Saving Sam

by Lynnette Beers

  “Sam, what are you doing?” Annie pulled Sam by the arm and guided her away from the ledge.

  Sam yanked her arm from Annie’s grip then returned to the ledge and glanced down to the water once more. She took off her jacket and tossed it onto the ground as she paced for a moment. “I need to see what this guy did to the truck...I have to know.” The water shimmered in the morning light as Sam stared at the dark object below the surface. Then, she stepped off the bridge and leapt into the water.

  “Sam, I can’t have you doing this!” Annie yelled from atop the bridge. “Let the officials handle this. You know nothing about the currents in this river.”

  “I’ve lived near the Okatoma most of my life. Water is water to a lifeguard. I’ve been in far worse conditions in the ocean. I know what I’m doing.”

  “You can’t just cross police tape to do your own investigation.” Annie paced toward where Sam had swum. “I told you, they’ll haul the truck from the water soon.”

  “Annie, it’s not like I’m gonna be able to move the truck once I get to it. Besides, technically, I’m essentially part of law enforcement.”

  “Law enforcement? That’s a stretch. It’s not like you have the authority to arrest people. You’re a lifeguard. You save people from drowning. Besides things are different in Mississippi, especially when it comes to a river. You’re a guard at California beaches where they’ve got waves, rip currents, and stingrays.”

  “Annie, I got this!” Sam yelled then disappeared under the water and swam below a few feet. The saltwater usually made Sam’s body so buoyant when she swam in the ocean, but the fresh water of the Bouie River quickly carried her body to a deeper depth. The farther down she swam, the colder it got.

  Sam scanned the water for any signs of Robert’s Chevy then swam down a ways until she was near the bottom. Seeing nothing but the blurry river bottom, she swam up to the surface for air. The frigid water caused her skin to sting and her muscles to cramp. But she dove under until she felt the smooth, round rocks at the bottom then kicked until she was several feet away from the bridge. She figured the current had moved Robert’s truck farther down river, so she searched until she could make out a large object of some kind. Out of breath, she ascended to the surface to catch a glimpse of Annie standing atop the bridge.

  “Sam, this is crazy!” Annie yelled from the bridge. “Get out of the water now.”

  “I got this, Annie. I think I see the truck here.” Sam submerged then swam closer to the large object until she felt a bumper. She ran her hand along the metal then felt the truck bed. She used all that she’d learned in lifeguard training years ago to remain under water for several more seconds as she ran her hand along the side of the truck where she felt a huge indentation in the driver’s side door—at least two feet wide.

  Unable to stay under, Sam broke the surface of the water and gasped for fresh air. Trembling from the chilly water, she closed her eyes and concentrated as she took several slow, deep breaths then willed her lungs to carry the oxygen into her blood.

  Sam went below the surface again, diving deep until she returned to the truck. She squinted under the water, only able to make out a blurry image. As she swam along the indented driver’s side door, she made her way to the front of the vehicle, running her hand on the hood of the truck. Sam couldn’t feel any signs of impact on the hood or front bumper, so she floated and used both hands to figure out where the other vehicle hit Robert. It must’ve been a head-on collision, she thought as she ran her hands over the hood, the bumper, the front windshield. But the front of the car seemed intact, free of any sign of impact.

  Then she swam to the passenger door and ran her hand along the entirety of that side, noticing a huge indentation and another massive dent in the front right fender. The passenger door had withstood some sort of impact, the metal caved in by a foot or so. But without seeing the Chevy out of the water, Sam couldn’t be certain how many separate indentations were in the truck. What she knew for certain was that Robert’s Chevy had been hit more than once.

  Sam returned to the surface, filled her lungs with air, then dove back to the bottom of the river. Again, she felt the smashed passenger side door then swam back to the driver’s side. Her hands ran over the large indentations, the metal caved in where Robert had been driving just two days ago. The truck was concave on both sides, folded in like an accordion.

  Sam rose to the surface and gasped for air. She looked below the surface and saw the blurry image of Robert’s mangled Chevy. Right now, Robert lay in a coma as his brain and body fought to stay alive—all because of some guy that hit him and ran like a coward.

