Page 179 of The Vacation Mix-Up
Life is all about balance. Perfectly weighed scales. It’s too short to have it tipped one way and one way only.
“So, I was thinking,” Riles says, a yawn billowing from her mouth. “When we get back from Stonehenge, and after we’ve been to that car museum you wanted to go to” —she stretches her face, forcing her eyelids apart—“if you’re still interested, we can visit theTitanicexhibit at the SeaCity Museum as well.”
I bury my frustration at how tired she is after working her ass off onhervacation. “Sure. Whatever you want to do.”
“Perfect!” She yawns again and snuggles into my side, but then sits upright again, points out of the bus window, and blurts, “We’re here. There it is!”
I lean over her for a better look, not particularly impressed. They’re just rocks in a field.
“Cool,” I say, sitting back.
“Cool?” She gives me one of herAre you insane?looks.
I give her one back but smirk.
“This place is more than just cool. It’s mystical. Spiritual. Magical.”
The bus continues driving for a short distance before it pulls to a stop outside a visitor information center, where we exit into the parking lot.
“I thought they didn’t know why it was here or who built it?” I prompt, fixing my Philly’s cap on my head.
“They don’t. That’s why it’s mystical and mysterious.” Rileslifts her hair from the back of her neck and secures it in a low clump. “They do know it was a burial site though, and its positioning links it to the summer and winter solstices.”
I don’t know what that means, but I’m sure I’ll find out by the time we leave.
“Do you want to walk to the site or catch the shuttle bus?” she asks.
“I don’t mind.”
Riles pulls her sun hat out of her bag and sets it on her head. “Let’s walk. Our tour guide said it takes roughly thirty minutes but that it’s an easy walk through those fields.”
Smiling, she hikes her bag higher on her shoulder and holds out her hand. I happily take it in mine, and we follow the path to the first field, closing a gate behind us as instructed by a sign.
“Wait!” Riles stops. “There are cows in here.”
I spot a few grazing up ahead. “Yep.”
“Do you think it’s safe?”
I chuckle. “Cows aren’t bears, Riles.”
“I know that, but they’re big and?—”
“Have you never been close to a cow before?”
“No. We don’t exactly keep them as pets in Manhattan.”
“You’ll be fine,” I say, tugging her along, when her cell phone beeps within her bag.
She stops and pulls it out. “Give me a second. I need to check my email. It might be Georgia.”
Inhaling deeply, I let go of her hand and huff out a breath as she scrolls her screen, her face scrunching as she reads.
“Damn it.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” She shoves her cell back into her bag, clasps my hand, and keeps walking, her pace less tentative than before.
