The River

by Michael Neale

  Then he remembered something else. “There was this beautiful white hawk with red tail feathers who kept showing up at different times. It was like the hawk was there just for me. I’m telling you, it was awesome.”

  Everyone was mesmerized by his speech.

  “What else can you tell us?” his mother asked.

  “I mean, it was like Dad was there with me, you know what I mean?” He took another bite of his chicken.

  Maggie was speechless. Mister Earl and Miss Vonda just glanced at each other from across the table. Nobody knew what to say when he mentioned his father.

  “That’s great, honey.” Maggie wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “I want to go back,” her son declared.

  “Great idea. You should go back next year. Maybe it could become a tradition or something.”

  “No, I mean now. I want to go back now. I’ve been invited to work at a whitewater camp with Tabitha’s father.”

  This news hit Maggie like a thunderbolt. Gabriel sounded as if his mind was made up. Her countenance dropped.

  “What about your job? And what about the farm? Mister Earl might need—”

  “I’ll manage,” Mister Earl interrupted.

  “How long will you be gone?” she asked.

  “Nearly four months. They need help from June through September. If I’m going to make it for the start, I need to leave Saturday.”

  “That’s only two days away.” Maggie was disheartened at the thought of Gabriel leaving. Since he came to live with her when he was five, he’d never been away for any length of time.

  Deep in her heart she knew this could be a good opportunity for her boy, but she was worried. Worried that something bad might happen. Worried about him being at The River and constantly reminded of losing his dad. Worried about what she’d do without him. He’d been her life for the last fifteen years.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” Maggie set her napkin on the table and stood up.

  “Is something wrong, Mom?”

  Maggie hoped her disappointment didn’t show. “I’m sorry—this all seems awfully sudden.”

  Miss Vonda spoke up. “I know exactly how you feel, dear.”

  Maggie sat back down reverently to hear what Miss Vonda had to say.

  “It feels like your whole world gets turned upside down when your kids leave home,” said the older woman. “Earl and I felt that way when our first boy said he wanted to join the army right after Pearl Harbor. He was twenty at the time.”

  “He was a man. He needed to make his own decisions,” Mister Earl said. “The River sounds like a pretty exciting place, if you ask me.” Mister Earl looked at Gabriel with a slight grin as he went for seconds of chicken and beans. “And you feel a connection to your roots when you’re there. Am I right?”

  “Yes, sir. All I know is that I’m going nowhere fast here in Cairo. The River showed me there’s so much more to experience out there. I don’t want to miss it while stacking sodas with Mr. Baggers.”

  Gabriel turned to his mother. “I’ll come back, Mom. I grew up here. You’ve given me a great life in Kansas. But it’s like The River is calling me back—back home—and I have to go.”

  Maggie’s heart was stirred. Mister Earl was right—her son was a man now. He needed to follow his heart.

  “I want you to be careful,” she said.

  “I will. . . you know I will.”

  After telling Mr. Baggers it was his last day, Gabriel drove home and finished a few last-minute chores for Mister Earl.

  It was past dusk. Now all he had left to do was pack up for his trip. While hoisting a heavy cardboard box into the truck bed, he heard a whimper from Rio, who was lying down beside his front tire. Gabriel sat down beside him and stroked the thick fur of his neck.

  “Well, buddy. This is it. I’m leaving tomorrow. But just for a little while. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Rio whimpered and nudged his head onto Gabriel’s lap.

  “I first met you at The River, didn’t I? Yep, you saved my life. At some point, I want you to meet Tabitha. She’s beautiful. I know she’d like you too. I’ll come back for you.” Gabriel leaned down and touched his forehead to Rio’s. “I’m gonna miss you, boy.”

  “I’m gonna miss you.” His mother’s voice came out of nowhere. She stood next to the pickup truck, holding a small package.

  “Thanks, Mom. I’m going to miss you too. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”

  Maggie strolled closer to Gabriel and Rio, her eyes moist and swollen.

