You didn’t even know what the place was. Didn’t know what kind of powers you were dealing with. Didn’t know—and don’t know—if what you and I have both experienced is all inside our heads. You don’t know if those scars on your arms and legs came from your own hand. But you do know one thing. You knew that dying there in that meadow back in 1976 wouldn’t have accomplished anything. And—”

  “Oh, I know that, do I?” Leonard glared at Jake with fire in his eyes. “I know that it would have done nothing? Let me tell you something, boy. Let me describe for you what I do know for certain: I know that if I hadn’t given up, if I’d died that day in that field on the other side of the corridor, I wouldn’t be sitting here in a battered old-man body, drowning in a lake of my own regret day after day after day.”

  They sat in the silence for more than five minutes. Maybe longer. The sun continued to creep up their bodies, and the warmth of it somehow sparked hope inside Jake. But hope for what?

  “What should I do, Leonard?”

  “You can beat him, Jake. I believe it with everything in me. I don’t know how, and I can’t even start to explain why I believe that so strongly. But I do, right down here.” Leonard patted his stomach and clenched his jaw.

  “I don’t think you’d be let into that place just to end up dead. I know that’s not a lot to go on. It’s almost nothing to go on. And I know I’m the one who never went back, who stayed on the sidelines. But I’ve had a lot of years to think about what I didn’t do, and I’m not going to let this drop till I tell you how I feel and what I think your choice should be. Couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t, you understand?”

  “How do I defeat a being that is obviously stronger than me? He’s in control of what goes on inside the corridor, can bend reality to his will . . . how can I win?”

  “I don’t know. But I have to believe there’s a way. I think you want to believe there’s a way as well. Ultimately it’s your choice to return, but let me ask you something.”

  Leonard stopped and peered at Jake for so long, he wondered if his old friend had decided not to ask the question.

  “Even if you do die in there, and Ryan wins this war, what will you regret more? Giving up the shot to have your legs and stomach back, staying nice and safe and cozy in the life you’re now living, or facing whatever this final test is and letting your chips fall where they may?”

  “How do I even know that Ryan told the truth when he said there were rules he had to follow? How do I know he wasn’t lying when he said that if I pass the tests, my restoration will remain?”

  “You don’t. Of course you don’t.”

  For the first time since Jake had met the old man, Leonard leaned over and placed both his hands on Jake’s shoulders and squeezed them tightly.

  “But I think there’s a piece inside you, a small piece way deep down, that knows what Ryan has spoken to you is true. And I think among all the Jake Palmers you’ve tried to be in your life, the real one wants this battle, whatever it is, more than anything he’s ever wanted.”

  36

  Jake stood on the edge of the dock staring down into the black water that night, racking his brain for the answer to whether he should launch himself into the unknown in the morning. He’d avoided Camille, of course, but also Andrew and Peter, even Susie. He needed the time to process, to think, to come to some sort of decision. But nothing had come. Then, just as a resolution to stay away from the end of the lake started to take shape, a deep voice from behind floated toward him.

  “We gotta talk, Jake.”

  He turned to find Andrew standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Andrew.”

  “There are a few things you need to hear.”

  Jake returned to gazing into the depths of the lake. “I appreciate the thought, but company is not what I need right now.”

  “Remember six years back when our pipes cracked and insurance didn’t cover the cost, and outta the blue you fly out and help me redo the floor and paint and recarpet the place?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You showed up for me. Now I’m showing up for you.”

  Andrew clomped down the ramp that connected to the dock. He stopped after he reached the planks faded white from years of harsh summer light and cold, wet winters. He spread his legs shoulder width and pulled his arms across his chest. “It’s time to step up, my dear brother.”

  “I need to figure this out on my own.”

  “That’s exactly what you don’t need.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  A gust of wind blew Andrew’s thick hair off his forehead, revealing a deep scar that ran just below his hairline. Jake blinked. In all the years of knowing Andrew, Jake had never seen it. Instantly Jake realized why Andrew always wore hats when it was windy.

  “Where’d you get . . .”

  Andrew pulled his hair back and pointed at the scar. “This
? You want to know about this, Jake? You want to know why I’ve never told you about this or how this happened in all the years we’ve known each other? You want to know why I keep it hidden? You think you’re ready to hear the story?”

