Sea of Life

[This is a chapter from my book, Jewel Heist (book four in the Matterhorn series). It’s a dream sequence in which Jewel, whose mother is dying of cancer, argues with the Maker about why he allows evil.]

Sea of Life

The old lookout tower had been built in the 1930s and abandoned a half-century later. The fourteen-foot-square room perched five stories off the ground and commanded a 360-degree view of the forest. Jewel’s father had piggybacked her to the top when she was only six years old. The panorama took her breath away; she swirled herself dizzy trying to take it all in. She was a Princess, her father told her solemnly, and from this tower she could survey her entire kingdom. The animals would be her royal court; the stately pines her loyal guard.

Ever since that first visit, the tower had been her special place, her safe haven. She came here to think or pray or just get away from people. Birds kept her company, perching on the half-walls and gossiping about the happenings below. Squirrels brought her the choicest nuts and berries in exchange for peanut M&Ms. Deer gathered at the bottom of the rickety ladder to be scratched behind the ears and fawned over.

Jewel sat on the floor in a rectangle of morning light near the antique wood stove. Etham, Alex, and Gerlac were distant memories. Part of her wanted to race home and check on her mom. The rest of her wanted to stay put and not know if this was the broken world she remembered or the “fixed” one Etham had promised.

Wrapped in her own thoughts, she only gradually became aware of someone else in the tower. Not a person with shape and size but a presence that filled the space without crowding her.

“You are troubled, Princess?”

“I’m confused,” she replied, not surprised by the presence or the question. “Etham says you have let things get out of hand. That’s why there is so much evil on Earth.”

“I am responsible for the possibility of evil by allowing freedom.”

“We haven’t handled freedom very well,” Jewel said. “Maybe the nobles should be allowed to change things for the better.” After a pause she asked, “What’s wrong with letting them correct our mistakes?”

“You mean my mistakes?”

“Well, you could have kept tighter control.”

“The ability to choose is what gives you dignity. Character and creativity only blossom as the fruit of free will. If you want to see what tighter control looks like, glance below.”

Jewel got up and went to the wall opposite the stove. The windows had been taken out long ago and she had an open view of the forest. Resting both palms on the sill, she peered down. The panorama rippled like a desert mirage in the heat. Trees, bushes, and the rest of the landscape became transparent, allowing her to see a woodland full of animals: bears resting in their dens, raccoons preening for lunch, deer herding to the water hole, birds pecking for food, worms burrowing away from prying beaks.

“These are my creation, too. They live by instinct and do only what they are designed for. They serve me, but they do not love me. Would you be like these?”

Jewel loved animals and had an empathic bond with them. She enjoyed their company but knew their limitations. “Free choice is better than blind instinct,” she admitted. “But can’t you keep evil from being one of the options?”

“You mean can I make light without shadows? Heat without cold? Love without the risk of apathy? Choice without the option of mistakes? No. Freedom is a precious problem.”

“Problem?”

“The human will is splintered and has to be healed. But the healing must be chosen; it cannot be forced. Do not be deceived by those who call themselves noble. They are not asking, ‘What good can we do?’ but, ‘How can we get our own way?’”

“They are so much stronger than us,” Jewel said. “Almost no one knows what they’re up to. What if they succeed?”

“The course of history will accomplish my purposes. I have appointed the beginning and the end. What happens in between is the adventure.”

“That’s so good to know,” Jewel sighed with relief. “Too bad the adventure has to be filled with so much pain and suffering and—”

“—laughter and learning and love.”

The forest and the fire tower dissolved; Jewel found herself standing on a glistening surface whose mirrored face stretched like glass in all directions. She stared down and saw the puzzled reflection of her own face.

“If creation were locked into place, it would be as beautiful and hard as ice. But with a measure of freedom the world becomes fluid with possibilities.”

The surface melted under Jewel’s feet. Water sparkled over her ankles in wave tips of incandescent turquoise. Emerald lights twinkled and danced into aquamarine depths that seemed to descend forever. Slowly she began to sink until she was suspended in what felt like liquid sunlight, warm and cold at the same instant.

She soaked in the sensations. The depths teemed with life of every kind, overwhelming her animal radar. There were gentle giants larger than anything that had ever walked on land and creatures so small it would take a microscope to see them. Bloodthirsty carnivores swam alone, shunned by schools of fish so thick they blocked out the light.

The fathomless unknown entranced and terrified her.

Sometime later, she felt herself rising to the surface e, which crystallized beneath her. Her clothes and skin were dry. Not a strand of hair was out of place. She could still see the life below but could no longer feel it. The separation saddened her.

“Do you understand?”

Jewel said nothing.

“I can see my reflection in the ice—but I can swim in the water.”

(To learn more about the Matterhorn series visit Matterhorn The Brave.)