  “I’ve been waiting for the right time to give you this. I suppose now is as good a time as any.” She extended to Gabriel a large, flat, brown padded envelope with the end torn off. The creased envelope was stained from handling.

  “What is it?” Gabriel stood up and dusted his jeans off.

  “I found this in the pocket of my bag after I moved to Kansas. I never got the chance to give it back to him.”

  She began to tear up again. “When you told me you wanted to go back to The River, I knew you should have it. It’s real special.” She handed the package to him.

  Gabriel reached inside the envelope and pulled out a leather-bound book. The lack of light made it too dark to read, so he opened up the truck door and turned his headlights on.

  He walked around in front of the truck and held the book in front of the headlights, and dust particles danced in beams of light as Gabriel looked closer at the antiquelooking book. The cover was soft dark brown leather, scratched and stained. The pages were thick, like parchment. Gabriel opened up the cover, and the first page read “The River Journal, 1931.” At the bottom of the page in handwritten script were the names “R. Allen Clarke” and in a different, darker ink “John W. Clarke.”

  “Is this Dad’s journal?” Gabriel flipped through the pages and saw notes, diagrams, and hand-drawn pictures, as well as journal entries from decades before.

  “It was your grandfather’s when he was young. He passed it along to your father before he died. They talked about The Journal quite often. There was hardly ever a time that your dad didn’t have this journal with him. I saw him reading and writing in this more times than I could count. Your father said it contained the ways of The River. ‘Wisdom from decades of running The River and exploring the canyons are in this book,’ he would say.”

  Gabriel sat speechless. He kept turning the pages slowly. The sound of his fingers against the rough pages was like a sacred moment to him. He read a few sentences underneath a hand-drawn picture of a rock formation with water pouring over and around it. The section said:

  Today, I am once again in awe of The River. This large rock was not here yesterday. It fell in overnight due to the strength of the water loosening the dirt around it. Little by little, day by day, the rock will never be the same. The River is shaping everything in its path, including this rock. As the water collides with it, new and beautiful art is created. I want everyone to experience the “art” of The River.

  R. Allen Clarke

  Another entry read:

  The River never sleeps. Always moving, relentless in pursuit of its destination, The River is alive.

  R. Allen Clarke

  About three-quarters of the way through the book, a beautiful charcoal sketch of a little boy caught his eye. His father had written this note next to it:

  I cannot wait until Gabriel is old enough to enjoy this with me. He is already so strong and feisty as a three-year-old. He has The River in him. He has no fear. Today he said, “Daddy, I' m gonna be stronger than you.” I believe he will be one day.

  J.W.C.

  Gabriel closed the book gently and clutched it to his chest with one hand. He turned and looked at his mother. “Thank you,” he whispered, holding out his other arm. He and his mother embraced.

  “Please be careful, Gabriel.” His mother was unsuccessful at holding back her tears. “I just can’t imagine. . .”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be back sooner than you think.
This is what I’m supposed to do.”

  “I know. I know.” She gave him one last hug and walked back toward the house.

  “Mom?”

  She turned around.

  “The Journal. . . it brings him back somehow.”

  She nodded and continued on.

  Gabriel sat back down next to Rio and, by the glow of the truck headlights, began to thumb through more of The Journal. He connected with his past. . . and began to discover the possibilities of his future.

  The sun had not yet risen, but the glow of its imminent arrival colored the sky. Mister Earl, Miss Vonda, and Maggie were all there to see him off. Mister Earl didn’t say much but kept his hands in his coveralls pockets. Miss Vonda gave him a basket of goodies for the road. His mother wiped proud tears from her eyes.

  They all knew this was the right trip for Gabriel. . . not easy, but right. After one last squeeze from his mother, Gabriel climbed in and started his truck. He rolled down his window.

  “See you in September!” Gabriel waved his left arm out the window as he drove away. His new treasure, The Journal, sat on the seat next to him.

  “I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be longer than four months,” Mister Earl said as he headed toward the barn.

