To kiss someone.

To kiss Paul.

My mind went blank for a moment. I flicked the stick into the grass as shame washed over me. Why couldn’t I just let the temptation go? I was wicked to the bone, that’s what it was. Here I was, eighteen years old, and I was growing more sinful with each passing day.

No, Eden . . . It’s natural to want to kiss a boy. What do you think all the rest of the people in the world do? Kathryn’s put you in a prison and you secretly hate her for it.

The thought came out of nowhere and stopped me cold. How could I think such a thing? I suddenly felt panicky, dreadful, sick to my stomach. If Mother knew I’d had such a thought she would confine me to my closet for a week. I couldn’t allow myself to think that way!

I was a blessing, not a prisoner in my own home.

It’s not even your real home.

“Stop it!” I muttered.

I had to get back to the house.

I jumped to my feet, grabbed my blanket, and ran back to the house where I went straight to my room and lay down in the comfort of my own bed. This was where I belonged, right? Whatever pathetic complaints might tempt me, this room was my home. I belonged here.

It may seem strange, but the thought of being confined brought me peace, and I embraced it, as I often did. Soon the world around me faded and, tired to the bone, I fell asleep.

I don’t know how long I’d been asleep before the vivid dream visited me. In it, I was back at the lake that same afternoon, as if I hadn’t left. The breeze blew in my face, the water stretched out to a distant horizon, I was in peace and I closed my eyes, grateful.

That’s when I heard the gurgling of water to my right. I snapped my eyes wide and spun around.

There, less than a stone’s throw away, just rounding the bend in the shore, came a small rowboat. And in that boat, a man pulling at two oars, guiding the boat toward me.

I froze. A part of me knew that I was in a dream, but only a very small part because the dream was as vivid as any I’d ever had. And right there in front of me was a boat. It was actually there. But in a dream.

I’d seen a few boats on the lake but never so close, and never angling for the shore. My heart pounded and I thought I should turn and run, but my feet didn’t want to move.

The man had dark, wavy hair that fell to his shoulders, and he eyed me with interest, wearing a smile. But it was his eyes that drew me as the boat came closer, faster than I would have guessed, effortlessly gliding through the water.

I had to run! I had to get back to the house! Mother would never approve of this.

Why, Eden?

It didn’t matter why. She just wouldn’t. I was hers and hers alone. No one was supposed to even know I was here!

“Hello, my dear.”

The man’s voice was low and gentle. He lifted the oars from the water and let the boat slide forward. A wooden boat maybe four feet wide with a single board across the center on which the man sat. He was dressed in blue jeans and a denim jacket, wearing black boots.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” the man said.

I wasn’t sure if I should run, or talk to the man. My mind said run, my heart told me I was eighteen now. It was okay to speak to a stranger even if he was a man.

The boat slid to a stop on the bank and the man looked at me, smiling, eyes as blue as the sky. He wasn’t as large as Wyatt, but he looked strong enough to throw me over his shoulder with one hand and hardly notice I was there.

“You’re an awfully pretty girl,” he said, voice as gentle as a dove. “What’s your name?”

I hesitated for a moment.

“Eden,” I said.

“Eden.” He said my name as if it held great significance. “Like the garden of life. You’re very lucky to have such a beautiful name.”

Run, my mind screamed.

Wait. Hadn’t I just run, only to end up right back here?

Stay, my heart demanded.

“Thank you,” I said.

He dipped his head. “I don’t mean to intrude. I saw you sitting alone.” He scanned the shore. “Are you okay?”

No, I thought.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m fine.”

He looked at me for a long moment, as if trying to decide if he could believe me. And why should he? He’d caught me in a discombobulated state of mind.

“Well, Eden, do you mind if I get out and stretch for a spell on your beach? It took me a bit to row this boat across the lake.”

I forgot that I was in a dream. It all felt absolutely real. The breeze, the smell of the water, the sight of the stranger, the sound of his voice. Which meant that I was at a crossroads, because this was the first unfamiliar person I’d ever met alone. Sure, I’d briefly met some of the other men and women who’d come to our property over the years—all members of Zeke’s community—but always in the company of Kathryn, and then only to say hi as instructed by my mother.

“No need to be afraid, my child,” he said with a whimsical smile. “The alligators lurking beneath the waters in your mind pose far more of a threat than me. And I’ve been known to take care of even those. Besides, you look like you could use a friend.”

I was at a crossroads, but suddenly I was past it, because suddenly I thought, why not? There’s no sin in making a new friend. And I’m eighteen now.

“I guess,” I said.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” He promptly set the oars down, slung a leg over the boat, dropped into foot-deep water, and walked up onto the shore, not bothered that his boots were soaked.

He stretched his arms over his head, then leaned this way and that, working the kinks out of his bones. “Ah, that’s better. Sitting so long can give you the cramps.”

Without further invitation, he strolled up to me and sat cross-legged on the grass beside the blanket, which he promptly patted.

“Have a seat, Eden.”

Again I hesitated. The sudden appearance of the stranger had taken me completely off guard and now here he was, sitting by my blanket, speaking as if we’d been friends our whole life.

But that was just it. In a way, as strange as he was, I actually felt as though we had. So I sat on the blanket beside him, cross-legged.

“You can call me Stephen,” he said, reaching his hand across to me. “Some call me Outlaw.”

Thoughts of touching unclean flesh spinning through my head, I took his hand. “Hi, Stephen,” I said. His hand was warm and strong but it held mine gently and only for a moment.

We sat in the still afternoon, staring out at the lake together and at first I thought how strange and awkward it was, sitting there doing nothing together. But as the silence stretched I thought how nice it was, sitting there staring out at the water, doing nothing with someone new.

For no reason that I could understand, emotion suddenly rose through my throat. Good emotion. Warmth and contentment. Here I was, just being with someone new. What a strange and wonderful thing.

“So . . .” he finally said. “How long have you lived here, Eden?”

“Five years.” Then I added, for no good reason, “I’m eighteen now.”

“Eighteen. That’s wonderful. How do you like it?”

“I just turned eighteen yesterday.”

“I meant living here. How do you like it?”

I shrugged. “It’s all I know.”

“Well, it’s not a bad thing to know.” He took a long draw through his nose. “Reminds me of where I grew up.”

“Where was that?”

He chuckled. “A long way from here in a jungle across the world. On a mountain near swamps not so different than these. We had crocodiles instead of alligators, and more kinds of birds than you could count in a day. It was a wild place. Every day brought enough adventure to last a lifetime.”

“You were there with your family?”

He eyed me kindly. “I grew up with my . . . father.”

“Just your father?”