  Sam swam toward the bridge, the chilly water causing her muscles to become even more stiff. Annie sprinted down the bridge and past the rocks to make it to the river’s edge.

  “Annie, I don’t think Robert was hit head-on!” Sam yelled, out of breath and shivering as she swam to the side of the river where Annie stood waiting for her. She held out one of those silver rescue blankets found in first aid kits. Sam managed to pull her body onto the muddy shore, and Annie wrapped the Mylar blanket around her, holding her in her arms.

  “Oh, honey, you’re so cold,” Annie said and pulled her closer. “Let’s get you in the car where I can blast the heat and warm you up.”

  “Seems like...the guy must’ve hit Robert more than once,” Sam said, her teeth chattering as she buried her face against Annie’s warm neck. “There are massive indentations on the right side of the truck...and another huge concave area on the driver side door. I don’t think it was a head-on collision. I think the guy rammed Robert’s truck off the bridge. They’ve got to get the truck out of this river soon to examine the damage. Annie, you need to find that man. He needs to pay for what he’s done.”

  Sam left the river’s edge then sprinted up the hill. Annie followed behind, huffing as she finally caught up to her. Sam plopped down on the warm pavement, out of breath as she glared at the spot in the water where Robert’s Chevy had plummeted to the bottom of the river. For years Robert was her protector as the two of them would play in and around the Okatoma Creek. Now it was Sam’s turn to protect him, to help find this man who caused Robert to be on life support as he barely clung to life. Sam returned to where she’d left Robert’s bike against the railing and hopped on to head back to the house before going to the hospital.

  “Sam, hold on now,” Annie said and yanked her by the arm. “Let me take you home, then to the hospital. You need to get into dry clothes. I’ll get you to the hospital soon. Your mom’s there now. She left me a message. She was worried about you, didn’t know where you were.”

  Sam, overcome with fear, fell into Annie’s arms as tears flooded from her eyes. “He can’t die, Annie. He can’t. He’s...he’s always been there for me. I can’t lose him.”

  “I know, baby, I know.” Annie held Sam and caressed her hair. She rocked her gently as Sam continued to sob. “I’ll call the captain later and see if he can get that tow truck here sooner. Sam, I’ll make sure we find the guy who left the scene of the accident. I won’t stop till we find him.”

  Sam pulled herself away from Annie then walked back to the ledge of the bridge. As she took one more look into the water, Sam silently promised to her brother that she’d find the man who caused this accident. The Bouie River, joined nearby by the Okatoma, held too many secrets—of Robert’s recent accident and of the awful day years ago that he and Sam vowed to always keep buried.

  Chapter Seven

  Mississippi: Summer 1990

  A STEADY MIST drenched Sam’s clothes as she ran along the creek bed and then traipsed across the grass to head home. Robert had already returned to the house an hour ago once the sky clouded over, but Sam lingered behind. She hoped the clouds would give way to sunshine, but within minutes, the skies greyed as an early evening storm approached. Her damp hair whipped in front of her face, blinding her. When she reached the yard, she sprinted to get closer to shelter as a burst of wind shook the br
anches of the magnolia tree, causing the empty swing to sway back and forth.

  Heavy pelts of rain soaked the pathway leading to the house—leaving Sam’s boots muddy. The sprinkles turned into a heavy downpour, forcing her to quickly seek refuge under the eaves of the porch. A gust of wind slapped the screen door against the side of the house as Sam tromped up the stairs.

  Once on the porch, Sam shook the water from her hair then locked the screen door behind her. She stood in the entryway and kicked off her muddy boots. Even though she secured the flimsy wooden door onto the latch, it continued to rattle from the fierce wind. She then craned her neck to peek in the front room to view her mother perched in the recliner, enthralled by her game shows. A blue light emitted from the TV and flickered on the walls in the dark room. Jane would normally be at work at the hospital right now, but on nights off like this, she sat for hours watching videotapes of her favorite old game shows from the seventies.