  SEVENTEEN

  No More Kansas

  FOURTEEN HOURS OF DRIVING ALONE, MOSTLY ON Highway 70 West, gave Gabriel plenty of time to meditate on what the journey to Big Water Adventure Camp meant for him. He certainly felt a newfound freedom once he had left Kansas behind in his rearview mirror. Like an eaglet leaving the nest perched high on a cliff to discover his wings, Gabriel jumped to freedom as well. Kansas had its good memories, but life there included a lot of heartache and loneliness.

  Sure, he felt safe—even loved—in Cairo. The small town and childhood friends were all he had known for most of his life. In his heart, though, he knew that life had more in store for him. The trouble was that he just hadn’t known where to begin. Leave it to Jimmy to show him the way. He chuckled.

  On the trip with the guys just two weeks before, he had captured a glimpse of what life could be—what his father’s and grandfather’s lives must have been. Then receiving The Journal from his mother had expanded— no, exploded—his horizons. He recalled a quote from his grandfather he’d read the night before: “Life is not to be merely survived—it is meant to be lived.”

  His grandfather’s words from the past resonated with him to his core. Living. . . really living. . . was on Gabriel’s mind now. He didn’t know exactly what the future held for him during the next few months, but he was excited—excited to breathe the crisp mountain air, exhilarated to spend more time on The River, and thrilled to see Tabitha again.

  Exhausted from his predawn to sundown excursion, Gabriel sipped the last few drops of his truck-stop coffee before making the final turn. He was relieved yet a bit nervous to see the large weathered sign announcing Big Water Adventure Camp with a large painted finger telling him which way to go. Gabriel pulled into a large gravel cul-de-sac and parked his pickup truck next to the other vehicles. There were a couple of beat-up Chevrolet vans, several other dented pickups, and a couple of old Jeeps that looked like they had crashed down the side of the mountain a time or two.

  The cul-de-sac was surrounded by several wood cabins scattered around the property at different elevations on the mountainside. A large timber lodge, suitably rustic, sat directly on The River. Built into the side of the hill that sloped down to the water’s edge, the timber lodge looked like it had undergone several additions over the years.

  It was dusk, and the camp was eerily quiet. Gabriel saw a few lights on in the front office, so he headed in that direction.

  As he approached a rickety screen door painted fire-engine red, Gabriel could hear laughter and music playing, but the sounds were faint. He opened the screen door, but a little bell startled him as it jingled above his head. He walked in slowly as the creaking door slammed behind him.

  There was no one in sight, but the rousing conversation continued in the distance. Gabriel craned his neck to determine where the merriment was coming from inside camp headquarters. Standing in the foyer, he saw a long counter in front of him. This was undoubtedly where folks checked in. The walls were littered with vintage rafting gear, tacked-up newspaper clippings, and hundreds of faded photos of people who had experienced The River. He was looking at some of the faces when one of the older newspaper articles caught his eye.

  “Jacob Fielding Defies Odds” was the headline printed over a picture of a bearded man with a solemn look on his face. He had dark curly hair and was standing in The River, holding a paddle over his head. The article started out:

  Jacob Fielding has become one of the most revered adventurers in the West. How did this happen?

  It was a cool morning in 1955 when . . .

  A door slammed, startling Gabriel. An older black man emerged from the back room, singing to himself in a deep, raspy tone a song that sounded like an old Negro spiritual to Gabriel’s ears: “Hmmmmm. . . wade out in the water. . . Oh, oh. . . wade out in the water.”

  After a few seconds, he finally looked up and noticed Gabriel.

  “Sorry ’bout that. Can I help you?” The short, bow-legged man moseyed to the counter and extended Gabriel a gentle smile. He seemed to be in his late sixties and couldn’t have been much over five feet tall. With reading glasses hanging around his neck by a string, he wore a tan fishing hat, a tattered green cardigan sweater, and well-worn khaki work pants with boots. He held an old book in one hand and a pipe in the other as he waited for Gabriel’s reply.

