She followed the path through trees, grass and ferns. She almost talked herself into turning back twice before she reached the quiet, deep spot where she, Mark, Gabe and other kids had leaped into the river.
Mostly she and Gabe.
She spotted him by an oak tree that clung to the steep riverbank, and for a moment, he might have been the teenager she remembered, playful, dreaming of all he’d do in life, making plans so he wouldn’t end up “stuck” in Knights Bridge. He was more muscular now, all man with no hint of boy as he tied the fresh, new rope to a branch of the oak that reached out above the water.
He tugged on the rope. “It should hold.” He grinned at her. “Want to go first?”
“No way.”
“Why not? What could go wrong?”
“The rope could come loose, and I could end up dropping onto the rocks instead of into the water.”
He peered down the bank and shook his head. “There aren’t any rocks you need to worry about. You might hit shallow water, but it’s unlikely you’d get hurt. You’d compensate and fling yourself out to deeper water.”
She shook her head. “You first.”
“We could take the rope down to the edge of the river, but it wouldn’t be as much fun as swinging from up here.” He frowned at her. “You’re swimming in your shorts?”
“I have a suit on underneath.”
“Ah.” He hooked the rope onto a chunk of one of the old rungs they’d nailed into the tree years ago. “I didn’t pack swimming trunks. Shorts will have to do.”
Felicity made no comment. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it into the grass at the base of the tree trunk. She averted her eyes from his bare chest, the taut, developed muscles a reminder they weren’t kids anymore. They could relive the past with a quick dip in the river, but they hadn’t gone back in time.
He kicked off his sandals and grabbed the rope. He’d tied a knot at the lower end to provide footing. He gave the rope a tug, seemed unsurprised when it held and hopped up, swinging out over the steep bank and silvery water. He shouted woo-hoo and plunged into the deep pool.
He shot up instantly, swearing. “Holy hell, the water’s colder than I remember.”
Felicity laughed, catching the rope as it swung back toward her. “You’re used to heated pools.”
“Damn right.” He gave his head a toss, flicking river water off his hair, and swam to a boulder a few yards below her. He hopped up onto it and sat, stretching out his legs on the sun-warmed rock. “Feels good on a hot day, though.” He pointed up at her. “Your turn.”
She peeled off her shorts and T-shirt and tossed them onto the ground next to his shirt. She adjusted her swimsuit, hoping it wouldn’t hike up or tug loose and expose more than she wanted to as she was swinging on the rope—something she never used to consider.
She tugged on the rope, making sure it was still secure after Gabe had used it. It held firm.
“Use your muscle memory,” he said from below her on his boulder. “You’ve done this before.”
Many times, she thought. She shut her eyes, concentrating on the still, hot air, the faint coolness rising up from the water below her, the sounds of the river coursing downstream, the chattering of a red squirrel in the trees. She could feel the roughness and newness of the rope. She remembered hanging on too long as a teenager and getting rope burn. Gabe hadn’t sympathized. “Let go sooner next time. Lesson learned, Felicity.”
She wouldn’t screw up or chicken out now, with him watching her.
She opened her eyes, pulled herself up onto the rope, one foot on the knot as she swung out over the water and dropped before she naturally swung back, pendulum-like, to the bank. She tucked up her knees and cannonballed into the river, plunging underwater. She’d had fair warning it was cold, and it was. At the same time it felt good, and she resisted shooting to the surface. She swam a few yards underwater, toward Gabe’s rock, and then came up, taking in the warm, humid air.
Gabe swam next to her. The water probably wasn’t over their heads here, but she didn’t want to touch the bottom and disturb mud and debris and risk stubbing a toe on a rock. “The water feels fine now,” he said. “Either that or I have hypothermia and can’t tell the difference.”
“Too soon for hypothermia.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re a forever New Englander.”
She smiled. “Don’t you forget it.”
They swam to the boulder and climbed onto it together, sitting next to each other, dripping as they watched the river. Felicity pointed to mallards clustered by rocks on the opposite shore. “I wonder if they’re related to the ducks from last time I was out here,” he said.
“When was that?”
“Summer after my sophomore year at UMass.”
“I remember.”
“We went to a Red Sox game that summer. We sat in the bleachers.”
“That was the next summer.”
He leaned back on his elbows and stuck his feet in the water. “Was it?”
She nodded. “We drove together. I worked at my dad’s office that summer.”
“Oh, right. I picked you up after work. You were wearing eyeshades like Bob Cratchit.”
“I was not,” she said, grinning at him. “We drove straight to Fenway. You drove, actually. I don’t know why you didn’t get a speeding ticket. Pure luck.”
“I didn’t go that fast.”
“You were mad at Mark and we were running late.”
“What was I mad at Mark about?”
“Something to do with your father.”
He splashed water with one foot. “Right. Take your pick. Mark steered clear of his charming dysfunctions sooner than I did.”
“You both
