Memory's Door (A Well Spring Novel) (38 page)

“I made a poor choice. The most devastating of my life. And I’m terrified to tell you because I know what will happen if I do. I’ve seen it—and I can’t live with that—but I can’t not tell you.”

She slipped on her sunglasses even though it was growing dark
and pulled her legs in tighter. “If you tell me you had an affair, I won’t believe you.”

Marcus squeezed his eyes shut. “No, in some ways having an affair would be easier.”

Kat went silent and when she spoke it was only two words. “Tell me.”

Then he was over the edge of the waterfall hurtling down, the speed increasing as the words of what he’d done poured out of him. Kat’s mouth didn’t move, nor did her chin or her head or her hands or her body. When he finished, Marcus dragged his hands slowly over his head and slumped back in his chair.

A minute passed. Then another. Kat said nothing.

“Please forgive me. Can you? Is that desire of mine even remotely attainable?”

Still his wife didn’t speak, the only sound her slow, steady breathing.

“Please . . .” The word was barely above a whisper. “Talk to me. Say something, anything.”

She nodded but remained silent. Kat sighed, let go of her legs, and shifted so she sat crisscrossed. She gazed toward their home, then out over the lawn, then back to Marcus.

“It’s stunning,” Kat said, then lapsed back into silence.

“What is?”

“How long you’ve carried this and how effectively the enemy has used it to ravage your soul.”

“I don’t understand. What do you—?”

Kat held her finger up to her lips. “As brilliant as you are at most times, your mind and heart have been blinded.”

“I don’t—”

“Let me speak.” Kat took his hands in hers. “Do you not have any understanding of the heart of a mother? I heard that voice in my mind from the moment Layne was born. I heard it when Abbie and Jayla were born, and it has never stopped whispering in my ear.

“I hear it now in almost every moment of every day. I second-guess myself. Don’t let Abbie play soccer, she could be badly hurt. Don’t let Jayla do gymnastics—she’s too young. Don’t let them ski or ice skate, or even go to a friend’s house for an overnight stay.”

Kat squeezed his hands tighter. “Do you remember what I went through the first time Abbie went to summer camp? I was certain a canoe would tip over and there wouldn’t be a life guard there in time. Do you remember the first time each of the girls got on the school bus?”

Kat swung her legs down onto the patio and pulled Marcus closer. “Every time I say good-bye to the girls, I wonder if it’s for the last time. You don’t know, you don’t know.” She laughed. “If I’d listened to that voice every time it said to keep them from going somewhere or doing something with the slightest hint of danger, they’d have never left the house.”

“But it doesn’t change the fact I let him go for that ride. It doesn’t change the fact I was so consumed with my presentation, I . . . wanted him to go.” Fresh tears spilled onto Marcus’s cheeks. “Do you understand what I’m saying? I wanted him to go.”

“Yes, you did. But that doesn’t change anything. The enemy has used that lie against you for the last time. Yes, maybe you wouldn’t have let him go if you’d been more focused on the moment. Maybe. But would you have saved him that time and lost him the next? Our lives are in God’s hands, our hours on this earth are his alone to hold. I’m not going to live my life with regrets because I said yes to my children living life.”

“Still I . . .”

“Yes, you let him ride. Yes, I miss him horribly. It’s rare for two days to go by without my crying about it during moments alone that you never see. And yes, this time of the year it grows far worse and I wonder how I’ll get through the days before and after the anniversary. But that pain has nothing to do with the guilt the enemy has thrown on you.

“For you to have carried this burden all these years makes me
so sad. And angry. Such a lie from the pit of hell. Why didn’t you talk to me about this years ago?”

Marcus rubbed his face. “It took so much out of you when it happened, and I was afraid if I ever told you, you would . . . leave.”

Tears spilled onto Kat’s cheeks. “Hear me when I say this, Marcus.” She waited till he held her gaze and when she spoke the words came slowly. “I would have done the same thing. Hear me again. I would have let Layne go too.”

Marcus sighed and pulled her into his chest and his tears mixed with hers. Neither spoke for a long time.

