At first I dismissed the thought-Kathryn had said and done many cruel things to me, but she'd never struck me or injured me. But as her straining persisted, I realized that she was.

And then it hit me: she was trying to break my leg. My own mother was carrying out the very threat that monster, Zeke, had alluded to in the field. She was trying to break the leg of her wayward lamb so that I couldn't run away!

I was in a deep sleep, so I couldn't react at all, much less try to stop her. I could only lie there and let her do whatever she liked as great waves of anguish and revulsion rolled through me.

What exactly happened after that is a little dim. Outrage blinded me. All I knew was that the pain shifted from my knee to my ankle, then shot up my leg before she finally let go and left me alone in my room.

She might have broken my ankle, I wasn't sure. But it hardly mattered any more. In fact, a part of me was glad that she'd finally shown her truest offensive nature-it only validated and further justified my hatred of her.

Whereas before I might have had a sliver of doubt about my rights, and a tinge of guilt over my rebellion, I was now unequivocally certain that I would run and I wouldn't stop running until I got away from Kathryn and Zeke forever. I would go straight to the police and send them right to prison where they both belonged.

This was what I was thinking as I drifted in a sea of darkness for what felt like many hours, because a part of me was aware the whole time. I distantly wondered if it was the drugs that made it all so strange. Or maybe my own fear was keeping me half aware-she might come back.

But she didn't. I lay on my back for a very long time without dreaming or forming coherent thoughts. Swimming in bitterness.

No . . . not swimming. Floating. Yes, I was floating on a black sea.

Gradually, much later, I thought to myself: This isn't a black sea. It's the lake. And I'm not on my bed, I'm lying at the bottom of a small boat.

I jerked up, heart lodged in my throat. Spun my head. The calm, dark lake water stretched out to the distant sh.o.r.e in all directions. I was dreaming that dream again. The water walker dream.

But it felt so real, you see?

The lake was still and deathly silent, and waves of panic washed over me, as threatening as any storm. I was stranded in a boat without oars. There was no one to help me! The water was pitch black. A storm could come up and drown me!

The moment I had the thought, the wind began to blow and immediately the boat started to roll with the rising waves.

I scrambled to my knees and grabbed onto the side of the boat to steady myself. I still knew that I was in a dream, but the wood under my palm and the wind on my face felt so real that I was tempted to think I really was stranded in a storm. And as soon as I had that thought, I was.

It was actually happening! I really was going to drown.

Oh no! No, no, no!

"Eden . . ."

The familiar voice reached me from far away over the pitching waves and I twisted toward the distant sh.o.r.e. I could just see him when the boat rose up on a wave, then lost sight when it dropped back down.

It was him. It was the Outlaw!

"Walk to me, Eden . . ."

Then he vanished behind a wave as the boat dropped. The wooden hull smacked the water and shuddered.

It was getting worse!

"Eden . . ." Outlaw's distant call was whipped by the wind. "Step out of the boat and walk to me . . ."

"I can't!" I screamed.

"Walk to me, Eden . . ."

"I can't!"

The boat was bucking in waves so high now that I knew one was going to crash into the boat and crush me under its weight. And I now was certain that I was no longer dreaming. It was real! I really was going to die.

"Eden . . ."

Panic overrode my thoughts as a ma.s.sive wave lifted the boat high into the air.

"Step out of the boat and . . ."

But his 'walk to me' was lost as the boat crashed back down into the water with enough force to rip my grip free and send me sprawling.

I began to scream. Then was pitched forward and smashed my head on the boat's side.

"Help me!" I was out of breath and sucked at the night air, but spray slapped my face and stopped my breathing short.

"Help!"

The wind suddenly stilled and the lake calmed. I was breathing hard, steadying myself with both hands outstretched, sure that another wave would come.

Instead, the boat's rolling slowed to a gentle rocking.

I got my knees under me and pushed myself up so that I could see the water. The lake was flat again, and I immediately saw why.

Outlaw was walking toward me. On top of the water. Moving with even strides in boots that kept him afloat.

But no . . . No, he wasn't wearing boots. His feet were bare, splashing with each step.

Slap . . . Slap . . . Slap . . .

I was too astonished to move. All the while, he kept his gentle eyes on me.

Slap . . . Slap . . . Slap . . .

He'd stilled the water. Only then did I think, Oh yeah . . . this is a dream. You can do things like that in dreams. So I stood up and watched him all the way, amazed by just how real my dream looked. Only the fact that he was walking on water reminded me that it wasn't real.

