Page 44 of Past the Broken Bridges

I watch as the bird in question swoops down like it found its prey, its pretty red tail the reason for its name. “Not really.” Not like I used to, anyway.

A lot of the pointless bird facts I used to retain went away after the first few rounds of chemo. Banks doesn’t need to know that though.

“When I looked up the Cajun tour, it mentioned possibly seeing hawks on it because they hunt snakes and small reptiles. The swamps are good hunting grounds for them.”

I can feel his eyes on me for a moment longer before he eventually focuses back on the road.

All I hear is a quiet “Huh.”

When I look back over at him, his fingers are wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.

He must not like birds.

Chapter Fourteen

Banks

There’s fearlessness in the girl beside me as she leans closer to the railing of the boat that separates her and the reptiles she’s hoping to see, her smile big as her eyes roam the murky waters.

Captain Pat is going on about how the cold weather will impact which animals we’ll see, which I can tell disappoints my neighbor. “If we see an alligator up close, you’ll be able to see the ridges on its back. Those are called scoops, and they regulate their body temperature. If their body temperature goes below seventy-five degrees, they’re at risk of food sitting in their stomachs and rotting.”

A few of the other people on the tour with us scrunch their noses and make noises of disgust, but not Sawyer. “So their back is basically a solar panel,” she comments to the captain.

The elderly man in charge of our tour smiles at her. “Exactly. That’s why you’ll see a lot of them lying on logs. They’re warming their bodies. And since today is a coolerday without a lot of sunshine, a lot of them are going to be trying to keep warm by burying themselves in the mud. I’m sure we’ll come across a few along the way, which I’ll point out, but it won’t be the same number as if it were eighty out.”

For the first forty-five minutes, I watch Sawyer more than I do the water. She happily tosses some of the food we were given into the water, watching as a few smaller alligators come to accept the offerings. When she’s happy, her whole face brightens. Once in a while, she’ll look at me, and those blue eyes get me feeling some kind of way. My chest swells with a ridiculous amount of pride that she’s paying attention to me. Like a goddamn schoolboy. She doesn’t say a word, just smiles and quickly turns back to the turtles to take a few pictures for Dixie.

I think back to Dawson’s favor. Spying on Sawyer is the last thing I want to do. Because I’m not sure how I’d feel if thereweresomebody else in her life. And realizing that reminds me of all the reasons I shouldn’t be here at all.

I’m glad Dixie bailed though. It gives me time to see Sawyer’s face light up over facts most people wouldn’t think twice about or spew a few of her own that I’m not sure how she knows.

Like how she could tell the giant bird I would have assumed was a bald eagle was actually a red-tailed hawk.

My eyes go to her hair again, trying to picture it red. I wonder what my Sawyer would look like and if she’d like this one.

“The cypress trees are gorgeous,” Sawyer says to me, nudging my knee with hers and pointing until I lose my train of thought. “Look.”

I’m impressed she knows what they are. “Did you knowthey’re the state tree?” I ask. “It’s one of the most sought after around here because the wood is impervious to rot. You can’t cut it down, but it’s fair game if it falls. People make good money on it if they can get some.”

“You’re into landscape, huh?” She leans back, tucking her hands into her pockets to protect them from the chill. “You doodle a lot of plants in your notebook during class.”

I’ve never been a note taker, but if I draw, I can almost always remember the material we’re taught based on the picture I’m drawing while the lecture happens. “My father teaches at the college. His specialty is in landscape, so it’s something I grew up around.”

She watches me with arched brows, her head tilting as she studies me. “That’s kind of cool. Most people I know have parents who are in banking or something boring.”

“Is that what your parents do?”

Her face softens at the topic, her gaze drifting back over the water. “My dad is in the Navy actually.” There’s pride in her voice when she talks about him. “He’s stationed here in Louisiana right now, but he’s been thinking about retiring and moving to be with my mom and little brother in New York.”

Thanks to the bases around, I grew up with a lot of military kids. I used to feel bad when their parents had to go away, until I was old enough to wish mine would do the same.

I keep staring at her, remembering that my Sawyer’s father was in the Navy too.

My eyes graze over her blond hair.

A coincidence.

There are a lot of military families stationed in Louisiana. Sawyer’s family wasn’t the first or the last.

---