The Kissing Bridge

by Tricia Goyer

  “I was, uh, stressed until now.” She blew out a breath, again amazed by how such a strong guy could be so tender and compassionate too. Amazed by his self-control. It’s all right, just kiss me, she wanted to tell him.

  But instead of leaning in, he wiped her tears again and then stepped back. “I have a surprise for you, if you’re up for it.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? But I have to do this first . . .” Abandoning her earlier reserve, she rose up on tiptoe. Her arms circled his shoulders. She clung to him, offering him a hug.

  She couldn’t believe that after all these months he was here. There were many nights that she’d lain awake wondering if he’d just been a dream. Or at least wondering if she’d put more stock into the idea of a relationship than he had. Even though he’d written her faithfully, she’d worried that she had her hopes up for no reason. Yet he’d come! Caleb had come all this way to see her. She released her hug and pulled back. His eyes were fixed on hers, and then he looked to her lips. It was clear that he wanted to kiss her . . . but why wasn’t he?

  He offered her another smile, stepped back, and motioned for her to follow. She locked her apartment and then followed him to the parking lot, scanning it for a car and driver. Nothing. She glanced at her watch, realizing the next city bus wouldn’t be there for another twenty minutes.

  “Are we going to walk?” she asked.

  “Why walk when we can use some horsepower? Motor power.”

  “You’re driving?”

  Caleb nodded and reached into his front jacket pocket, pulling out a wallet. He opened it and then slipped out a small, white, laminated card, handing it to her. “I’m a licensed driver.”

  It was an Ohio license with motorcycle written near his picture.

  “How did you get this?” she asked. “Did you drive a motorcycle all the way here?”

  “I started studying and practicing about a week after I got back to Ohio. I passed with flying colors.” He cleared his throat. “And yes, I rode my motorcycle the whole way. It was quite the adventure. A full 2,510 miles and thirty-seven hours on the road . . . but who’s counting?”

  “And they took your photograph?” She waved his driver’s license in the air. “If yer dat and mem saw this, Caleb, they’d faint straightaway and cry over how you’d lost your soul.”

  He chuckled as he approached a motorcycle that was parked near the front. “Ja, but if that is the case, then you’ll have to go before the church with me and confess that you rode right behind me with your arms wrapped around tight.” He pointed to the helmets on the handlebars.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked. “We haven’t been baptized into the church yet. They’re not going to make us confess.”

  “Not that. Didn’t you hear the story of how Annie’s husband died on a motorcycle? Do you know the statistics of how many motorcycle accidents there are?”

  Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. “No, I didn’t learn that in Amish school. Go ahead . . .”

  She bit her lower lip. “Vell, I’m not sure, but I know it’s a lot.”

  He didn’t budge. Instead he took a helmet from the handlebars and placed it on his head. “So are you saying that you’re not going to see what I’ve planned for our day?” He handed the second helmet to her.

  Rebecca sighed. “You’re not going to give me a choice, are you?”

  “We could walk, but that would mean getting there tomorrow, if we’re lucky.”

  Rebecca sucked in a big breath. “If that’s how things are going to be . . .” She took three tentative steps toward him.

  “One thing’s for certain, Rebecca: falling in love with me, your life will never be boring.”

  Once settled on the bike, they drove for at least twenty minutes. Rebecca’s arms were wrapped tightly around Caleb’s waist. She enjoyed watching over his shoulder, but she also enjoyed resting her cheek on his back. The wind was picking up, and a misty rain started falling. Rebecca’s heart pounded, and she tried to forget that Caleb was a new driver and that she was most likely his first passenger. If she was going to allow herself to be close to him, then she would be risking everything over and over again.

  More than once Caleb stopped too abruptly, but each time he righted them and the bike steadied itself. They drove into a more rural area that she hadn’t been to before, and when the motorcycle began to slow, she peered over his shoulder. They were on a two-lane road lined with trees, and . . .

