“Thank you,” I said, putting my beach bag on the floorboard, then allowing him to help me up into the seat. I wanted to tell Gibbes that there was a running board and that I didn’t need the help, but I had to admit that knowing he was there was oddly comforting. And a good example to Owen, I thought, feeling fully justified.
As soon as he closed the door, I moved the seat back as far as I could, then secured my seat belt. I briefly wished that I had my life jacket on already, prepared to float in the water if necessary.
After Gibbes began driving, I felt the panic inside me like a moth spreading its wings, filling my throat.
“The seat belt wouldn’t fit right if you had your life jacket on, you know. And you’d probably feel a little claustrophobic,” Gibbes said.
I stared at him. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“Your eyes. They give you away. Most children are like that, which is probably why I noticed.”
“Are you calling me a child?”
His gaze flickered over me for a brief moment as a smile teased his lips. “Oh, no. Not at all. Just thought you should know that you’d make a horrible poker player. Or police interrogator.”
Despite myself, laughter bubbled from my lips, the moth tucking back into its chrysalis. “That’s good to know, just in case I ever want to switch careers.”
I glanced out the window, surprised to see that we were already almost at the bridge, realizing Gibbes had distracted me on purpose. He looked into the rearview mirror at Owen. “Rocky—tell us some interesting facts that we might not know.”
Owen practically bounced up and down in his seat. “Did you know that all clown fish start off as boys and later on in their lives become girls?”
“And seahorse boys have the babies,” Maris piped up.
I turned to look in the backseat. “Seriously?”
Two small heads nodded vigorously.
When I turned back around my smile faded. We’d just reached the bridge, the shadows of the side rails flickering as we sped forward. It had come so quickly that I hadn’t had time to prepare myself, to begin my breathing exercises.
Gibbes reached over and squeezed my hand before returning his to the steering wheel. “You’d probably rather I use both hands to drive.”
I looked down at my lap, where my own hands were pressed tightly together. But I still felt the warmth from his hand, my skin tingling where he’d touched me. I felt better somehow, the crossing made bearable because somebody had thought to hold my hand. The loneliness inside me seemed to shift, allowing in a small shard of light.
Lifting my head, I forced myself to look at the bridge in front of us, at the tall beams and grids of the swing portion, although I couldn’t quite muster the courage to look over the side to the water. “You didn’t tell me we had to go over the bridge again.”
“Well, we have to go to my house to get the boat. It’s a long swim otherwise. If you like that kind of thing, there’s an annual charity Beaufort River swim each May.”
“No,” I said quickly. “Although I’d be happy to be a spectator and watch you.” The words were said through clenched teeth as we neared the end of the bridge, the talking helping by making me not hold my breath.
“I haven’t done the official river swim, but I have done it accidentally.”
I looked at the receding bridge in my side-view mirror and felt all of my muscles unclench.
“You did it,” Gibbes said softly. “I guess you just proved Cal wrong.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t afraid anymore. But I did make it across,” I said, allowing myself a small smile. Turning to him, I asked, “How do you accidentally do a river swim?”
Gibbes glanced into the backseat, where Owen and Maris were playing Go Fish with a deck Owen had brought with him.
After raising the volume on the radio, he said, “I was being a stupid teenager. Me and Sy Williams drank a couple of six-packs and thought it would be fun to walk the bridge at night. We were on the pedestrian part, not too high up, and I managed to go over the side.”
My heart seemed to flip over and shrink all at the same time. “Was he able to pull you back up?”
“Heck, no. He kept on walking. Didn’t even know I wasn’t there. He walked home, then got in bed and passed out.”
“Your grandmother must have been frantic.”
“She didn’t know until the nice people in the boat that plucked me out of the water about a mile downriver called her.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t tell many people that story, because it’s embarrassing to admit that my brush with death was completely due to my own stupidity. But I learned something, too.”
I waited for him to speak. Finally I asked, “What?”
“I figure Loralee has probably said this before, but everything must happen for a reason. Maybe being a doctor is part of that. Who knows? Did you ever think that surviving your accident prepared you for something else?”