Memory's Door (A Well Spring Novel) (32 page)
“Can I make them remember?”
“No.” The man shook his head. “I know it is hard to think of what that would be like. I’m sorry.”
“Can I tell them things about themselves no one else would know? Can I convince them those things happened?”
“I don’t know.” The man’s gaze swept across the valleys as if he were searching for the answer. “Over time you might convince them something happened in another reality, but you can never bring back their memories and emotions and convictions about what went on at the ranch or your lives together.”
“What about the healings inside Dana and Reece? What about Brandon getting his name and stepping back into the freedom he once sang with?”
“They will not have happened.”
“Does that mean they could still happen?”
The man shrugged. “It is possible.”
“Where would I start with them?”
“You would have to start over from the very beginning. It would be as if the past year had never happened. Reece would come to you as he did the first time with an invitation.”
“So we would all go to Well Spring again?”
“Yes.”
“I’d have to relive all of it?”
“Are you up for the challenge of that? Can you live through those weeks again, knowing what is going to happen and not saying anything about it? Can you live with knowing Reece will lose his eyes and knowing you are not allowed to do anything to stop it?”
“I don’t know.”
“A fair answer.”
“Will everything turn out the same?”
“That cannot be known. Man has free choice. The decisions you make and Reece and Brandon and Dana make might be different next time. As you know, theoretically, the movement of a butterfly’s wing in the Amazon can cause a hurricane in Texas.” The man hesitated. “But to answer your next question before you ask it, yes, it is highly likely things would turn out very similar to what they are now. Highly likely, but not guaranteed.”
The man lapsed into silence and Marcus did the same. There should be more questions to ask—at least he felt there should be. But there weren’t. He wanted a fourth option. How could he give up what the Spirit had led the Warriors into? If he went back to Well Spring, how could he fake it and not tell them what he knew? What if things turned out differently, turned into disaster, how could he live with that? Yet the other two valleys were certain death—one fast and one slow. And he couldn’t live with either.
“Do I have to choose in this moment?”
The man laughed. “No, it’s not like some late-night infomercial where you have to call now, or some business deal where you’re offered the world and if you don’t grab it, it instantly vanishes forever. This”—the man gestured with both hands toward the valleys—“is the place where the offer always stands, and you can choose it now, or choose it a millennium from now.” He paused and stared at Marcus with eyes that made him want to climb the mountain behind him or leap off the cliff knowing he could fly. “But why would anyone want to put off living the life they’ve always wanted for even one more moment?”
“I need a few minutes to think and to pray.”
“Take all the time necessary.” The man stood and walked to the far right side of the edge. “I’ll be here interceding for you, that you will choose well.”
T
EN MINUTES LATER
M
ARCUS SHUFFLED OVER TO
the man.
“Have you made your choice?” he asked.
“I want to see more of the valley to the right.”
“The one where Kat is about to leave.”
“Yes.”
“Why is that, Marcus?” The man seemed to stare through him—eyes full of kindness that seemed on the brink of tearing up.
“Because she said she needed time. She didn’t say it was over. That means if I stay in the reality I live in, there is hope for things to work themselves out, if I stay silent and accept that God has forgiven me and ignore the voice of the enemy screaming at me to tell her.”
“Yes, you can see. But only a glimpse. Ten years from now.” The man tapped both feet on the ledge in a fast rhythm and stared at the valleys. “I should warn you, it won’t be easy. Are you sure you want to go?”
His answer came out in a whisper. “Yes.”
There was no movement this time. Marcus instantly stood in front of a tunnel at the base of a smooth stone wall. And this time the man was with him. “In there.”
“After you?” Marcus said.
“No. You first.” The man smiled and patted Marcus on the shoulder. “But don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.”
Marcus shuffled down the tunnel, the click of his shoes echoing off the walls. It smelled like antiseptic gone bad. It seemed like there should be stagnant water on the floor of the tunnel but it was dry. Ahead of them, framed in the curve of the opening, sat a man at what looked like an old kitchen table, no tablecloth, the only chair the one he sat in.
Marcus gazed at the man as they moved slowly through the tunnel. “Is that me?”
