In fact, it would be devastating if this opportunity were missed. So much so, that I wondered whether keeping all this to myself was prudent. What would happen if I broke down, had an accident, or somehow became disabled and couldn’t get there? Or couldn’t tell anyone else?
While I unhooked and stowed everything I mulled this over. I needed a backup plan. Anything could go wrong and the chance to reunite Brick with his sister could be lost forever. And just how would that affect our relationship? I’d never be able to face him knowing I’d blown it, even if he never knew it. It would be the elephant in the room that only I ever saw.
I thought about Daniel. He would help if I asked. After all, I had been responsible for him marrying his one true love and living happily ever after. Why, he and Julia even had another baby in the making, one that would be here next spring. But he had a family, and this could be dangerous. He’d been on the wrong side of the law before, and this could put him there again. I thought about Connor. But he was serving overseas, and Diana, his new wife, was in college waiting for his return. Who else did I know who would listen to my hare-brained plan and get involved, or at least be apprised and act as a back up? I had so few friends now, having run away from everything to get away from Jared. And that was another thing; I had to worry about him again. No matter what Brick said, Jared was not going to let a little thing like an ankle “bracelet” stand in his way. He wanted revenge, I had humiliated him, he wasn’t going to forget that and play nice.
I thought about my family. Hell, my sister was already on the west coast in Washington State, maybe she would help. We hadn’t been all that close since I married Jared, as he had isolated me from friends and family early on, before I’d even become aware he’d been doing it. But I knew she loved me and believed in me. She could be my back up, I decided. She would be the one I confided in and told all to. Then if for some reason I couldn’t pull this off, it would be her job to get in touch with Brick so he could take over using the information I had discovered. Yeah, that would work. I felt much better, until I stopped for gas and had to shell out close to three hundred dollars to fill the gas and propane tank. Geez . . . how did families afford this?
An hour later I was on Interstate 75 driving away from the K.O.A. in Corbin, Kentucky and making my way to Lexington where I would pick up Interstate 64 skirting Indiana and Illinois before heading toward Missouri where I hoped to be able to find a nice quiet campground.
It felt great to be back in the driver’s seat, sitting high and looking through the windshield at the panoramic view of the mountains all around me. I drove listening to country music for a while as it seemed to be the most popular stuff on the radio in these parts, then switched to a book on CD to while away the hours. It was a good road for the RV and very scenic for me. Apple orchards breezed by and a few signs for country stores sorely tempted me. But if there was one thing I’d learned about RVing, it was you didn’t have room for collecting chotskies. I got hungry and stopped at a rest area on Interstate 70, used the bathroom at the travel center and then made a tuna sandwich for a late lunch, which I ate at my nook as I watched all the travelers pulling in to do the same thing. I like this life on the road. Every day is a different challenge and a whole new outlook on life.
I watched a husband and wife in their seventies pull up in their Dutch Star and exit their RV. She came down the steps first, set up a wheelchair, then turned back to help him hop down the steps before gently assisting him into the wheelchair. He had only one leg. I wondered why she would do such a thing; surely they had a bathroom on board. Wouldn’t that be easier for her? Then I saw her take something from her pocket, put her fingers to her mouth and blow on a whistle. A big German shepherd came bounding down the steps and brushed up against her leg. The diminutive woman stopped and took the handle for what looked like a working harness. The man pressed a button on his wheelchair and off they went. I soon realized that she was blind. Mostly from the way the man looked up and talked to her and gently touched her elbow, but also by the way she responded each time the dog redirected her. The dog led her to an area beside the sidewalk where he could be walked and did his business. The man backed up and pulled alongside, then used a baggie to scoop it up. He then left on his own to dispose of it. So who was driving the RV, I wondered. Then it dawned on me, he could drive it, as he was only missing one leg, his left one, whereas she was blind and obviously could not. I was flabbergasted. Surely, they could live more comfortably at home without the rigors being on the road required.
I just had to talk to this couple. This was the most amazing thing. What devotion. I left my RV and sauntered over to where the man and woman were. I noticed she had a fistful of buttercups in her hand that she hadn’t had before. When I got within twenty feet the dog took notice. When I got within ten he growled and I saw the hair on his neck rise.
