The Singing River

by R. K. Ryals

  “Is that why you want to hear the chant?” Haven asked. “Because your mother heard it once?”

  Marley glanced at her. “Partly. But it’s also because I want to believe things like that really exist, that history doesn’t always fade into oblivion, that it continues to echo for generations to come.”

  Haven watched Old Marley’s face, watched the way he stared at the sand bar as we passed it, his fingers clutching his camera. There was something peculiarly nostalgic about his expression, his face pale behind his glasses.

  “My mother says things are never forgotten, they’re just stored away,” Haven said.

  Marley composed himself, his lips turning up in a wry smile as he glanced at her. “A wise woman, your mother.”

  Haven harrumphed. “She would disagree with you there.”

  My eyes met Roman’s over their heads. Even as sick as Roman felt, he noticed the wistfulness in our uncle’s voice.

  Roman’s eyes narrowed as he slapped at a mosquito on his neck. “I hate summer,” he complained.

  Even with sweat dripping onto my forehead and bugs buzzing near my head, I disagreed with my brother. There was something mysterious about summer here. It was almost as if it were a breathing person, angry and full of heat, that sucked life out of the body but gave it back as well. Summer reminded me of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, of my grandmother rocking on the back porch, a glass of iced tea in her hand as she yelled at us to slow down. She had died in summer, passing away during her favorite time of year.

  “You hate anything that makes you sweat,” I teased.

  Roman dug his paddle into the river. “And you don’t?”

  I laughed. “Depends on what I’m doing.”

  Even from the corner of my eye, I caught Haven’s blush.

  Marley chuckled. “You don’t have any siblings, do you Haven?”

  She shook her head. “Just me and my mom.”

  “It’s a royal pain in the ass. Not missing a thing,” I said.

  Roman snorted, and even though I knew he was trying his best to remain surly, I was pretty sure I detected a smile.

  Haven grinned, pushing her paddle into the water, her gaze following the sun to the spaces in the trees. Her skin was damp in the heat, the end of her braid curling up. Mayflies landed on her legs, but she didn’t shoo them away. Shooing them only stirred them up, caused more of them to congregate, like an outdoor bug revival.

  There was momentary peace; the only sound was Uncle Marley as he fiddled with his camera. He held his voice recorder in his free hand as if he were afraid he’d miss something if he put it down.

  It was Roman that broke the silence. “Where’s your father?” he asked, his eyes on Haven.

  Her gaze moved back to the canoe, her eyes finding mine. Her words from the night before haunted me.“I am better at being abandoned than I am at keeping people."

  “He’s somewhere,” she answered.

  Roman persisted. “So he’s alive then?”

  She nodded. “He’s a musician.”

  I knew by the tone of her voice that she was lying. Haven would be awful at poker. Roman left it alone.

  My gaze followed the river. “I think we’ve gone far enough.”

  Marley nodded, his stubby fingers pushing at his glasses. “There’s a place there we used to swim. We can stop for a bit before heading back.” There was disappointment in his voice.

  We steered the canoe toward the shore, and I jumped into the river as we reached the shallows. Roman jumped out with me, pushing the canoe as I pulled it onto the sand, the water shoes I wore keeping me from sliding. Haven climbed into the water, the river licking at her ankles, her bare toes in the sand and moss.

  Leaves shook as a gust of wind moved in.

  I glanced at the sky. “It’s going to rain before we leave. Probably tomorrow.”

  Haven looked at me. “That weather thing you do …” She shuddered.

  My gaze remained on the clouds, watching the way they rolled through the blue sky, a few of them barely grey along the bottom.

  “Call it a fascination,” I said.

  “It’s damned eerie is what it is,” Roman muttered. “He’s always been good at that kind of crap.”

  Haven studied me. “Yet you’re majoring in business in college?”

  We’d already had this conversation; she and I and I avoided her gaze.

  “The things we do …” My words trailed off.

  Maybe it was the tone of my voice, the disdain I knew laced my words, that made Haven move next to me, her body close enough to mine I could feel the heat coming off of her, could smell the scent of apples mixed with the citrusy scent of bug spray. Her fingers dangled near mine, but didn’t touch me.

  “Responsibility …” she murmured.

  The smile came unbidden. “… is a bitch,” we finished together.

  It was becoming our mantra.

  Chapter 19

  Haven

  On the river, in the middle of summer, miles away from everyone, it was easy to forget what life was really like. It was easy to pretend that the people I was with didn’t live down the road from me and yet miles away in society. It seemed normal to be following an old man around as he tried to capture a recording of a death chant. It seemed normal for me to be standing here with a blue blood family I’d only known two days while sinking my toes into dirt, moss, and sand. It even seemed right to want to touch the man next to me.

  “Is your uncle always like this?” I asked River, my eyes following Marley as he walked around the river’s edge, his gaze searching the trees, his recorder held high. We’d returned to the bank near the cabin after a few hours of sitting on the sand bar, but we hadn’t gone back into the house. We’d simply hung out in the woods, snacking on beef jerky and trail mix.

  River peered down at me. “Is that a ‘your family might be crazy’ tone I detect in your voice?”

