The Long Journey to Jake Palmer (15 page)

A
s dawn crept over the hills to the east, Jake pushed through the tunnel of trees toward the field. It seemed narrower this time, as if the branches had grown closer in just a few days, the green boughs now brushing his shoulders as he moved forward.

He pushed past the curtain of willow branches at the end of the corridor and stopped. The instant his foot hit the ground on the other side, a surge of adrenaline sent him stumbling to his right. Nothing looked different. The trees, the grasses, the pond, the waterfall were all the same. But he knew the meadow had changed.

This time he felt like he was part of the field. He was in the field but the field was also inside of him. The thought made little sense in his head, but this wasn't a place of the mind—it was of the heart. Peace coursed through his body, mind, and soul, and he had no doubt he was about to be given what he wanted most in the world.

He closed his eyes, breathed deep, then opened them and eased forward. The ground under his feet felt softer, the breeze coming straight at him warmer than his first time here, the calls from the birds in the trees more melodic.

Jake didn't think, didn't need to. He allowed himself to be drawn in without consideration of where his feet would take him. A rabbit scurried out from under the brush like before, but this time it spotted him, stopped, and stared directly at him for a moment before scampering back into the brush and disappearing from sight.

He looked back at the branches of the willow tree now blocking his view of the corridor. The real world had vanished. Real world? This one he now stood in was as real as anything on the other side. His friends back at the house were the ones living in a dream.

Jake turned back and now the meadow did look different. Nothing significant. Little nuances like the color of the sky overhead. A deeper blue. The emerald leaves of the aspen trees more vibrant. He closed his eyes again and strolled forward, breathing air that seemed to make him lighter, that seemed to pour strength into his arms and body and legs. His skin tingled as if it was . . . yes, on fire. But a fire of power and life.

When Jake opened his eyes again, he found himself standing at the edge of the pond. The water seemed clearer than before, the creek feeding it more animated as it cascaded over the glistening boulders, the tall grasses at the pond's edge greener than before.

An otter broke the surface on the other side of the pond and Jake watched the ripples slowly come toward him till they reached his side. As they died he studied his reflection in the water, starting with his face and working his way down his body till he fixed his gaze on his legs. As he stared at the mirror image, Jake shook his head. Not possible. The reflection in the water couldn't be accurate.

Jake staggered back and went down hard when his heel caught on something behind him. He tried to catch his breath—not from the fall but from wonder—sat up, closed his eyes, and begged God to make the reflection real.

When he opened them he stared at his legs, mouth cracked open. They were whole. Perfect. His skin faultless, muscles sinewy and strong. He flexed one leg, then the other. Jake reached toward them in slow motion as if his legs weren't real and if he touched them they would morph back into the repulsive, scarred sticks he'd lived with for the past year and a half.

A finger, then two, then his whole hand. They were real. Laughter started deep inside and spilled into the early morning air like a geyser. Without looking, he reached back and ran his hand over his right calf. Smooth. Perfect. Was it there? His M-Dot? He twisted and looked down. Yes. There, the dark red of the ink, the black outline, both as fresh as the day he'd had it done. Unbelievable.

Wait. Had he been healed completely? Jake leaped to his feet and tore off his shirt. He jerked his head down at the same time his hands fumbled on his hips, his glutes, his upper thighs. Yes!

Jake kicked off his shoes and dove into the pond. Was that okay in this holy place?
More than okay,
his heart shouted. This was a time to immerse himself in the wonder of what God had given him and let God's joy course through his body like a flood. Why had he doubted? Why had he pushed God away for so long?

Forgive me.

He swam toward the other side of the pond. Halfway across, a realization struck him though it should have already been
obvious. Not only had his body been healed cosmetically and structurally, his strength had been restored. The muscles he'd worked so hard to develop had returned to what they'd been before. Maybe stronger.

When he reached the other side, Jake pulled himself from the water and took off in a full sprint toward the far side of the meadow, then ran full out in a circle around the entire field. It had to be at least a half mile around. Yes! No worry about his body overheating. When sweat seeped from his lower torso he swiped it onto his fingers and stared at the water and laughed. To sweat again! Seemed strange to celebrate something that had always been such an irritant, but it was so right.

When he reached the tree line where he'd started, Jake jogged to a stop and let his gaze sweep the meadow again and again. Whatever this place was, it was without question a slice of heaven. Why God had created it, who could know? Why did only certain people find it? No idea. All he knew in this moment was a gratitude toward God he couldn't express in words.

“Yes, Lord!” He shouted it with everything inside, his arms thrust to the heavens. Then he fell back—
floated back
would be more accurate—and collapsed onto the lush grass. His arms were wide, his legs splayed out as laughter again poured out of him.

