The Long Journey to Jake Palmer (19 page)

“Many times.”

“And I can handle it?”

“I believe you can, yes.”

“No guarantees though?”

“You know this truth. It isn't necessary for me to speak it to you.”

“What truth?”

“Hear this, Jacob Palmer.” Ryan's face brightened as if he was
giving a message of great import. “Nothing worth having, in this life or the one to come, is free of risk.”

With that, Ryan pushed off. Jake hesitated only for a moment before following. Two strokes, three, then he shot into the slot, and the water in front of him vanished as he was launched, the roar of the river slamming into his ears.

The bottom of his kayak seemed to float for a second, then the bottom dropped out and he hurtled down the narrow slot like a stone. A second and a half felt like an age, but an instant later a wall of water on both sides swallowed Jake and he went under. So much for the feather-soft landing.

Ten, maybe fifteen seconds later—it felt more like sixty—Jake popped to the surface, gasping for air. Then, exactly as Ryan had said, Jake was pushed left, then through the rock garden. Relief flooded Jake. He'd made it. But an instant later, panic shot through him.

Two massive boulders loomed in front of him, fifteen feet ahead. They filled both sides of the river. Smooth, glistening walls shot up fifty feet on each side, and the only path through was a narrow slit in the rock not more than three feet wide. Why hadn't Ryan briefed him!

Move! Jake's only chance was to shoot that slot and hope his kayak was narrow enough to get through. He could do it. Had to do it.
Dig. Harder.
He wasn't going to make it. Yes! He was. But what Jake hadn't counted on was a trough in the river four feet deep. Jake jammed his paddle into the water and pulled with all his strength to avoid the hole, but it was too late. His kayak flipped and Jake went under. And this time he didn't pop back up.

F
or a moment, light filtered through the churning water. A second later it vanished and darkness filled Jake's vision. The water drove him down, spinning him like a cyclone. There was no way to know if he was looking up or down, left or right. As he spun, the massive power of the water pushed him downstream. His only hope was to be pushed under the boulders, out the other side, and back into the light, where his life jacket would take him to the surface.

Somehow he'd had the presence of mind to fill his lungs just before he went under, but he'd also taken in water, so the pressure to cough pounded at his brain. He had to ignore the feeling. If he could, he'd be all right. Even though his fear was screaming that he didn't have enough air, he did have enough. How long had he been under? Five seconds? Ten. Plenty of air in his lungs.

When he'd been training, he could hold his breath for two and a half minutes, and in here, where his body had been more than restored, it was likely longer.
Stay calm. Have to stay calm.
He was moving, the water shoving him forward, faster. It would be over in seconds.

But a moment later the river thrust him down and to the right and then to the bottom of the river. Pinned him against a boulder. Jake reached out to grab hold of a crack, a stone, a log, anything on the riverbed he could use to pull himself free, but the current of water surging against him was like hardening concrete.

With what little strength he had left, he had to try. He stretched out his arm as far as possible, but all he felt was slick rock. Despair clutched him around the throat like a noose. He was going to die here in the river, and none of his friends would ever find him. No, there had to be a way out. He refused to drown here.

Wait! At his feet, something protruded. Didn't matter what. He pushed his feet against it and he moved. Not far. Inches, but enough. Then almost a foot. Yes. His feet had found a jagged crack in the boulder. If it ran in the right direction, he could push himself all the way free.

Jake dragged his feet forward and set them again. Push off. Another two feet. Again. Again. The pressure of the flowing water increased, now helping him as he inched along. Now all he needed to do was believe. Believe that however the river escaped the boulders above there would be enough room for Jake to go with it. Leap of faith.

His arms began to tingle, then his legs and the rest of him. No! He argued with his body, screaming in his mind that he had enough oxygen in his bloodstream to survive at least another minute. Even more.

He was going to make it. Hold on. Just a few more seconds. But just before hope started to fill him, something caught his foot. No! A stone. A log. But Jake's heart skipped a beat as he realized it
wasn't a stone, log, or any other obstacle that would be found in a river. Because none of those things would take hold of his ankle and squeeze with a strength that was inhuman.

The shock of feeling a hand around his foot almost expelled all the air from Jake's lungs. He yanked his foot as hard as he could, but the gesture did nothing to loosen the grip of whoever, or whatever, had hold of him. Jake attacked it with his other foot. Again, it would have been easier to kick the boulder out of the way than to dislodge the fingers wrapped around his leg.

