Water's Edge

by Robert Whitlow

  “Do you know Hal Millsap?” Nick asked.

  “No.”

  The front door of the house opened, and Rick stepped outside. Tiffany wasn’t with him.

  “Good morning, boys,” he said, stretching his arms in the air.

  When he saw Rick, Tom replayed in a split second his entire conversation with Tiffany at the barn. He shuddered. Rick slapped him on the back.

  “I’m glad you decided to come.”

  Tom didn’t reply. Hal pulled his truck directly in front of the other three men and lowered the window. Rick motioned for him to keep going.

  “Move on,” Rick said. “I don’t want that thing sitting here all day. Someone will think I’m sponsoring a tractor pull.”

  Hal spit out the window, leaving a small brown stain on the pristine white concrete. Rick swore.

  “Hey! I’ll have to wash that off before we leave,” Rick said. “If Tiffany sees it, she’ll have a fit.”

  Hal parked his truck and got out. He was a tall gangly man with black hair and a goatee. His right cheek bulged. When Tom shook his hand, Hal grinned, revealing specks of tobacco scattered across the front of his teeth.

  “Hal works in human resources at Pelham Financial,” Rick said to Tom. “He hires and fires all the folks working the customer call center, mailroom, and telephone solicitation departments.”

  “And I love doing it,” Hal responded. “Especially the firing part. There’s nothing more satisfying than bringing in a single mom with three or four kids at home and telling her to hit the door and don’t look back. Just last week I got to terminate a woman like that. You could hear her screeching in the parking lot. I had to turn up the country music on the CD in my office to drown her out.”

  “Don’t believe a word of that garbage,” Rick said. “The people who work for Hal love him, and he needs that oversize truck of his to deliver turkeys at Thanksgiving and toys at Christmas. Hal, tell Tom where you went to college.”

  Hal rubbed his goatee. “I helped Vanderbilt fill its federally mandated quota of rednecks.”

  “Where he was Phi Beta Kappa in psychology and human relations,” Rick added. “Tiffany wishes my IQ was half of his. But be careful, Hal, Tom is a brainy guy too.”

  “I look forward to testing myself against a worthy adversary,” Hal said. “I’m sure Rick has packed a portable Trivial Pursuit game we can play while we’re on the road.”

  Tom didn’t feel like entering into any joking banter.

  “Clean it up,” Rick said to Hal, pointing to the nasty brown stain.

  “Yes, Mr. Pelham,” Hal said. He stepped into the bushes and grabbed a garden hose. He grinned at Tom and Nick. “I’ve had to do this before.”

  Hal turned on the water and washed away the small brown stain. “Just like my sins,” he said.

  “If you didn’t chew, you’d have one less thing to repent of,” Rick said.

  In addition to his pickup truck, Rick owned a shiny new SUV. All the gear for the trip was stowed in the back of the vehicle. Tom started to get in the backseat.

  “No, you’re up front,” Hal said. “Rick told us to treat you like visiting royalty.”

  Tom got in beside Rick and tried to put his encounter with Tiffany out of his mind. Hal disappeared for a moment and returned without the bulge in his cheek.

  “It’s in a place she’ll never suspect,” he said to Rick. “But when next year the grass is extra green over by that forsythia bush, you’ll know why.”

  chapter

  FIFTEEN

  It was an hour and a half to the Ocoee River. Rick skirted Chattanooga and drove toward the mountains that funneled water into the steep valley where the river flowed. Tom spent most of the time staring out the passenger window. It was too hard to look at Rick.

  “In May, Nick and I kayaked the upper part of the river,” Rick said. “It made me respect the people who ran the rapids during the Olympics in ’96. Turning around and paddling upstream to a specific point is tough. It’s hard enough just staying upright in the current.”

  “Paddling upstream against a strong current describes my love life,” Hal said.

  “No woman who still has all her teeth wants to kiss someone with tobacco juice drooling out the side of his mouth,” Rick said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Tom can give you pointers on how to impress the ladies. He’s not been without a good-looking girl hanging on to him since ninth grade.”

