Introduction

DANIEL ARROYO has suffered a lifetime of guilt over the sudden death of his infant sister, who died when he was eight years old. He now lives his middle years between that guilt and worsening episodes of PTSD from a Vietnam he left thirty years ago. When a violent encounter on a dusty highway forces Daniel to face what haunts him, he finds himself pulled back to the neighborhood of his youth, where old houses hold tired secrets. What really happened on that steamy August afternoon? The answer comes spilling from the old neighborhood, and Daniel begins to find his way home. Corran Harrington takes the reader along the Rio Grande, from its headwaters to the sea.

Editorial Review

No editorial review at this time.

Excerpt

PART ONE

THE RIVER READER

1. CLOUDS OVER THE FLYWAY

For fifty years, whenever the pull of the earth threatened to suck him feet first into some quicksand grave, he would imagine himself a sandhill crane flying above the Rio Grande. He could see forever. In early spring, the river below carried an abundant runoff reflecting cottonwoods still bare—the view in autumn a path of gold, just before the leaves went dry and fell from their mighty limbs. And though Daniel Arroyo rarely took the lead in the V-formation, and sometimes strayed from the echelon out of a failure to raise his wings at just the right time, he never completely lost the flock. Some great bird would inevitably circle him, draw him back into the formation with currents of air from below its mighty, flapping wings. And so it was that the yearly migration of the sandhill cranes became forever his escape, forever his compass.

Daniel first learned about the cranes from Helen Sedillo, when he was just eight years old. She looked up from hanging clothes on her line one Saturday morning and saw Daniel peeking over their shared fence.

“Hi, Daniel!”

He waved, smiled back. Mrs. Sedillo’s voice was a song that played across the old North Valley neighborhood, her face the picture of kindness that caused all the kids to gather at her table on hot summer afternoons and drink the Cokes she kept stocked in the icebox on her porch. Oh, she could holler at her boys for taking one more lap around the street on their bicycles, and not coming in when they were called; she could even scold Mr. Sedillo once in a while. But the anger never lasted beyond the appropriate moment, never escalated beyond the suitable level. And when adults sat in Helen’s living room sipping coffee, spilling family secrets, her face revealed no judgement. Her hushed voice murmured words of understanding during late night phone calls from other grownups in the neighborhood. I hear you; I see what you mean. She dispensed advice to a parent only when asked, and wisdom gently to a child only when needed. It was in this way that Helen Sedillo became a welcome guest at all the birthday parties, baptisms, and graduations. It was how she became the neighborhood confidant, the keeper of its secrets.

“Are you going to sit on the ditch bank today? The water’s only going to run for another couple weeks, you know.” She put two wooden clothespins into the side of her mouth as she pulled another T-shirt out of the laundry basket and quickly glanced at the boy who was, by now, looking away. When he looked up again, Mrs. Sedillo had the same concern on her face as she had right after his baby sister’s baptism. Carmen had slept in her mother’s arms the entire time, even when Father Baca sprinkled the holy water on her forehead. As the family exited Sacred Heart, Daniel had pulled on his father’s suit jacket and said, “We have to do it again. She was asleep!” But by then Miguel Arroyo was shaking hands with the guests. “Tell Father Baca we need to do it again,” Daniel repeated. Just then he felt the solid hand of Helen Sedillo on his left shoulder. She leaned close and whispered, “It’s okay, Daniel. God doesn’t mind one bit when babies sleep during their baptism.”

And now here he was at the fence just six months later, with Mrs. Sedillo and her same worried look. Daniel quickly lowered his head again.

“You going to the ditch?”

The ditch. That magic place he discovered as soon as he was old enough to walk around the corner. It ran only during irrigation season, March through October. It was lined with old cottonwoods, just like the one in his front yard, and you could sit on its banks and dangle your bare feet in the water that went muddy every time a bullfrog broke its surface. Box turtles slept on old wood, while blue dragonflies darted among the cattails. And the wild asparagus that grew there—Daniel’s mother could always tell he had been at the ditch by the sweet smell of the wild asparagus on his jeans.

But he hadn’t been to the ditch since the day Carmen died. And just as Daniel was thinking how to escape the question before it came again from over the fence, the first cranes of fall sounded in the distance. Daniel and Helen both looked to the northern sky, as the mighty trumpet call grew louder. The October sun had moved south, revealing an expanse of the deepest blue, just before the year went dark.

As the flock came into view, the cranes took turns in the lead of the cacophonous V-formation. Helen Sedillo, now standing at the fence and pointing to the sky, said, “They’re heading to their winter home, Daniel. The river is like their road, only it’s called a flyway.”

She glanced at the boy, who still stared upward.

“If you save a place in the sky between November and April, they’ll come back again in springtime.”

