Part 40 (1/2)
”I would like to stay here with my mother and father, if that's okay. We have a lot to catch up on.”
Olivia exchanged a look with Mother, who smiled proudly.
”Well, sweetheart, I think that's very kind of you. But there may be some complications-”
”I don't want her to go to prison. Wyatt either. I don't think prison will be a good place for them.”
”I understand. But we have laws for a reason. The courts can't just overlook a charge in view of a full admission of guilt.”
”What charge?” I asked.
”The kidnapping charges.”
”I don't want to press any charges.”
That made her blink.
”You were underage, sweetheart. And, it's the state the presses charges in these cases.”
”I don't think either the orphanage or John and Louise would want you to press charges,” I said. ”And I don't want you to either.”
”They do want me to.”
”But they can change their minds. And so can you, right?”
”Well . . . yes. . . But . . .”
”Then please change your mind. Then we won't have a problem.”
”Maybe, but that's a.s.suming quite a bit, sweetheart.”
”a.s.suming you'll drown is why you drown,” I said. But I immediately knew that she wouldn't understand that, so I put things more in her way of understanding.
”I'd like to a.s.sume you and they will hear the heart of a daughter who wants to spend some more time with her mother before she goes off into the world. I'm sure you can all understand.”
”That's very loving of you, Eden, but that's not the way we do things under the law.”
I thought about that for a second and then looked at Mother, who was watching me with fascination. Strange how all of my grievances against her were no more, as if they'd never been.
I turned back to Olivia.
”Don't you think I've suffered enough already?”
”Yes, of course. I . . .”
”Then why are you trying to put me back into a prison, just when I've found my way to freedom?”
She blinked. ”I'm not, dear. I'm only . . .”
”By putting my mother in prison, you only tempt me to think that she offended me, which might put me in my own prison, don't you see? I've let that go. We've had enough offense and punishment in this family to last a lifetime. Please, don't try to make us suffer any more.”
She stared at me in silence, and I think the truth of my words finally connected with her because her face slowly softened. In truth, only I had the key to any prison in my mind, but I didn't want to see my mother suffer.
My mother was beaming proudly. There was no way I could let her go to prison. It seemed absurd to me.
I smiled at her. ”I'm going to find Bobby.”
I left them sitting in silence and made my way toward the lake to look for Bobby.
Funny how the swamps looked so different to me the last two days. I had lived in fear of them-they were a part of my prison. But now I saw that it was my fear of the swamps, not the actual swamps, that had fortified that prison. There's always something to fear if you think fear will keep you safe. Fire. Swamps. Alligators . . .
Water.
I'm here to say that you can't make the troubled waters of life go away by defending yourself against them. You can only walk over those troubled waters if you offer peace to them and leave the safety of your boat.
Or so it was once written, and I have found Jesus' teaching to be true.
I was walking on the ground without shoes-the first time I'd done so since coming to Louisiana, and I must say, the gra.s.s felt glorious under my feet. I wore a tank top, another first outside, and the sun was caressing my skin like a warm, loving hand.
Even the insects in the swamp were singing for joy at my rebirth.
All of this had so distracted me as I made my way down to the lake that at first I didn't even notice there was a man squatting beside Bobby on the sh.o.r.e ahead.
I pulled up and felt my heart rise into my throat. I had been expecting Stephen, rehearsing every vivid detail of his visits in my dreams, but seeing him in the flesh without warning took me completely off guard.
Their backs were to me-they hadn't seen me yet. Stephen had a small flat stone in his hand as did Bobby, who was c.o.c.king his arm to throw it.
”Like this?” He gave it a hurl and it skipped once before diving under the surface.
”Perfect!” Stephen said. ”Just like that! Now try two skips. Just a little lower to the water.”
He handed Bobby the stone in his hand, and Bobby c.o.c.ked his arm in his own ungainly way, and hurled the stone with all of his might.
This time the flat stone sailed low, skipped once, twice, then three times before plopping into the water.
Bobby bounced up and down, arms in the air, hooting his great accomplishment while Stephen chuckled.
”What did I tell you, boy? Each throw is perfect because . . .”
Bobby finished: ”Because practice is perfect!”
Stephen gave him a soft punch in his shoulder. ”That's right. There's no trying, there's only doing, and each doing is . . .”
Again Bobby finished: ”Its own perfect.”
They gave each other a high five. ”That's right,” Stephen said.