  Tom clenched his teeth.

  “What’s your secret?” Hal asked. “I know we’ve just met, but I let you sit up front even though Rick’s driving makes me carsick if I sit in the backseat.”

  “My secret,” Tom responded as he scrambled to come up with an answer that would end the conversation, “is finding a woman who is as afraid of commitment as I am.”

  “That’s profound,” Hal said reverentially. “I never learned that in any of my upper-level psychology courses.”

  The winding two-lane road reached the edge of the river and passed a hydroelectric power station built in the early 1900s. For more than sixty years, a wooden flume diverted the majority of the water from the riverbed to the power station. It wasn’t until repairs were required to the flume in 1976 and the normal flow of water was restored that the white-water potential of the river became known. The Tennessee Valley Authority planned for the release of water into the riverbed to be temporary, but the resulting outcry led to a compromise in which the TVA designated about a hundred days a year for water to cascade over and around the rocks.

  They reached the upper section of the river. The Olympic course was actually a river within the river. Massive boulders were repositioned to create a narrower channel that intensified the force of the current. Rick pulled off the road and they got out of the vehicle to stretch. Nick pointed across the riverbed to the new channel.

  “Those rapids lead to the Edge of the World.”

  The greenish water foamed in the distance. Hal took a bag of chew from the back pocket of his jeans and popped a wad into his right cheek.

  “You can’t appreciate it from this far away,” Rick said. “When you’re sitting in the middle of the current and know there’s no turning back, it is a major adrenaline rush.”

  While they watched, a helmeted kayaker entered the rapids.

  “He’s about to get to the worst part,” Rick said.

  At that moment, the kayak surged up in the air and disappeared.

  “Wipeout,” Nick said. “It happens so fast you don’t have a chance to react.”

  The kayaker reappeared for an instant, then was swept from view.

  Hal spit onto a smooth stone. “Tom, are you sure you’re up for this? Riding this river looks like total commitment to me.”

  “You’ll be the first one to kiss a rock,” Rick replied. “Tom knows how to handle a paddle.”

  They returned to the SUV and drove downriver to the entry point for the middle Ocoee section. Rafts were piled up on top of colorfully decorated school buses displaying the names of different rafting companies. Rick pulled into a reserved spot for one of the rafting companies.

  “Rick, you can’t park here,” Hal protested. “You’ll get towed, and I’ll have to hitchhike home with Tom and end up riding with the carload of beautiful, uncommitted women who stop to pick him up.”

  “Don’t worry,” Rick said. “I have permission from our guide.”

  A muscular man in his forties with his head wrapped in a red bandanna approached and greeted Rick.

  “This is Gary Wheeler,” Rick said. “He owns Ocoee Extreme.”

  “Welcome,” Wheeler said to the assembled group. “We had a big rain last night, so the river is in top form. I think it’s going to be one of the best days of the year.”

  Hal punched Tom and winked.

  “The river isn’t going to feel like bathwater,” the guide continued. “If you fall out, your body temperature can drop faster than the water rushing over the rocks at Hell’s Hole.”

  “I have wet s
uits for everybody,” Rick said, popping open the back of his SUV. “The pink one is for Hal.”

  “The bathhouse is over there,” Wheeler said, pointing to a garishly painted wooden structure.

  The men changed into the wet suits. All the suits were black. They strapped on lightweight life jackets.

  “This neoprene can’t hide my muscles,” Hal said, flexing his long arms. “But this one-size-fits-all approach is going to leave my ankles exposed to hypothermia.”

  “Which is why Wheeler is going to put you in the safest part of the boat,” Rick answered. “The rest of us are experienced.”

  Outside, the guide was standing next to a raft that was narrower and sleeker than the ones piled on top of the converted school buses. It even had a name, Bubba’s Boat, stenciled across the front.

  “It’s named after one of the rapids you’ll see today,” Wheeler said. “Give me a hand, and we’ll take her down to the river.”

  Each man grabbed the rope that circled the raft, and they carried it to the edge of the water.

  “Before we put in, I want to tell you what we’re going to do, describe some of the rapids we’ll face, and go over safety procedures,” Wheeler said.

