Follow the Trail

“Florals. For spring? Groundbreaking…” I mutter to myself as I just avoid stepping on the tiniest purple flower, channeling my inner unimpressed Miranda Priestly as I wait for my small charges to catch up with me on our hike to nowhere in the middle of the wilderness. Okay, maybe ‘wilderness’ is a slight exaggeration. Me, Frick and Frack aka Connor and Corynn, and the wide-eyed Cassandra are on a walk through the woods at the back of Corynn’s parent’s vacation home in Houston, Texas. By vacation home, I mean ranch, and, as much as I love my cousins, right about now the Crocs I unthinkingly threw on this morning have me wishing they had a vacation home on a beach somewhere instead. My new black and white Crocs were not made for shuffling along the forest floor and climbing over fallen trees, sport mode or not! But, as I pulled the short straw for chaperoning the under ten club today, shuffle and climb I must for the next two hours.

“When’s lunch,” six-year-old Connor asks as he catches up with me, helping the struggling Corynn over the latest downed oak. Already a gentleman, I think.

“Two hours,” I reply as nine-year-old Cassandra brings up the rear. “So I guess we could head back,” I say casually, silently willing them to be persuaded. I don’t mind the outdoors ordinarily, but it is hot. And it’s not even noon.

“But we haven’t found the stream with the special rock, Charlie!” Corynn counters. “Daddy always said before I was too young to go but I’m six now and he promised when I was six I could go!”

“Alright, alright” I reply. “Let’s keep moving then.”

I glance around to find the easiest way forward and notice the little purple flower by my right foot is not random. It’s the first in a trail. A trail? Leading to where? I wonder.

“Oooo look!” exclaims Cassandra excitedly. “A trail of flowers!” Okay, so I’m not tripping, I think, relieved that the heat hadn’t gotten to me and made me start seeing things three long miles away from the house.

“Let’s see where it goes!” Connor suggests eagerly. He starts off, Corynn and Cassandra immediately scampering behind. “What about the special rock?” I call, but at this point I might as well be talking to myself for all the listening they are doing. Guess we’re following the trail.

I let Connor keep the lead, following at my own pace as long as they’re still in sight. We walk in silence for about eight more minutes. I’m lost in my own thoughts when suddenly I notice they’ve stopped. “Whats’s wrong?”

“It’s an old barn,” Cassandra whispers reverently.

“A what?” I jog to catch up, and, sure enough, there’s a break and the trees and standing resiliently by itself in the clearing is an old grey barn. It is weather worn, causing the paint to fade and peel and it’s missing a few slats but otherwise it’s surprisingly upright. “Well how nice. Mystery solved, right? The trail of flowers lead to a barn. Cute. Like a fairytale, really. Now, we have just enough time left to find the stream and rock before we have to get back for lunch.”

“Charlie, don’t be a party pooper,” pipes Corynn. “Let’s see what’s in the barn!”

“I thought you wanted to see the rock!”

“I can see it any time! This is an adventure! We have to see it through!”

Great. Now I am going to have to explain to my cousins how their children were supposed to go to a harmless rock but now may need tetanus shots because we went to a godforsaken barn instead. I like my head on my shoulders, thank you very much. “Why don’t we go to the stream and find the cool rock now, and we can come back later and explore the barn?” I try, knowing that if I can just get them back to the house, I can hopefully get them to forget I made this deal.

“But we’re already here!” counters Connor.

Obviously persuasion is not going to work. “Honestly, guys? It looks kinda creepy, doesn’t it? I mean like the beginning of a spooky movie? And you may not know this yet but in spooky movies the children always get eaten first. Because everyone knows they’re the yummiest to scary creatures and weird old ladies. But if you want …” I shrug, moving to scare tactics. My cousins are going to kill me anyway, filling their children’s heads with this nonsense. They’ll have nightmares for a week. Suddenly I have a headache.

“Charlie, that’s not even true. Everyone knows that children are so innocent and susceptible that they’re the ones possessed in horror movies. It’s the guardians that get taken out,” Cassandra calmly corrects, looking strangely calm and wise beyond her years. Ummm, what? “Aunt Jo said so.”

Jeez. What a fine lot we are. Connor’s mom won’t let him watch anything not on Boomerang but let’s her nine-year-old niece watch horror movies because she can’t get one of us grownups to watch with her. “Aunt Jo watches too much TV,” I mutter.

“C’mon Charlie! Don’t be a 24-year-old scaredy cat!” Connor laughs then takes off in the direction of the barn.

“CONNOR!”

Corynn follows Connor triumphantly with a slighly less enthused Cassandra bringing up the rear. Guess we’re going.

Connor disappears into the barn through the opening created by two missing slats. I sigh.

“Hey! It’s a really cool car!” Connor yells from within the barn. This just got interesting. I duck into the barn, and stop short. I stare wide-eyed and open mouthed.

There, just sitting there in the middle of an old barn in the woods of Houston, Texas, was an Oldsmobile. But not just any Oldsmobile, a black 1953 Oldsmobile Convertible Coupe. Jiminy Cricket!

My mother once told me a story about when she bought her first car. She said the first thing the finance guy said to her when she sat down to sign the papers was ‘have you ever seen this car?’ and he pointed to a model of a black 1953 Oldsmobile Convertible Coupe. He went on to say that when he immigrated from Cuba, he brought the car with him but the next week it was stolen right from in front of his house before he could submit the paperwork for it. And so, 25 years later he was still looking for the car because it was never registered with the government. But even more important than that, it was his first car and losing it was like a close family member dying. His daughter bought him the model of it for his birthday one year. He asked everyone who came in his office if they had seen it, hoping one day he’d get his family member back. And now, over two decades later, I’m staring right at it.

I blink and notice the children staring at me like I’ve grown another head. “What?”

“You didn’t hear the helicopter land?” Cassandra says nervously. No.

“Someone’s coming!” Connor whispers eagerly, waving his hands in the air.

“We gotta hide!” Corynn squeals.

That’s when I realized three things in quick succession. One, this car is in remarkably good shape for being so old. Two, someone brought this car here because they didn’t want it to be found. And, three, they’re coming back for it.

Right. Now!