“You know it is.”
Marcus stared at the figure who was him but wasn’t him, and a moment later he sat at the small table hunched over a baked potato smothered in sour cream and bacon bits. A glass of vodka sat next to a bottle of Stoli.
Under his left hand was a photo of a young woman who looked to be in her midtwenties with sad eyes holding a blond baby boy as they both sat on a park bench, the trees in the background bare of leaves. Something about her was familiar.
A ring of a cell phone shattered the silence and he jerked his head to the right and left searching for it. On the small microwave on the counter. He lurched out of the chair and picked up the phone. The face of the woman in the photo filled the screen. There was no button to push to answer. “Hello? Hello?”
“Dad, thank God I got you.”
“Jayla?”
“Yeah . . .”
“My daughter Jayla?”
“No, Jayla your son. Who do you think it is?”
“I’m sorry, I just . . . it’s just that—”
“You’re not drunk again, are you? You just got out of rehab three months ago. At least make it last a little longer this time. The U-Dub has been pretty nice to you, but my guess is their patience is getting tissue-paper thin.”
Marcus glanced at the bottle of Stoli again. “No. I’m clean.”
“Glad to hear it. Okay, now I know I just asked, so no lectures,
okay? I need a little bit of cash. Just a little to get me through to next month. He says he’ll get me two months’ worth really soon.”
“Who is he? And what do you need the cash for? I—”
“I told you not to start, Dad. Please. Kids cost money.”
“Yes, I apologize. I mean if you need it, but . . . let me talk to Kat about this. She’ll—”
“You’re going to talk to Mom? Yeah, sure. And my ex is going to morph into Prince Charming and waltz through my front door this afternoon.”
Perspiration broke out on Marcus’s forehead. “I talk to her every day.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do. I’m sure you and Mom and her new husband sit down over a nightly cup of Earl Grey tea and talk about how she’s making millions in the pastry business and you’re staggering through your classroom lectures.” A sigh came through the phone. “Wow, Dad, I really thought you’d stay sober this time.”
Marcus’s back grew damp and his hands shook. “Kat is not married to someone—”
Jayla’s voice went up three notches. “Listen to me. I know you probably won’t remember this once the booze wears off, but once the truth came out about your choice causing Layne to die, she left you. For good. And she’s never, ever coming back. Okay? But I’ll tell her you said hello if that makes you feel any better.”
Marcus’s mind reeled. It wasn’t true. He wasn’t really here. It was the future. But it felt so real. “Your mom is married to me!”
“You are so living in fantasy land.”
“No, I’m not. I’m—”
“Make it a good one this time, Dad. You just woke up, or you were immersed in a novel or a sci-fi film, or you are just about to prove Einstein wrong on his theory of relativity. Any of those will work as to why your brain took a vaction, or do you want to try another?”
“Where’s Abbie?”
“Are you on crack? What is wrong with you? Just trying to drop another Stonehenge-size rock of pain into your mind? Dwelling on the might-have-beens?”
A sick feeling swept through Marcus and somehow he knew in whatever reality he was currently in, he’d never speak to his older daughter again. “Tell me where she is, Jayla.”
“How should I know? Tibet or Bali or wherever she went when she cut us off entirely, forever and ever amen. If you think you’ll ever find her, you’re delusional. I mean, it’s been eight years for you and three years for Mom and me without a peep from her. Now I don’t mean to be rude, but can I have the money or not?”
Marcus spun to find the man who had brought him here, but no one was in the kitchen. His gaze scraped across the worn cabinets and the counter stacked with books and a collection of battered coffee cups. In the middle of the refrigerator a photo riveted his gaze. Kat, the girls, and he stood in front of the Disneyland castle, broad smiles on their faces, bright sun lighting up their Tigger, Winnie the Pooh, Peter Pan, and Snow White T-shirts. Marcus closed his eyes and let out a soft moan. Why would he put up that shot? To torture himself every time he wanted something to eat?
He opened his eyes and called out to the ceiling, then out the small window over the sink that framed a setting sun. “Get me out of here. I’ve seen enough. I’ve seen too much.”