  If she didn’t see it, she wouldn’t have believed it. There, in the middle of Portland, it appeared they’d been transported back to Indiana. There was a covered bridge! It was made of dark wood and the sides were opened. Guard rails protected the railings, and the sign on the bridge read Cedar Crossing.

  Caleb parked the motorcycle, and she climbed off and then pulled off her helmet. Caleb did the same, and his smile caused his face to glow. He took her helmet and placed both of them on the handlebars.

  “This is amazing. I can’t believe this. A covered bridge in Portland!” She turned and wrapped her arms around Caleb’s neck, unable to contain herself.

  He leaned toward her ear, as if he was going to tell her a secret, and then he turned his head quickly and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. Rebecca fingered the button on his Englisch shirt. “It’s about time.” She sighed and smiled up at him. “But for this to be a kissing bridge, maybe we should actually be standing on the bridge?”

  “Actually, that was just for starters.” He took her hand and then led her onto the bridge. They’d barely made it ten feet under the covered roof when he paused, pulled her to him, bent down, and kissed her full on her lips. Butterflies danced in her stomach, and it felt as if a rushing heat moved through her limbs.

  Caleb pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “Now that was worth driving 2,510 miles for.”

  She chuckled, still not believing that he’d found this for her . . . and had done this for her. She opened her mouth to thank him again when the sound of children’s laughter filled her ears.

  Two boys rode down the road on their bicycles. They paused when they saw the motorcycle and jumped off their bikes, eyeing it. Rebecca was about to call to them, telling them not to touch the motorcycle lest it fall over and hurt them, when they moved farther off the roadway and each picked up handfuls of rocks and hurried up to the bridge.

  “Winner has to do the other’s math homework!”

  She tried to focus on Caleb’s face, tried to keep her mind centered on him, but she couldn’t get her thoughts off of Claude. The boys reminded her of her young brother. He’d done such a good job at writing her, and she’d done her best to write back in a timely manner. From his letters it was apparent her mother hadn’t told him where Rebecca was or what she was doing. Yet she figured he’d find out soon enough. It was hard to keep things secret in a community like that.

  “I want to talk to you.” Caleb wrapped an arm around her waist. “I’ve been thinking about our future.”

  “Ja, well, I’m excited to hear, but I can’t believe that you’d do this—you’ve given up hunting season to come visit me here.”

  “Don’t you know that I’ve already found what I’m hunting for? You’re better than any prize buck.”

  Rebecca playfully slugged his arm. “And I suppose that’s a compliment?”

  “I can beat ya!” A boy’s voice rang out. Glancing back, Rebecca saw that they were having a contest to see who could throw the farthest.

  “No, there’s no way you can win.” The redheaded boy’s voice rose. He planted his foot on the bottom of the bridge’s railing to give him a boost up.

  “Hey, that’s not fair!” The blond boy stamped his foot. “It’s not winning if you stand on the bridge.”

  The redheaded boy stuck out his tongue. “Who says? I can stand on the bridge if I want. You’re still not going to win.”

  “No, you can’t win if yer cheating! Fine . . .” The blond boy jutted out his chin. “I’ll climb up!
”

  The boy, who couldn’t have been much older than nine or ten years, reached for the top railing and planted his foot, hoisting himself up.

  “Hey, wait!” Caleb took a step away from Rebecca. “I don’t think that’s very safe.”

  The boy glanced back, but just briefly. Caleb took a few more steps. “Did you hear me?”

  “I’m going to win for sure if I throw it from up here,” said the blond boy.

  “You better listen,” Rebecca called. “You’d better get down.”

  Caleb moved toward the boy, but he paid him no mind. Instead he pulled a rock from his pocket and pulled his hand back. “This one will win for sure!”

  The boy moved in slow motion—or maybe it just looked that way as Caleb raced to him. Upon the release of the rock, the boy’s body continued forward . . . forward . . . His eyes widened as he overbalanced and he reached for the bridge railing.

  All he caught was air.

  “Tyson! Stop!” the redheaded boy called, but it did no good.

  Tyson’s foot caught on the railing as he was going over. With a thunk, his body hit the bridge support. A cry filled the air, and it was only as she was running toward the bridge railing that Rebecca realized it was her voice, her cry.

