Promise Bridge by Eileen Clymer Schwab Page B

gathered ourselves for our journey down to the river. I scuffed the toe of my boot across the lines in the dirt. My foot stopped at a crude stick figure Livie had carved into the drawing. Twists of familiar braids protruded from the circular head, and a wide crescent smile looped from one side to the other. I don’t know if it was fear or superstition that kept my foot from smudging away that innocent expression, but I refused to brush her away into oblivion. Livie’s no-nonsense practicality took over as she shuffled her ragged feet across the happy face and erased the last remnant of our time spent together on the peak.
    Moonlight bathed down from the forest ceiling, illuminating our path like we were winding our way through a dream. Raccoons and deer scampered as twigs snapped beneath our hurried feet and warned them of our approach. A hint of the day’s warmth lingered in the air, giving us one less obstacle to overcome. However, I was certain it would not be a courtesy extended by the bone-chilling waters of the Red Hawk River.
    The sweet fragrance of mountain laurel wafted around us as we descended the cliff to the river. Livie kept pace until the heaviness of her pained hip required her to grip the back of her thigh and pull each hard-fought step from her injured leg. Finally, the ground beneath our feet softened and gave way to the mist-covered mud along the river’s edge. There, the lower end of the first set of rapids rushed into the slow, swirling currents of the Horse’s Bend. Livie and I stepped from the cover of evergreen and let the bright, full moon wash over our tight, breathless bodies. I looked out across the sleek, sparkling blackness that slid bleakly past us, silent and unyielding. In contrast, the rapids feeding her north and draining her south rumbled in the darkness like a stampede of angry cattle. My breath caught in my throat when the silhouette of an uprooted tree twisted helplessly by us, carried by the river like a feather on its current. My heart sank, realizing Livie had less of a chance in the unforgiving current than the dredged tree slowly swallowed by the Red Hawk. It was the first true moment of regret I felt since meeting Livie.
    “You should sit for a while, Livie. You will need all the strength you can muster once you enter the river.”
    Livie limped alongside of me, her dark saucer eyes entranced by the sight of the river. I wondered if she thought a lynching would be a kinder fate.
    “Gots’ta keep movin’,” Livie said with eyes fixed straight ahead, “so my leg don’t have time to stiffen, nor my thoughts time fo’ frettin’.”
    I rested my hand across her shoulders as much for my own reassurance as I did for Livie’s. The longer we waited, the harder it would be to go forward, so I drew in an anxious breath and struggled to unearth some parting words of encouragement.
    “You will do fine, Livie. Remember what I told you about the strength of the river?”
    “Don’t fight the current.” She nodded. “Jes’ go along with the flow so it don’t overpower me.”
    “Swim straight for the other side as you ride the current downstream. Swim swiftly so you make it as far as Turtleback Rock.” I pointed to the dark mound a hundred yards below us. “See it down there, halfway across? Paddle straight toward the middle, and let the water drag you into the rock. Hold tight and rest until you have enough strength to swim the second half.”
    “Tell me true, Miss Hannah,” Livie said with the uncertainty of someone about to throw herself into the unknown. “Do you think there’s a chance of me reachin’ the other side?”
    How I wished I could keep Livie safe up on the peak. Or, at the very least, offer another option that might be more favorable than this. Here, with the river stretched before us, there was no denying the potential consequences, good and bad. This unspoken thought dropped between us like a ship’s anchor.
    “If anyone can make it, Livie, it’s