The car rocks for one more long moment, and then Robert is somehow unbuckling his seat belt, whipping out his phone, and opening his door at the same time. He climbs out muttering words that are definitely a toned-down version of what I’d expect.
“What was that?” Emma gasps.
“Deer.” I unbuckle too and slide forward, unsure who to check first, knowing I need to get both of them out on the road side of the van as opposed to the hillside. “You okay?”
Bash cackles. “Woe-wa codastop!Go ’gain!”
Emma unbuckles and twists. “That’s anelk, Jonas.”
“Other side of the car. Don’t lean that way.”
She glances to her left, then lunges at Bash, unbuckling him faster than that elk was running at our car.
“Half my life,” she mutters to herself while she creeps in front of Bash and pulls him down.
I inch toward the door on the road side. “Em?”
“I’ve been driving half my life and I’ve never hit an elk. Which you don’t say out loud if you don’t want to jinx it.”
“Robert did it for you. C’mon. Out.”
I pause to listen for approaching cars around the bend, and when I hear none, I take Bash from her, then grab her hand and pull her out from the driver’s side. We all hustle to the back of the van.
“Woe-wa coda?” Bash asks.
“He wasn’t going that fast,” I say to Emma.
“I know. It’s a game we play. Theo taught him. We could be going four miles an hour and Bash will play roller coaster.” She glances at the van, then down the hillside, and then back at me.
And I slowly realize I’m holding Bash, and that the absolute miracle of him will never get old. No matter what he calls me.
My little boy stares at me. And then he pokes me in the cheek. “You got da suffy. Wike Unca Gay.”
“He’s scruffy like Uncle Grey today, hm?” Emma says.
“Get back in the car,” Robert orders from the front.
“Not when it’s about to fall off a cliff,” I reply.
Emma clears her throat, amusement dancing back into her eyes.
Tilts her head at the car.
And the cliff.
Robert leans around the van to glare at me. “Backup is on the way.Get back in the car.”
There’s a solid foot between the van and the edge of the road.
“Should be a guard rail,” I mutter.
“This isn’t the curve people fall off of around here,” Emma says lightly. She leans around the van and looks at Robert. “How’s the elk?”
He points down the hill. “Gone. Apologies, ma’am. I’ll submit my resignation to Mr. Rutherford as soon as we arrive at the house.”
“While this isn’t the curve people fall off of,” she says, sending me an impish grin, “itisthe curve that has the most animal accidents per year. Even locals regularly hit wildlife here.”
“It was charging us. Not the other way around,” I agree.
