When Through Deep Waters Page 4

  “Yes,” Victoria said, “we believe so. The Home-Away program was introduced in the late nineties for people who required a different level of care and support. A program administered by Donald Flowers, my uncle. I’m sure Louise has explained the way the program works, but for the sake of clarity, let’s verbally review, since all parties committing to the program are present.”

  Again she paused to get a verbal cue from Alicen and then proceeded. “The Home-Away program allows participants to live under the supervision of a loved one away from the Clover Mountain Retreat Center campus, giving you the ability to continue your normal living situation. You do, however, commit to a weekly on-campus support group meeting as well as weekly individual meetings with an assigned retreat center counselor.” Victoria motioned to Dr. Wells, who had nearly disappeared into the background as Victoria had commanded all the attention in the room. “After reviewing your files, sent over by Dr. Warden in Santa Monica, I think Dr. Wells will be a perfect fit.”

  Alicen turned her gaze toward the doctor, who grabbed her eyes with his own. He held them for a moment and smiled. “Unfortunately,” he said, “I won’t be able to make every encounter we have as uncomfortable as this one. I’m just not that skilled.” His voice was round and full, projecting a wise, aged feeling across the room that was hard not to enjoy.

  Louise and Alicen both chuckled as he teased, and Victoria gave a soft smile that vanished nearly as immediately as it had appeared. She then reclaimed the attention and directed it back to Alicen. Alicen was thankful for the brief moment of humor inside this terrifying encounter and thought maybe she wouldn’t try as hard to hate Dr. Wells as she had her last psychologist.

  “The program has no specific time requirement,” Victoria said. “The reports and observations made by Dr. Wells and myself, as well as your progress with your support group, will determine how long your membership with Clover Mountain will last. It’s really up to you. We simply strive to assist you as you adjust to your life now.”

  Any ease Dr. Wells may have injected into the conversation vanished. Alicen swallowed the emotions clambering up the inside of her chest. Adjust to your daughter being dead. Can someone adjust to that?

  Louise must have noticed the clear discomfort Victoria’s words had created, and she reached over and laid a hand on Alicen’s knee. “We’re here for you, and we just want to help however we can,” she said.

  Alicen desperately wanted this meeting to be over and knew the best way to arrive there was to agree. She forced a half smile and nodded. “I know.”

  Louise offered a return smile, and Alicen stole another glance at Dr. Wells, who gave another comforting grin—thankfully without the poor thing look that Louise usually had.

  “We are very proud of this program you’re about to partake in,” Victoria said. “My uncle ensured it was something to behold, and I have tried to do the same now that it’s in my care.” She paused, softened her tone, and continued. “I am very sorry for your loss. Know that you are in good hands with us. We want nothing but clarity for you.”

  Clarity. It seemed like a strange word to use, but maybe clarity was what she was missing.

  “We’ll leave you to finish getting settled in here,” Victoria said. “We only wanted a brief face-to-face to ensure we’re all on the same page.”

  “I believe we are,” Louise said, looking to Alicen, who nodded.

  Louise stood, as did Dr. Wells and Alicen. Alicen was relieved. The meeting had been quick, and it didn’t appear she was going to have to sit through a session with the kind old doctor just yet.

  Victoria slung her bag over her shoulder and took a step toward Alicen. “It was nice to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances.”

  Alicen nodded.

  Victoria reached out and softly placed her hand on Alicen’s shoulder. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better,” she said, then let her hand fall away. Her touch lingered, tingling Alicen’s skin. She shifted uncomfortably. Victoria turned to Louise as the two said their good-byes, and Dr. Wells stepped in front of Alicen.

  His soft gaze pulled her from her frozen state, and she gave a small grin.

  “I know this transition can be difficult,” Dr. Wells said, “so we’ll just take our time. There’s no rush in recovery.”

  Recovery. There was that dreaded word, mocking her with a future she knew didn’t exist. Alicen swallowed uncomfortably, not sure how to respond.

  Dr. Wells read her easily. He was good at his job. “Don’t worry about that now; we’ll just take it one day at a time. Sound good?”