Time slowed till it slipped away. He lay in the meadow and let the wind blanket him. Finally he rose and looked at the corridor that would take him back to his life. Life the way it should be.

Jake shook his head. He was healed. Jake grabbed his legs and squeezed his flexed muscles. Whole. Restored. Time to show the world.

He sprinted back to the pond, scrambled at its edge, picked up and put on his shirt. The pull to stay in this paradise was strong, but the lure of the corridor was stronger. He had to go to his friends, shout to them and the world about what God had done.

Had to find Susie, find Leonard, find Peter, and tell them what had happened. An image of Ari filled his mind. For the first time since he'd met her, Jake allowed his deep feelings to surface. He was drawn to her like he'd never been drawn to another woman. More than anything he wanted to get to know her, see if what he'd imagined in her eyes when she looked at him was real. He could almost believe God had orchestrated their meeting through Peter, and this orchestration was now a resounding new symphony. Now he was whole. Now he could be who he really was with Ari.

She'd already stayed two days longer than originally planned. Maybe she'd be willing to stay a few more. Maybe he would invite her for a long walk as soon as breakfast was over and tell her about his journey.

Jake sprinted back toward the curtain of willow vines and plowed through them ten seconds later. He turned and took a last glance at the meadow, trying to burn an image of it into his mind. But he knew he didn't have to try hard. The memory of this morning would never fade.

He half ran, half walked through the winding tunnel of trees that would lead him back to the water, back to his kayak, back to the cabin. A minute later the ground grew soft. Thirty seconds after that Jake was up to his waist in water, pushing aside the cattails.

As he slogged forward, the cattails seemed to have grown stronger, and he had to push harder to get through them. But soon
he reached the spot where they thinned and he was swimming toward his kayak. His strength wavered a bit as he swam, the adrenaline of his encounter with heaven subsiding, but the peace it had given only increased.

How was he to describe what had happened when he got back to the house? He would show his friends, of course, but what words could he find to tell them about the meadow, his restoration, the overwhelming sense of God in that place? Would they believe him? After one look at his legs they would have to. And what if they wanted to come with him next time? Maybe Leonard was wrong. Would he even be allowed to find it again?

Enough. Their questions would come and he held no answers. But if possible he would do everything in his power to bring them all to the corridor.

Just before reaching his kayak, Jake glanced at the spot where Leonard had been when he'd first reached the end of the lake. He didn't expect the old man to be there, and he wasn't. But Jake had hoped he would be. Who to tell first? Had to be Leonard.

Jake hoisted himself into his kayak with more effort than he expected and slid into the seat. The experience had understandably sapped as much energy from him as it had given. It made sense. He hadn't run like that for eons, and even in a place like the meadow, his lungs weren't accustomed to that kind of exertion. Let alone his mind being overwhelmed in a state from the emotional roller coaster. He grinned.

As Jake reached for his paddle he caught a glimpse of his legs. His scarred, burnt legs.

D
arkness swept over Jake, then through him, into the cracked parts of his soul so deep he had never sensed them before. His gut tightened and he fought to pull in ragged breaths. Sweat broke out on his face and hands, his arms. But not below his waist. Not on his legs. Not on his feet.

His vision went black and he clutched the sides of the kayak to keep from toppling into the water. He gasped for air and tried to keep from looking at his legs, but he couldn't stop himself. What kind of sick joke had God just played on him? Did he enjoy this kind of cruelty? Jake fought to keep his heart from shutting God out as he'd done for a year and a half, to believe God was in this somehow, some way. But how could he? The meadow wasn't heaven, it was hell.

For a moment he wondered if what he'd experienced on the other side of the corridor was real. But only an instant. No! He refused to believe it. It wasn't a dream, wasn't a vision, wasn't some deluded fantasy he'd concocted inside his head. His gaze whipped to the place on his arm where he'd scraped it against a tree during his run. The scratch was there, a thin line of blood
hardening. He clutched at it as if to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

Jake twisted in the kayak, his eyes seeking the corridor. But it wasn't there. Vanished. Even the reeds he knew he'd broken to reach the lake looked like they'd never been touched.

“No!”

Jake screamed the word over and over till his voice grew ragged.

“Why, God?” Jake whispered toward the cattails, but the only response was their slight movement as a breeze came in from the east. There would be no answer, even if the corridor didn't exist anywhere but inside his head. No! He wouldn't consider that for a second. He'd been healed. It was real. There had to be something missing, something else God wanted him to do.

