As Gabriel turned away, something caught his eye over The River. The light from the sun was getting so bright that he cupped his right hand and touched his forehead to shade his eyes. There, swirling in the sky, was a huge beautiful bird, pure white in color with a few black markings on its chest and a reddish tail feather.
The bird majestically circled about a hundred feet off the water in a slow, drifting manner that looked completely effortless. Then it spiraled its way closer and closer to The River. The way it maintained its steady downward trajectory was magnificent. Gabriel was engrossed in watching the incredible creature.
His concentration was interrupted by a female voice. “It’s a red-tailed hawk—an albino red-tailed hawk, that is. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Gabriel turned. It was the girl he’d stared at the night before. His heart rate doubled and he couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say.
“Ah. . . amazing,” was all he could muster.
“Those birds are very rare. They look so mysterious, don’t they? The way they come and go as they please. I love to watch them soar.”
The hawk circled over The River until it was about five feet above the water in precisely the same place Gabriel had seen the stirring the night before. The hawk floated over the current for another minute before powerfully flapping its wings to ascend out of the canyon.
When the majestic creature was gone from their sight, the girl broke the silence.
“I’m Tabitha.” She held out her hand to shake Gabriel’s.
“I know—hi.” Gabriel shook her hand quickly, but he felt embarrassed.
“And you’re Gabe, right?” Tabitha raised her distinctive eyebrows.
“Oh, right. . . Gabriel. . . Gabriel Clarke.”
“Clarke? That’s your last name?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Um. . . nothing. Just wanted to make sure I heard right.”
Gabriel was silent.
“You don’t say much, do you?” She grinned at him.
“I guess not.” He threw a rock into the water.
“Man of few words. I like that. So are you going with us to the cliffs? It’s beautiful up there. I hike there all the time since I live close by. You should come with us. The cliffs are quite breathtaking. . . and fun too.”
Gabriel wasn’t convinced. “Maybe I’ll go. Or maybe I’ll stay behind and take care of the camp.”
“Oh, come on! You have to go. It’ll be fun. I guarantee it. Besides, I’ve got to have someone else to talk to. I can take only so much of those meatheads over there.”
Gabriel enjoyed her flirtatious tone. He had never experienced a girl like this.
She is talking to me. She is asking me to do something with her. Gabriel could hardly believe what was happening—a fresh start with someone who didn’t know the issues he’d been struggling with throughout his life.
“Where are you from, Gabriel Clarke?” Tabitha kept engaging him in conversation, but he kept staring at The River.
“Cairo, Kansas,” he said after a long silence. “I’ve lived there since I was five. Kansas sure doesn’t look like this.”
Tabitha came alongside him and placed her left hand inside Gabriel’s right bicep, just above his elbow. The simple movement sent shivers up and down his body.
“Let’s get some coffee. You like coffee?” She started to lead him toward the campfire.
“Sure.”
She squeezed his arm. “Wow, you’re strong. Do you lift weights or something?”
“Just working on the farm, I guess. My dad was really strong. I probably got it from him.”
“I’d say your father was every bit of six feet, broad shouldered, with clear blue eyes and wavy blond hair. Am I right?” Tabitha asked in a playful manner.
Gabriel knew he was blushing. “I mean, if you say so—”
“And your dad must have tanned well.”
Gabriel relaxed and smiled. He felt like a different person with Tabitha. He actually felt good about himself. She was making him forget about his insecurity and his boring life.
A loud voice pierced the solitude of the wilderness. “Cig’s world-famous camping coffee is ready! Come and get it, earthlings!”
The bearded one cupped his hand over his mouth like a megaphone as he shouted for everyone to get out of their tents and up and at ’em. The camp stirred, and one by one, sleepyheaded individuals approached the campfire with tin mugs in hand. Anyone could see that Cig was proud of his coffee—so thick that one could probably drop a rock in and watch it float. Drinking Cig’s motor oil added to the ambience.
