“Just my father until I was twenty.”

That was a little bit like me, I thought. And with that thin connection I began to feel like I really did know this stranger named Stephen.

“It’s a long story,” he said, looking out at the still water. “Brimming with freedom.” He took another draw of the air. “There’s nothing like the clean smell of freedom, wouldn’t you say?”

I didn’t really know what freedom was.

“I guess so,” I said.

Stephen nodded. “One day you will know so.” He lifted his arm and motioned out to the middle of the lake. “When you climb in a boat and row out into the middle of the lake, all you see around you is water and all you hear is stillness, and you think, I am safe. I am at peace. There are no troubles that can touch me. Tell me that isn’t so.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m afraid of the water.”

He faced me. “You’re afraid of the water? But you’re in a boat, yes? You’re protected from the water.”

“I’ve never been in a boat.”

“You live on the lake but you’ve never been out on a boat?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because we don’t have a boat. Besides, like I said, I’m afraid of the water.”

“Well then . . . today is your lucky day!” He stood and held out his hand. “Step into the boat, my dear, and see how wonderful it feels to float, carefree on the water beneath your feet!”

“Oh no! I could never get in the boat.”

“Why not?”

My mind swirled with images of Kathryn and dirty water and baptisms. “I would get dirty. It’s not safe!”

He lowered his hand and eyed me gently for a moment, then sat back down. “Well now, dear. There’s nothing in life that’s safe if you think about it. No matter what you do, there’s always a threat lurking, isn’t that what they say?”

He was right, in a way. That’s why I had to stay pure.

“Think of the water like the trouble that comes your way in life. And think of the boat like the kinds of things you have to do to save yourself from those troubles. As long as you stay in the boat, you’re safe, right?”

“I suppose.”

“You keep yourself free from the trouble that wants to drown you and you do so by doing all the right things and following all the rules, because you don’t want to drown. God knows that wouldn’t be a good end.”

I’d never thought of it that way, but it made perfect sense. That’s why I followed all of Mother’s rules. That’s why she put me under the water every week, so that the rest of them wouldn’t have to drown in their own sin.

“Yes,” I said. “And that’s why the water is dangerous.”

“Yes, but we have a boat. For now, think of the boat as your freedom. You do want to be free don’t you?”

Yes. Yes I did. But the thought of being free seemed scandalous to me. Wrong even.

“As long as you live in fear, you aren’t free, I can assure you. Wouldn’t you like to step into the boat just once to see how it feels to be free of even that one small fear?”

“Why are you trying to talk me into doing something I don’t want to do?”

“Because you seem like you could use some help.”

“You only just met me. You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh, but I do, my dear. I know you’re afraid of water. And I know that you are afraid of so much more.”

I stared at him, suddenly wondering if he really did know me. And all I saw in his eyes was kindness and love. They pulled me in a way I had never felt.

“You must know, Eden . . . If I could rush you away from all of your troubles, I would. But only you can free yourself from your fears. Only you can take the path to freedom. In fact, you must. It’s your destiny.”

“My destiny? How do you know?”

He lifted his hand and swept his hair behind his ear, staring out over the water. “Because it’s my destiny too. It’s everyone’s destiny.”

His words were unlike any others I’d heard. Who was this man that he seemed to know so much?

“You are in a prison of your own making, my dear Eden,” he said softly. “As are the vast majority of those who walk this earth. The troubled waters always come, threatening to drown us all.”

Stephen faced me and a glint came to his eyes.

“But before you can deal with those troubled waters, you have to find the courage to step into a boat. What do you say? Just to prove to yourself that you can. Is it forbidden?”

I thought about that.

“No,” I said.

“No. Do you think you will drown?”

I looked at the small boat. At the dark water slapping up against its hull. At the dirty slope disappearing into that water.

“I can’t get dirty. Mother wouldn’t like it.”

“No? Well then . . . I will carry you!” He bounded to his feet and held out his hand as if expecting me to jump to my feet and agree. “What do you say?”

“Carry me?”

“To the boat. I’ll just pluck you up and set you safe and sound in the boat.”

I don’t know why I didn’t just get up and run away then, but I didn’t. Maybe because his words about freedom were working their way into my mind in a way that was both terrifying and thrilling at once. I was eighteen, right?

“How do I know you’re a safe person?” I asked. But I knew he was safe. At least as safe as Mother.

“Because I am. I think you already know that. But it’s your decision. I can put you in the boat and you can float for just a minute. Then you can get out and I’ll be on my way.”

“Just like that.”

“Just like that.”

“And nothing bad will happen to me.”

“On the contrary, my dear. You will have found a slice of freedom.”

So I thought, why not? Why not? It’s just a boat.

I stood to my feet, eyes on the boat. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, and he stepped toward me, put one arm under my knees and the other around my back and swung me from the ground before I could protest.

“Careful!”

But he was already down the bank and in the water, which was a foot or so deep and sloshed as he strode forward. I was too stunned to speak.

And then he hoisted me over the edge of the boat as if I weighed no more than one of my straw dolls, and set me on my feet.

The boat wobbled a little and I flung my arms wide, terrified.

“Oh no! Oh no!”

“Jika jika jawa. You’re floating on water! Look at you, Eden. You did it!”

The boat settled and I tentatively stared down at my feet. They were on solid wood. Not a speck of water was leaking through.

He splashed at the water with his right hand, beaming.

“Ha! You see? You see? You’re on the water. What did I tell you? You just stepped beyond one of your fears only to learn that it was an illusion. That, my dear, is quite an accomplishment.”

His excitement was infectious, and I couldn’t help but return his grin. I was standing in the boat! Like a statue, tall and proud, albeit with arms spread wide just in case.

“Jika, jika, jawa,” I said.

He winked. “Now you’re talking.”

I stood there for a few moments, feeling more courageous than I had for a long time. It was nothing, I knew, but for me, it was something. And no one was watching, so I didn’t feel stupid.

I shifted my weight and felt the boat shift a little. Actually, it was nothing, even to me.

“Now all you have to do is get out and walk back to shore,” he said.

“Walk to shore? No, I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. Is it forbidden?”

I wanted to say yes—it would give me an excuse. But technically, it wasn’t.

“And even if it was, not all forbidden things are wrong. If your mother told you to cut off your hand, would you?”

I blinked at him. Did he know about Mother?

“No, I didn’t think so,” he said. “The fact is, boats really offer you only an illusion of safety. There’s still the water, you see? What if the boat sprang a leak or broke? Or what if a storm rose up? The only way to really be safe is to have no fear of the water under any circumstances, but that’s a bit advanced for today, I would say. Now . . .”