  Andrew took another two steps forward.

  “When I was a kid, my dad’s brother was always friendly to me. And then one day he got a little too friendly. It went on for six months till one time something came over me and I fought and I broke free and sprinted away, but I tripped and cracked my head on a table and gave myself this forever reminder of those days.”

  Jake’s friend came closer, till they stood within three feet of each other.

  “I never told anyone but Susie, because for years I believed it was my fault, and the shame of those six months kept me hidden so deep in the shadows I didn’t know the sun existed. But last year I took a step toward the light. Got some counseling. Worked through it. Susie has been my rock through the whole thing. And I’m free, Jake. Like I’ve never been before.”

  Andrew threw his big arm around Jake’s neck the way he had in the bedroom a few days earlier.

  “You’re the label guy, so let me read a few things on your bottle. You inspire people. You encourage them. Bring them light. You’re a three-in-the-morning-phone-call friend. You show people what freedom can look like, then lead them down that path.

  “But Jake, baby, you’re not free yourself. You’re in a cage. So while I don’t know what you’re going through, I do know that it’s time you face whatever is keeping you in the shadows. It’s time to do whatever it takes.”

  Jake grabbed Andrew’s forearm and squeezed tightly.

  “One more thing.”

  “Sure,” Jake said.

  “I see it in your eyes. The war raging deep inside. And fear. I just want to say, whatever it is, don’t back down. Trust this God of ours, and fight with all you have. Not for anyone else. Fight this battle with everything you have, for Jacob Palmer.”

  37

  For the fifth time in ten days, Jake slid into the waters at the end of Willow Lake. The water felt colder, and he wished he’d waited for the sun to rise farther and warm him more before starting, but what was the point? This would either end well or end in death. No sense in dragging it out. And no matter what happened, he would take Andrew’s counsel and trust God. There was no one else to turn to. In the moment he made that choice, a peace came over Jake he hadn’t known since before the incident.

  He pulled forward with a breaststroke, his breathing steady, his thoughts the opposite. Would he make it? Was he ready for this war? Ryan’s words pinged through his mind. If you survive, you will have the healing you desire. Healing that will stay with you when you leave this realm. You have my word. But know this also. The restrictions placed upon me up until this point? They will be lifted if we meet again.

  The width of the corridor had tapered down yet again. Now it was so narrow Jake had to push hard through the trees, even turned sideways. When he reached the end of the path, he pushed aside the willow branches and stepped onto the edge of the meadow. Nothing moved. No bird called, no blade of grass bent to the wind. Calm now, but the storm would come.

  Seconds later, Ryan appeared fifty yards away, next to the pond, arms folded.

  Jake didn’t hesitate. He strode toward Ryan and slowly raised his hand and pointed at his enemy. “You’re not all-powerful. There is only One who is. I can overcome today. I will overcome with his strength. So let the games begin.”

  “Yes.” Ryan’s stone expression didn’t change. “Let us begin.”

  “What will it be, Ryan? Knives like you did with Leonard?”

  “Knives? How archaic,” Ryan scoffed. “Battles fought with guns, swords, knives are so stark. Devoid of nuance. No, for you, Jacob, I have something different. A battle where you’ll be forced to fight against the turn of a phrase, against psychological feints and parries, against what brutalized you in days gone by.”

  Ryan grinned. “You’ll have the chance to fight three battles you have previously lost. Three battles that represent the type you’ve longed to fight a second time, to prove you can do it right, fix things, and finally be enough for them.”

  “Who?”

  “You don’t need to ask, do you?” Ryan smiled, eyes cold. “You already know.”

  “My mom. My dad. Sienna.”

  “Oh, very good, very, very good, Jake. Once again, you impress me.”

  “Whatever you throw at me today using those three, I can overcome it. You won’t defeat me.”

  “I will not have to. I have no doubt you will bring defeat upon yourself.”

  “How do I know you’ll keep your word when I succeed?”

  “As Leonard said, you don’t. But do you have a choice?”

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Agreed.” Ryan pointed to a narrow path on the far side of the apple orchard. “That’s where you’ll begin. There is truly nothing to explain. Follow that path. Things will become clear. I’m giving you a great gift, the chance to make things right. To finally be enough. If you can accomplish this, then I promise, you will be healed, and the healing will remain.”