All hope vanished. There was no way out. Whatever had him in a death grip would never let go. But just before Jake let the air from his lungs burst out, he sensed a body next to him in the river.

Half a second later, the grip on his ankle slackened. Another half second and whatever had him let go completely. Then strong hands grabbed his sides and shoved him hard. An instant later he was free of the boulder and shooting downstream. A hint of light, then more. Then he burst through the surface of the water as the sun almost blinded him with her brightness.

Jake pulled in huge gasps of air, wheezing and hacking as he floundered on the water. Then the same strong hands he'd felt while under the water pulled him to the left, to shore. Jake collapsed on the sandy bank and closed his eyes. He would thank his rescuer in a minute. For the moment he simply wanted to breathe in and out like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Jake's racking coughs slowly subsided. His lungs burned and his body felt as wrung out as it had ever been, but he felt strength seeping back into his legs, arms, and torso. Finally he wobbled to his hands and knees and glanced at the person beside him.
Of course. It was Ryan, deep concern etched into his face. Jake stared at him as he continued to draw long breaths. After another minute he sat up, knees pointing to the sky, and wrapped his arms around his legs.

“Are you well, Jacob?”

Jake stared at Ryan and puffed out a disgusted laugh. “Well? Am I well? I just came within inches of dying. No, I'm not well right now.”

Ryan stayed silent, his eyes fixed on Jake.

“Who was that?” Jake kicked at the paddle at his feet and ignored the pain that shot through his big toe. “And how did you get him out of there and where did he vanish to? He didn't have time to get out of the river and skip away before you dragged me onto the shore.”

“He did have time. You were under longer than you know.”

“How long?”

“A minute and a half of the clock passed after I reached down to take hold of you.” Ryan's eyes grew intense. “Another two passed. More than an adequate amount of time for a man to slip away.”

“But he wasn't a man, was he?” Jake squinted against the brightness, searching Ryan's face for any hint of confirmation. “You know, don't you?”

“I cannot reveal to you the identity of the man who put you in a position of drowning.”

“You can't, or you won't?”

Ryan turned his attention to the river.

“It wasn't human, was it?”

“No.” Ryan's face was pale. “It was not.”

“It almost killed me. You saved my life.” Jake slumped forward on his elbows. “Why was it after me?”

“There are forces in this universe that desire life, and others that are twisted, their only desire the destruction of all that is good.”

“But you were stronger.” Jake's heart rate had settled to its normal pace, but his mind still felt like it was racing at the speed of light. “Thank you.”

Ryan squeezed Jake's shoulder.

“Are you all right?” The worry on Ryan's face deepened.

Jake didn't answer.

“Are you, Jacob?”

“Once again, I wasn't enough.”

“Yet you are alive.”

“Only because of you.”

“It's time to go.” Ryan gave Jake's shoulder another squeeze, then stood.

Jake wobbled to his feet. “That was insane. I thought my life was over.”

As Jake stared into Ryan's eyes they flitted with what? Defiance? Anger? The man, or whatever he was, had just saved his life, and yet there was a spark of something Jake wasn't entirely comfortable with.

“And you, Ryan? Are you well?”

“I don't like what happened here.”

“That's two of us.” Jake looked upstream at the boulders that had almost taken his life. “How do we get back?”

Ryan motioned toward a thin path that led to a stand of pine trees fifty or sixty yards away. “Through there is the way back. Are you ready? Or do you need a bit longer?”

“I'm good.” Jake stumbled a few steps forward.

“I can tell.” Ryan smiled.

After they pushed through the trees and stepped through whatever kind of doorway they created, Jake looked at the sun and said, “How long have we been gone? Four hours? Five?”

“Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“It will seem as if only minutes have passed when you get back.”

“What?”

“Have you not noticed this yet?”

“Noticed what?”

“That the time you arrive and the time you leave seem to be close to the same.”

“Yeah, but my first few times I haven't stayed that long.”

“What is the longest time you've spent in the meadow before returning back to the lake?”

“Half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes.”

Ryan nodded. “Not long. And I would suspect that given your level of rumination on what happened to you here, you haven't examined the clock after you've returned to the house you're staying in.”

