“Haven’t gotten any messages. Everyone here was already on the road. The rain’s barely stopped, so it may be a while.”
“So nothing from Haven?”
“Is that where you’re from?” Abe asked.
“Well, I am.” She glanced at Dak, who’d gone back to staring blankly at the fire, exhaustion flattening his features.
“I’ll let you know if anyone comes by from there. But you kids should get some sleep. Here, stay by the fire. We’ll keep an eye on you so you don’t burn up.”
Dak reached for her, and they wrapped their blankets up together. She was still cold, the chill inside battling with the roasting on her skin. But she was getting better. Being dry helped, and nested against Dak she finally felt safe, and slept.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////
Only after a couple of hours of sleep was Dak ready to open the guitar case. He’d set the instrument in the corner with the rest of their gear, but now he brought it to the kitchen table and carefully unfastened the ties. The stitching in the leather was coming apart. Even in the room’s heat, it had only just started to dry out and still dripped when he held it up. It was meant to protect the instrument from a light rain. From wind and the dings and scratches from travel. It wasn’t meant to protect from a typhoon.
The case opened, and he slipped the guitar out. The arm had splintered, snapped almost in half from the body, which was crushed in on one side. Loose strings twanged, bumping against each other. Dak turned it upside down and poured water out of what was left of the body.
Enid burst into tears. Sloppy, stressed, grief-stricken tears. She’d never cried like this in her life, and she couldn’t seem to stop. She covered her face.
“Oh, shh.” Dak put his arms around her and she clung to him.
“I’m so sorry,” she managed to blubber out. “It’s my fault we got caught out, it’s my fault any of this happened, I’m so sorry—”
“Enid. It’ll be fine. It’s okay. I’ll see if I can get it fixed. Or maybe find a new one. It’ll be fine.”
He was just saying that to make her feel better. Where could he possibly find a new guitar? He must have gotten this one from somewhere, sure . . . but you couldn’t just walk into a market and find a guitar. What a terrible thing to happen to a precious object.
She kept apologizing, and he kept comforting her . . . and it was all a little ridiculous. Abe sat them down by the fire for more rest. First, Dak carefully arranged the pieces of the guitar so it could dry. Maybe he really could save it and get it repaired.
Abe made a pot of stew, and the whole group of them sat by the fire in the front room to eat. They clung to the companionship after the storm, craving safety in numbers.
Dak picked at his food. Enid ate slowly, not feeling hungry but knowing she needed food. They hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of soggy fish jerky during the storm.
“Hey,” he said. “It really was an adventure.”
“We’re lucky we didn’t die.”
“That’s what makes it an adventure.” He grinned at her and winked.
She wondered if he was capable of taking anything seriously ever.
The sun came out the next day, and the bright blue sky that shone through broken clouds made the previous week seem all the more surreal and distant. Weather was fickle and horrific. When Enid went outside, she still heard dripping everywhere. Water dripping off the roof into an overflowing cistern, trickling down the road in temporary streams, every tree and blade of grass soaked to the core. The air still felt wet, and she imagined she could see evaporation, moisture rising shimmering from the ground.
She was ready to go. She itched to get home. Her clothes were mostly dry, her stomach was full, and she was still bone tired—but she was ready.
Abe came out with her to look up the road. She’d been staring that way for five minutes, as if doing so would bring home closer.
“How far are we from Haven?”
“Four days on foot. There’s another way station two days on,” he said.
Closer than she thought. They’d made more northward progress before the storm than she realized.
“You think the road’s clear all the way?”
He smiled. “If I say no, will that stop you?”
Her blanket hadn’t dried yet—the thick wool would take days to dry completely and probably ought to spend some time outside in the fresh air. She tried to roll it up anyway, until Abe insisted on trading her out for a fresh one.