Those words would echo across the landscape of Daniel Arroyo’s life. For Daniel, the migration of the sandhills became the promise never broken, the putting to rest of old seasons, the beginning of new. Grandmothers would tell grandchildren, as they held hands during walks along the river, and pointed toward the sky. His own grandmother would soon tell him about the cranes, only in Spanish. And a few years later, when he was trying to coax Jeff Murdock’s little sister out of the crawl space across the street, Daniel started to tell her the story of the sandhills.

“Do you hear that, Emily? It’s the cranes. They’re going home, but they’ll be back. I promise. Come on, Emily, have a look.”

But her gaze remained toward the ground.

“I already know about that. Grandma told me.”

On this day, though, Daniel Arroyo began to see the sweeping New Mexico sky as a great canvas resting upon an easel of cottonwoods. He could paint what he wished—a blazing sun, thunderheads in the distance, a rainbow after an August storm. Or he could paint nothing at all, and just wait for the thousands of cranes that would fill the empty space above him twice each year.

By the time three more flocks had flown over, Helen had forgotten the question that Daniel didn’t want to answer. Was he going to the ditch today. It was the first time the sandhill cranes had saved him.

It had only been two months since Carmen died. For Daniel, though, she would die again and again, as his years gathered like autumn tumbleweeds along an empty road. His hands would never lose the memory of how his baby sister felt that day, as he reached into the crib to stroke her head. His arms would scream at him across the years, forbidding him to erase the memory of her weight as he held her. Daniel’s hands and arms were equally unforgiving when he went to Vietnam a decade later. His fingers never forgot the slippery wetness of a buddy’s blood pouring from the gaping hole in his neck. His arms never forgot the sudden drop of a comrade’s head, as it snapped back the moment the soldier died.

But whenever Carmen’s face appeared, or a rolling thunder could be heard in the distance, Daniel could at least remember Helen Sedillo’s words from over that fence that day, and imagine himself a sandhill crane soaring just beyond the reach of gravity—a gravity of guilt that would tug at him for fifty years. When the frightened faces of those young soldiers would appear, though, the taste of choking smoke and the smell of wasted blood would pull Daniel Arroyo back to Vietnam, never letting him go home. Not even the sandhill cranes could rescue him from that. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

1. How important is the setting in Follow the River Home? For those who are familiar with New Mexico, do the descriptions of place ring true? For those who have never been there, does the book change how you previously imagined New Mexico?

2. Much of the book is written from the point of view of a man. Did it feel authentic? Were you surprised to learn the author is a woman?

3. Do you resonate with the protagonist, Daniel Arroyo, or does he remind you of someone in your own life? What are his strengths, and his flaws? Do you know any Vietnam veterans, or anyone who suffers from PTSD?

4. In the end, Daniel finds a measure of peace. What choices did he make that led him to resolution? How did he grow as a person, and what else might he have done to further his healing? Where do you see his life going at the end?

5. Why was Emily a troubled little girl, and what might have caused her to become a homeless woman? What were her physical and emotional survival skills? Do you think she will have stayed with her sister?

6. The epigraph speaks of baptism. How does the concept of baptism reverberate throughout Follow the River Home? The word “baptism” appears in each of the stories in Part Two of the book. Find and discuss the reference to baptism in the context of each story.

7. Why did the author structure the book in two parts? What is the meaning behind Part One’s title “The River Reader,” and why is Part Two called “The River Flyway?”

8. Is the ending of Daniel’s story in Part One satisfying? How do each of the stories in Part Two cast a different light on characters or scenes from Part One?

9. Discuss the meaning of the book’s title, Follow the River Home. What does it mean in terms of the lives of Daniel and Emily? Is the book’s cover evocative of the title, even though it shows no river?

10. The migration of the sandhill cranes is referenced many times in the book. How is this a metaphor for the title, as well as for the lives of Daniel, Emily, and other characters?

Enhance Your Book Club

1. Volunteer at an organization in your community that provides services to the homeless, such as a shelter, a church that provides meals, or a tutoring program for homeless children in your public school system. Gather useful items to donate to your community’s homeless population, such as toiletries, socks, and warm clothing.

2. Research PTSD and veterans, especially Vietnam veterans. Learn more about the experiences of Vietnam veterans at Vietnam Veterans of America www.vva.org. Look for opportunities to volunteer at your local veterans organizations.

3. Do an internet search for maps and photographs showing the Rio Grande as it flows through New Mexico. Study Great River by Paul Horgan, for a detailed history of the different cultures that developed along the Rio Grande.

4. Learn about the folklore of New Mexico’s Rio Grande in My Land Sings – Stories from the Rio Grande by Rudolfo Anaya.

Weblinks

»	Author's web site
»	Interview with the author
»	Publisher's Book Info
»	Press Kit for the book with Q&A

Book Club Recommendations

Recommended to book clubs by 0 of 0 members.

Member Reviews

There are no user reviews at this time.
Rate this book