Cig and Jimmy got the bacon and eggs going—cooking the bacon first and then breaking eggs into the bacon grease in an iron skillet. People sat on logs and ate their breakfast, and after a while, Jimmy said he had an announcement to make.
“Listen up, guys. We’re going to take off for the cliffs in about thirty minutes, so if you wanna go, be ready.”
Gabriel was still undecided. He was a bit nauseous and wasn’t sure why. Meeting and talking with Tabitha complicated matters. He could feel himself slipping into that place in his mind where it was hard to recover.
Here I am, getting out of Kansas for the first time since I was five, traveling to this beautiful place, meeting new friends, and I’m a mess. Why can’t I deal with this? It’s been fifteen years! Why can’t I just live?
His mind and emotions were quarreling with each other. It was like he was in a quicksand trap of the soul and was just begging for someone to throw him a rope, but he didn’t know how to ask. There were occasions when he would be on the cusp of breaking free and enjoying life, but then he would get sabotaged by his pain. Other times, even in the best of circumstances, a cloak of sadness would fall over him like a two-hundred-pound coat that he couldn’t shake off. He dragged his pain with him wherever he went.
His sadness would often turn to fear: fear of the unknown, fear that he would never know peace, fear of being alone, and even fear of dying. His fear would then turn to anger, but anger at himself. Anger that he didn’t have his dad. Anger for not saving his father that fateful day. Anger at those stupid kayakers for not knowing there were huge falls ahead. And blazing anger at The River for taking Dad so early in his life.
His anger was a vicious storm, and he needed to run for cover to his secret place—just like he did when he was a child.
It was looking like today was another one of those days.
The others had gotten their packs on and were ready to depart for their daylong journey to the cliffs. Gabriel had kept himself busy picking up around the camp, tending to the fire, and occasionally skipping rocks on The River, hoping folks wouldn’t notice that he wasn’t packing to go.
“Let’s do this!” Jimmy yelled out from across the beach.
The pack of college students and local girls began to fall in line and follow Jimmy to the edge of the woods. Tabitha was up in front. Before Jimmy entered the woods, he glanced back one final time.
Gabriel was standing next to The River—no backpack to be seen.
“Gabriel! Hey, man, are you coming?” Jimmy shouted. Tabitha waved her arm at him, motioning for him to join them.
Gabriel looked in their direction. “I’m not feeling so hot. I’m gonna stay here and keep an eye on things. I’ll catch up with you guys when you get back.”
“You sure?” There was a bit of concern in Jimmy’s voice.
“Yep. See ya when you get back.”
“Okay, man. Suit yourself.”
Tabitha looked back, and Gabriel saw that her countenance had dropped. As he watched her and the others climb up the first steep grade and disappear into the towering fir and spruce trees, his mind and heart became increasingly heavy.
Why can’t I push through this? I’m going to miss so much. Why do I do this to myself?
He walked back over to the fire and poked the embers with a stick. He dropped a couple more large branches onto the flames. It took only a few minutes for their echoing
conversation and laughter to fade and for the distant hum of the waterfalls around the bend to loom larger.
Gabriel was alone in the beauty of the canyon and alone with his thoughts. He sat down on a thick log that lay on the edge of the beach. With the massive canyon wall as a backdrop, he faced The River and watched the water move slowly by.
Gabriel’s gaze deepened. He leaned back up and put his hands into the pockets of his old hooded sweatshirt and found something—a blue-and-gray Aggie marble, one he’d kept from his childhood. He’d been looking for this marble for years. The Aggie was very special to him, one of his favorites.
He held the marble up to the light, and his mind instantly flashed back to when he and Dad would play marbles at the whitewater camp after his father returned from his river runs. The brown and red cliffs and towering trees of the canyon wall on the other side of The River blurred. . . and a movie screen of Gabriel’s imagination began showing scenes from the first years of his life. He could see his father’s wide, strong hand—with his thumb tucked in the crook of his index finger—getting ready to shoot that marble.
