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Her brows pinch when I point straight ahead at the opposite side of the river. “The sun’s setting, and as much as I wish we could take another route, this is the fastest way home.”
She faces forward, readjusting her grip. “How do you know we won’t fall in?”
I could tell her that the rocks and mud lining the bottom of the river make for good traction or that it doesn’t flow fast enough here to drag us under. But I say neither of those things as I offer a kind of strength that words sometimes fail to give by scooting her ass closer with one hand secured on her hip bone.
“Sparrow knows this water. She’ll keep us steady while we cross.”
With no other option, Heather rolls her shoulders back and grabs a fistful of Sparrow’s mane between her fingers. “Okay.”
I click my tongue and give the mare’s belly a gentle tap with my heels.
Shudders wrack Heather’s body with the first gradual steps, but as we lurch forward, Sparrow quickly finds her footing.
“Easy,” I coax them both, winding my forearm across Heather’s middle.
The water swiftly rises to Sparrow’s knees, licking the bottoms of my boots, but I keep tracing light circles over the back of Heather’s hand so she knows she’s not alone.
“Talk to me. It’ll help if you distract yourself.”
For several heartbeats, the only sounds come from the splashing, clear water, and Sparrow slurping lazy gulps of it as we move.
Eventually, she says, “My fear of the water started when I was a kid. Being in foster care meant bouncing around to different families, and, to be honest, it made for a pretty lonely childhood.”
The water rises to the middle of my work boots, soaking my socks, but Sparrow doesn’t even twitch when Heather jerks her feet up and digs her heels into her shoulders.
“The Owens took me in when I was ten, and like most children in the system, I had some trouble-making tendencies.” She pauses, rubbing a fat freckle at the base of Sparrow’s neck with the tip of her finger. “But despite my spotted record, Mrs. Owens took a chance on me.”
“Why do I get the sense this story isn’t going to give me any warm fuzzies?”
“Maybe because everyone wants to believe the system looks out for all those precious, unspoken-for babies, but the reality for most of them is much uglier than you can imagine.” She laughs without joy, hauntingly hollow. “Those heartfelt hopes of kids growing up in happy homes with families who love and protect them may not fall short for all, but they do for far too many.”
I ache for her as she relaxes enough to move her hands along with her story. “Anyway, Arizona has some of the hottest summers I’ve ever experienced. The kind that could melt the skin right off your bones, but the Owens had a pool.”
With a bit of effort, she shifts to look at me. “It wasgiant, and had one of those fancy waterfall attachments. My foster mom would laugh at how excited I was each morning while she rubbed sunscreen on me. She called me her little mermaid, and naturally, I was obsessed with the movie.”
“Naturally.” I smirk at her subtle wiggling. As if she’s reliving that excitement through her memory.
“I’d only been with them for six months, but their son, Jeremy, hated me. He was two years older, and he made it his life mission to bully me and hoard their attention any chance he got. But I guess having two parents who genuinely cared for me made the torture he put me through more bearable.”
“Sounds like a real shithead to me.”
Sparrow bobs her head, chortling, as if she agrees.
“For the first time since the start of that summer, Jeremy decided he wanted to play in the pool with me. As an adult, I can see every single red flag before that afternoon, but as a kid, I was just so desperate for him to finally accept me.”
I don’t point out that we’re now halfway to the other side. I barely breathe as I wait for her to finish, knowing full well by the end, I’ll be wanting to hunt down the man this Jeremy grew into.
Turning away from me, she stutters, “H-he jumped on me while I was diving for a pool ring and pinned my shoulders down. I’ll never forget how scary and cold those eyes were, glaring through the water. He made sure I knew he wouldneverwillingly share his family with me.”
As predicted, fury courses through my veins, and instinctively, I tighten my hold on her.
“I fought back with everything I had, twisting and kicking until I succeeded in wrapping my hands around his throat. And at that point, we could either both drown, or I could release him and somehow convince our parents that their son attempted to kill me.”
Dusk has blanketed the forest by the time Sparrow finally hauls the three of us out of the water, and a wave of flickering fireflies welcomes our presence on the other side.
“That didn’t go well,” I assume.
“Oh, Mr. Owens was furious with me. Jeremy was sobbing, pointing fingers and claiming I tried to drown him. But how was I supposed to defend myself when the evidence was bright red across his neck?”
