hear a knock at the door. Startled, I drop the puzzle piece in my hand.
This cabin is remote, not once in the many times I’ve been here has someone unexpected shown. Could it be Gigi deciding I needed company whether I wanted it or not?
Rising from my seat at the table, I cross the room, stopping to look out the window. There’s a police SUV parked beside my bug.
That gets me moving faster.
Pulling open the door, I find a younger, extremely attractive man and an older woman, both in uniform.
“Can I help you?”
“Ma’am, due to the threat of mudslides, we are evacuating this area. It is in your best interest to get a move on, now.”
Pressing my hand to my chest, I look past them and out at the rain. “Oh God, is it that bad?”
The woman nods. “It’s been bad. We got most of the people out of the canyon two days ago. We were doing a spot check on some folks who refused to evacuate and noticed your car.”
I shake my head. “I got here yesterday, late.”
She nods. “Well,”—she looks over her shoulder—“we urge you to get a move on.”
“Of course, I’ll grab my things and hit the road right away. Are there any roads I should avoid?”
The male officer answers, “Which way are you headed?”
“To Ferncliff,” I reply.
He frowns. “As far as we know those roads are still clear but conditions can change rapidly. Do not attempt to cross any roads with standing or moving water.”
I nod again. “Thank you so much for letting me know.”
The man speaks again. “Stay safe, ma’am.”
I nod, pause once more to look at the rain that only moments ago was such a comfort. “I will.”
After I close the door, I whirl into action. I didn’t bring that much so there isn’t much to pack. Hurriedly, I turn off the power and the water before I lug my stuff out to Lady.
I’m soaked and going to be, the whole drive back to Ferncliff by the time I’m belted and ready to go.
It’s an effort to back out from where I parked, the mud making it hard to get going. It’s worse as I start to navigate the dirt road leading away from the cabin.
The rain is coming down so hard my windshield wipers can barely keep up.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper, my fingers gripping the steering wheel.
Somehow my pleas are heard and I lurch forward. My progress is slow, the rain a sheet of water pounding against the windshield. There goes my Zen weekend at the cabin to evaluate my life choices and what I should do going forward. No lazy afternoon in the cabin listening to the rain.
It’s not until I’m about halfway down the dirt road leading off of the cabin that I become stuck again.
Visibility is nil. The heavy rain is coming down hard. Messing with my side mirror controls, I shift it until I get a view of my wheel wells.
My tires are almost halfway buried. I’m screwed. Leaning forward, I rest my forehead on my steering wheel.
This is awful. Even if I get out of my car, I’m not sure what I could use to get unstuck. Reaching for my purse, I dig out my cell, praying I’m close enough to the main road to get a signal.
It’s dead. Since I can’t use it at the cabin, I didn’t think to charge it at all. Luckily, I have a car charger. Plugging it in, I have to wait until it’s charged enough for me to turn it on.
The rain continues to pour, each drop further fraying my nerves. Do I sit here and wait while conditions worsen around me, or do I do something?
It takes two minutes for me to give up on waiting and decide to act. With one last glance at my phone in the hopes it’s charged enough, I unfasten my belt.
Pushing my door open, the rain pelts me. My sneakers sink into the mud and I almost lose one of them to it when I take my first step.
Do I try to dig out my wheels, or find something to wedge under them for them to grip onto? Should I focus on the back tires or the front tires? It’s hitting me, painfully, that I have no idea what to do and could end up making my situation worse.
Starting
This cabin is remote, not once in the many times I’ve been here has someone unexpected shown. Could it be Gigi deciding I needed company whether I wanted it or not?
Rising from my seat at the table, I cross the room, stopping to look out the window. There’s a police SUV parked beside my bug.
That gets me moving faster.
Pulling open the door, I find a younger, extremely attractive man and an older woman, both in uniform.
“Can I help you?”
“Ma’am, due to the threat of mudslides, we are evacuating this area. It is in your best interest to get a move on, now.”
Pressing my hand to my chest, I look past them and out at the rain. “Oh God, is it that bad?”
The woman nods. “It’s been bad. We got most of the people out of the canyon two days ago. We were doing a spot check on some folks who refused to evacuate and noticed your car.”
I shake my head. “I got here yesterday, late.”
She nods. “Well,”—she looks over her shoulder—“we urge you to get a move on.”
“Of course, I’ll grab my things and hit the road right away. Are there any roads I should avoid?”
The male officer answers, “Which way are you headed?”
“To Ferncliff,” I reply.
He frowns. “As far as we know those roads are still clear but conditions can change rapidly. Do not attempt to cross any roads with standing or moving water.”
I nod again. “Thank you so much for letting me know.”
The man speaks again. “Stay safe, ma’am.”
I nod, pause once more to look at the rain that only moments ago was such a comfort. “I will.”
After I close the door, I whirl into action. I didn’t bring that much so there isn’t much to pack. Hurriedly, I turn off the power and the water before I lug my stuff out to Lady.
I’m soaked and going to be, the whole drive back to Ferncliff by the time I’m belted and ready to go.
It’s an effort to back out from where I parked, the mud making it hard to get going. It’s worse as I start to navigate the dirt road leading away from the cabin.
The rain is coming down so hard my windshield wipers can barely keep up.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper, my fingers gripping the steering wheel.
Somehow my pleas are heard and I lurch forward. My progress is slow, the rain a sheet of water pounding against the windshield. There goes my Zen weekend at the cabin to evaluate my life choices and what I should do going forward. No lazy afternoon in the cabin listening to the rain.
It’s not until I’m about halfway down the dirt road leading off of the cabin that I become stuck again.
Visibility is nil. The heavy rain is coming down hard. Messing with my side mirror controls, I shift it until I get a view of my wheel wells.
My tires are almost halfway buried. I’m screwed. Leaning forward, I rest my forehead on my steering wheel.
This is awful. Even if I get out of my car, I’m not sure what I could use to get unstuck. Reaching for my purse, I dig out my cell, praying I’m close enough to the main road to get a signal.
It’s dead. Since I can’t use it at the cabin, I didn’t think to charge it at all. Luckily, I have a car charger. Plugging it in, I have to wait until it’s charged enough for me to turn it on.
The rain continues to pour, each drop further fraying my nerves. Do I sit here and wait while conditions worsen around me, or do I do something?
It takes two minutes for me to give up on waiting and decide to act. With one last glance at my phone in the hopes it’s charged enough, I unfasten my belt.
Pushing my door open, the rain pelts me. My sneakers sink into the mud and I almost lose one of them to it when I take my first step.
Do I try to dig out my wheels, or find something to wedge under them for them to grip onto? Should I focus on the back tires or the front tires? It’s hitting me, painfully, that I have no idea what to do and could end up making my situation worse.
Starting
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