Seven Mile Stretch

Excerpt

... “You’re kidding,” Valerie said, swinging her arms by her side to keep the oxygen pumping through her body. “Why would I want to hold hands with people I’ve never met standing on a bridge I hate at 8 a.m. on a Saturday.”
“Come on, Mom. “I’ll be there. It’s - it’s like real history stuff. Think about it, a chain of people linking St. Pete to Tampa. We’ll be part of it.”
Valerie looked at her daughter. Margo barely had a hair out of place as they hiked on the sidewalk stretching like a one-mile rubber band around the elementary school and little league field. How quickly time had replaced that child learning ABC’s with a young woman ready to make history.
A boy who looked as if his barber used a cereal bowl to cut his hair, jumped the curb with his skateboard, then glanced to see if Margo noticed.
“I’ll think about it,” Valerie said. “What about Mark?”
“He’s working, but I wanted you there anyway,” Margo sucked in a deep breath. “I was thinking about the time your dad drove drunk across the Gandy Bridge with you and Aunt B in the back seat?
Valerie’s stomach jumped. Which time?
“You said you wanted to drive, but couldn’t”
“I was nine.” Valerie wondered how Margo talked and walked so fast without getting winded. Valerie adjusted her gait to step over a crack in the sidewalk.
“You said you were scared, that the car was swerving and you thought the car was going to crash through side into the water.”
Valerie opened her mouth, but the air seemed to stick in her throat. “I don’t see what that has to do with Saturday.”
“Well, in psych, we discussed replacing negative experiences with positive ones. I told the class about what happened to you, and Mr. Stickle said going to this Friendship TrailBridge thing on the old Gandy might help.”
Valerie stopped short. “You did what?” ....