“But that’s not true. I will drown!”

“So you believe. That’s why metanoia requires faith, a tiny bit at least, like maybe the size of a speck of dust. Everyone believes what they believe, right? Only those who go beyond what their mind tells them can walk on the troubled waters of life.” He winked. “Like me.”

Metanoia. It had a ring to it. I suddenly liked the word.

“As long as you keep your eyes on the troubled sea, and believe that the wooden hull under your feet keeps you safe from that sea, you’ll never be a proper water walker. And you are, Eden.”

“I am what?”

“A water walker. Just like me.”

“I am?”

“Sure. You walked on water before, didn’t you?”

He was talking about the first dream I had with him. “Not really. I was walking in shallow water.”

“Well then it’s time you learned to walk on deeper water. To do that you have to let go of the knowledge that the boat keeps you safe and the water is a danger.”

Hearing him explain it that way, it almost felt like I’d heard it before, a long time ago. Not from Kathryn, that was certain. Maybe before. Or maybe it only felt that way because I was in a dream.

“Let go of your fears of what can’t hurt you, Eden. Find no offense in the water. Turn the other cheek, surely you’ve heard that before. Forgive the offense. Do that and it won’t swallow you.”

“Forgive?”

“It means let go.”

The idea drew me. What if I could? What if I could just up and walk out of all the troubles in my life? But it was also absurd, wasn’t it? I mean . . . How could I just let go of everything I knew to be true?

But then . . . that was my mind telling me it was absurd.

Then again . . . he was saying that metanoia was going beyond the mind. Using faith.

Outlaw held out a hand. “Wanna try?”

“Now?”

“Why not? It’s the only way you’re getting to shore. What do you say?”

His smile was infectious. And we were just in a dream. I could change my thoughts here. Anything was possible, right? I just had to change my mind.

“Okay.”

A grin split his face and he slapped the edge of the hull. “Jika, jika, jawa! Now you’re talking, dead man walking!” He thrust his hand out again. “Take my hand, and step on sand.”

I couldn’t help but grin with him. But looking at the water, I couldn’t see that it was sand. We were in the middle of the lake—the water had to be a hundred feet deep out here. I was afraid.

“No need to be afraid, Eden,” he said. “See no trouble. Have faith.”

Now he could read my thoughts?

“No, I can’t read your thoughts. But I read faces pretty good. Now step on out here before that hull goes up in smoke.”

“Why would the hull go up in smoke?”

“Well . . . the boat’s only an idea, right? A thought. All thoughts vanish. So waste no time. Walk with me.”

I looked at the water, then back into his bright eyes, then at his hand. I reached for it and he held my fingers firmly but gently.

“Now you’re talking.”

Using my left hand on the hull and supported by his strength, I cautiously drew first my left leg, then my right over the side, so that I was seated on the edge. I kept my eyes on the water, struck by the fact that, even knowing that my mind was only making this all up, that wet, glossy surface rolling gently a few inches under my feet looked so real. So much like water.

And I knew that if I stepped on water I would sink. I just knew it.

My breathing came shallow and I frantically looked up at his smiling eyes.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t you close your eyes. Trust me, if you can’t trust what I’ve told you.”

I nodded, thinking that his hand was strong and if I did sink, he would hold me up.

So I closed my eyes, held my breath, and scooted-stepped-fell into the water, feet first.

But I didn’t fall. The surface under my feet was firm. I was standing! I really was on solid ground and I was so stunned by this that I opened my eyes to see what had changed.

Nothing had. The moment I saw the glistening water, fear washed through me, and the moment I felt that fear, I became convinced that I was going to sink, and the moment I was sure I’d sink, I did.

Right up to my knees, gasping, squeezing my eyes shut.

He chuckled. “Keep your eyes closed.”

I stopped sinking and he gently pulled me up. I was standing again. Once again relief flooded me.

“Walk,” he said, guiding me.

I took a step, keeping my eyes closed.

“That’s my girl. Look at you.”

“No . . .”

“No, you’re right, don’t look.”

I took another step. The water squished under my feet but I didn’t sink.

“You see, Eden, it’s not the water that changes. It’s what you make of the water that changes. It’s finding no offense in the water that keeps you safe, because there’s nothing to be kept safe from when you’re already safe. One step at a time. Walk.”

I took another step, and then another, and another, and suddenly I could not stop grinning.

“Wow,” I said.

“Yeah, wow. Now we’re talking; dead man walking.”

“You keep saying that.” Dead man walking. “I’m not a man and I’m not dead.”

“Just an old saying I learned in the jungle where I grew up. But actually, you are dead. At least the old you is. A good thing, because it’s the only way you can walk on water.”

“To die?”

“To let the old self die. To let go of the known patterns of this world and be transformed by a renewed mind beyond those patterns.”

“Hmm . . .”

But my mind was on the thrill of walking. So I just kept walking with my eyes closed, trusting that he was leading me to the shore.

Slap . . . Slap . . . Slap . . . I was walking on water, filled with courage and feeling so elated that I thought I should scream with joy.

Instead, I breathed out another thought that had entered my mind.

“I’m so glad this is a dream,” I said.

“But in some ways, it’s not,” Stephen said. “Open your eyes, Eden.”

I pulled short. “Now?”

No answer came. I suddenly realized that no one was holding my hand. Without thinking about it, I snapped my eyes wide and stared into the darkness.

It took me a couple seconds to recover my orientation and see that I was lying on my back, in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, covered in sweat.

The reality of my situation crashed in around me and I jerked my head up.

It was night again. White bandages bound my right leg, from my knee all the way down around my ankle. The bandages were wet.

I’d been on the lake. No . . . I had sweated through the bandages.

Kathryn had tried to break my leg. She’d actually injected me with a drug, climbed on the bed, and done her very best to break her own daughter’s leg.

A terrible rage washed over me and I swung my legs off the bed, not caring if or how much it would hurt. I placed my feet on the ground and put some pressure on them.

Pain cut into my right ankle, but not enough to keep me from standing.

I hobbled around the bed, favoring my right leg. It was too sore to walk much, but that would change in a couple days.

I sat back down on my bed, clenched my jaw, and let a quiver work its way through my bones. I had courage now. If there was one thing my dream had shown me it was that I could face all my fears. I could march right out of this hellhole, even if it meant walking right over Kathryn.

She was the troubled black water, but I was a water walker.

That’s what I was going to do. As soon as my ankle could support a good walk, I was going to go, and this time, I was going to go all the way.

25

LIFE CAME in cycles. Some days were hard, others a blessing; some brought death, others life. For every sin, a lash was dealt, and for every moment of holy courage, a jewel stored up. Spare the rod, spoil the child. And they were all God’s children.