  “Dear Lord, help him!” The words emerged from her lips without her thinking about them. Her feet seemed to be weighed down by concrete as she rushed to the railing. She looked over the railing. There, in the greenish-blue water, the boy struggled.

  “Caleb!” She called his name, then turned to see he was already racing off the bridge and sprinting down the grassy embankment.

  “Please, Lord, help Caleb to get to the boy in time!”

  “Go! Call 911!” she shouted to the boy who was watching. “See that house over there?” She pointed to the nearest house. “Call them. Pound on the door. Get help coming!”

  The redheaded boy turned and sprinted to the house. It was only then that Rebecca turned her attention back to Caleb.

  The blond boy still struggled in the water, but the current pulled him downstream. Without hesitation she raced off the bridge and onto the grassy embankment. If Caleb managed to get the boy out of the water, she needed to be there to help.

  Caleb reached the spot that was parallel to the boy. No longer able to hold his head up, he was sinking. His body turned so he was facedown.

  “Dear God, no!”

  Even as her feet carried her down the slippery, grassy hillside, Rebecca kept her eyes on Caleb. She expected Caleb to jump into the water and swim to the boy. Instead he kept on running.

  It was then that she saw it. Up ahead a tree grew out over the water instead of upward. Most of its branches hung low, but the boy was still as he floated toward them. Wake up! Reach up!

  With quickened steps, Caleb ran down the log as easily as if he was running on pavement. Then, when he got to the end, he dove into the water. He hit with a splash and then emerged. Ten seconds later the boy’s body reached him. Caleb hooked his arm under the boy’s armpit and wrapped his arm around the boy’s chest. The boy’s head lifted out of the water, but he wasn’t breathing. Caleb swam with one arm, pulling the boy along, and when he got to the shore Rebecca was there, waiting.

  “He’s not breathing.” Caleb struggled for breath. He lifted the boy with his arms and carried him to her. Gingerly, he laid the boy down on the ground.

  She did a quick assessment. It had been the boy’s shoulder that had hit the railing. His shirt was torn and blood oozed out of the gash. “Caleb, can you take off your shirt and put pressure on that spot, please?”

  Without hesitation he did it—taking off his outer shirt but leaving his white T-shirt clinging to his body. He pressed it against the wound.

  With gentle fingers she checked the boy’s neck. It seemed fine. She looked into his mouth and throat, making sure the airway was clear.

  As gently as she could, Rebecca tilted the boy’s head back, opening his airway. She leaned down and gave five quick breaths. The boy’s chest rose slightly, but not enough. In the background she heard a siren wail. Danki . . .

  She watched for breathing, but didn’t see it. She placed the heel of her hand on the boy’s breastbone. She placed her second hand on the first and pressed down. His body had more give than the plastic dummy she’d practiced on more times than she could count. “One, two, three, four, five . . .”

  After chest compressions, she moved again to his breathing and gave two quick breaths. She knew from her classes that rescue breaths weren’t as important as the chest compressions, and she moved back to them. From somewhere she could hear voices, and she guessed that a crowd was gathering.

  Caleb stood and moved up the embankment. “Tell those cars to move,” he called up toward the spectators on the bridge. “There’s an ambulance coming!”

  Rebecca wasn’t sure how many minutes had passed. Five? More? The siren stopped and she could hear the footsteps of the EMTs.

  “Ma’am, we’ll take this from here.”

  They continued CPR. Rebecca watched. Her hands were in fists, willing the boy to live. To not give up. The EMTs did two more sets of chest compressions and breathing, and then they paused as one man checked his vitals. A look of relief came over him. “There’s a pulse.”

  Caleb quickly filled them in on what had happened, and she watched as the medics secured the boy’s neck and transferred him to a body board.

  “He’s not out of the woods yet, but it would be a different story if you two hadn’t been here,” one medic told the other as they carried him up the hill.

  “You did a good job, ma’am,” they said as they carried him away. “A fine job, both of you.”

