He gave a short laugh. “Long before we had the Weather Channel, Amy, people relied on good old observation, and from what I can tell, that storm’s coming a lot sooner than we were told.”
“Umm…I’m no forecaster, but the sky looksprettyclear to me,” I said.
“Spoken like a true unsuspecting inhabitant.”
I frowned at his words. Who talks like that? Despite the insult, I laughed. “Okay, know-it-all, why don’t you tell me what I’m not seeing.”
“Glad you asked! And it’s not what you see, it’s what you feel.” His mood suddenly turned into one of an enlightening teacher than of an irritated counselor. He moved toward the grassier part of the field and sat down, facing the river. He motioned for me to sit next to him.
I glanced back at the children and hesitantly sat down.
“Feel the grass with the tips of your fingers,” he instructed.
I slid the fingers of my right hand on the grass, brushing the strands before feeling them with the tips of my fingers. “Kind of dry.”
“That’s because the breeze is stronger than usual, and it’s drying out the moisture in the grass. Now close your eyes and take a deep breath.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Humor me,” he insisted.
Once again, I reluctantly did as he instructed. At first, I didn’t feel anything different, except that the air wasn’t salty like at the beach. It was damp and swampier. Suddenly, as if my body had known the prerain weather, I felt darker skies rush over my head. My eyes flew open, and I frowned. Maybe I couldn’t see it. But I could feel it. And it was coming soon.
“If we leave now, do you think we’ll make it across in time?” I felt myself starting to panic.
“I’m not saying it’ll start any second.” He looked at the kids thoughtfully. “I just wish people would talk to me first before changing things around.”
I got up, shaking my head. “So this was all out of principle?” I couldn’t believe his pigheadedness. I stormed away from him and started to approach the kids in the field. Rick followed behind me.
“Hey, Ashley, what are you working on?” I asked the slim nine-year-old girl facing the farmhouse.
“The brown horse,” she said pointing with her pencil at the mare closest to the white fencing. “But I can’t see his tail.”
I watched as the horse moved away from the fence and toward the stables. “Well, looks like you’re in luck; the horses are now in full—” Suddenly, I’d noticed the farmer was leading all the horses back into the stables. I turned to Rick, who was helping Dillon with shadowing. I was just going to call him to tell him that his suspicions might have been right, but I’d decided against it and started walking toward the farmhouse.
“Mr. Kinsley,” I called. “Is it feeding time for the horses?”
“Well, not yet, but looks like it’s ’bout to pour any minute. I’m gettin’ all the animals indoors,” he explained.
I turned back toward the field and noticed that Rick had already started getting the kids packed up. Dark clouds were coming in from the west, and the wind had picked up. I ran to help. The kids had already put all their art pads into the protective plastic bags by the time I’d reached them.
“How long do we have?” I asked Rick when he’d returned from storing the bags in the shed.
Just then, I felt the first splatter on my cheek, then another one on my left arm. The sky now matched some of the char-coal pencils in my backpack.
“Does that answer your question?” he huffed.
Drops began to fall densely as the kids started screaming—mostly the girls, I unfortunately had to admit. I started looking around for shelter for them until we figured out what to do next.
“Okay, everyone follow me to that oak tree.” I started running toward the tree I’d noticed earlier, eight obedient kids trailing behind me. Puddles were starting to form as the rainfall became heavier. I gathered them under the driest part and looked back at the farmhouse. I didn’t see Rick follow us, and now he was nowhere in sight. All I could see was the steam rising from the grass as the rain fell harder. Rick emerged a minute later with his waterproof backpack.
“This won’t last long,” he said over the overpowering sound of the deluge.
“The rain?” I yelled over the loud mess.
“No, the tree. Those leaves will hold off the water for only so long.”
“What about the stables?” I asked helplessly, although I knew the answer to that question.
