“Is that an owl?” Crispin’s hopeful voice wobbles.
I shake my head, praying that he’ll stop talking before he scares it away. The sound didn’t come from an owl, a bear, a coyote, or a wolf. We both know what it is.
He gasps. “Is that a—”
I clamp my hand over his mouth. The screaming stops, and a second bellowing howl starts.
Crispin yanks away. “I’m so out of here.” He sloshes deeper into the woods.
Is he seriously leaving me alone? I follow him, well aware that if we have a shot at making it out of this mess without ending up on the news, we have to stay together. That’s basically rule number one of wilderness survival. He should know that. My growing suspicion that Crispin isn’t what he claims to be is confirmed when he screeches, slips onto his backside, and slides out of sight. His scream fades into the night.
Bolting to the spot where he was standing a few minutes ago, I peer down in the darkness. “Crispin?” I call after him. “Are you okay?”
It’s hard to see, but it looks like he’s made an inelegant landing in a shrub at the bottom of the small ravine. There’s a rustling sound as he breaks free. “I’m great. I love this. Could not be happier.” He’s already marching away, loudly muttering something that sounds like, “Worst date of my life.”
I cannot have heard that right. I don’t have time to question his sarcasm, though, because I’m on my backside. With a yelp, Islide down the same muddy rush of water that carried Crispin to the bottom of the ravine. A shrub catches me, and I cling to its scratchy branches while I get my bearings.
“Crispin!” I holler. He isn’t waiting for me. Clambering to my feet, I follow him uphill to the other side of the gully. What’s his hurry?
I catch up to him at the top of the hill where he’s resting with his hands on his knees, gulping air. He points at something through the woods. “Look,” he gasps between breaths.
I squint into the darkness. “Is that ...”
Oh my gosh, there’s a house out there. Yellow light spills through a window deep in the trees, promising rescue, shelter, and hopefully, a bathroom.
In addition to being lost in the woods during torrential rain, I’ve desperately needed to pee for the better part of an hour. The glasses of Diet Coke I drank back at the diner are torturing me now. I’m motivated.
Changing course, I pass Crispin as we move closer to the light, working carefully through the mud and soggy undergrowth. The water is gushing around our ankles in icy streams now, slowing our progress. We make good time toward the warm light, all things considered.
We finally reach the back side of the house, drenched, caked with mud, and breathing heavily. As we round the corner to the front door, a few flashes of lightning illuminate the front side of what I realize now is a familiar cabin. Rainwater runs down a long set of wooden stairs toward a river where the dirt road should be. A white truck is parked in the driveway.
“This is his cabin,” I crow, stomping toward the front door.
“Whose cabin?” Crispin doesn’t sound as relieved or grateful as he should.
“Adam,” I holler over my shoulder. “Adam!”
I make my way to the dry front porch. The door swings open, and there he is—looking warm, dry, and oh-so-cozy.
“Stevie?” I barely have time to register the relief on his face before he throws those cozy arms around me. He sighs, releasing a long exhale even as I cover him in mud. “How did you get here?”
I burrow against him, loving his warmth. “The long way.”
Fifteen minutes later, I emerge from Adam’s tidy, spartan bathroom wearing a pair of his sister’s sweatpants, a towel on my head, and one of Adam’s roomy T-shirts. I’m warm, dry, barefoot, and comfortable. Forget being saved from a night in the woods and a potential search-and-rescue situation. People don’t talk enough about the particular relief of having access to a toilet after a few hours of holding it.
I pad toward the living room with a spring in my step. Crispin brushes past me into the bathroom looking sour, but with a fresh towel and set of clean clothing in his arms. I offered to let him shower first, but Ruth wouldn’t have that. I liked her instantly.
When I enter the room, Adam and Ruth are lounging on his big leather couches, and their whispering comes to an abrupt, fishy stop. I’ll pester Adam about their whispering later. I can’t feel anything but gratitude at the moment.
“Thank you for the shower.” I curl up on the cushion beside him and his niece, tucking my feet under me with a sigh. I feel like a new person. “Were you able to get a hold of Ike?” I ask. Apparently, we’re stranded here until the flood water recedes, and Adam sent Ike after us just before we turned up at his door.
“Mm-hmm.” He nods, fidgeting at the mention of Ike. “All taken care of. Everyone’s glad you’re safe.”
The little girl on his lap is blatantly staring at me.
Offering a tiny wave, I smile at Adam’s niece. “Hi.”
“Unkie Adam, who-uh dat?” She pats his arm with her soft fingers, snuggling against her uncle with a shy smile.