“I’m going to beat you this time, buddy!”
“No way, Dad! No way!”
The interaction played in his mind’s eye so vividly he could almost hear the dialogue reverberate in the canyon.
“How come you keep getting taller, Gabe? You better stop growing, or soon you’ll be taller and stronger than me!”
“You can’t stop me, Dad. I’m going to be bigger than you soon!”
He remembered Dad scooping him up in his arms and tickling him, then nuzzling him on his neck. He could almost feel the scruff of his soft beard against his face. It felt safe to be in his arms. His dad was so strong.
Lost in an endless string of memories, Gabriel thought about how much he missed his father. How much he wanted to experience that kind of love again. The desire to feel the safety of his father’s arms one more time.
“Pay attention, Gabe. I’m going to show you this again.”
He saw his father showing him how to tie various rope knots.
The scene cut to the conversation they’d have every Sunday morning at six thirty a.m. “Daddy, can you make me pancakes today?” Gabriel loved his dad’s special applesauce pancakes.
“Sure, buddy.” The memory played forth on the canyon theater. Then a darker memory crept into his consciousness.
“Gabriel! Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Gabriel could still feel his father’s hand pressing on his chest from that day. It was the last time he’d felt his father’s touch. That was the day his dad made his way down the hill to help the kayakers. The scenes and memories escalated and started moving faster. Gabriel breathed hard and his heart beat faster. He experienced the helplessness he felt that day. His mind screamed, “Don’t go, Dad. Don’t go!”
He knew what happened in this memory, but maybe he could stop his dad this time. He screamed again, but all he could do was watch the events unfold. After the kayaker went over the falls, everything grew silent. The scene played out in slow motion, and all he could feel was the throb of his heartbeat. He watched his father slide down the graveled hill, careful to navigate the trees and rocks. He saw the kayak turned upside down and pinned underneath the rock. He saw his father use a thick branch to push on the kayak.
Then the images flickered and started to fade. Gabriel strained to focus, calling out to his father but to no avail. Like the static of a weak radio signal, the last image Gabriel saw was his father’s hand rising out of the water from underneath the rock, desperately grasping for something to pull him out. As the memory faded, the silence grew deafening.
Gabriel began to weep. His sobs echoed through the canyon. In uncontrollable anguish, he screamed, “Why?. . . Why?. . . Come back, Dad! Please come back! Please!”
Gabriel fell to his knees at The River’s edge and covered his face with his hands. For several minutes he lamented the loss of what could have been. He grieved the loss of his father.
He finally pulled his hands off of his face. Wiping his nose and tears on his sleeve, his eyes were red and swollen. “Why am I here at The River?” he said aloud. His grief was turning into anger.
“You did this! You did this!” Gabriel shouted with deep intensity and pointed at the gentle, flowing water. “You took him away!”
Gabriel picked up anything he could find to throw into The River. He heaved stray branches and handfuls of sand. He picked up a large rock, raised it over his head with both hands, and threw it into the moving water, his effort carrying him to The River’s edge.
He stumbled and splashed, then fell into knee-deep water. He stood up and kicked the water with everything he had. He kept on kicking and flailing away until he was completely exhausted. Then he dropped to his knees and gulped huge breaths and sobbed. With flecks of mud splattered on his face and his hair dripping wet, all he could hear was the sound of his breathing and the unfazed flow of The River.
Just then, Gabriel heard a loud screech echo through the canyon. He looked high above and saw the majestic creature again—the red-tailed white hawk, gliding in a giant circle at least five hundred feet up.
A warm wind blew across The River and into Gabriel’s face. The wind wrapped around him. In the twinkle of an eye, Gabriel heard that sound again—the sound he heard last night.
The River began to stir. In a large circular motion, the stirring became faster and faster.
Gabriel was not afraid. This time, his heartbeat slowed down, and he felt that he was not alone.
