Emma scoured the bank of the Ohio River to find the flattest, roundest rock. She spied a dark gray half-dollar-sized one, right where the water met the rocky shore.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! I found a perfect one.”
Emma grabbed the rock and ran over to Mike, who stood 10 feet away looking for his own.
“Great,” Mike smiled. “You ready to try?”
It would be Emma’s first attempt to skip a rock.
“Hold it like this.” Emma’s dad fixed the stone between her thumb and finger; he gently squeezed fingers.
“Okay, okay, Daddy,” the 5-year-old blurted. “I got it. I got it.” She was bouncing up and down, her face strained.
“Now throw it like this, but faster.” Mike took Emma’s arm back to the side and moved forward along the same path. “And be careful not to hit anything.”
The rock plopped into the Ohio River. Emma growled. She’s definitely her father’s daughter, Mike thought.
“You got to do it a bit faster, honey.”
Emma let out a deep sigh as she rocked her head back.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get it soon.” Then Mike confessed, “You know, I didn’t skip my first rock till I was at least seven.”
Emma widened her eyes. Inspired, she tried a few more times before she skipped one twice. The next one skipped three times.
“Way to go, Emma!”
She sang: “I’m better than you were! I’m better than you were!”
“Yes you are, honey. Two years better.” Mike smiled.
Emma gripped another flat rock and held it out. “Your turn.”
Emma laid the rock into Mike’s hand. He flipped it a couple times before he gripped it tight. Mike looked over his left shoulder.
“Ready, Emma.”
“Ready, Daddy.”
He unloaded the flat projectile. “One, two –”
Emma gasped, then screamed. She cried as feathers floated down. The duck’s lifeless body bobbed on the water.
Mike didn’t notice the duck fly down to the water when he took aim. The rock struck its head as it fluttered to land, killing it instantly. Mike immediately turned to Emma, took two steps and enveloped her. Tears streamed down her face.
“You…killed…it,” Emma screamed, as she sobbed between each word.
“Oh, Emma. It was an accident, honey,” Mike spoke as calm and soothing as possible. “I didn’t see it.”
Mike stroked his daughter’s hair, squeezed her tighter. He rocked her back and forth. “Shhhhh. It’s okay. Shhhh.”
Mike eventually let go of Emma and grabbed an old dry-rotted wooden plank lying on the bank. As he paddled the water, the duck floated to shore. Mike slid the plank under the duck.
Emma wanted to bury the fowl, but the ground was too hard to dig. Disappointed, she agreed to float the duck down river.
“Do you want me to say a prayer?”
“Yes, daddy. I think Elizabeth would like that.”
“Elizabeth?” Mike smiled knowing Emma often named things she loved. She nodded, eyes red and wet.
They bowed their heads as they embraced.
“God, look with love on this dead – um, duck – and make this duck – ”
“Elizabeth,” Emma interrupted.
“And make – Elizabeth – one with You and Your Son as – Elizabeth – comes before You. Amen.”
“Amen,” Emma repeated.
Mike picked his daughter up, resting her on his hip, and they watched the funeral bed float under the glow of the setting sun.
EDITOR'S NOTE: This is a draft copy of "Skipping Rocks"
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