  “I’m here to help out this summer. I’m Gabriel. . . Gabriel Clarke.”

  “Oh yes. We were hoping you’d come.” His voice was gravelly, and he squinted his eyes a bit as he looked at Gabriel and gestured with his pipe.

  “Follow me, and I’ll take you to the others. I’m just headed to my room for my evening read. A pipe, my rocker, and a good book—that’s all I need every night.”

  The man kept talking as he pushed open the half door that let Gabriel behind the counter. “I’m Ezra, by the way. Ezra Buchanan. If you ever need anything, just holler.” They walked through a couple of doors and then down a flight of stairs that moaned with every step.

  They were getting closer to the conversation and the music.

  “Watch your head, son. This door frame is low for you tall people.”

  Gabriel’s head just cleared as he made his way through the door at the bottom of the stairs. They walked in to find a dozen young people laughing and carrying on. They were snacking on corn chips and drinking soda. Over in one corner, a guy was strumming a ukulele. Gabriel felt much like he did on the first day of school. It was never easy being the new kid on the block. He quickly canvassed the room, but there was no sign of her.

  “Hey, kids. Got someone for you to meet.”

  “Ezra!” a few shouted, raising their soda bottles to him. Ezra took off his hat to reveal a crown of pure white, shortly cropped hair. He nodded to acknowledge the greeting.

  “This here’s Gabriel Clarke. He’s going to be joining us for the summer, so make him feel welcome.”

  “Welcome to Big Water, man.” A familiar face emerged from the kitchen. It was Samuel—his guide from two weeks earlier. Gabriel was relieved to see him. Samuel held out his hand, and Gabriel gave him a firm shake.

  While they were exchanging pleasantries, Ezra tugged on Gabriel’s sleeve. “Young man, I’m going to read some. My room is off the back of the rigging area. That’s where we store the rafts. Actually, your room is right next door to mine. If you get lost, the others will know where it is. If you need anything, just stop by.” Ezra excused himself out the back door.

  One by one, each of the would-be guides introduced themselves to Gabriel.

  “You vant something to drink?” one of the girls asked from behind the bar in the kitchen. She spoke with a Scandinavian accent.

  Gabriel looked in her direction, and sh
e held out her hand and gave Gabriel a surprisingly strong squeeze.

  “My name is Stasia,” she said. The young woman was short and stocky with white-blond cornsilk-like hair cut in a bob. She had very fair skin, rosy cheeks, and crystal blue eyes.

  “Nice to meet you. Yeah, something to drink would be great. I’m thirsty after the long drive.”

  “You’re the one from Kansas, right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “You’re training to be a guide, yeah?”

  “Oh no. I’m just here to help out and work around the camp for the summer. I just took my first raft trip a few weeks ago.”

  “I took my first trip down The River two years ago, and I haven’t been able to leave the area since. It’s magnificent around here. I guide whitewater in the summer, and I’m a ski instructor in the winter. There are several of us who do that.”

  Gabriel sat down and listened to snippets of conversations around the room. The energetic atmosphere lent itself to stories about trips they had taken earlier that day.

  Cool and damp air breezed through the open windows. From this vantage point, Gabriel could hear The River bubbling in the background. As he looked around, though, he couldn’t help but wonder where Tabitha was. He thought about asking someone if she had been around, but then Samuel stood up in front of the room.

  “Okay, guys, if I could have your attention, please. Here are your assignments for the week. Part of your training is getting to know all of the duties involved in running a camp, not just the sexy part.” He passed out the paperwork. Samuel sounded like a military officer. “That means kitchen duty, raft maintenance, trash duty—that sort of thing. This is an all-inclusive resort. You get included in everything.”

  They chuckled. . . nervously. Samuel looked toward Gabriel. “I’ll get with you after the meeting to go over your specific duties.”

  Samuel finished passing out several sheets of paper and went over some particulars on each page. Gabriel zoned out and pondered what he had gotten himself into. He continued to wonder when he’d get to see Tabitha.