“Will you stop being so stubborn. I get it, you were right. Sarah and I should have planned this better. You’re the all-knowing ‘suspecting inhabitant.’” I waved my arms in the air to add a dramatic touch to whatever it was that meant.
He couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “To be honest, I don’t really have a plan yet.” He bit his lower lip.
“Then we’ll come up with one.”
Just then the tarp started to cave in on one side. In a swift motion, Rick grabbed my hand and ran us out from under the collapsing nylon.
Suddenly, we were both laughing. The situation was a lot more relaxed without eight kids to worry about.
“Come on.” He pulled lightly on my hand and ran us back around the farm. The farmer, who had been outside and spotted us, quickly motioned for us to come in through the stables. Rick and I glanced at each other and raced in.
Mr. Kinsley closed the stable doors behind us. I pulled back the dripping blue-plastic hood from my head and took in the surroundings. The extreme change in climate hit me like a tornado of senses. The air was warmer and drier with a sweet, earthy smell of hay. There was also a rich scent of new leather—although neither one could overpower the smell of horse manure.
“I saw the van pull up for the kids, figured you two stayed back for those kayaks,” Mr. Kinsley said. “You should stay here until it clears out.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kinsley. I don’t think it’ll be much longer,” Rick said.
“Well you’re more than welcome to join me for some tea in the farmhouse,” he said, walking toward the back exit. It was a polite offer, but he didn’t seem like he expected us to follow.
The rain had eased up a little, compared to the downpour we had been getting earlier. As we stood there, I realized it was the first time we’d been alone since the incident at the pool that first night. And up until the kids were being picked up, we hadn’t exactly had pleasant encounters. The realization made me suddenly uncomfortable. I shifted my weight nervously.
Rick had been standing by the cracked-open stable doors, watching the rain as though he planned on running out the second it let up. He looked at me alarmed, almost as if he’d picked up on my tension. Again.
“I’m just cold,” I said defensively.
He grinned. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Yes, you were,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “You had that same questioning look that you always do, as if you’re…sizing me up or something.”
He turned his attention back to the field outside the door.
He squinted. “Five-foot-three.”
“Wow you’re good,” I breathed out.
He laughed.
The rain slowed to a drizzle. Rick peeked out and looked up at the sky. Then looked over at me.
“We’re clear for takeoff.”
I followed him out, then looked up at the clearing sky. What a difference from about seven minutes ago.
We approached the boats, and they hadn’t looked so terrible. The mixture of water and the sandy rocky landing caused a muddy mess, but no driftaways. Thank goodness. I didn’t need another reason for Rick to hate me.
“What are we doing?” I asked.
“Improvising.”
I was shocked. “You don’t have a plan?”
He placed his hands on his hips and stared at the six kayaks as if they were sending him a secret message. It looked like he had an idea.
“What do you got?”
“It’s not good.” He looked at me tentatively.
“It’ll be something.”