  “How long do I have?”

  Ryan tried to hold back a smile. “As long as you need.”

  As Jake passed the orchard and stepped onto the path, a groan of agony ripped through the air. Jake broke into a jog. Without question it was his mom’s voice. He’d heard that cry of anguish almost every day of his childhood, till she’d taken her own life.

  Another guttural groan smothered the woods, and he pushed faster down the narrow path, branches scraping across his legs, arms, face. Ahead, a thick cluster of branches blocked his way completely, but Jake closed his eyes, ducked his head, and pushed hard into the undergrowth. Three paces, maybe four, and he was out the other side. Ten yards in front of him, the path banked to the right. Jake plowed forward, driven by another low groan from up ahead.

  As Jake dashed around the corner, the foliage opened up, the path widened, and a home came into view, a perfect replica of the house he grew up in. The low groan he’d heard floated out of the house and seemed to snake around his throat and grab hold. He steeled himself, strode down the gravel path, and stepped through the front door.

  The entryway was dark, as was the living room. The groan came from his mom’s bedroom and he eased toward the partially open door. The smell of cigarette smoke snaked out of the room. Jake clenched his teeth and walked inside.

  Her bedroom was spotless—the influence of his dad lorded over her—but a smell like old wet newspapers filled his nose. His mom lay on the bed on a flowered comforter, a dingy white bathrobe cinched tightly around her gnarled body. A cluster of little orange pill bottles with white tops sat on the nightstand. The glow of the lamp put half his mom’s face in silhouette, half in the light. The shock of seeing her again after so many years made Jake’s knees wobble, but he held steady.

  “Hello, Mom.”

  “Jakey, is that you?”

  “Yeah, Mom. How are you?”

  She only groaned in response.

  His mom looked older than she’d been when she died. Wrinkles now lined her face, the way he imagined she’d have looked if she hadn’t taken her life. The rings under her eyes had grown darker, her skin thinner, as if the years had stretched it to the point where it would tear soon.

  “How are you?” Jake repeated.

  “I’m tired, Jakey, so tired. I want to go to sleep for a long, long time. I want to go to sleep forever.”

  “No, Mom, I need you to take care of yourself. I need you to make the choice to live.”

  Her eyes moistened. “You need me?”

  Jake hesitated. “Yes, I need you.”

  “But you’re too busy for me. You’re always off playing your baseball, and when you are here you mess things up and make life hard for me.”

  Not entirely surprising that she saw a child standing in front of her and not an adult.

  �
�No, Mom. That’s not true. I’m just a kid being a kid. But right now, you just need to promise me you’ll take your medicine. That’s all. Promise me.”

  “There you go.” His mom waved her hands at the ceiling. “You’re just like your dad, doing what you want to do, directing me around, telling me what to do.”

  “No, I’m not like Dad. I only want you to get better. Take care of yourself. I know you can do it.

  “Mom, look at me. Forgive me for not being there more for you. I was wrong, but I tried and I was only a kid.”

  Her eyes watered as she ground out her cigarette, tilted her head back, and let the smoke seep from her cracked lips.

  “Yes, Jake, you were. It was so hard, I was so alone and I needed you.”

  “Forgive me, Mom. I wasn’t even a teenager yet. I should have been there for you more. But I didn’t know how.”

  “You said that. It doesn’t change anything.”

  “I know. But I want you to hear me. This is important. We can change things this time. I’m here now.”

  “Will you stay?”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to. But while I’m here, I’ll do everything I can to make you feel better.”

  “Will you?” His mom shifted onto her side, and for the first time since he’d walked through her door, she looked into his eyes. “Will you sing for me? The funny song? You know the one.”

  Jake knew it. Yes. The one that always helped. The one that always made her laugh, always made her feel better. He racked his mind for the words, the melody.

  “Can you, Jakey? Please.”

  He stared at her, begging the words to come, but there was nothing. He had to remember, had to! It would open her up to his words. And then, like a flash of lightning, it was there.

  “Sing it, please? Make me smile. Make me laugh. It would help so much, you know it would help.” A toothy smile teetered on her face.

  “Okay, Mom.”

  “Sing it!” His mom pushed herself up, her hands jammed into the white mattress, eyes wild. “Sing it! Sing it! Sing it!”