Blake tugged on her hand, and they continued down a small, worn path through the flowers, under the open sky, heading closer to the shore. They reached a set of train tracks, about twenty feet away from the river. She stopped, looking both ways, then down at the rails.
“It’s okay,” Blake said. “Trust me.”
He took her hand and led her onto the tracks. They looked quickly in both directions, saw no train anywhere in sight, then sprinted across them, running down the other slope. Scarlet could feel her heart racing and they laughed as they went. In another twenty yards they found themselves at the water’s edge.
There was a small, rocky shore, the waves of the Hudson splashing against it, filled with driftwood, glass bottles, and small piles of burnt logs, remnants of a bonfire. Scarlet wal
