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32 pages

English

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River Current is a story set in the 1950s small town of Westfall, Missouri. Ray, Lydia, Shane, and Sam-seemingly inseparable friends-share the joys and pains of growing up in an idyllic setting along the powerful and mysterious Current River.

But all is not as it seems in the small town, as secret undercurrents run dark. Ray suffers at the hands of his abusive alcoholic father; they all suffer at the hands of The self-important, mean-spirited and bigoted deputy sheriff, Westley Culpepper; and they eventually despair as friendships and love crumble from betrayal, lies, and suspicions.

One after another they all leave the town and each other behind, going their separate ways, vowing never to return. But eighteen years later, the town on the clear cold Current River that was the scene of some of their happiest childhood memories draws them back home. Some who return bring happiness, others bring the weight of the past that bears trouble for all.

Lydia alone, with her luminous soul and forgiving heart, is strong enough to bring the friends to grips with their shared past and set the stage for the healing that must take place. The story is surprising, gratifying, and very memorable.

Written in lyrical prose with irony and gentle humor, M. Lee Martin gives us a story of passion, hate, love and regret set against a beautifully described 1950s America.

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Literary

Fiction

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Publié par	eBookIt.com
Date de parution	15 mars 2021
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781951960155
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0500€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

River Current

M. Lee Martin

© 2021 M. Lee Martin

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission from the author or publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people, companies, institutions, or incidents is entirely coincidental.

Cover art by Aubrey Bildner

Published by
Compass Flower Press
Columbia, Missouri

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021901971
ISBN: 978-1-951960-14-8 Trade Paperback
ISBN: 978-1-951960-15-5 Ebook

Dedicated to my mother, Ramona, the “Phyllis” of my heart.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
About the Author

Chapter 1

The Current River runs clear and inviting, dark and mysterious deep in the hills of southern Missouri. The river is spring fed and watercress billows bright green against colorful river rock under its crystal current where the waters run shallow. In the deep parts, dark green and bone-chilling, the water swirls in bewildering undercurrents, confusing anyone unlucky enough to find themselves amongst its rocky depths after a jump from the tall cliffs that border the river.
River Leap is one such place along the river, a few miles west of the small town of Westfall, Missouri. It is a park on the river bank where families picnic, roasting hotdogs and eating watermelon and enjoying the coolness of the river during hot summer days. Here the river park ascends to a high rocky bluff—an exhilaration of height where teenage boys, having taken leave of their senses, dare each other to jump from the highest rock. The rocks at this part of River Leap are a jumbled mass of tall boulders—some rounded, some jagged, a few flat and slippery, providing perfect ledges from which to jump or be pushed. Tommy O’Rourke found himself one of the unlucky ones when, amid foolhardy whoops from his friends, he ran off the highest ledge, slipping and losing his balance at the last second and careening down into the river, hitting his head on a low rock hazardously projecting out from the others. The yells suddenly silenced as the boys leaned out from the rock ledge and anxiously looked down at the water rippling out from where Tommy had gone in. After a few moments he didn’t appear, and several boys clambered down to the water. There were shouts and dives and minutes passed and still no Tommy surfaced. The commotion began to attract the attention of the adults who were sunning in a safer part of the park, where the river bank stretched wide and flat and the current slowed as it ran over river stones in the shallows.
It was Herbert Williams, the high school history teacher, who dove in and finally found Tommy. His body had been wedged between two boulders deep down in the shadowed green river waters. Herbert might not have found him at all had it not been for the tendril of blood sending out an inky trail in the water. Herbert pulled but couldn’t get Tommy free. He swam to the surface gasping for breath, yelled “I found him,” then dove down again, followed by two other boys. After much tugging on Tommy’s pale limp arms, amid shouts to one another that were muffled beneath the water and bubbled up unanswered, Tommy was freed and his bleeding body was hauled up to the surface. He was carried over to the river bank across the stones and laid down on the grass. Mr. Jenkins, owner of Jenkins Shoes and Leather Goods down on Main Street, began pushing on his chest. Tommy’s lips were blue and his face and chest were smeared in river water mixed with blood from a gash in his head. Some of the children began to whimper; his friends stood in shock. Mrs. Stultz ran to her car and drove into town to get help.
Tommy was declared dead, and Tommy’s mother yelled and cried at city hall to do something about that place up at River Leap Park to keep crazy teenage boys from jumping off those dangerous rocks. A “Keep Off the Rocks” sign was posted at the top, but it was soon stolen. A fence was tried but was eventually pulled down. Parents read the riot act to their sons, insisting they stay off the rocks. Some did, some disobeyed. That was in 1946, and soon time passed and the memory of Tommy O’Rourke was only a ghost story whispered at sleepovers and camp outs. The tale stretched to include other untimely and gruesome deaths at that particular rock outcropping—some maybe true, some maybe not.
Time moved on. Teenage boys didn’t really get any smarter, but maybe there was something in the way of caution handed down to younger children, because by 1956, which is when this story begins, though boys still jumped off the rocks now and then, there hadn’t been another jumping-off-the-rocks-and-dying incident that anyone could truly recall for a while. Maybe it was only a matter of time.
To this day, the large rocks and ledges for which River Leap Park got its name remain, the river still runs cold and dark and deep at that point of the outcroppings, and the current continues to swirl green and ghostly, no doubt hiding all manner of secrets.
Chapter 2