Jake frowned. No, he hadn't. “Maybe I haven't looked at a clock, but time has passed. The sun is higher in the sky.”

“The time it takes you to get to the entrance of the corridor, the trek across the water, and the trek back when you return, yes, of course that takes time. And yes, time passes while you are in the meadow and other realms within it, but not at the same rate.”

“Then how do I know anything really happened? How do I know I'm not simply having visions that fill my mind for a few moments, that fool me into thinking it's real?”

“There is no truth in that question. Remember, Jacob, emotions do not dictate truth. Truth dictates truth. You have been given a remarkable gift. Do not let unnecessary distractions keep you from embracing it fully.”

“So this is real.” Jake swept his hand over the field.

Ryan dipped his chin and stared at Jake from under his eyebrows. “Tonight, when the water you ingested into your lungs is working its way out of your body, ask yourself if it's in your mind or if it is real.”

Jake reached out his hand. Ryan stared at it for a moment before taking it.

“Thank you, Ryan. For saving my life.”

“It was my honor, Jacob.”

“I need to confess something to you.”

“Oh?” Ryan's eyebrows moved up a touch.

“I didn't trust you. Not fully. Not till you saved me in the river. Forgive me for that.”

Ryan's face softened and a smile broke out. “Ah, Jacob. There's no need to confess or ask for my pardon. I sensed the hesitation in you and did not once consider it an affront. Instead, I counted it as wisdom.

“Come, Jake Palmer, you did well today. It is time for us to return you to the cabin where your friends await your return.”

Ryan clasped Jake's shoulder as they strode back to the curtain of willow branches. “Tomorrow we will fight again. It will
not be as easy as today. I suggest you attempt to acquire adequate rest between now and then, both physical and emotional.”

Jake stared at Ryan. “Not as easy?”

“No.”

“Are you kidding? I almost die and you're saying tomorrow is going to be harder?”

“This journey you have chosen to undertake is not one of ease. It surprises me that you have not yet embraced this truth.”

“I knew this was going to be hard. Leonard said the same. But he didn't say I was going to die in the process.”

Ryan smiled. “This was not your day to die.”

B
y the time Jake reached his kayak, a familiar voice called out to him.

“Tell me what happened.”

Leonard.

Jake paddled over and pointed a finger at him. “Tell me something. How do you always know the day and time I'm going to be here?”

Leonard adjusted his sunglasses and focused on the cattails to Jake's right. “I have no idea when you're going to show up here.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then explain to me why you're here sitting in the shallows almost every time I exit the corridor.”

“Simple.”

“Tell me.”

“Don't be an idiot, Palmer.”

“It's not a stupid question, Leonard.” Jake dipped his paddle in the water and pulled a stroke closer to the old man.

“You can't figure it out, huh?” Leonard blew out a soft breath,
took off his glasses, and looked at Jake with tired eyes. “I come here every morning. Every morning of the year. Spring. Summer. Fall. Winter. I'm here without fail. I've been coming here every morning for the past forty years.”

Leonard looked away, and when he turned back, the sadness in the man's eyes was so deep it struck Jake like a gong. An instant later it was replaced by a steely resolve.

“So let's drop that and get on to you.”

“Why?” Jake paddled even closer. “Why do you come here every morning?”

“Now you are asking a stupid question. You know why.”

And in a flash, Jake did. Leonard came here every morning searching for the corridor. For a way in. So he could get what he wanted most in the world, just like Jake, just like any man or woman would. But why believe in something that had proven to be false for so many years?

“Why do you keep searching for it? Why do you still believe it's real?”

Leonard stared in the direction of the reeds where Jake had exited and spoke more to the cattails than to Jake. “I made a choice.”

“What choice?”

“Same one you're going to have to make soon.”

“Tell me.”

Leonard leaned forward and pulled in the rope attached to his tiny anchor. Not that he needed it in the still waters at the end of the lake, but it was probably a habit born of years of fishing on Willow Lake in conditions not so benign.

“Lemme tell you something, Palmer.” He hoisted the anchor
into the boat. “I like you. So there's a big part of me that wants to tell you what I know, but I think you should probably figure that out on your own, and since I'm not sure if I'm right, I'm going to keep my mouth shut.”

“Why do I need to figure it out on my own?”

“It's the way it is.”

“How do you know these things?”