  Alicen glanced up at him and tried to release some of her panic. “Sure.”

  “Like I said, no rush.” Dr. Wells extended his hand, and Alicen took it. Then, with a simple nod, he stepped around the corner after Louise and Victoria.

  Alicen stood in the sitting room alone, their voices drifting in and out as the front door squeaked open, signaling they were really leaving. She would be free of them for now, and with the agony and distress buzzing inside her brain, for now was all she could handle.

  4

  Alicen felt the autumn leaves crunch beneath her purple rain boots. The boots came up high, nearly grazing the bottoms of her knees, and she’d tucked her dark-blue jeans down into the boots. Ellie Stewart had worn a red pair of rain boots to class a couple weeks ago, and ever since laying eyes on them Alicen had been begging for a pair.

  Her mom had refused at first, even after Alicen had explained that being a third grader was hard enough; how could she be expected to be the only girl in class who didn’t have rain boots? Even at eight, Alicen understood enough about money to know that they weren’t the kind of family that just bought whatever they wanted—not like Louise Watson and her parents. So the answer had continued to be no.

  Nothing felt as terrible as seeing another classmate walk in sporting a new pair of perfectly shimmering rain boots while Alicen was forced to wear her year-old tennis shoes. She must have cried about it a dozen times, unable to imagine a way her life could get worse. So when Grandma Joe had surprised her with a long rectangular box yesterday, Alicen had nearly died of excitement. And they were purple, her favorite color.

  “Do they fit okay?” Grandma Joe asked.

  Alicen smiled wide and turned around to face Grandma Joe, who was sitting on the bottom step of her back porch. The woman’s short, light-brown hair with strands of silver laced through the top was being pulled this way and that by the chilly fall breeze. Her squat frame was wrapped in a sweater, jeans, the same worn white Keds she always wore, and the heavy cotton scarf Alicen had given her for Christmas last year. It was purple, of course.

  The little girl twirled, showing off the functionality of her new treasures, and laughed. “Perfect,” Alicen said after she didn’t topple to the ground. “I’m never taking them off.”

  “Never? I’m not sure your mother would approve of you wearing those inside the house,” Grandma Joe said.

  Alicen pondered this for a moment. “Isn’t it your house? You can change the rules so I can wear them inside.” Her tiny eyes grew with excitement.

  Grandma Joe’s smile. “No, your mother makes the rules around here.”

  “But you’re her mother, so shouldn’t you make the rules around here?”

  “I’m not very good at rule-making.”

  “Then let’s just forget all the rules!” Alicen said, giggling and bouncing. Grandma Joe chuckled and Alicen continued. “Forget no cartwheels in the house; I love cartwheels.” Alicen threw herself through the acrobatic feat, her grandmother’s laughter filling the sky.

  “Forget no racing; I love racing,” Alicen said and paused. “Bet I can outrace you,” she teased, freezing in place and sending Grandma Joe a devilish gleam. The old woman held Alicen’s gaze before jumping up and after her.

  Alicen screeched and raced off toward the back fence, Grandma Joe right on her heels. Grandma Joe reached the little girl easily, sweeping her up into her arms
and toward the clouds. Alicen’s laughter bellowed across the open air as she wiggled against her grandmother’s hold.

  “Let me go, let me go,” Alicen giggled.

  “Never,” Grandma Joe boomed, laughter in her voice. She flipped Alicen so that the child was cradled horizontally, her torso flat against Grandma Joe’s chest, and twirled in circles, Alicen screaming with glee.

  Grandma Joe bent her neck down and pretended to devour the child with kisses.

  Alicen laughed so hard tears started to stream down her cheeks. “Stop, stop, stop—it tickles too much!” Alicen yelled. “I give up; you win. You are the fastest.”

  Grandma Joe pulled her face back and laughed at the sky in victory before carefully turning Alicen upright and placing her back on the ground. “Don’t you ever forget it,” she teased.

  Alicen was still laughing, her throat sore, not caring. She loved playing with Grandma Joe; in fact, she loved it more than her purple boots.