  Down the hall, Robert practiced his guitar, the words he sang familiar to Sam. She’d learned the lyrics to some of the songs from the fifties and sixties whenever Robert strummed the melodies. He’d been playing this type of music for a few years now, and in that time, he’d gone from squeaking out Beatles songs or the lyrics of Simon and Garfunkel to eventually carrying a tune and sounding just like the original singers. Right now, he crooned out the words to “Turn! Turn! Turn!” with such precision that Sam thought he was playing a recording of the Byrds.

  Sam tilted her head and concentrated on the words Robert sang. He’d been practicing this song for the past few nights in preparation for Sunday’s service. Pastor Dan, the new youth minister, would be pleased when he heard Robert sing this with the praise band. Sam recognized the familiar passage from Ecclesiastes that Pastor Dan had her and the other kids memorize at Sunday school a few weeks ago. Rapt by her brother’s voice, she tapped her fingers to the beat on the side of the wall, concentrating on the melody Robert played. She took a few steps down the hallway, closer to Robert’s room, then slid her back down the wall until she was sitting on the plush carpet. With her clothes still damp from the rain, Sam shivered and pulled her knees up to her chest.

  Robert sang softly while he strummed the strings to his guitar but abruptly stopped and tapped his hand on the side of the guitar a couple times.

  Sam held her breath as she awaited the return of Robert’s soothing voice. She closed her eyes until she heard the soft rhythm of his fingers strumming the strings and the gentle humming of his voice. Since Sam had memorized that passage from Ecclesiastes, she recognized that it was practically identical to the words that Robert sang right now. The wind continued to whip the branches against the windows, the summer storm building in intensity.

  “Not a reason,” Robert mumbled and then started in again with the words. Since his voice changed a few months ago, he now sounded like an entirely different person belting out the words to these old songs.

  Sam exhaled a long, full breath then stood and took a few steps down the hall, closer to the front room. Robert’s voice and his guitar became fainter the farther she walked. Outside, the wind rattled the windows and doors to the house as tumultuous sheets of rain pelted against the roof.

  “Is that my big girl?” Jane called from the living room.

  Sam leaned against the wall in the hallway that led into the living room, her clothes still damp and soiled. She’d seen these game shows with her mother numerous times, the celebrity guests looking familiar to her any time she sat long enough to see who the winners were. She took a few steps closer to her mother who sat in the La-Z-Boy with a metal TV tray next to her.

  Robert’s voice resonated from down the hall.

  Jane squinted from the glare of the TV and glanced at Sam, but she quickly returned to her show. “Come in here and give your mama a hug. Haven’t seen you all day since you and Robert been playing down by the creek.” She didn’t take her eyes off the TV as she watched a Name That Tune episode, Mama’s favorite show in the lineup. Somewhat of a show tune expert, Jane usually guessed the songs in less than six notes.

  “Hah! I knew it! ‘Easter Parade.’ Got it in just five notes.” Jane slammed her drink on the metal TV tray, the ice clinking in the glass. “Come closer, baby girl. Why you hidin’ over there by the wall like some scared dog?” Jane pressed pause on the VCR and leaned forward. “Honey, do your mama a favor. Turn the oven on to 425. I’m making your favorite, fish sticks and tater tots. While you’re in there, get your mama another drink. Daddy called and said he’ll be a bit late, said he’s gotta monitor the bridge to make sure it doesn’t get washed out in the storm.”

  Down the hall, Robert strummed the guitar and continued to sing the rest of the song.

  The wind picked up again, even though the rain had decreased. Sam felt the gust seep through the screen door—a warm, suffocating draft, like the damp breath of someone behind her. They’d had heavy summer storms all week, the rainwater causing the Bouie River nearby to swell and nearly wash out the bridge.