“I don't ‘know these things' like I just told you. I don't know what's right and what's wrong. I only know what happened to me. Maybe with you it will be different.”

“What will be different?”

Leonard finished securing the anchor in the bow of his boat and gripped its sides. “Don't make the same mistake I did. Press in. Face it when it comes.”

Jake dug hard into the water and propelled himself across the five feet that separated him from Leonard, then took hold of the old man's rowboat and spoke through gritted teeth.

“I need to know everything I can about the corridor and what does and can go on in there, and you know everything about it.”

Leonard clasped his hands together, and his eyes once again turned in the direction of the cattails. “I don't know much, son.”

“I know you do.”

“So little. I know so very little about that place.”

“But you've been there, Leonard, haven't you?” Jake shook the rowboat, but Leonard stay fixed in his seat as if he were on dry ground. “Answer me. You've been there, I know this.”

“Yes.” The old man's eyes turned to stone and he flicked his chin at Jake. “But no one gets a do-over on the corridor tour.”

“What happened?”

Leonard grabbed Jake's hand, yanked it off the rowboat and shoved himself away. “Leave it alone, Slick.”

“Tell me, Leonard. What was the wrong choice you made?”

Leonard growled and dipped his oars in the water and pulled hard. Ten seconds later he'd pushed through the thin outer layer of reeds and faded from sight.

At lunch out on the deck, Susie slapped both hands on the table and said to everyone, “I've been thinking about something since poker last night. Since this is a group that likes to go deep, I want to invite you to go deep as we sit in this paradise with a crystal lake in front of us and a cloudless sky overhead.”

“Wow. Poetic.” Peter grinned. “I can tell this is going to be good.”

“You know it.” Susie winked at Peter. “I'm going to ask a question, and the first thing that comes to mind is what you have to answer with.”

Susie locked eyes with each of them before continuing. “Everyone in?”

Everyone around the table nodded except Jake. But Susie either didn't see or ignored him. Jake would bet his life on the latter.

“Great! Like I said, I've been thinking about the poker game. Specifically the bluff Ari pulled off on Camille, and her ability to see that Jake was bluffing when he went all in.

“What is bluffing but pretending?” Susie spread her hands on the table. “Saying something is real when it isn't. Putting up a
false pretense and trying to get everyone else to believe it. But it's not just poker, it's life, too, right? We all wear masks and desperately hope no one will peek underneath. And yet there's a big part of us that wants to take off the mask. That would be freedom.”

Jake's stomach tightened as Susie continued.

“We trust each other, have shared deep hurts and wonderful triumphs. So what I want to do is have all of us tell what our biggest bluff is, the one we desperately hope no one finds out about.”

Susie sat back and Jake watched her watch the faces of her friends. When she reached him, Susie glanced away. He guessed the look in his eyes wasn't the warmest at the moment.

“Okay, now that I've given time for that first thought to roll around in your brain for a few moments, let's get started.” She laughed and said, “And since I'm the idiot who came up with this stupid idea, I'll go first. But before I do, please know I have this in my hand.”

She pulled the wooden baton out from under her leg and waved it in the air. “I will give it next to whoever isn't nice to me when I tell you my bluff.”

She pressed her lips together, looked toward the trees to the west, and gave a quick nod. “People say I have a nice figure, and I do work at it, but there's more to the story. When I was in the tweener years, I got pudgy, and my dad teased me about it.
Teasing
is putting it nicely. I decided right then I would never ever, never ever ever get heavy. I've never had an eating disorder, but I still hated the bumps on my legs that I couldn't get rid of no matter what I did.”

Susie let her head fall back and a soft groan floated toward the sky. “I can't believe I'm going to confess this, it's so completely
embarrassing. Why did this have to be the first thing that popped into my mind? Arrrgh! Fine. Fine, fine. You want to know. You really want to know? I had liposuction. There, I said it. You happy? I had liposuction on my upper legs and part of my butt.”

She dropped the baton onto the table and covered her face with her hands. Andrew put his arm around her shoulder and drew her into his chest.

“Well spoken, love.”

“That's so cool.” Camille leaned forward. “Where'd you have it done?”

Susie laughed and shook her head. “I love you, Camille.”

Andrew waved his forefinger. “Who's next?”

Susie grinned and shoved the baton to her left. “Why, look at that, dear. It looks like it's right in front of you.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and said, “I pretend I don't like dessert, but I really do.”