  I pulled my lower lip into my mouth to keep from chuckling.

  River grinned. “Spoken by the girl whose mother let her go on a trip with strangers?”

  I shrugged. “I never said my family wasn’t crazy.”

  River’s gaze moved to the water. Roman was standing near its edge, his eyes weary, his hand on his stomach.

  “I think I’m going to lie down,” he said.

  River didn’t argue with him, just followed his brother with his eyes as Roman moved to the stairs of the cabin.

  “It’ll go away,” I assured him. “The cramps and the nausea are bad, but it’s the depression that’s the worst.”

  Marley brushed past us, murmuring to himself.

  “I’m going to check the footage on the video camera we set up yesterday,” Marley said aloud.

  In moments, River and I were alone.

  I gestured at the cabin. “I think maybe …”

  A hand closed around my wrist.

  River wasn’t looking at me when I glanced up at his face, but he released my arm, his eyes on the river as he suddenly pulled his shirt over his head. I fought to keep my eyes on his face.

  His gaze moved to mine. “You like to swim?” he asked.

  There was something deceptive about that question, something dangerous and sinful. It was the kind of question I knew I should walk away from.

  Instead, I pulled my tank top over my head, revealing a second, cropped ivory tank. River’s teeth flashed white, his eyes falling briefly to my bare stomach before holding out his hand.

  “You with me then?”

  I stared at his hand, my pulse racing.

  “There are too many rules,” my conscious told me. At the same time, it yelled, “To hell with rules.”

  My palm touched River’s, my skin catching fire as he closed his fingers around mine, pulling me behind him through a short trail leading to an enclosed area once cleared for swimming. My eyes scanned for snakes.

  “My family came to the river often when my grandparents were still alive,” River said, his voice low as he stared at the
dark water. “There was something about it that my grandmother really loved.”

  My hand was still in his, our palms both sweating in the heat. And yet, neither one of us let go. It was as if we were standing on the edge of a precipice about to jump, and if we pulled away, we wouldn’t be able to take the plunge.

  I gazed up at River. “Maybe they fell in love here.” River glanced down at me, and I blushed. “Your grandparents I mean.”

  River smiled, his gaze searching mine. “Maybe they did.”

  He winked, tugging me toward the shore, his feet sinking into the shallow water at the river’s edge. By the way he pulled on my hand, I knew what was coming next, and I paused. There was something reckless in River’s eyes, something I knew was totally out of character for him. Somehow, I knew the River I was standing with now wasn’t the River I would know when we left this place. The other River was the man who’d dragged his brother out of a dairy bar while apologizing about his behavior. That River drove a black Mustang and wore khakis with perfectly brushed hair. That River didn’t do anything without thinking about it first. That River probably made lists of pros and cons.

  This River didn’t care about propriety. This River liked to watch the clouds, liked to guess the weather. This River liked to break the rules, liked to throw caution to the wind. He liked to be brash and spontaneous. It was all there in his eyes. I liked this River better.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I breathed. “This.”

  River grinned. “It doesn’t?”

  I threw him a look. “It’s wrong.”

  His smile grew. “But it feels right.” He tugged me toward him, and I let him. “Sometimes I think it’s okay to want something just because it feels good.”

  I found myself smiling back, my own desire to be reckless unable to quell it.

  “I don’t really know you,” I whispered.

  His lips were too close to mine now, his breath fanning across my skin. It was hot, the heat stifling, our ankles covered in cool river water.

  “We know enough,” he replied.

  When he pulled the band out of my braid, working his fingers through my damp hair, I didn’t stop him. I didn’t stop him when he pulled my bare stomach against his, my navel at his waist. I didn’t stop him when his lips crashed down onto mine, his desperation almost painful. I didn’t stop him when he drew my lower lip into his mouth, his tongue teasing the sensitive, swollen skin as his hand slipped to my waist, his fingers playing with the band of my blue jean shorts.

  Terror filled me, but there was something exciting about being afraid of recklessness, something insane about just needing to be someone else for a little while, something desperate about needing to lose yourself in someone who understands the burden of responsibility.

  “Haven,” River whispered. His hands cupped my face as he walked us into the river, stopping when the water was swirling around his waist, the cool feel of it stark against my stomach. “You have a damned good name.”

  It was the last thing he said to me, his lips worshipping mine, the sound of moving water mixed with buzzing bugs and screaming birds lost to his touch… lost to sensation.

  His hands were everywhere, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting him hold me up, one leg clinging to his waist. Every part of me burned, every nerve ending on high alert as his fingers skimmed my back before cupping my bottom to press me against him. It was too much, the feel of him. We both gasped, the sound swallowed in our kiss.

  River’s fingers dug into my hips, pulling me even closer as he fell back laughing into the river, the water causing me to sputter as I fell with him. It should have cooled our ardor, but it didn’t. If anything, it fed it.

  River lifted me, carrying me out of the water, his strength comforting as he eased me down onto the sand, his discarded shirt at my back. It should have been uncomfortable lying on the dirt with the mosquitos hovering. Maybe it was a little, but River did things with his hands and his eyes that took away the discomfort and made me feel comfortable making love on the edge of a river.

