Chapter 25 - THE RIVER AGAIN Two years after my birthday, Michael Rowan invited me onto his boat.
I said no.
Then called him back.
“Short trip.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Life jacket.”
“Before we leave the dock.”
“Daylight.”
“Absolutely.”
I wore trousers.
Not a dress.
That seemed important for reasons I did not analyze.
Michael handed me a properly fitted personal flotation device.
I fastened every buckle myself.
We left the marina.
The river looked different at noon.
Less cinematic.
Brown-green.
Busy.
Ordinary.
When we approached the bend where he had found me, my hands began shaking.
Michael slowed.
“Want to turn around?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
He laughed softly.
“Good answer.”
We stayed perhaps thirty seconds.
I saw a heron lift from the reeds.
A real one this time.
Long legs trailing.
Gray wings.
I expected some revelation.
Nothing came.
I said:
“That’s a heron.”
Michael replied:
May you like
“Yep.”
Then we went home.
