Gabe got out of the car first, but he left the engine on, so the music played softly for us. He came around to open my door. I smiled and murmured “thank you” before following him over to the stone wall of the bridge. Then, like a good tour guide, he took on a loud explanatory voice and motioned to the river beneath the bridge.
“This is the Brawley River,” he explained.
I leaned over the wall, the stones pressing into my stomach, and stared down at the black water flowing beneath us. About a quarter mile ahead, I could see where the river met a large and equally dark lake.
“The Brawley River flows from Lake Tristeaux”—he pointed to the lake—“back to the Nukoabok Swamp, which surrounds the entire north side of Caudry. Lake Tristeaux is salt water, since the Gulf of Mexico bleeds into it. Since the Brawley River is a small river, it ends up being mostly salt water.”
I straightened up and looked over at him. “That’s cool.”
“I don’t know if it’s cool or not, but that’s not why I added it to your Caudry Tour.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Why did you?”
“Two reasons. The first is because Brawley is my mom’s maiden name.” He looked back down at the river, and something dark flickered across his gaze for a moment. Then he shook his head, and his smile returned. “This river was named after my family.”
“Wow.” My eyes widened. “Your family must be pretty special.”
He laughed darkly. “I don’t know if special is the right word. My family’s just been in Caudry for a very long time, and they’ve had money for a very long time. The combination of the two means that things get named after us.”
“I still think it’s cool,” I said, but he only shrugged. “And your uncle sounded pretty cool too.” He looked up at me in surprise. “Didn’t you tell me that he used to have huge parties where people from all over would come?”
“Yeah.” Gabe nodded, and an easy smile spread out across his face. “Uncle Beau was kind of legendary. He was larger than life, and everyone loved him. He was a local celebrity, actually, but he traveled all the time. He worked as a consultant for some oil company or something, so he went all over the country. And everywhere he went, he’d always make himself new friends.”
“He sounded like a great guy,” I said.
His expression turned somber. “Yeah, he was.”
“So what was the second reason you showed me the river?” I asked after he lapsed into silence.
He glanced up at the sky, then down at the watch on his wrist. “I thought I timed this better, but I guess we need to wait a few more minutes.”
“Okay?” I gave him a quizzical look.
“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.”
“I trust you.”
His smile fell, and he quickly looked away, staring down at the river again. “My uncle Beau used to tell me that since the water had salt in it, sharks would swim up the river. I never saw any when I was a kid, so I don’t know if it’s true.”
“It’s nice that you know so much about your family,” I said.
“It’s only my mom’s side,” Gabe explained. “My dad is from Venezuela, so I never even met most of his family.”
“My dad is from India, but I don’t really know that much about him or his family. He left when I was three.”
“I’m sorry.” Gabe reached out, putting his hand over mine, and the heat spread through me.
“No, don’t be. It was a long time ago.” I shook my head. “The only thing I really know about him is that he chose my name. My middle name, Varali, means ‘moon’ in Hindi.” Then I lowered my eyes. “That’s what he used to call us—my mom was his sun, and I was his little moon.”
“At least your middle name is cool,” Gabe said, his tone playful to lighten the mood. “I got my uncle Beau’s middle name—Bardau.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Bardau?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s French or something. My mom claims it’s been in the family for generations.”
“Having heritage is cool,” I told him. “You get to carry all the history of your family, and you have a legacy.”
In the fading light, his whole face darkened, and he swallowed hard. “Maybe. But sometimes that legacy just feels like a prison sentence.”
“You’re old enough that you can make your own choices.”
“As my mom is quick to point out, just because I’m nineteen doesn’t mean I can do anything I want.” He stared wistfully down at the river. “It’s so much more complicated than that.”
My mind suddenly went to the conversation we’d had on the Ferris wheel, the one where Gabe promised to tell me his secrets on our fifth date. The look on his face now—his jaw tense under his smooth skin, his eyebrows pinching together, and his lips pressed together—made me realize his secret was much darker than mine.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Suddenly his head shot up. “It’s starting.”
“What?” I asked, but he was already pointing toward where the river fed into the lake.