The joke fell flat, and Andrew's gaze dropped to the table. He looked like he was trying to hide his thick frame behind his chicken-salad sandwich.

“The one I don't want to admit even to myself, let alone you guys, is the one that came to mind immediately, so that's of course the one I have to let out. Right? Of course right.”

Susie squeezed his hand, her face full of knowing and compassion. Andrew rapped the table twice with the baton and continued.

“Growing up, my dad hammered me if I ever said, ‘I don't know.' He drilled into me the idea that you always had to have an answer anytime, anywhere, for anyone who asked a question. He told me I had to answer with conviction and strength.

“I grew to believe telling someone ‘I don't know' is the worst response possible. I haven't said those words since age thirteen. Even if I don't know the answer, I give one.” Andrew glanced around the table, then focused on his chips again. “I'm not lying exactly, I'm not trying to deceive anyone. I just come up with an answer, even if I have to guess some of the facts and make some of it up along the way. I fight it and hate myself for doing it, but it's been a tough habit to break.”

The confession didn't surprise Jake, just as it wouldn't surprise anyone around the table except Ari. Jake had known it for years. And instead of making him think less of Andrew, the admission made his respect for the man grow. No one commented, but they didn't need to. Their faces spoke of acceptance and grace with more power than their words could have. From the expression of peace on Andrew's face, he caught his friends' sentiment.
And the truth shall set you free.

“Who are you going to hand the baton to?” Susie asked.

Andrew pointed it at Peter. “You're up, my man.”

“Wow.” Peter leaned forward, elbows on the table, and let out a nervous laugh. “I didn't think this would be so hard.”

After the laughter died down, Peter rubbed his temples. “I say the second thing that came to mind, right?”

“Go ahead,” Andrew said. “Keep stalling, we have all night.”

Peter groaned and threw his head back. When he brought it forward again, his eyes were somber. “If you ask anyone at the office they'll tell you I'm nuts about the NBA. I'm in three NBA fantasy leagues. I can quote you stats on the leading players on every team and predict the next superstar coming out of college
with amazing accuracy. I'm not so good at football, but I can keep up with most guys when it comes to the NFL and college ball. But it's all a front. I hate basketball. I hate football. I really don't like sports.”

Andrew's eyes went wide but he didn't say anything.

“When I was young, I was always tall for my age. Ever since the age of eight my uncles and older cousins would sing, ‘Peter, Peter, you're so tall, why don't you play basketball?' When it came to football, they said I'd make a great tight end once I put on weight. The QB could throw the ball so high I was the only one who could catch it. I wanted to be one of the guys, so I tried out for both sports and I was horrible in each of them. Worse in basketball.

“There it is, folks.” Peter opened his palms. “My bluff. I'm the great pretender. I'm not macho. I never will be.”

“Way to go, Pete.” Andrew smacked him in the arm. “You're such a stud. Always were, always will be in my book.”

After the others offered their support as well, Peter pointed the baton at Jake's chest. “Your turn, Clark.”

Jake chuckled and said, “Since you said Ari could take the fifth anytime this week, and she has agreed to play this game, I'm going to borrow her pass.”

“Ehhhhh! Sorry, pal.” Peter knocked on the table in front of him. “That's only good for Ari, not the rest of us.”

“But what about that amendment to the summer-gathering constitution about being single? Don't I recall that if someone is single, they don't have to—”

“Oh, come on, Jake,” Camille spouted. “Ari is going to go and she barely knows us, but you're not willing to go?”

Jake considered lying, but he'd end up confessing the lie later anyway. As his heart hammered away inside his chest, he tried to figure out a way to escape. In the end, he made a lame excuse about having to use the bathroom and didn't return.

Susie found him fifteen minutes later down on the dock. “Nice exit.”

“I'm not proud of it.”

“I wouldn't be either.”

He glanced at her, then went back to watching the lake. “Why'd you do that to me?”

“I did it to all of us.” She pointed back toward the cabin with her thumb. “Everyone played, even Ari. Everyone but you.”

“I'm not ready.”

“Because it would mean telling Ari about the incident?”

Jake didn't need to confirm Susie's assertion. Of course that's what it was. He looked at her and spoke the words he knew she wanted to hear. “I'll tell her tomorrow.”