After he left, Sarah lay down on the bed, staring into the darkness. She listened to the clank of the gate. She had not showered, but the corners of her lips were aching and there was a taste like salt and soap in the back of her mouth. Her stomach hurt with the dull, hollow cramp of loss.

At four in the morning, it was still dark outside. She gathered some things and stepped out into the cool, heavy air and drove up into the hills. Not the hills where he lived, but the hills behind those hills, where it was still possible to sense the presence of God in the shadows of the ferns and cedar branches that shifted in the mist.

From a ridge she gazed down into the river where she had been baptized, raised her chin and saw the reservoir, cool and blue and white buildings of the university, her neighbourhood of neatness chopped from view by the angle of the slope.

The path down to the bottom was muddy and slippery, some of the topsoil beaten away by the rain. A mist hung over the valley in the early morning chill and the bushes that glided against her shins and thighs were wet with rainwater and dew

She pulled a branch from her path and a shower of water fell gently on her face. She slid down the slopes, mud sticking between her fingers. She wiped them on her jeans.

As she neared the river, she quickened her pace. Its sound, bearing the rain waters from the hills, thundered in the valley, yet she could hear the urgent calls of birds amongst the trees.

The water was brown and busy. She watched leaves and twigs race downstream, colliding against the rocks, straining to break free and then hurrying on, till they were pulled down a fall of water over rocks.

And she braced herself against the cold and picked her way upstream in search of the pool where she had been reborn. It was just below where the river became a lively waterfall and it rippled in spreading circles where the water crashed. Then it rushed over rocks, heading down river till it disappeared round a bend.

Standing on the bank, she looked upwards again and the hills loomed over her, protecting this green seclusion. She looked around to see if anyone was nearby. Assured that she was alone she took the long white smock from her bag and pulled it over her body. She then pulled off her trousers and underwear, stepping out of both of them at the same time and carelessly throwing them to one side where they landed in the mud.

Under the smock, she pulled the T-shirt off her body, throwing it onto the pants. Then slowly, allowing the hymn that had filled her head all the way up the hills in the car to break forth on her lips, she walked towards the pool.

When the water covered her stomach, she stood still, legs apart and her toes bracing her body against the current in the pebbles and sand at her feet. Looking up, she saw a haze of sunlight glare behind the clouds. The trees dizzied above and a flock of birds darted through the patch of sky, a pool of grey lined by green hills. Still looking up, she shouted above the roar of the water.

She bent her knees. The water closed above her head. The swirl of water on her chest and face was sudden. With her eyes shut tight, dizzying flashes of colour raced through her mind. She stayed under, leaning against the current that battered her body. 

On the bank again, she leaned against a tree and watched the river disappear around a corner, taking a part of her. Drenched, she lay on a patch of grass beneath a boulder and felt the earth receive her as she began to sing song of praise. She was alone and yet accepted. She curled her thighs into her breasts, keeping her warmth, keeping her warmth. Holding on.