There was no answer and Marcus slumped back in his chair and over the next hour watched the sky turn to the color of ash, then to black. He stood, walked to the sink, and stared at his reflection in the window. His hair was thinner and streaked with gray, his face gaunt, lines etched into it. And his eyes. Hollow and dead as if their hue had been changed to black and white.
“Are you ready to go?”
Marcus jerked around. The man from the cliff stood in the kitchen doorway, a compassionate smile on his face.
“Where have you been?”
The man took a step into the kitchen and held out his hands.
“I’m sorry. In order to fully grasp what is to come, you needed to be alone in the emotion for a good amount of time. If I could have stayed I would have, but I needed to take care of a few other things while the scene played out for you.”
“We can go now?”
“Yes, of course.”
The man waved his hand and, as if in sped-up reverse motion, Marcus was whisked backward through the tunnel and in seconds sat again on the cliff with the man. Marcus tried to shake the scene from his mind. It wasn’t real. But it was. He hadn’t just seen it, he’d lived it, he’d been inside the body of the Marcus of the future with all the emotions and horror of that life.
Marcus stared into the valley they’d just come from, its green winding form and the silver snake of a river on its right-hand side belying the desolation that lay within it.
The man picked up a thin stick and broke it into three pieces, then laid them next to each other. One pointing to the left, one straight ahead, and one to the right. “Are you ready to make a choice, Marcus Amber?”
“Yes.” Marcus’s head slumped forward. “I have to be.”
“And what will your choice be?”
The images of Reece, Dana, and Brandon swept across his mind’s eye. Then images of all the people they’d set free and the students they’d trained. Then visions of what more they would achieve.
“The choice is difficult in the extreme.”
“Yes. It is.” The man slid the front of his foot over the edge of the cliff. “And this is the kind of choice where choosing not to choose isn’t an option.”
As the man’s words faded, something inside Marcus snapped. The decision settled on him and lightness filled his mind. Why had it been so hard to choose? The choice was obvious. He turned to the man and began to speak.
D
ANA REACHED OVER
,
GRABBED
R
EECE’S KNEECAP
,
AND
shook it. They’d been back from their razor-close call with the avalanche for ten minutes, and Reece had slipped into a prolonged silence. “Hey, we can’t just sit here. We have to take action. Figure out a plan for finding Marcus and how to go after him.”
Reece tilted his head toward her. “I am taking action. I’m asking the Spirit for forgiveness for my foolishness and asking for the location of the professor. I suggest you do the same.”
She looked up at Brandon, then closed her eyes and prayed. Two words blazed into her mind like neon signs flashing on and off.
Mountain.
And
valley
. Then another word joined the first two:
abandoned
. Great. Her weak spot. Jesus had done such healing in her, but still, the scar was fresh and she knew there was more healing to be done in that part of her heart.
Dana opened her eyes. Brandon’s head was bowed, but Reece’s head was turned toward her. “Did you get anything?”
“Mountain. Valley. Abandoned.”
“I saw the word
mountain
as well. I felt the Spirit saying he would take us to Marcus, and finally, that this won’t be easy.” Reece clasped his knees. “Brandon?”
The musician glanced at Marcus’s body. “I saw a sprinter racing down a track, the field behind him crumbling into darkness inches
behind him. He strained to outrun the disintegrating track, but it was gaining on him.”
“Interpretation?”
“Pretty straightforward I think.” Brandon leaned toward Marcus’s body. “If we want to save the professor, we have to hurry.”
“I agree.” Reece rubbed his forehead, pushing his hat back high on his head. “Our first step is to get through a kind of gate none of us has ever gone through. But the Spirit will take us through and get us to Marcus, although this journey will not be an easy one.”
Brandon leaned back on the couch in Reece’s home and grinned. “In other words there’s a good chance of going down in spectacular flames, dying an excruciatingly painful death at the hands of the enemy, and winding up in heaven.”
“Precisely.”
“Or in other words, business as usual,” Dana added.
Reece smiled and held out his hand to Dana. “Would you like to be my guide out to the fire pit? I think that’s where we should go in from.”
