Leo steers me up beside him, showing me the steep bank ahead with its narrow path of jutting stones. “The trail looks pretty treacherous.”
I smile sheepishly. “So make sure I’m paying attention?”
He smiles back. “If you don’t want to twist an ankle.”
“Will do.” I sigh and rub my forehead with my gloved hand.
As we carefully navigate the dusty, uneven rocks, Leo identifies trees for me. He’s trying to distract me and I appreciate it. I now know what a blackberry bush, a sycamore, and an alder look like. If the trail were less precarious, I would pause to take pictures with my phone.
I’m busy pondering the risks of eating wild berries when he abruptly stops and throws out an arm, trapping me against the rocky bank. “Okay.” He chews his lip. “This is gonna take some thought.”
“What?” I stretch my neck out just far enough to see past him. The path ahead is barely wide enough for one person. And even then, it would be best to traverse it sideways.
“We could go up,” he proposes, surveying the steep slope.
There’s no way I could climb that, not without branches or rocks to grab onto and pull myself up with. I shake my head.
“I agree.” He exhales, resigned. “Okay. Gloves off and hold on to me.”
We both stash our gloves in our coat pockets and I grab his hand. Tightly. With my back against the bank, I’m looking right down intothe river. It’s not far. Falling into it wouldn’t kill us. At worst, we might break a bone. The real threat is hypothermia.
Leo tugs on my hand and I will myself to focus. At a painstakingly slow pace, we inch and scoot our way along at least a hundred yards of trail. I lose my footing only once, and not so badly that Leo isn’t able to steady me with his free hand.
When I notice him edging precariously close to the ledge, I scold him, “Get back. I don’t needyouto fall.”
“Better me than you.”
“No way.” I know from experience he could carry me the entire way to the car. I, however, would have to go get help, leaving him at the mercy of the bears and copperheads.
“I promised you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
“That’s very gallant, but in this situation, it’s impractical.”
“Too bad,” he chuckles. “I’m not letting you fall.”
“Well, since you insist on being a hero, I guess I should warn you that I can’t swim.” I press my weight to the slope behind me as I peer down at the racing river.
Leo stops scooting. “At all?”
“Maybe a little bit of a doggie paddle. And only because I hate the water so much that I just want to get out of it.”
I may be from a family of great swimmers, but when I’m immersed in a body of water, I feel like I’m suffocating. The water pressure squeezes me, like hands trying to pull me under. Last summer, poor Zander was so excited for me to come down to his parents’ house in Nags Head, but he couldn’t get me to go into the ocean. He’d try to carry me out into the surf, but as soon as I felt the cold water hit my butt, I clung to him and begged him to turn around. Not wanting to disappoint him, I let him make it into a game, and to his credit, he never let me fall in. But I was terrified the whole time.
“You’re not falling into the river,” Leo assures me. And himself. And the gods. “I promise.”
Normally, I’d reprimand someone for making a promise like that.But not Leo. He means it and I believe him. Though I don’t understand why.
I take a long, slow inhale, breathing in the sharp scent of damp earth and leaves, and keep shuffling along beside him. Finally, the bank levels out below us. With only a short hop down, we’ll be on a flat path again.
Unfortunately, in true Betts Peterson fashion, I way underestimate the height of that hop and the safe speed at which to take it. I hit the ground too fast, my momentum sending me hurtling toward a tree. Leo jumps in front of me just as I’m about to hit it, causing me to smack into his chest instead.
I squeak out an “ow” as he steadies me.
He chuckles and tips back my head. “Where’d you hit?”
“Here.” I rub the front corner of my skull. It hurts, but not as badly as the tree trunk would have.
He examines me, brushing gentle fingers over the site, even though there probably isn’t anything to see yet.