“You have to let it go.” Kat leaned forward and planted her elbows on her knees. “Now listen to me. Hear my words and hear my heart. I mean every word: I forgive you, Marcus. I forgive you utterly and completely even though there is nothing and never has been anything to forgive. It’s gone. Don’t let it ever sink its claws into you again. Do you hear me?”

Marcus stared at her, tears again coming to his eyes. What was wrong with him? He’d cried more in the past eight hours than he’d cried in the past eight months. Finally he lifted her head and kissed her. “Freedom.”

She smiled, the tears glistening on her cheeks making her more beautiful than ever. “Yes. It’s what he does.”

FIFTY-TWO

D
ANA
, R
EECE
,
AND
B
RANDON STEPPED THROUGH THE
curved doorway in the fortress and stopped just inside. Before them lay a long hallway with a low ceiling that ran for sixty yards before ending in front of a heavy blue curtain. They eased down the hallway and stopped in front of the curtain.

“Go on?” Brandon said.

Dana glanced at him. Of course they would go on. They didn’t come this far to stop now. She pushed through the plush curtain and the others followed. Ten feet ahead was another curtain—wispy, that looked like it was made of a lace that had faded long ago. They stepped through it into a huge circular room twenty yards across. It towered above them so high, the ceiling faded into dimness. The floor of the room was made of green marble, the walls of a light wood, ash or maple.

In the exact center of the room sat a young-looking boy—nine, ten at the most—on an ivory chair. Thin blond hair framed a peaceful face. The boy wore dark jeans and a light blue T-shirt with a picture of an eagle on it. His feet were bare. He sat so still Dana couldn’t tell if he was alive or a statue.

When they got to within ten feet of the boy, he turned. “Hello.” His smile was innocent and full of wonder. “Finally you’re here, but where is Marcus?”

Reece took a step in front of Dana and Brandon. “We know what you are.”

“No, you don’t, but that’s okay. It really is. All will be made clear, all will be revealed very soon.” He gazed at them with placid green
eyes.

“You are the Wolf.”

“No.” The boy giggled. “It’s so much better than you could have imagined. There will be a tiny bit of discomfort, but that is all. The rest will be so very, very good. Are you ready?”

Before the boy finished speaking, he and the stone walls around them faded. The floor under their feet turned from stone to soft grass. They stood on a wide hill that sloped down to a valley filled with cypress trees. Above them was an almost-cloudless blue sky and the air had a feeling of late spring and unbridled joy. Worry slipped off Dana like a lead coat falling to the ground.

“Wow.” Brandon spun in a slow circle. “I’m having a hard time not liking it here. Are you guys feeling this?”

“Be careful. Stay alert,” Reece said.

“Any idea what we do next?”

The big man answered by pointing to the end of the valley on their right. Dana squinted and saw a tiny cloud of dust rising and then the cause. A rider on a white horse streaked their way faster than would have been possible on earth.

“The Wolf cometh?” Brandon said.

“I’m not getting any sense of evil.” Reece turned to Dana. “You?”

“
Triumph
is the word that comes to mind.”

“Brandon?”

“Same.”

They stood, each of them like stone, and watched the rider flash toward them. In seconds he reached the bottom of the hill. The garb of the man matched the color of his horse. His body was wrapped in a white cloak except for a dark crimson stain along the bottom. In one hand he held the reins of his horse. In the other he held a sword. A thin gold crown encircled his head.

It couldn’t be. Brandon was the first one to say it, but Dana was thinking it. Reece had to be as well.

“Straight out of Rev,” Brandon said. “‘I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest.’”

“Is it possible?” Dana stared in astonishment.

Reece voiced her next thought. “‘I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and wages war. His eyes are like blazing fire . . . He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God.’”

An instant later the ground shook as the thundering hooves of the horse dug into the ground ten feet from them, and the rider pulled the stallion back onto two legs as a loud whinny erupted from its throat.

The rider brought his horse back to four hooves and trotted back and forth twice before coming to a stop. The apostle had it right with the blazing-eyes thing.

“Lord.” Dana stared at the rider. The word came out as a statement, but in her mind it was a question. It made no sense. How could it be him? This was the lair of the Wolf. The arena in the heavens where they had been led to face him in battle.