Steady.
He had to take his time. Think. Make rational decisions. Jake glanced again to the spot where Leonard had bobbed two days ago. Yes. That was the smartest move he could make.

He didn't care if his body would overheat. He'd let it cool in the water as soon as he reached Leonard's. As he covered the distance to the old man's home, Jake tried to pray, but words abandoned him. Or maybe he was too angry to pray. Angry. Stunned. Betrayed.

By the time Jake had taken five strokes forward, the breeze kicked up to a full-out wind, plowing straight into him with gusts up to at least fifteen miles an hour. Perfect. The ideal complement to the horror he'd just been through.

Jake struggled against the wind, his arms sapped of strength, his stamina flagging. But he kept pushing. Leonard would have
answers. He had to. Tiny whitecaps danced on the water, sending spray into Jake's eyes and soaking his shirt, but he continued to ignore the burn in his arms and concentrated on steady strokes. Dig in, pull, repeat.

Finally he reached the gentle curve of the land as it swept around to the left, and Leonard's home grew slowly closer. Three minutes later he reached the dock and laid a hand on the gray, weather-worn planks and slowed his breathing.
Relax.
Answers were coming. They had to.

Jake got out of his kayak and slipped into the water next to Leonard's dock. He let the coolness of the water seep into his body for two, three minutes, then pulled himself onto the dilapidated dock. The boards creaked under his feet as he strode across them, but the sound barely registered in Jake's mind.

“Leonard!”

Jake went to the garage and swung open the door. Nothing. Next, the house. He banged on the sliding glass door. No answer. Jake pounded it again. Again, no response. Jake tried the door. Unlocked. He stepped inside.

“Leonard? It's Jake. I have to talk to you.”

There was no sign of the man. Not in his garage, house, garden. Yet Leonard's truck and scooter were there. As was his boat. Jake strode around to the side of the house and gazed up at the hill behind Leonard's home.

There. Movement up on the hill two football fields away. Too far away to be certain it was Leonard, but who else would it be? Jake took a deep breath. Yes, the hill was steep and the sun was getting warmer, but if Leonard had made it up there, so could Jake.

He stopped after fifty yards. He'd paddled over from the corridor too hard. There wasn't enough strength left to climb this hill. But his desperate need to get answers drove him upward. In another two minutes his breathing had turned to panting and he stopped. Had to catch his breath, slow down. Leonard wasn't going anywhere.

Maybe he should wait. It wasn't a bad idea. But Jake dismissed the thought after a few seconds. He couldn't wait. He would take it slow. Get there without dying. Then get perspective on what had happened to him in the field.

Jake shielded his eyes against the rising sun and scanned for Leonard. Yes, it was him. In silhouette, but Jake had no doubt.

“Leonard!”

If he heard Jake he gave no indication. Jake called again; again no response. Another forty yards. Then a stop, hands on knees, gasping, waiting for his wind to return. Jake turned and looked across the lake to where his friends would soon be rising to make coffee and breakfast. Not good.

If they were up when he got back, that meant Ari would be up as well. And even though he'd left his pants on the dock, what if she was on the deck above and saw him? What if she was down at the dock?

Stupid. Why was he thinking about something so asinine as her seeing him, when the disaster of the corridor should be at the forefront of his mind?

“Leonard!”

This time the man turned and gazed down on him. But only for a moment, then he turned back to whatever he was working
on high above the lake. Jake continued his trek up the side of the hill, pausing just long enough to gather the strength to continue upward. Ten steps. Rest. Fifteen steps. Rest. He couldn't see Leonard any longer as an outcropping of rock blocked his view, but in a few minutes he'd reach the man and demand answers.

Twenty more yards. Come on. The air seemed to thin as he slogged on. One hundred more steps. Keep going. Almost there. And then he was. Jake stepped around the corner of the craggy rock and readied himself to confront his old friend.

But Leonard was gone.

“Leonard! I know you're close. You have to be. Talk to me!”

He scanned the area where the old man had stood minutes earlier. But there was no one. Nothing but browned grass and jagged rocks pushing through the soil in stony patches.

Nothing to do but head back down, return to the house across the lake, and pray they were all still asleep. He glanced at the sun. Probably seven by now, maybe later.

As he trudged back down the hill, all the emotions of the past three hours seeped out of him and left a dull kind of despair that throbbed at the back of his mind. He wasn't looking forward to faking his way through the day, trying to create answers as to what had happened. No explanation would come close to satisfying his aching soul.

When he reached Leonard's dock ten minutes later, Jake slipped back into his kayak and paddled across the lake toward the rental house, dreading what he was about to face.

