Where the River Ends - Charles Martin [136]
“Meaning?”
“The river never ends.”
We climbed in, he taxied, if you can call it that, and then he took off, pulling the stick back hard. Up front, my defrocked river-priest sang at the top of his lungs. A couple of chords out of tune, he conducted the clouds as we sliced through them. And while my ears listened to his beautiful song, my heart heard laughter. We circled the town, then followed the river, past Point Peter, around Cumberland and the ruins at Dungeness and then out over the waves breaking across the shoreline where the tide was just beginning to turn.
The last time I looked down, Abbie was still swimming with the dolphins.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is my sixth novel to find its way to the shelf. I have yet to pick a favorite or say, “This is my best stuff.” I simply can’t. It’s like asking me which of our three boys I love the most. But each story has required from me a certain amount of sweat equity. A certain measure of physical, emotional, and spiritual gut-wrenching, or pouring out of myself. When I submitted this book in August 2007, I knew that this story had required more of me than any I’d written to date. Maybe more than any two. Just ask Christy. It took nearly a week before we could hold an adult conversation.
Take that for what it’s worth.
Along the way, I had much help—more than I deserve. The following “thank yous” touch on a few and in no particular order.
John Train, M.D.—once again, thanks, Doc, for pointing me in the right direction. You truly are a genius. Still glad you’re not a lawyer.
Kathryn Pearson-Peyton, M.D.—for allowing me to spend a day with you, for introducing me to your work, along with the pleasures and dilemmas you face daily. You are gifted at what you do, and the women of Jacksonville are fortunate to have you.
Elizabeth Coleman—for opening my eyes to your side of Charleston, then coloring it with your grace. You’re a blessing. I’d have never seen it without you.
Kim Neitzel—for your candid e-mails and honesty. One day I hope we get to meet face to face.
Laura Wichmann-Hipp—for your tour of Charleston that gave me insight and history I’d never have found on my own. Can’t thank you enough.
John and Kay Miller—for sharing your story with me, for introducing me to Misty, and her life, and for the afternoon we spent at her graveside. Please hear me when I say that this book never could have occurred in its present form without your honesty, your laughter, and your tears—of which we shared many.
Carol Fitzgerald—You “discovered” me six books ago and have not stopped talking since. Many thanks.
Virginia McNulty—from changing my diapers to here, we’ve come a long way. Thank you for introducing me to John and Kay and for sharing my stories.
Jon Livinston and David Flory—for broken paddles, soaked sleeping bags, and for the laughter that echoed across three days on the river.
David Wainer—thanks, pal. You’re a rock.
Todd Chupp—for the river, the miles of portage, for coming prepared with your space blanket, glow stick, and mosquito repellant, and, most important, your friendship. Psalm 144. Oh, and, yes, I do have enough research for my book now.
Chris Ferebee—for your friendship, your counsel and…for this. Oh, and for future reference, you sit on the seat-looking thing and the flat side goes down.
The Doubleday Broadway Team—to all the folks I’ve yet to meet who have done so much already. From marketing to publicity to foreign sales, you all have exceeded every expectation. My deepest thanks.
Michael Palgon—thank you for taking a chance on me, for tirelessly running with this story, for letting me work with Stacy and…for this.
Stacy Creamer—you took a relatively good story and made it far better. I’m grateful. Thank you for your excitement, enthusiasm, your encouragement