  Grandma Joe knelt in front of Alicen. “Wanna know my secret to being faster?”

  Alicen nodded.

  “Magic,” Grandma Joe whispered.

  Alicen felt a strange concern flood her small chest, and she saw Grandma Joe’s eyes change slightly. “What is it, honey?” she asked.

  Alicen shrugged. “Mom says magic isn’t real. That it’s made-up. Is that true?”

  “I see,” Grandma Joe said.

  Alicen could tell the question had upset her. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you sad,” she said.

  Grandma Joe smiled, her eyes relighting with fire. She brushed her palms softly across Alicen’s disheveled hair. “You didn’t make me sad. You make me so happy. Do you think magic is made-up?”

  Alicen considered it and then shook her head. “No,” she whispered, “I think it’s real.”

  “Me too.”

  “Why doesn’t Mom?”

  “Because that’s the journey we all get to take.”

  Alicen squinted, confused.

  “Remember what Jesus taught: you are the light of the world. Every single person gets to decide if they believe in the light. That’s what makes the magic strong; you have to choose to believe it. You have to switch your view and see the truth beyond what can be seen. Sometimes it takes people longer to believe, and sometimes, like for you and me, believing is easier.”

  “Why?” Alicen asked.

  “When somebody already believes, that person can help others believe too.”

  “Like helping someone hunt for treasure in their, um . . .” Alicen paused, trying to remember the term she’d heard her grandmother say many times.

  “Earthen vessel.”

  “Yes, that thing,” Alicen said.

  Her grandmother gave a soft chuckle. “Exactly. Do you understand?”

  Alicen thought and shrugged again. “I don’t think so, but I’m only eight.”

  Grandma Joe burst out laughing, which made Alicen giggle too. “Fair enough,” she said. She suddenly glanced over her shoulder for a long moment, something she did sometimes, almost like getting lost somewhere else, and then turned back to Alicen with another wide smile. Alicen knew what it meant. Knew that Grandma Joe was hearing and seeing the others. Alicen’s mom said it was only Grandma Joe’s imagination. That it was because she was sick, though Grandma Joe never seemed sick to Alicen. How could she be sick and still be faster? Sick people were supposed to be slow.

  “What do you say we go inside and make some—” Grandma Joe started.

  Alicen cut in before she could finish. “Apple cider?” Thrill filled her little body. She loved apple cider almost as much as Grandma Joe and her purple boots.

  Grandma Joe chuckled. “Yes, apple cider.”

  Alicen jumped and rushed toward the house in front of her grandmother, yelling with eight-year-old enthusiasm. “Apple cider, get in my belly!”

  Grandma Joe’s laughter echoed behind, and Alicen’s entire world felt perfect.

  Alicen’s eyes snapped open, the morning light tiptoeing in through her bedroom shade. Grandma Joe’s joy softly vibrated inside her mind as she turned from her side and pressed the back of her head deep into her pillow. She hadn’t dreamed about her grandmother in years. Hadn’t recalled a memory that clearly in nearly a decade. She used to pretty frequently, but the normal occurrence had died off as time passed.

  It must be this place, she thought. Being so close to where she had lost her. Or maybe it was the constant sting of her new loss that brought back memories of the old. It didn’t matter why, only that it was just another pain spot she would now have to endure. That was her life now—enduring aches that would never leave.

  She closed her eyes and exhaled. A silent tear slipped down her cheek. She knew sleep wouldn’t return, but she would lie here in the silence until she was called for. Until the boring, mundane routines of her new life gave her cause to move. If it were up to her, she’d just stay here until everything went dark and the world ceased to be.

  The wind pulled lightly at the ends of Alicen’s hair as Louise fiddled with the Watson Family Bookstore lock. Alicen glanced up and down the main street behind them and found it vacant. There were a couple of cars parked along the sides of the road, which stretched the length of the small downtown, but not another person in sight. It almost felt like she and Louise were the only people in Red Lodge at all. If she stared at the emptiness long enough, she could almost convince herself that the world had abandoned them altogether.

  A loud click pulled Alicen back to the present as Louise let out a huff of victory and pushed the front door open. Alicen followed her inside.