TWELVE
The River Speaks
LYING IN THE SAND LIKE A WORN-OUT RAG DOLL with arms stretched over his head, Gabriel stared up at the sky, exhausted and emotionally wrenched. He lay just a few feet from The River, contemplating everything he had felt in the last few moments. He sensed a release of years of pent-up emotion, even if only The River and the canyon walls had heard his pleas.
The words of Mister Earl came back to him. “The River has a way, you know.”
Gabriel felt the air getting warmer in the canyon. Then, without warning, the water rose rapidly but not violently. The swirling water felt warm to him, and before he knew it, he was submerged up to his shoulders.
But he didn’t feel wet. He felt warm.
Gabriel looked around the canyon—up and down and from side to side. What he saw took his breath away. As The River rose in the canyon, he was lifted as well, staying in the water shoulder-deep. He tried to leap onto the shore, but he was powerless. All he could do was watch The River rise and cover the beach, smothering the fire and the tents.
The scene was surreal. . . spellbinding.
He heard the screech of the white red-tailed hawk. Gabriel looked up and saw it circle overhead and swoop close to him—so close that he could feel the warm air move with each swoosh of its wings.
Then he felt an even stranger sensation. A giant hand of water cupped underneath him as The River rose again. The hand spun him around slowly, and he was now floating.
Gabriel surrendered to the experience, but questions were stacking up in his mind.
The River turned him around so that he was facing the canyon wall and the middle of the stream where the stirring had occurred. He was floating in water that had to be twenty feet above where the beach used to be.
The light in the canyon grew dim except for a glow on the majestic white hawk. The creature swooped down and touched the water’s surface with its talons. Then, with a powerful blast of its wings, the hawk soared into the sky.
With each movement of its sprawling wings, Gabriel could hear the air move throughout the canyon. As the hawk darted to the sky, climbing higher and higher, it was followed by a massive scrim of water and mist. The River erupted like a geyser, sending a sheet of water into the atmosphere, and rose as far as the eye could see. The light in the canyon grew even more faint as the wall of water began to light up.
Images started to come into view on the spray
of water, but Gabriel couldn’t quite make them out. He rubbed his eyes, and the first scene came into focus. He saw their farm in Kansas. Mister Earl was riding his tractor through the fields. The image faded to one of Miss Vonda cooking in the kitchen. Then his mom pulled up the gravel road in her pickup truck, still dressed in her waitress uniform. Gabriel could hear the sound of the motor running, the tires crunching over the gravel road.
A deep voice gently broke into the soundtrack of his experience. “I’ve always been with you, Gabriel,” said the voice.
Could it be. . . was his father speaking?
“Who’s there? Dad? Daddy? Is that you?”
The rich baritone sounded like his dad’s voice— deep, strong, and comforting. His questions garnered no responses, however, just more images of his life.
“Say something! Is that you?”
Nothing.
“Why did you leave me that day? Why did you jump in the water?” Gabriel’s eyes filled with tears again.
“I’ve missed you!” he cried out in pain. “I’ve needed you, and you weren’t there! Those kayakers deserved whatever happened to them. Wasn’t I more important than them? ”
He heard no reply. The image then morphed into an old man in bib overalls with a long gray beard, sitting in a rocking chair while he sallied back and forth. A sign over his head said “Magic River Marbles.” Then quickly the scene turned to him fishing on the Arkansas River with Mister Earl. Then on to his elementary school days when he met Miss Collingsworth for the first time. Those were all great memories, but Gabriel wanted his questions answered.
Then the images disappeared, and Gabriel could hear the voice of a small child in the distance.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
The water screen lit up again. This time there was a picture of a large hiking boot digging into the rocky soil. Rivulets of water ran underneath the boot. Then in slow motion, the hiking boot slipped in the muddy soil. Gabriel saw the boot blur and a body fall into the water. Then the scene shifted and showed his father slipping into the current.
The River Page 10