  “Use small words,” Hal said. “And remember, I’ve never done this before.”

  The guide’s description of the river brought back memories for Tom. There’d been summers when he rafted the Ocoee two or three times. He’d even taken girls on rafting trips, but never Tiffany. His most memorable rafting date was a dark-haired young woman named Cynthia who screamed the entire trip in a voice that made the roar of the rapids sound soothing. It was the last time he asked her out.

  “We’ll try to catch some surf near Dixie Drive,” Wheeler said. “And then pass through Torpedo, Table Saw, and Diamond Splitter. We’ll hop out for a rest before tackling Hell’s Hole, which, as most of you know, is near the power plant. If the river isn’t too crowded, we’ll try to make our way upstream to repeat some spots if you guys are up to it.”

  “I just showed them my guns,” Hal replied, flexing his right arm again.

  “He’s talking about biceps, not jaw muscles,” Rick replied.

  “We’re all going to wear helmets and life jackets,” Wheeler said, pointing to a pile of both items at his feet. “The last thing you need is to hit your head on a rock or log and lose consciousness. If you should fall out of the boat, turn so you face downstream and let the current take you to a calmer place where you can swim to the side and either wait for us to pick you up or crawl out on the rocks. Your life jacket will keep your head above-water. Don’t try to swim against the current. That’s impossible.”

  “What if you go overboard, Captain?” Hal asked.

  “I’ll do what I’m telling you to do. Rick has been with me many times, and I understand Nick and Tom have experience on the river.”

  “It’s been awhile,” Tom replied.

  “It’s like riding a bike,” Rick replied. “It’ll all come back to you. The main point is to dig our paddles in the water and keep the boat from getting sideways in the current.”

  “That’s right,” Wheeler said. “If I’m not with you, concentrate on getting down the river safely. We’ll regroup for another run that includes the extras you paid me for.”

  “I thought this was free,” Hal said.

  “Pelham Financial is paying for it,” Rick replied.

  “Just like everything else in Etowah County,” Hal said.

  They carried the boat into the shallows. Smooth stones covered the bottom. The river water covered Tom’s surf shoes.

  “You’re right; it’s chilly,” he said to Wheeler.

  “It feels great to me,” Hal said. “I take a lot of cold showers, especially before the meetings at work when Rick’s father chews me out in front of the rest of the local management team.”

  Wheeler positioned everyone in the boat. He put Rick and Tom up front with Nick and Hal in the rear. Hal slapped the water with his paddle and sprayed water into the raft.

  The middle section of the Ocoee explodes with five miles of almost continuous white water. Empowered by the recent rain, the current was running as strong as Tom had ever seen it. Focusing on what lay ahead in the rapids helped him push aside his encounter with Tiffany. They quickly started moving down the river, bobbing up and down in the water. Hal let out a war whoop.

  Rick glanced over his shoulder. “This is nothing.”

  “Just practicing.”

  “When we get to the rough stuff, you’ll be paddling too hard to yell,” Wheeler called out.

  They quickly approached the first rapid, Grumpy, a class 4 section of white water. With Wheeler barking out commands, they shot through it. The river felt alive beneath the boat. Cold spray splashed over the sides.

  “Paddles in the boat,” Wheeler said when they were through.

  They coasted through a calmer section. Wheeler guided the boat with an oar he used like a rudder.

  “That was fun,” Hal said.

  Tom licked his lips. Other rapids quickly followed. Because it was late in the season, there weren’t many boats on the water. Wheeler kept his promise to let them test their strength by paddling upstream to repeat a couple of sections. Tom dug his paddle in the swirling water and did his part to help the boat conquer the current. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed the river.

  “I love this narrow raft,” he called out when they made their way through a rapid named Double Suck for the second time. “It’s a lot more maneuverable.”

  “Don’t relax yet,” Wheeler replied. “Double Trouble is just ahead.”

  From his position in the front of the raft Tom could see the rolling rage of the water in front of the boat.

  “Dig hard on the right!” Wheeler called out as they entered the rapid.

