Free The Journey Back by Priscilla Cummings Page B

pushed the canoe farther out, and hopped in. I didn’t look back until I was a good ways out. The dog was just sitting there, a dark spot on the moonlit shore, like he was waiting for me to return again. I felt a twinge in that hard ole heart of mine. But what was I going to do with a dog?
    I faced forward and kept paddling.
    Even with the moonlight, it was hard to see things on the river and occasionally I’d hit a rock or ram into a log. A broom doesn’t make a great paddle. I used up a whole lot of energy making very little progress and got plumb wore out doing it. The bristles in the broom started falling out, too. The more I paddled, the less broom I had. I took off the sweatshirt— I was so hot—and sat for a while with the broom across my lap letting the canoe drift with the current. Sometimes, the current would spin me around and I’d go backward.
    One time, while I was drifting, my eye caught something running along the shore. A fox maybe? A deer? I kept my gaze fixed on it and shook my head when I realized it was the dog.
    Crazy mutt, I thought. He didn’t give up easily.
    Next thing I knew, the dog was barking his head off. I squinted, but couldn’t quite see him anymore and wondered if he’d run into a raccoon or a skunk—or a possum maybe. Possums had sharp teeth and could be pretty nasty. I thought of going in to shore to help him, but then I heard a funny, vaguely familiar sound. The canoe was kind of sideways so I turned to look forward. Unreal—but another dam was coming up fast! I couldn’t believe it was happening
again!
No time to haul butt over to the side of the river—I was going
over
this one!
    In the two seconds I had I reached forward to grab the backpack and clung to it like it was my lifeline. Then together—me, the canoe, the backpack, the broom, everything—we went sailing over that dam.
    The canoe swung around at the brink and then plunged into the river below straight down, like an osprey diving for fish. The water hit me hard and took away my breath. I struggled in that dark, cold water, kicking my feet and thrashing like crazy until I broke through to the surface.
    Gasping for breath, still holding on to the backpack, I tried to swim off so I didn’t get sucked under again. Beside me, the canoe popped to the surface, bottom side up, like a dead fish. I reached for it, but the hull was too slippery. With nothing to grab on to, I had to give up and watched it float away, moving fast down the river. In the dark, I soon lost sight of it.
    My instinct was to swim toward shore, but I already knew how strong that current was so I didn’t fight it. I simply went with it. Holding on to the backpack made it more difficult, but I wasn’t ready to let go. I could have untied the jacket from around my waist to lighten me up, too, but I felt like I needed to keep moving my arm to keep me afloat. In the end, I just let myself be carried downstream like one of those old tires I saw earlier. Boy, I could have used one of those tires right then!
    Cold, and drifting with the current, I felt myself grow weaker. Every once in a while I’d try to rest my arm, the other arm holding the backpack, and just float on my back, but I would have to admit that I was getting worried.
    Suddenly, this animal came toward me in the water. I didn’t know if it was a beaver or a giant otter or what. And then I realized it was the dog. The dog was swimming toward me!
    â€œHey,” I murmured. When he got close, I grabbed him, but ended up pushing him under the water. I let go right away and he popped up, shaking his head and sputtering water. I didn’t try again ’cause I knew I was too heavy for him.
    â€œGo on,” I said. “Go back.”
    Right away, the dog turned to swim away. Guess he realized what a mistake he’d made. But as he paddled off, I kind of reached out and lightly took hold of his tail. It must’ve taken