  Robert paused in strumming the guitar. Sam then glanced to the darkened window. The chill entered through the tiny space between the glass and wall. The sudden silence from down the hallway made the wind outside sound so loud and furious. Next to the kitchen window, a tree’s branch squeaked against the pane. Sam took a stool from the pantry and scooted it close to the cupboard above the refrigerator. She stood atop the chair and reached to grab a half-empty bottle of what her mama called her drinkey-poo. Sam used both hands to hold the jug as she poured the clear brown liquid into the glass, adding two ice cubes as her mother preferred. Sam walked out of the kitchen, through the entryway, and back into the living room to set the drink on the TV tray.

  Jane glanced at Sam then took a long slurp of her beverage. “Samantha, honey, what are you doing in here with those filthy clothes on? You better not be soiling that couch. Daddy oughta be home soon. Hopefully he’s not stuck on the other side of the river from the flooding, but once he’s home, he better not see you like that. He’s liable to be tired and not in the mood to see you covered in dirt. Get out of those clothes and into the bath right now.”

  Sam tapped her feet against the TV tray, causing the glass of liquor to clank against the metal surface. She hummed along as the closing credits of Name That Tune played.

  “Samantha, for God’s sake, stop that racket! Between Robert practicing that song over and over and you bothering me while I’m trying to watch my shows, you kids are wearing on my nerves. I swear, sometimes y’all drive me batty.” She stared at the TV as the opening of the next game show began. Betty White and Dom Deloise made up the panel on this episode of The Liar’s Club. Before they introduced the special guest of the night, Jane glanced at Sam. “Honey, the sooner you get your bath, the sooner you can eat and watch TV or color in the coloring book Daddy got you last week at the zoo. Hurry before he gets home.”

  Sam wandered down the hall and paused in the doorway to Robert’s room. She noticed he’d set the guitar on the bed, but he was fixated on an opened book—the pages revealing slick photos of snakes and lizards. Sam entered his room and sat next to him on the bed then leaned against him and viewed the colorful pictures.

  “Robby, you finish practicing your song?” Sam leaned in closer to get a better view of the colorful reptiles.

  “What song?” Robert pulled the book away from Sam’s face.

  “That song you been singing all night, the one about the seasons and all that.”

  “Sam, why you gotta be listening in all the time?”

  “I overheard you singing it is all, the one called ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’ that Mama used to sing to us when we were little.”

  “Well, I’ve put a spin on it. I’ve taken a passage from Ecclesiastes and changed it a bit.”

  “You mean the one from the third chapter?” Sam asked and proceeded to recite the verses she’d recently memorized. “‘To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heaven. A time to be born and
a time to die. A time to—’”

  “Yeah, that section. But I’m changing it up a bit to better fit the big Sunday service.”

  “It’s not just for the praise band?”

  “Naw, this one might speak to the whole congregation. I’m calling it ‘To Everything,’ kinda like an ode.”

  “An ode? Sounds pretty boring to me.”

  “Some of the greatest poems ever written were odes, like the ode by John Keats called ‘To Autumn’ or ‘Ode to the West Wind’ by Percy Shelley. We read a bunch of those poems last year in English. An ode is sort of like a dedication, kinda like a way to praise something significant. For my rendition of this song, I’m gonna call it ‘To Everything’ because—”

  “How can you praise everything? Seems like a hard thing to do.”

  “Sam, haven’t you been listening to Pastor Dan?”

  Sam thought back at recent bible lessons and how she might’ve heard the sermons Pastor Dan preached from the pulpit, but she usually opted to doodle in the margins of the Sunday program and not pay attention to what he taught the congregation. “Well, to everything sounds kinda big, like you might as well call it to the world.”

  “That’s the point. There’s always something to be grateful for, always a reason to praise everything in the world.”

  “Everything? Even bad things?”

  “Well, almost everything, I guess. But, remember how Pastor Dan talked about being grateful for what you have in your life, like being happy even for the small things? I guess that’s how I see this song, or at least the version I’m writing. But, I’m done practicing for tonight and want to study these snakes.” Robert scooted back against the fluffy pillow and turned the slick page of his book to reveal an odd-looking reptile.

  Sam snuggled into the pillow next to Robert and rested her head on his arm. “That one’s pretty. We got that kind here?”