  In this moment, I was a true wood sprite, my toes digging into the sand, my fingers gripping the hard plane of River’s back as his hand moved between us to unfasten our jeans. And later, when the stars came, that earth shattering sensation of being in Heaven while still on Earth, I knew for sure River’s grandparents had fallen in love at the river ... because rivers were constant. They traveled in one direction, breaking down barriers. At the river there were no rules, no responsibility … because at the river there was only sensation.

  The hand that cupped my face now was large, safe, and strong. The hand of a river.

  I looked up into the dark eyes of the man above me, the feel of him surrounding me, inside of me, consuming me as I breathed, “You have a damned good name, too.”

  You didn’t control a river. You let it run free and flowed with it.

  Chapter 20

  River

  Shadows were pushing through the trees, growing long across the sand when Haven and I finally moved. There were no words, but we didn’t need them.

  My gaze followed her as she straightened her clothes, her hands running down her tank top as she pulled it back over her head. Even now, she dominated my thoughts. For the first time in a year, I was able to breathe, the pressure inside my chest relaxing. Something about Haven made me forget who I was, made me forget what I was supposed to be doing with my life. She made me want more. Maybe it was the survival instinct in her; that wild look in her eyes, the one that spoke of fight and determination. She’d lived her life fighting. Even not knowing anything about the way she’d grown up, just seeing the car her mother had dropped her off in, told a million stories.

  Haven looked up, and her gaze met mine.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered.

  It seemed wrong to talk.

  She nodded. “That was crazy,” she whispered back.

  Making love to Haven Ambrose hadn’t been crazy, it had been amazing. Haven didn’t do things half way.

  I smiled to myself, my eyes moving to the sand. Maybe it was crazy because it seemed odd to know that about a person simply from being with them. I’d been with girls before, but something about being with Haven had been different. Deeper, more desperate.

  Running my fingers through my hair, I glanced back up at her. “It’s getting dark,” I said.

  She nodded, watching me as I shook out my shirt before pulling it over my head. Her hair was damp and loose around her shoulders, parts of it stringy from clinging sand.

  Neither of us spoke as we moved out of the clearing, each of us scratching at bug bites as we climbed the bank toward the cabin. Our eyes skirted each other, and I heard Haven laugh once, the sound nervous.

  We stopped at the stairs, my eyes finding hers in the growing darkness. Fireflies swooped behind her, making the moment seem surreal. She avoided my gaze.

  “What happened back there …” I began.

  Haven stopped me, her hand going to my shirt. “It was crazy,” she finished.

  Neither of us wanted to say what was wrapped up in those three words. What had happened between us was a reckless moment between two strangers who both had too much responsibility and not enough craziness.

  I nodded, my hand going to the small of her back as she turned to walk up the stairs. It was the longest walk of my life, each step a burden, each step a climb back up into reality. We had another day on the river, but it wouldn’t be like this one.

  The cabin was mostly dark when we pulled open the door, only one light on. Roman lounged on the couch, his forehead creased and dotted with perspiration while Marley sat on the floor in front of the plasma TV, his eyes on the screen as he pushed the rewind and slow motion buttons on a remote.

  Haven took one look and swept into the room, moving to the kitchen to wet a rag she’d found in a drawer by the sink before walking back into the living room to place it on Roman’s head. He didn’t move, but his gaze met hers, the gratitude in his eyes obvio
us.

  “You look a little disheveled,” Roman muttered weakly.

  Haven blushed and backed away, avoiding my gaze as she re-entered the kitchen. Within minutes, she had pots laid out on the stove, the sink filling with sudsy water as she dug food out of the fridge to cook.

  I stepped toward the bar, watching her, Roman’s gaze heavy on my back. The two of us might be separated by three years in age, but we’d always been able to read each other. There was no doubt he knew what I’d been up to at the river.

  “You’re used to this, aren’t you?” I asked Haven, my hand gesturing at the room. “Taking care of people?”

  She paused, her eyes finding mine. My body hardened just looking at her, at the wild spark in her eyes. She seemed unearthly with her bare feet, her damp clothes, and her sand dusted hair. It should have made her look a mess, but instead it made her look complete. As if she was born to wear the sky and earth rather than clothes.

  “I don’t know if I’d call it taking care of people. More like taking care of myself,” she said with a laugh.

  I watched her. “No siblings. No school now that you’ve graduated.” I shook my head. “Aren’t you lonely?”

  Haven glanced over my shoulder at the room beyond, her gaze finding Roman’s on the couch. I knew he watched us, was listening to every word we said, and she was well aware of it.

  “It’s hard to miss something you’ve never had. I don’t feel lonely. I’ve always had the people that mean the most to me in my life,” she said finally.

  She stirred macaroni and cheese into a pot of boiling water. It wasn’t a meal of champions, but Marley hadn’t shopped with a five star menu on his mind. With his eccentric obsessions, we were lucky he even purchased supplies.

  Taking a pack of ham, Haven pulled out several pieces and buttered a skillet before throwing them onto it to fry. She saw me watching and waved at the food. “Sometimes when Mom and I can only get lunch meat, we fry it. It’s actually really good. Add a few sides and you have a meal.”