“She wants me to walk her back to her family’s home, and she doesn’t want me to return all by myself.”
“You definitely can’t be doing that. I’ll tag along, if you can put up with my company.”
“You were my first choice.”
“Good for me.” He’s giving his laid-back smile as he carefully places the bottles back in the crate. “Just tell me when you’re leaving.”
“About thirty minutes? She said it’s about a two-hour hike from here, so if we leave soonish, we’ll easily be back at least an hour before opening.”
“I’ll be ready.” Then he adds, his voice muffled because he’s leaning over into the crate. “Maybe Marsha will pack us a lunch.”
The three of us are ready a half hour later, setting out in the gray drizzle for Poppy’s family homestead.
It’s not raining hard yet, so that’s something. The sky is ominous, and the air feels damp. A sprinkle hits my face every now and then. But we don’t get soaked immediately, so I’m not complaining about the weather.
The first part of the hike is easy, since the landscape is only gently hilly, and we follow a former state road that’s in fairly good condition. It doesn’t get much traffic anymore, so it’s a good route for walking.
Poppy is in better spirits than I’ve seen her in a long time, and Pete is always good company. I have a decent time until we have to turn off the road onto a gravel road that leads to their place.
It’s on low ground and has obviously been repeatedly flooded for the past year. It’s more like traipsing through a bog than walking on a road.
I’m glad I wore my hiking boots instead of my old sneakers because my feet are muddy all the way up to my ankles by the time we get to Poppy’s home.
Her family is thrilled to see her. Her mother and sisters come running out to hug her before we even reach the front walk. And her father is close behind, waiting hesitantly to see if she’ll hug him too.
She does. It’s really quite touching. I’m glad she has a good family. I’m glad she’s back where she belongs.
Pete and I get thanked a dozen times and have to refuse gifts of food and clothing before we’re able to leave.
Poppy hugs me before I leave.
I haven’t been hugged since my grandfather died, and it makes me weirdly emotional.
But finally, not even an hour after noon, Pete and I are on our way back.
It’s then the rain gets worse.
We’ve been trudging through the return trip, soaked to the skin and muddy all the way up to our knees, for an hour and a half, when Pete puts a hand on my arm to stop me.
“What is it?” I ask, blinking through the sheets of cold rain in an attempt to see the road in the distance.
“Road is washed out up there. In the dip. Do you see?”
It takes some squinting and swiping streams of water out of my eyes, but I finally manage to see what he sees.
The road, which was wet but mostly clear a few hours ago, is now completely flooded in the valley between two small hills.
“Shit. There isn’t a creek or river anywhere close. Where is all this water coming from?”
“It’s everywhere now. Coming in all the way from the coast. Doesn’t take much water anymore for it to flood land that’s never been flooded before.” He peers through the gray mist and raindrops. “I don’t think it’s too deep. We’ll have to wade through it.”
“Great. Why the hell not? We’re already totally soaked.”
I’m trying not to grumble, but it’s hard. I don’t have Pete’s even-tempered resilience, allowing the world to simply slide off his back.
And having to wade through a flooded road in a world that’s gone to shit really sucks.
Pete is right. The water is moving quickly, running like a newly created creek across the old pavement, but it’s only about a foot deep.