Or was it?

He stopped ten feet from the boat and stared at me. Flashed a smile.

"h.e.l.lo, Eden."

I wasn't sure what to say.

"I see you're stuck again."

I looked at his feet and saw that the water only came up half way to the top of them.

"Is this real?"

"Of course it's real. It's happening, isn't it?"

"Yes, but in a dream. I'm dreaming."

"Are you?"

"I think so. Yes, of course I am. How else could you walk on water? I'm just seeing this in my mind."

He walked a little closer, eying the boat now. "You're right, it's in your mind. But aren't all thoughts? Just in your mind, that is. And your memories, aren't they just in your mind? And your fears? And your hopes? Aren't they all just thoughts in your mind?"

"I guess so."

"And you guess right. Change your mind, and change what's real for that moment." He lifted an eyebrow, as if slightly amused. "How did you get out here?"

"I . . . My mother drugged me. She tried to break my leg."

He c.o.c.ked his right brow. "And you found that quite disturbing, I'm sure."

"Of course."

"Just like the waves and the water in this dream. Quite a threat, wouldn't you say?"

I immediately knew where he was going, but it didn't stop me from saying how I felt.

"I suppose. Yes."

"You're threatened. Offended."

"Wouldn't you be if someone tried to break your leg?"

"No. But this is about you right now. It's up to you whether or not you want to be offended or threatened. And yet you feel threatened by your mother. By the water and the waves."

I didn't know what to say to this. He might be right, but it sounded crazy to me.

He ran one hand along the hull's wooden bow. "You're afraid of the thought that the water will drown you, so you stay in this boat which you are certain will keep you safe. But when the storm comes, you still tremble with fear, don't you? Because you're afraid of the water."

My last dream flashed through my mind.

"I sank last time."

"Of course you did. Because you were afraid and took offense at its threat. But what if there was a way to change that? What if you could see that there was no threat?"

"Change it? How?"

"Metanoia," he said.

"Metanoia?"

"It's a secret word. Greek. It means repent."

His use of that word struck a chord of fear in me. How many times had I begged G.o.d to forgive me from my sins and tried to correct my behavior as demanded by Mother? And look where it had gotten me.

He slowly shook his head, as if antic.i.p.ating my objection.

"It doesn't mean to change what you do. It means to go beyond your thinking. To change your mind. To let go of what you think is true for a greater knowing. For instance, to let go of the belief that if you step out of that boat which keeps you safe, you'll only drown in all the troubled seas of your life. See? Metanoia. It'll be our secret word."

"But that's not true. I will drown!"

"So you believe. That's why metanoia requires faith, a tiny bit at least, like maybe the size of a speck of dust. Everyone believes what they believe, right? Only those who go beyond what their mind tells them can walk on the troubled waters of life." He winked. "Like me."

Metanoia. It had a ring to it. I suddenly liked the word.

"As long as you keep your eyes on the troubled sea, and believe that the wooden hull under your feet keeps you safe from that sea, you'll never be a proper water walker. And you are, Eden."

"I am what?"

"A water walker. Just like me."

"I am?"

"Sure. You walked on water before, didn't you?"

He was talking about the first dream I had with him. "Not really. I was walking in shallow water."

"Well then it's time you learned to walk on deeper water. To do that you have to let go of the knowledge that the boat keeps you safe and the water is a danger."

Hearing him explain it that way, it almost felt like I'd heard it before, a long time ago. Not from Kathryn, that was certain. Maybe before. Or maybe it only felt that way because I was in a dream.

"Let go of your fears of what can't hurt you, Eden. Find no offense in the water. Turn the other cheek, surely you've heard that before. Forgive the offense. Do that and it won't swallow you."

"Forgive?"

"It means let go."

The idea drew me. What if I could? What if I could just up and walk out of all the troubles in my life? But it was also absurd, wasn't it? I mean . . . How could I just let go of everything I knew to be true?

But then . . . that was my mind telling me it was absurd.

Then again . . . he was saying that metanoia was going beyond the mind. Using faith.

Outlaw held out a hand. "Wanna try?"

"Now?"

"Why not? It's the only way you're getting to sh.o.r.e. What do you say?"

His smile was infectious. And we were just in a dream. I could change my thoughts here. Anything was possible, right? I just had to change my mind.