We start walking again, and I can’t help myself. “What’s the best part?”
“You’ll see.”
I let go of a little breath in relief. Okay, maybe my Monty Python joke fell flat, but he sounds like he’s still having a good time.
The trail narrows, and bamboo that stretches above our heads begins to crowd us on either side. I call Mica to stay at my heels, and Beau and I walk single file, him in the lead. The bamboo tunnel is hushed and eerie and goes on much longer than I like.
I focus on Beau’s back. It’s a lovely back and one, in this particular moment, that inspires confidence and security. Even so, when the bamboo opens up, and I can see hills and forest on either side of us, I sigh in relief.
Beau looks over his shoulder at me. “Claustrophobic?”
“Just a little.” I cock a brow at him. “That wasn’t the best part, I hope.”
He laughs, for real this time. “No. I promise.” He nods toward the trail ahead. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but it shouldn’t be too far… In fact, you might want to put Mica back on the lead for this.”
I call Mica to me and clip on his leash. “He’s being so mysterious,” I stage whisper to my dog. Watching Beau, Mica flicks one ear.
“All will be revealed soon.”
And he’s not lying. Within minutes, the trail makes a sharp turn to the right, and I freeze, the sight too stunning to take in all at once.
A Louisiana swamp spreads out before us, ghostly cypress trees draped in moss as far as the eye can see. And right down the middle of it, where I’m sure we’re bound to go, is a simple, wooden boardwalk mere feet above the water.
No railing on either side. Just planks. Maybe four feet wide. Barely wide enough for us to walk side by side.
Sunlight pierces the canopy and dapples the water’s surface, but the water is dark, dotted with carpets of green algae, hiding God knows what underneath. My stomach clenches at the thought of falling into that.
“A-are we gonna cross it?”
I tilt my gaze up to Beau to find him gently smiling. “That’s the plan, but we don’t have to.”
I may be scared, but I’m no chicken. Turning back is not an option.
But, yeah, I’m scared. The boardwalk stretches so far out of sight I only think I see it’s terminus, but who knows? It could go on for miles. It’s so quiet, it feels like we’ve left civilization far behind.
I wonder how often the rangers check these boards? It seems like this humidity would be prime for rot. What are the chances I’ll step through a decaying board and land on top of an alligator?
Okay, probably not that good.
Not nearly as good as me just falling off the side. Either side. Since there’s no railing.
I gulp.
“H-how deep is the water here?”
Beau frowns a little. “I don’t know. Probably not that deep. Maybe five feet.”
I’m 5’3.
A shiver runs over me at the thought of disappearing under the surface.
“I’m not letting you fall in,” Beau says.
I like his certainty. Still, my track record is not so great.
“Your uncle and his elbow might disagree.”
Beau tries to trap his laugh, but it comes out as a sniff and a cough. He clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t laugh.”