1975

Ray Bellamy pondered the letter he held in his hand along with the sad and interesting fact of how life seemed to circle around and kick you in the ass when you least expected it. Mrs. Viola Meeks, dearly beloved benefactor and guardian angel from Ray’s childhood, had died. Her son Jackson had called him the night before to tell him the news, and Ray had sat alone in his large front room most of the night, missing and mourning this lovely woman.
The letter had arrived this morning, special delivery from the estate lawyer, and it explained that Viola had left him her house. A fine thing except for the fact that the house was located in the small Missouri town of Westfall, where all manner of bad things had happened in Ray’s childhood—deserting mother, alcoholic father, cheating girlfriend, best-friend betrayal, and a bullying local deputy who had Barney Fife syndrome. That was back in 1957, some eighteen years ago. Common sense allowed for the obvious deduction that visiting the town to claim Mrs. Meeks’s sweet bu t unassuming house might not be altogether worth it. The only part of the whole town that really meant anything to Ray was Mrs. Meeks herself and her prized imported hydrangeas, planted and tended by both himself and Viola at a time when her motherly care toward him was a rare and precious thing. That was just about the only sweet memory he cared to conjure up when he thought of Westfall or its inhabitants or their houses.
And the river, he thought. Contrary to the people of the town, the river was a steady force of nature to be both enjoyed and respected. Its consistent dependability, its power and beauty were the reasons Ray loved the river so much.
Ray looked out the window that made up an entire wall of his bea utiful home and took in the picturesque view of Kentucky L ake; he was pleased with the rich lushness that surrounded him. Here and now in 1975, he was doing very well thanks to those prize im ported hydrangeas and Viola’s love and guidance. Eighteen ye ars and hundreds of miles had served well to put time and distance between Ray and the town and its dysfunctional players.
And yet . . . he was curious. Maybe some of the folks had changed? Ray pondered this intrigue with uncertainty. He didn’t know for sure because he had left them all behind, but he was pretty certain that, except for Mrs. Meeks, none of them had improved upon their sorry states in life. He rubbed across a scar on his forearm left from an altercation with that loathsome Deputy Westley Culpepper to prove his point.
But still . . . he did this sometimes. Wondered. How were they doing? Would they remember him? Would they care? They had cared at one time. At least some of them. Lydia Campbell and Shane Cooper and Shane’s little brother Sam had all been his friends once. They had all loved each other once. Someone had once told him he had a propensity to romanticize the past. A bad habit that kept you hoping.
Ray tossed the letter onto the counter. Fuck romance. And fuck Westfall too . The town had never done right by him. Life was hard and people betrayed you. No need to start thinking that people could really and honestly love you. However . . . a sweet old lady with skin the color of coffee who had long ago showed him some tenderness and how to grow pink and purple flowers had once made him think so. He sighed and shook his head. He was only fooling himself.
Walking down the sleek hardwood floors in the hall, he reached up to the top shelf in the closet and pulled down a box and brought it to the granite counter in the large and airy kitchen. Letters from Mrs. Meeks. She had been good at sending him letters with news of the comings and goings of Westfall throughout the years, although he would have sworn to anybody he didn’t give a damn. He thumbed through the envelopes, seeing Mrs. Meeks’s lacy handwriting, and found the one he was looking for, dated several years back. Then it hit him. Viola was gone. Viola was dead. He pulled the envelope out of the box and held it up, and his eyes began to sting with tears and memories of long ago. He cradled the letter to his cheek, his face wrinkling in sadness, and the tears began to fall.
He’d had Viola and her son Jackson and his wife and their kids out to his place twice since it was built. He loved showing it off and thanked Viola a million times over for her being the reason that he was so successful. He