They drove up the mountain in Carl’s beat-up four-wheel extended cab truck. Grandpa sat up front with Carl. Morgan, who had also come along, squeezed between Marleigh and Cord in the backseat. The road was unpaved and deeply rutted, and they all bumped and banged from side to side as the off-road vehicle climbed the rugged trail.
Marleigh was glad Morgan was sitting between her and Cord. She could just imagine how awful it would be having Cord’s muscular frame bumping and banging against her all the way up the mountain.
It would be horrible, just dreadful. Bumping and banging….
Marleigh stared blindly out the side window at the trees bouncing by, trying to get the ridiculously delectable image of Cord’s awesome body grinding against her own out of her startlingly lascivious mind……
Excerpt from Weekend Engagement in which my characters take a ride up into the mountains to tour the heroine’s family history. Much of the history in that book is my family’s history, but it was much less romantic yesterday when we bumped and banged up the mountain. My husband and my dad were up front, and I was in the back with three kids, not a hot guy, but here are the highlights.
When I was a kid, this cabin was habitable and we went up in the summers and stayed a week. We played in the river–skipping rocks and swinging on grapevines, and we also bathed in the river. There was an outhouse out back and there were always mice scurrying under the beds at night, but it was fun.
The cabin is completely rundown now. I can remember my mother baking biscuits in this kitchen, though it’s hard to imagine now.
My great-great-grandfather hid horses from the Confederate army down here in this hollow behind the cabin when the soldiers came through, plundering for food and stealing all the horses. From where my kids are sitting, that’s a sheer drop off.
This is the house my dad lived in. Someone still lives there and farms the same 140 acres my great-grandfather farmed back then. He’s a real nice man and always welcomes us in and lets us run around on the farm when we visit.
We drove up into the upper meadows and walked around for awhile. The man who lives there now has some cattle up there, and a real territorial bull, as we found out. We hiked down to the river from there to get to a little waterfall and swimming hole he played in as a boy. I canNOT believe my dad did that and I was scared to death he was going to fall–it was SO steep, but the 80-year-old man could NOT BE STOPPED and since he was going we all had to go after him. This bull came to the top of the cliff and started bellowing. I thought we were all going to be gored to death. Getting back to the Explorer was like something out of Jurassic Park trying to escape the crazy dinosaurs…. And NO, I didn’t get a picture of the bull, unfortunately. I was too busy running for my life.
The Pocatalico River.
Great-great-grandfather’s house–someone still lives there now.
Don’t all family history trips end up with photographs at the cemetery? Or are we just weird?