Home > This Time Around(9)

This Time Around(9)
Author: Denise Hunter

“Should we chance it?” he asked as they came to a stop, the car idling loudly.

The water seemed only several inches deep, but still. “They say not to do that.”

“Do you know another way around?”

“No, but I don’t want to get washed away in a flood either.” Her voice was, perhaps, a little too sharp. More importantly, she didn’t want the car to get washed away in a flood. She could see the headline now: “Family Grieves Antique ’57 Chevy Washed Away in Flood (Daughter Missing).”

“We’ll have to go around,” she said.

“We’ll have to get over this river eventually, and all the other bridges may be flooded too.”

“We have to try. Maybe your phone has a signal.”

He took out his phone and checked. “Nothing. Not even a map.”

Allie stared at the muddy water rushing over the road. “Well, we don’t have much of a choice. We can’t go that way.”

He looked back at the bridge as a gust of wind shimmied the car. “All right.”

He turned the car around on the narrow road and went back to the next crossroad, turning to make their way around. The road wound around a bit, then finally dead-ended at the river. “This might be harder than we thought.”

“We are not going over that bridge. Go back to the main road. We’ll try another route.”

But the next road wound around the mountain, going every direction. There were no roads to turn onto, and when the road finally straightened, Allie had no idea which direction they were going. By the time they arrived at her grandparents’ it would be the middle of the night. This whole trip was shredding her nerves.

“This isn’t working,” Luke said. “We’re headed west and we need to go northeast. Maybe we should go back, take our chances with the bridge.”

“And if the car gets washed away, are you willing to accept the blame?”

“If the car gets washed away, neither of us will even be here.”

“A pleasant thought. Just turn around. We’ll try another road.”

When he came to a place with a pull-off, he did as she suggested. They continued on until they were on the winding part of the road again. A small hill rose to one side, and a short meadow descended on the other.

Something pinged the windshield. She looked out the window, her gaze sharpening on the ground. “Was that . . . ?”

Another ping sounded, this one hitting the roof.

Luke looked as dismayed as she felt. “Hail.”

The car. The beautiful, refinished body. The perfect paint job.

Another ping sounded. “Quick, get under something!”

“Sure, I’ll just pull into the nearest garage.”

She pointed ahead. “The trees.”

“That’s not enough—we need a building.”

“Gee, I think we’re fresh out of buildings.”

“Did you even check the weather before we left?”

“Could you please hold off the lecture long enough to find a safe spot for my grandparents’ prized car?” Her volume escalated with each word.

The pings were coming closer together now, the hail bouncing off the pavement—off the hood of the car. Allie scanned the area for some kind of shelter. Come on, come on. Where was a gas station when you needed one?

But they’d passed the last signs of civilization long ago.

The pinging intensified. Allie groaned, her stomach churning. “They’re going to kill me.”

Luke slowed, turning onto a one-lane road they might or might not have already driven down.

“What are you doing? Our chances are better on the main road.”

“I think I saw a shelter down here.”

“We haven’t passed so much as a mailbox in over an hour. Go back.”

“There was a lean-to or something down here on the left. I’m sure of it.”

“A lean-to. Great. I’m sure that’ll protect this mammoth-sized car from this hailstorm from hell.”

But just ahead she saw it. Sitting back off the road in a grove of trees and scrub was a three-sided shelter, big enough to park a car.

Thank God. Allie breathed a sigh of relief. “Hurry!”

It seemed to take forever to navigate the muddy lane and pull under the shelter. As soon as Luke shut off the engine, Allie jumped out. Holding her breath, she searched the car for damage.

A minute later she exhaled. The car looked fine as far as she could see. She met Luke around the front.

He ran a hand over his face. “No damage on this side.”

“Hard to tell under all this mud.”

She sagged against the wooden studs holding up the shelter, the weight of responsibility easing off her shoulders one brick at a time. If she showed up at her grandparents’ with a dinged-up mess, her parents would never forgive her—or forget.

The air was ripe with tension, the sharp words they’d spoken—and, let’s face it, their unresolved breakup—unforgotten.

“We’ll take it through a car wash when we get closer.”

Allie looked around the lean-to. Hail hammered the tin roof, creating a cacophony in the closed-in space. But the car was safe. That was all that mattered.

She stretched her legs while Luke returned to the car. By the time he unloaded Walter, the hail had changed back to rain.

“I’d better take him for a walk.” Luke disappeared into the woods, Walter lumbering behind on a leash.

Allie took another walk around the car, checking for any dings they might’ve missed, and was relieved not to find any.

Luke returned a while later, joining her on the horizontal board along the back wall. Walter flopped at his feet and began snoring almost immediately. “How long should we wait?”

Thunder cracked and the rain picked up, pounding the roof. “It could start hailing again. We should wait until the storm stops.”

“Without a weather app, we have no idea how long that’ll be.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Well, I’m not risking the car.”

“Okay . . . Well, we also have no way of reaching your folks to let them know what’s going on.”

That one hit hard. They’d think the worst, of course. Allie had driven the car over a cliff or managed to get herself abducted by aliens—car and all. She hated for them to believe she’d failed, but it would be even worse to prove them right.

“It can’t be helped. Maybe the storm will pass quickly.”

But even as she said the words, she stared up into the gray abyss. The air was thick with the smell of rain, and the sky seemed like it might storm for about, oh, another year or two. It was already almost five, and they still had many driving hours left to go.

She sank to the cement pad and pulled out her phone to amuse herself with Candy Crush. A few minutes later Luke sat down and pulled out his own phone. The rain continued, Walter snoring nearby, the wind battering the shelter.

 

Allie checked her watch for the hundredth time. It felt like they’d been here forever. It was now going on seven o’clock—darned her late start—and it appeared the storm might go on all night. She glanced around the space, mostly taken up by the car, where they’d no doubt have to sleep, just her and Luke and Walter.

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