  Light from the overhead bulbs flooded the small, two-story shop. Much like in the Watson home, a thick layer of dust had taken up residence over the majority of the store, and motes fluttered along the streams of sunlight coming in through the windows.

  Alicen took in the bottom floor of the bookstore with one easy sweep of her eyes. It was just like she remembered. A long, thin blue rug ran from the front door to the bottom of the winding staircase that led to the second story. The rest of the floor was a caramel wood, bleached in spots by traffic and sunlight. On either side of the rug sat rows of waist-high bookcases, novels stacked along their shelves. The far walls to both the right and left, as well as the back wall several feet behind the staircase, held floor-to-ceiling shelves also filled with bindings and literature. A small desk, which held a cash register, sat in the far left corner along with a small table and grouping of chairs for reading.

  The entire place smelled of paper and cinnamon and peppermint, which brought a smile to Alicen’s face. Louise’s mother had been fond of peppermint candies and always had them available for anyone passing through. Their ever-present existence had left a permanent olfactory stain. It made Alicen feel like she was being transported back to a time when she and Louise would come rushing in through the front door, having spent the last couple of hours racing the streets of Red Lodge, chasing adventures.

  Stephanie Watson would be sitting on a stool behind the cash register or in one of the plush chairs, reading, sorting, or planning. She’d raise her eyes to the girls and smile. “How’s it out in the streets today?” she’d ask.

  “Well,” Lou would start, “we barely escaped captors who were definitely going to have us hung for treason.”

  “Definitely,” Alicen confirmed.

  “Treason?” Stephanie asked.

  “Yeah, but we didn’t do it!” Lou said.

  “We’re being framed because we know too much,” Alicen chimed in.

  “Really? About what?” Stephanie inquired.

  Lou and Alicen shared a knowing look. “We can’t tell you,” Alicen said.

  “We don’t want to get you involved, Mom,” Lou said. “Then you would be at risk.”

  Stephanie worked hard to hide the smile from creeping across her lips and nodded as if she totally understood. Then Alicen grabbed a handful of peppermint candies and shoved them into the small pack that Lou always
had strapped to her back. “We’re on the run and need to refuel our energy,” Lou explained when her mom gave her a warning look.

  “I see; well, try not to ruin your dinner, okay?” Stephanie warned.

  “Dinner? Mom, this is serious. If they catch us, we’ll never eat dinner again!”

  “Well then, you’d better get moving. You’ve wasted too much time here already.”

  Both girls nodded and head back out into the sun while a soft chuckle began to escape Stephanie’s mouth.

  “Alicen?” a voice called, puncturing through her memory.

  She turned to see Louise standing behind the cash register, giving her a funny look.

  “Sorry; did you say something?” Alicen asked.

  Louise watched Alicen a moment, and Alicen could see the concern working its way into her friend’s face.

  “I was just thinking about your mom,” Alicen said.

  “My mom?” Louise said, the worry dissipating.

  “Yeah, about how she always played along with our silly imagined games.”

  Louise chuckled. “Yeah, well, that was easier than trying to convince us none of it was real.”

  “She never seemed afraid that we’d lose sight of reality or end up spending too much time in our imaginations.”

  “Why would she? We were kids; kids do that. And look—we both ended up totally normal.”

  The second the words left Louise’s mouth, Alicen could see that she wished she could take them back. An awkward silence fell across the store.

  Alicen watched Louise searching for something to say but spoke first. “She was great with us, your mom. I wasn’t as great as her with Jane.” The words stung coming out, and Alicen moved her eyes from the pitying look she was getting from Louise. “I should have let her dream more. I worry sometimes that I was more like my mom than yours.” Alicen shook her head. “The last thing I ever wanted was to be like my mom.”

  More silence filled the store, and Alicen felt her mind being dragged back to the past. The times she’d been worried Jane wasn’t maturing fast enough. The concern she’d felt over Jane’s blind faith in magic and make-believe. Had she caused Jane to feel shame like her own mother had done so often with her? The thought crept in and drilled into her brain.