Two weeks flew by in a flash. No sooner did April return from Italy, the Johnsons were packed and headed for the boondocks.
Logan had packed up everything he could need for the next three weeks, from clothing to the introvert’s survival kit of literary amusement and ear drum massagers to the basic camping supplies. It’s Grandpa Johnson, who knows.
Their friends gathered around to say “good-bye”.
“Remember to text us when you guys get there, okay?” Chloe said as she embraced Abigail.
“Be sure to keep your pepper spray with you,” April warned, “like, every second. Especially there.”
Logan checked his phone and again, nothing from Kevin.
“Hey, Lo,” Brook cooed from behind.
He turned around, “Oh, hey, Brook.”
“Have a good trip. Don’t do anything too wild,” she giggled.
“Me? Wild? It’s the other one that might turn into a coyote soon.”
The two chuckled and shared an embrace. Brook’s perfume waltzed to his nostrils.
“Come on guys! Time to go!,” their mother called from the van.
Shouting good-bye one last time, they dashed to the vehicle.
The family made their way to their midsection seats and stowed their carry on bags. Abigail sat and fastened her seat belt before pulling out her phone and earbuds. Her screen was blown up with messages. She let a smile sneak to her lips. Logan sat to the left, dull as the sea on a rainy day.
“Hey, you awake, there?”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” he stammered, “I just am, uh, a little tired I guess.”
She raised her brows.
“Really, I’m fine. Maybe I’ll just sleep on the flight”.
“Yeah, a whopping 45 minutes. That’s if you could even get comfortable. But you look a little more than tired”.
“I’m okay. Just ready to get to grandpa’s.” He placed his earbuds in and put his head back.
Her lips pursed, “Yeah, okay then.”
She pulled out her favorite book, “Little Women”, and began to read.
“Dad!”, their father called out.
“Hey there, Danny!,” replied an old man in suspenders and red flannel. The two embraced and shared a chuckle.
Logan smiled slightly as the clan drew closer to their grandfather.
His wrinkled face was as merry and bright as he last saw him and still wore that old baseball cap. His towering figure still cast a comforting shadow.
“Welp, our flight leaves in about a half hour and we better get a move on to the gate. You two behave yourselves.” Their parents hugged them and told them good-bye.
“Happy second honeymoon”, their grandfather called after their parents, and howled.
Abigail rolled her eyes and moaned quietly.
The old man turned to his youthful descendants, “Must be gettin’ a move on as well, huh?”, and chuckled. “Follow me”.
He led them through the jungle of marble and concrete chaos and to the parking garage. The trio walked for what seemed like miles before their leader announced, “There she be, the old beast!”
A black toyota was mounted on large tires. It’s steel undercarriage united the body as one, a true masterpiece. Logan and Abigail’s eyes bloated with astonishment. “Grandpa, I didn’t know you were into yotas,” Abigail exclaimed.
Grandpa Johnson replied, “Oh no, Abby. This is the old beast.”
The two came around the monster only to find it had concealed none other than-
“Logan and Abigail, meet good ol’ Ranger,” their grandfather declared with pride.
Logan’s heart sank. The old, faded, red and white Ford two door had been long overdue for a remodel, if it was even possible at this state. The rims chipped off the old silver coat. Rust had made its home in the undermost sections of the sides. “Why doesn’t he just put this pet out of its misery? This is torturing me, man”, he anguished.
Abigail’s emotions had all but gone numb. Too much.
The old man patted his chest, “Well, y’all can just put your stuff in the bed. I have some straps to, uh, hold it in.”
The twins looked at one another and moved.
The two and a half hour drive was spent with old Willie Nelson on the stereo.
Abigail fell asleep on his shoulder.
Logan’s thoughts wandered as they passed old oaks and pines. Memories of his youthful years. Camping and old cooky stories told by his grandfather as they all ate s’mores by the fire. Abigail’s wide eyed anticipation as she listened for the gorry fate of each villain. He, Abby, and Kevin’s roaring laughter at the many faces of portrayed characters. Kevin.
It had all changed. They were older now. Further apart.
Logan began to rest his head against the door’s edge and closed his eyes.
“Ahem, I wouldn’t put my weight there, my boy. It opens sometimes.”
Logan shot up like a bullet. “I am going to die here!”
Not soon enough, they arrived at the cabin. The house was much more homely than he remembered. Two wooden rocking chairs sat to the left on the porch, with patterned quilts neatly draped over the backs. Bushes neatly placed on either side of the wooden harbor. A teen was bent over at the one, mending its soil. At the sound of the crushed gravel, he stood and smiled. Placing his tools down, he made his way over.
The small Ford’s breaks squeaked as it came to a halt. Grandpa Johnson turned off the engine and climbed out. The twins followed in suit, glad to out of the metal death trap. “Hey there, Fritz! Ya’ been here long?”
The chestnut haired minor smiled, “No, jest tending the bushes, Herr Johnson”.
“Ah, well thank you my boy. Fritz, I would like to introduce you to my grandkids. This here is Abigail and Logan. Kids, this is Fritz. He’s my help for the summer, but now I have three helpers here instead of one.”
“It’s nice to meetcha, Fritz,” Logan said, extending his hand.
“Pleasure’s all mine, Logan and Abigail. Will you be needin' much else?"
"Oh no, Fritz, I think I'll be just fine."
“My mom and dad oughta be wondering if I will be home for dinner,” Fritz said.
“Wouldn’t wanna make them come lookin’ for ya now, huh?” Grandpa Johnson chuckled.
The new acquaintance raced over to grab his tools, hopped in a small jeep, and pulled away as they waved.
“Welp, let’s head in there, kids.”
The twins dragged their belongings along the gravel and marched up the steps. The cabin was natural and homely, with country furniture and a stone fireplace. As they reached the top of the stairs, they were greeted with a stuffed grizzly, standing full length.
“Welp, miss Abby, you’ll be in this room here,” their grandfather pointed to the left, “and Logan, you’ll be in this room”, nodding across the hall. “My room is just downstairs”.
Abigail walked across the hall to her room.
He turned and opened the door to his temporary habitat. The large nook presented a large wall of shelves full of dusty books, all bound by what remained of their boarded shields. Gazing to the left, dark sheets covered long twin mattresses stacked in wooden cases attracted his tired eyes. He yawned as he shut the door behind him as he removed his shoes and drew his belongings over to the window.
The sunset’s glow was beginning to fade through the small window. He turned to his cell phone. Nothing. Sighing, he tossed it on the mattress below. Logan stared at the planked ceiling. A lonely fan turned slowly above his face.
They were here. He was here. Afterall, it’s just three weeks, what could happen?
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