  Rick and Nick thrust their oars into the water. Tom sat poised, waiting for his instructions.

  “Quick on the left!” Wheeler yelled.

  Tom stuck his oar into the water. He made two firm strokes, but when he prepared for a third, the raft suddenly flipped up like a bucking bull, throwing him into the water. He landed on his back with his legs up in the air. His head went under the water. The wet suit minimized the shock of the cold, but he came up sputtering from a mouthful of the river. A sudden shift in the current spun him around 360 degrees. When he regained his bearings, he could see the raft, with at least two people in it, continuing down the river.

  Tom saw an arm flailing in the air. It was Hal Millsap. He was trying to swim across the rushing current to the opposite side of the river.

  “No!” Tom yelled. “Go with the river!”

  The river spun Hal around so he was facing Tom, who saw terror in Hal’s eyes. Tom motioned downriver. Hal nodded and turned around. They swept around a corner. There were fallen trees jutting out into the water on the left bank of the river. Tom saw Hal trying to move in that direction. A thick limb jutted out into the river just ahead of him.

  “No!” Tom yelled again.

  Just before he reached the limb, Hal disappeared beneath the water. One of his hands, but not his head, broke the surface. Tom leaned to the side and kicked hard with his legs, pushing himself toward the spot where Hal had gone under. When he reached it, Tom felt his legs collide with Hal’s body. The submerged man grabbed Tom’s waist with his hands, but the slick neoprene suit didn’t allow a handhold. Tom reached up with his right arm and grabbed a thick limb as his legs swept forward out of Hal’s grasp.

  Using the limb as leverage, Tom turned so he was facing the current. A smaller secondary branch of the tree went downward, disappearing into the water near the spot where Hal’s hand surfaced. Grabbing the smaller limb with his left hand, Tom jerked as hard as he could. He felt the limb crack. He pulled again, and it broke free. Hal suddenly surfaced directly in front of Tom, striking him hard on the chin with his helmet.

  Stunned, Tom lost his hold on the larger limb and was swept downriver by the current.

  ch
apter

  SIXTEEN

  A splash of cold water washed over Tom’s face, and he blinked his eyes. Turing his head to the side, he saw Hal, his face tilted back and his eyes closed, floating about six feet away from him. Tom swam to him.

  “Hal!”

  There was no response. Hal’s lips were slightly blue.

  Tom grabbed one of the straps on Hal’s life jacket. They came around a bend into a calmer stretch of water. Tom saw that the raft was out of the river and resting on rocks in a shallow area. Rick, Nick, and Wheeler were looking upstream.

  “Over here!” Tom shouted.

  Wheeler saw them and dived into the water.

  “He’s unconscious or worse,” Tom sputtered when Wheeler reached them. “Got caught in tree limbs and was pulled under.”

  “Get to shore,” Wheeler said. “I’ll take him.”

  Wheeler grabbed Hal in a rescue hold and started pulling him toward the shallows. They continued to move downriver. Rick and Nick ran along the shore. Tom reached the bank slightly ahead of Wheeler and stumbled onto the rocks. Rick came up to him.

  “What happened to your face?” he asked.

  Tom looked down and saw blood dripping onto his wet suit. He touched his chin. His fingers came away red.

  “Hal hit me with his helmet.”

  Nick was waiting for Wheeler when he reached the shallows. The two men grabbed Hal under his arms and dragged him out of the water. His body was limp. Wheeler laid Hal on his back and started giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

  Tom prayed silently.

  With a slight lurch of his chest, Hal gave a choking sound and water drained from his mouth. Wheeler turned Hal’s head to the side until it cleared, then continued administering mouth-to-mouth. Hal choked again and coughed up more water. He started breathing on his own, but it was a mixture of gasps and chokes.

  “Is he going to be all right?” Rick asked in a subdued voice.

  “He’s alive,” Wheeler said grimly. “The rest depends on how long he was underwater.”

  Hal’s breathing became smoother. The color returned to his lips. He groaned and opened his eyes. Wheeler raised Hal’s head and held it in his lap.