Page 86 of The Roads We Follow

“A luggage what?” several Farrows ask in unison.

“You’ll see.”

After I talk everyone into tossing most of their belongings into the wheelbarrow, we begin the stroll down the dirt path as the ladies follow after me.

“You kind of look like you’re leading a harem,” Hattie quips as I steer the wheelbarrow to where the wooden signs are posted with arrows indicating which way to turn for lodging.

Five minutes in the fresh air and I almost feel like myself again.

“Kent said there’s a beaver dam not too far off the trail over there. Might be a nice nature walk for some of you later. There’s also a beautiful stream for fishing if you keep going in this direction, which is where I plan to be this afternoon. There’s plenty of gear if anyone wants to join me. Hope you like trout; it’s what’s for dinner. There’s also a mini-mart back near the check-in, but the pickings are slim.”And likely expired, is what I don’t add.

Nobody remarks on that, but it’s probably because they’re too busy staring at my surprise.

I plant the hefty wheelbarrow of luggage and face my harem. “Welcome home. This is our little slice of paradise for the next twenty-four hours. Yurt One is yours; Yurt Two is mine.”

They stare at the accommodations behind me and then at each other. When not one of them says a word, I twist back to double-check that neither yurt has blown away in the last ten seconds. But the two circular structures covered in thick, waterproof fabric are still there.

“Don’t get too excited now,” I joke. “I wouldn’t want anyone to strain something.”

Hattie sets off to the far side of Yurt One while the others linger in the grass out front.

“Feel free to go inside and check it out,” I encourage. “Kent says they’ve done a lot of upgrades.”

A reserved Raegan pulls even with me.

“You may need to explain to everyone what these are,” she says with noticeable hesitation.

“They’re yurts.” I glance at her blank expression. “Have you never seen one before?”

But just as I ask, Hattie jogs around to the front. “Micah, please tell me this wooden box is not our only option for a restroom.” She points her finger to the private outhouse about five steps from the back of Yurt One. “And why are there signs posted about bears and snakes?”

I hold out my palms. “Listen, as long as you pay attention to your surroundings, you’ll be just fine. Besides, there’s also a pit toilet inside the yurt. Kent assured me everything is sanitized and ready for use.”

“Apittoilet?”

“It’s not an actual pit, Hattie, it’s a—”

I’m cut off by a high-pitched complaint bellowing through the yurt’s opening. Adele. “Thisis where he wants the five of us to sleep tonight? Mama, please go talk some sense into him. We are not camping people.”

Beside me, Raegan groans and closes her eyes. “On second thought, you might want to give them time to acclimate before you—”

But I’m already trudging toward the entrance. I hear her follow.

“Is there a problem I can help with, Adele?” I ask with a level of diplomacy that would have made my psychology professor proud. I take a second to survey the inside of the yurt. It’s a perfect match to the pictures I reviewed on Kent’s updated website. Light-years more luxurious than when I last stayed here with Dad and Garrett.

Five twin beds with plaid quilts line the circular interior walls, leaving plenty of room in the center to stretch and walk around. The floor rugs inside are plush and clean, and there is a functional mini kitchen with a pump sink and two chairs and a small sofa on the farthest side.

“The problem is that this is a tent,” Adele explains. “Albeit, it’s more of a tall, oddly shaped circus variety than something you’d see pitched in the wilderness, but still, it’s camping outside with nothingbut canvas to protect us from whatever creatures are roaming about at night.”

“According to the outhouse, that would be bears and snakes,” Hattie provides unhelpfully.

“Now, girls, let’s not be dramatic about this,” Luella pipes in. “Micah has given us an adventure and—”

“Did you saysnakes,Aunt Hattie?” Cheyenne’s voice wavers. “I don’t do snakes.” A visible shiver wracks her body before she turns to Raegan. But whatever she finds on her aunt’s face makes her clear her throat and paste on a smile. “Um, but the décor in here is totally charming, very ... rustic.”

“Rusticis the appropriate word for it,” Adele adds, “which is why I’ll be spending the night in my snake-free bunk on the bus.” Adele holds out her hand to me, and it takes every ounce of my restraint not to toss the keys out the open door into the snake-ridden bushes.

I cast a glance between the lot of them. “Thisisnotcamping. Camping doesn’t involve indoor stoves or filtered drinking water that pours through a tap, much less furniture to sit on and utensils to eat with and an electric space heater to keep you warm through the night. Last I checked, nobody here is being asked to chop wood or sleep on the ground or bathe in the snow runoff.This is not camping.”

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