It had been a long day in the fields. The berry farm where we worked was overflowing with raspberries, cherries, and blueberries. All of them ripe, juicy, and needing to be plucked. We spent the morning picking and then in the afternoon we guided pick-your-own customers to the best fruit. All the while exchanging flirtatious glances, affectionate touches as we passed by each other, and an occasional stolen kiss. Twelve hours in the heat of summer, a quick dip in the river, and we were off to the pub for pizza and beer.
The pub had a little outdoor seating area that looked out over the river that ran through town. Facing west, it offered some nice sunsets and tonight was no disappointment. The sun had set below the treeline and as its golden orange fire dimmed, the last rays reached back under the growing hood of storm clouds coming in from the east. A distant rumble of thunder and the smell of rain marked their arrival. We finished our pizza and beer, paid our bill, and reached the truck as the first drops began to fall from the quickly darkening sky. By the time we drove out of the parking lot, the rain was coming down hard.
The drive back to our apartment -- the lower half of a house built in the 1890s and situated on top of Black Mountain -- would normally take about fifteen minutes. The first few minutes of the drive back were on paved highways. As we left town and started up Route 5, Kat made her intentions for tonight quite clear. Her mouth on the hardening bulge in my shorts distracted me so much I missed the turn I would normally have taken. But then I thought, I'd like a little more time to enjoy this, and kept driving to the alternate turnoff.