Someone sat in the spot where he and Peter had talked the first night. Still too far away to tell if they were male or female. A few minutes later he could tell it wasn't Peter or Andrew. Too small for either of them. But no clue yet which of the women it was. If it was Ari, what would he say?

Hey, can you toss me my pants? Once I get them, I'll paddle far enough away that you can't see me, then put them on and paddle back before getting out of my kayak. I'm sure you'll understand, because you see, I'm too embarrassed for you to see me as I really am.

Jake clenched his teeth, paddled forward, and shot up a prayer. “Please let it be Susie. Camille even. Just not Ari.”

Another minute and he'd know. He dipped his paddle in the water again and pulled hard. If it was Ari, he'd figure out a way to get ahold of his pants without looking like a moron.

Forty-five seconds later relief flooded him. It was Susie.

“Thank God.”

She waved at him. He waved back and eased his pace. His arms were still trashed from the slog between the end of the lake and Leonard's place. When he was still twenty-five yards offshore, she called out, “Where have you been?”

“Just out for some time by myself.”

Should he tell her? Without Susie, he wouldn't have ever discovered the meadow. He laughed sarcastically inside. Exactly. Without her he wouldn't have found the corridor and his heart wouldn't currently be in a blender. There would be time to tell her later.

“Hey, are you listening to me?”

Jake looked up. “Yeah.”

“Where'd you go for this alone time?” Susie hugged her coffee mug with both hands, face full of anticipation.

Jake glanced up toward the house, even though he couldn't see it through the trees as he pulled up to the shore. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Go grab my pants? They're on the dock.” He pointed to the shoreline. “I'm going to get out here.”

Susie was gracious enough not to ask him why. She shuffled down to the water's edge and held out her coffee mug. “Hot cider. Want some?”

Jake shook his head.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I'm good.”

She marched off as Jake got out of his kayak and tied it up to a branch hanging over the water. By the time he clambered up the bank and settled into one of the four Adirondack chairs, Susie had returned from the dock with his pants.

“You want these?” She dangled them from her outstretched hand, just far enough away that Jake couldn't grab them.

He leaned forward to take the pants but Susie drew them back.

“Oh, you do want them.”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me about whatever it is I see in your eyes.”

“There's nothing to tell. Went for a long paddle, got some time to think about my mutated life, came back, and here we are.”

“Okay.” Susie draped the pants over her shoulder and started to walk away. “See you up there.”

“Fine. I'll tell you.”

Susie stopped.

As he looked at her, one of the few people in the world he still trusted, the mask Jake had been wearing shattered.

“Oh my gosh, you went back, didn't you? Did a little more exploring without me?”

“Why do you say that?”

Susie tilted her head and gave a thin smile. “You'd never make it in the World Series of Poker if I was playing. I know you too well. You held it together for a good three minutes, but that's about your limit.”

“All right.”

As Susie studied his face, hers slowly shifted from one of curiosity to one of wonder. She set her cider on the arm of her chair as she plopped into the seat, and her voice jumped half an octave. “No, are you serious? You found it, didn't you? You did.”

Jake gave an almost imperceptible nod. “I got through.”

“What!” Susie clutched both legs and leaned forward, astonishment splayed across her face. “What . . . what . . . what are you saying . . . are you kidding me? Are you kidding me? Tell me, tell me!”

He reached out for his pants. “Give them over first.”

Susie handed Jake his pants as her face burst into a full-on smile. “Tell me every detail.”

“I don't know where to start, Sooz.” Jake slipped the pants
over his trunks and drew the string tight. “It was heaven and hell. More of the latter than the former.”

“How can it have been . . . both?”

Jake started to tell her, then stopped and drove his teeth into his lower lip. It was one thing to shell out the facts of a remarkable discovery, but another whole can of meatballs to describe the agony of having your greatest hope be crushed just as it was about to be gloriously reborn.

“What's wrong?”

“I'm not sure I want to relive the pain.”

“This is me, Jake. You know sharing it will be a kind of catharsis. You need to talk to someone about it. I don't know if I can offer anything, but I can listen.”

Jake locked his hands behind his head, pressed his elbows together, then let his arms fall to his sides. “I got healed, Sooz. I mean completely healed. Everything from my waist down was restored. No, I'm not kidding.”

Susie's lips parted and her gaze slowly moved from Jake's eyes to his legs.

He snorted out a bitter laugh. “Didn't take. So fun to have God toy with me.”

“What . . . what happened? Everything.”

Jake told her about finding the corridor, then finding it again and the story of the healing. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I should have. I just—”

“I'm so sorry, Jake. It makes no sense.”

“I know.”

“Are you going back?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow morning.” He gazed at her. “You want to go, don't you?”