  “The boy’s mother is here,” she heard someone call. Rebecca looked up and saw a woman in a yellow T-shirt and jeans running to the ambulance. The redheaded boy was with her. Tears streamed down her face, followed by cries of joy when she saw her son. The EMTs put the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. The woman climbed in. Less than a minute later it was driving away.

  It was only then that Rebecca turned to Caleb. “Do you think we should follow him . . . to make sure he’s okay?”

  Caleb nodded, and then he reached for her. His body was wet, cold, but as she fell into his embrace, she realized that she was already trembling.

  “Yes, we should go check on him, but I want you to know, Rebecca, that I’m proud of you. If you ever had a doubt that you were doing the right thing, remember this moment. Remember that boy.”

  CHAPTER

  30

  It took them awhile to find the right hospital. They visited two others, but no one would give them information. They knew they’d found the right one when they walked through the emergency room doors and a woman—the boy’s mom—rushed toward them.

  “I can’t tell you how thankful I am. How grateful that you were there.” The woman’s words released in a breath. “Aiden, Tyson’s friend, told us how you told him to get down, but he didn’t listen. I’m just glad that you were there to help him.”

  Tyson. Rebecca already knew she’d never forget that name after hearing Aiden call it over and over as his friend tumbled into the water.

  The woman placed a hand on Caleb’s arm. “I’m just so glad that you were there to pull him out of the water. Aiden said that you looked like Superman the way you flew off that branch into the water. He’d been going for help, but he paused and looked back, spotting you.”

  Caleb ran a hand down his face. “Now, I don’t know about that, yet, but I’m glad I could help. And it was Rebecca here who did the breathing and stuff—the CPR.”

  The woman turned to Rebecca and took her hands into her own. “Thank you. If it wasn’t for you, then this would be the worst day of my life.”

  Rebecca squeezed the woman’s hands. “So he’s okay, then?”

  “Oh yes, he’s going to be fine. He’s breathing on his own, and he was awake for a few minutes. I would invite you back to see him, but the doctor is stitching u
p that nasty gash in his shoulder. I faint at the sight of blood, so I’m opting out of that one.” She gave a sad chuckle. “And then there are X-rays to check for any fractures.” The woman blew out a slow breath. “And I thought it was going to be an uneventful night eating TV dinners and watching Dancing with the Stars.”

  “Everything changes so quickly,” Rebecca said. “It’s amazing how that can happen.”

  “Would you like to stay and see him? I mean, after he gets all taken care of. I’m not sure how long it will take, but you’re welcome to.”

  “Actually, I don’t think that’s necessary.” Rebecca released the woman’s hands and looked to Caleb. “I think we’ve done our part. I’m just so thankful we were there. It’s good to know that Tyson will be all right. Will you let him know we’ll be praying for him?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.”

  “And we won’t keep you,” Caleb said. “But I think we will sit over here in the waiting room and warm up.” He glanced down at his clothes, which were still damp.

  “Oh, look at you . . . ,” the woman said. “Hold on one minute.” She rushed over to the nurses’ station and returned less than a minute later with two blankets.

  “One for each of you,” she said. “I told them you were the rescuers. The nurses were more than happy to offer warm blankets.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Rebecca took them, and then she motioned toward a plastic chair for Caleb to sit. She gave the woman a quick hug, and then Tyson’s mother hurriedly returned to his side.

  Rebecca wrapped one blanket around Caleb’s shoulders and then did the same with hers. “I’m not wet—well, not completely—but that motorcycle isn’t a warm ride.”

  “I don’t blame you if you want to steal my blanket.” Caleb winked.

  “And I won’t blame you for not finishing your speech . . . or whatever you were going to do on that bridge.”

  “Ach, that.” Caleb brushed his hair back from his eyes and smiled. “I bet you’d like to know.” He glanced around. “Well, this isn’t exactly how I pictured spilling my heart, Rebecca. But if you don’t mind, I at least have to start. I’ve . . . had a few things on my mind that I’ve wanted to tell you.” And he settled back in the chair.