The rider grinned as he glanced at all of them and opened his arms wide. “You have all fought so well and so long. Well done, my faithful servants.”

“Who are you?” Reece’s voice was tight. Controlled. No fear.

“Search your heart, Reece.” The rider slid from his horse and stood next to it. “You know it is I.”

“Prove it.”

“You are right to be cautious, alert, testing the spirits, but the time for rest is upon you.” The rider . . . the Lord? Was it truly him? “Come, let me show you something.”

He walked to the opposite side of the hill and they followed him but kept a healthy distance between them. The rider pointed toward the horizon. A speck of darkness far away, almost too distant
to see, spread across the vast plain. Gold, red, and silver light flashed against the clouds like machine-gun fire.

“There the battle against the kingdom rages, a war with the spirit of religion and all the other members of the demonic host. Its fires will never go out till I come again to earth to bring my beloved bride home, but let us not speak of that for the moment. Yes, you have come to the lair of the Wolf, but it is out there.” He pointed again toward the horizon. “Not here.” He turned and smiled at them again. “It is so good to see you.”

Reece glanced at Brandon and her. “No closer than ten yards till we know if it is really him.”

The rider held out his nail-scarred hands. “‘Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.’”

Reece’s head moved side to side as if he were studying one of M. C. Escher’s drawings and couldn’t reconcile how a staircase could keep going up indefinitely. Confusion and joy wrestled on his face. “The Spirit brought us here to engage the Wolf, the spirit of religion.”

“Are you sure of that, Reece?” The rider shook his head. “No, I brought you here to explain that you have already battled the Wolf—the spirit of religion—many times and you will continue to wage war against him for years to come.”

“If that’s true, then explain it.”

“With great joy I will, for you all have done well.” Laughter swept through Jesus’ eyes. “Yes, the Wolf—the spirit of religion—has risen, but don’t you see? For the past year you have advanced the kingdom in significant ways. With each soul you go into and set free, you have brought war against the Wolf and weakened his kingdom. With every four-day session of training you do at Well Spring, you damage the enemy more and advance the cause of freedom.”

The rider stroked his horse with a strong hand. “The ones you’ve trained have taken the message of freedom back to their friends, their families, their churches. Think of the e-mails you receive! The phone calls. The cards. The stories of breakthrough and healing
and victory over religion and rote traditions. Think of the fruit that is being produced.” Jesus raised his arms to his sides. “Don’t you see it? What the Father is doing?”

Reece glanced at Brandon and her, but only for an instant, then turned his gaze back to Jesus. “Talk to me, Song. What are you sensing?”

“Relief. I was so geared up for this massive battle with this religious spirit—whatever that was.” Brandon snorted out a laugh. “Actually I wasn’t geared up. I was exhausted after rescuing Marcus. I have to say this is totally unexpected, but so glorious.” He let his head fall backward and he closed his eyes. “Accept the gift of this moment.”

Reece’s body language softened. “I’m starting to agree. But we have to be sure.” He turned to Dana. “Leader?”

What the rider said made sense. And how could she deny his words? She’d never heard Zennon talk like this. It would be so good to rest. To let go. But a small part of her wasn’t convinced. “Why the big buildup? Why take us through the dark cloud? Why set us on the road that was in Marcus’s vision and lead us to the fortress that he saw? Why not simply bring us here first?”

“Don’t you understand, child? Don’t you remember the end of Marcus’s vision? In it, I defeated Satan. I locked him in the chest and tossed the chest into a crack in the ground so small human eyes would not be able to see it. But you only
heard
about Marcus’s vision. And even he only went so far as to watch my victory from a great distance. I wanted you to experience the victory, step into it yourselves, and celebrate here with me rather than just being told about it. Think about what stirred inside you as I streaked toward you just now down in the valley below. Think of the joy and triumph you felt when you knew it was me! I wanted you to know that feeling because you have earned it.”

Dana stared at Reece’s face. It was full of peace and adoration. Brandon looked the same. So what was wrong with her? Why did doubts still swirl around her like a swarm of mosquitoes?