“Uh, excuse me,” I called. “My name is Jenny, and I’m parked in the RV beside yours, the uh . . . Dolphin.” I was always insecure talking about my RV when I was around someone who had one that was four times the price. It was like someone driving a Ford Fiesta approaching someone who just stepped out of a Porsche. You sure couldn’t brag about your car much.
Both the man and the woman turned; the dog was clearly waiting for a signal from either before deciding I was friend or foe.
“Yes?” The man said.
“I um . . . was just wondering. You have such a nice rig, so you must be devoted to the lifestyle, and as I’m fairly new to it I often think it’s more trouble than it’s worth sometimes. Apparently you two, don’t. I mean . . . you having to adapt to things more than most.”
The woman smiled and the man nodded. The dog visibly relaxed. “You can come closer, Jenny. This is Gallant, he’ll be good. He takes his cues from us.”
“Gallant?” I asked. Strange name for a dog, I thought, but maybe not for a seeing-eye dog.
“Well, that’s what we call him. My husband’s name is Rufus.”
It clicked immediately. “Rufus and Gallant. Highlights magazine!”
They both smiled that I’d made the connection. It was apparently their own little joke. “Yes, he’s the good one,” she said as she patted the dog and then used her forefinger with the others tucked under it as if pretending to admonish Rufus. “He’s the naughty one. Always has been.” It was said fondly but there was a hint of melancholy in her voice.
“How long have you been RVing?” I asked. I walked closer but kept Gallant a safe distance away and within my peripheral vision.
“Almost all our married lives,” Rufus said. “Helen and I got our first camper in the fifties, a little Tear Drop. Then when the children came along we bought a Holiday Rambler. Traveled with the kids every summer. So over fifty years.”
“Wow. The stories you must have.”
“Great memories,” Helen said nodding.
“But the kids have their own kids now, ‘cept John, who we lost in Vietnam,” Rufus said.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“We all are,” Rufus said, dismissing the topic and going on. “This is our last trip, so we’re making it last.”
“Last trip?” I asked.
“Yes. The kids are making us sell the motorhome when we get back. They think we’re too old to be traveling by ourselves.”
“Well don’t you think that should be your decision,” I asked.
They both laughed. “It is dear, we tricked them. We agreed this would be out last trip, but we didn’t tell them when we would be back,” Helen said with a huge grin.
“How long have you been away?”
“Two years next month.”
I hooted and we all laughed. Gallant felt so comfortable with me now that he actually sat at Helen’s feet.
“Well I admire you. It can’t be easy at times.”
“No, but we’re together doing what we want to do and not living in a home as our family would like. It’s really the only way we can be sure we’ll be together. Once you go into those h
omes, sooner or later they separate you.” Helen fumbled for Rufus’ hand and he gripped hers when she found it.
“What a great couple you are.”
“Well we can tell you, RVing has kept us sane all these years. Whether you need to get away to absorb a tragedy, or celebrate life it’s freeing. Getting back to nature, meeting new people, and just having the excitement of being on the road going from one amazing place to another is energizing. We just love it. And until one of us in unable, we plan on doing it to the end.” Rufus looked up into Helen’s face and I could see the love he had for her. “I lost my leg five years ago when I got a real bad staff infection after a knee replacement. She lost nearly all her sight to macular degeneration at about the same time. If we hadn’t had this,” his arm swung wide and encompassed the Dutch Star and their matching tow vehicle, a late model bronze Saturn sedan, “to look forward to we’d probably both be gone by now.”
“Well thank you for talking to me. You’ve made my day.”
“Well, thankee. You take care, Jenny.”
“Is there anything I can do for you, before I head off?”
The woman reached into her pocket and produced a card. I had to come closer to take it from her when she offered it to me. “Yes, you can email my daughter and son-in-law and tell them that we’re having the time of our lives, and we’d love for them to bring the grandbabies and come visit us on the road somewhere. Coming from someone else, they may believe it and stop hassling us.”
I took the card and looked at it. Rufus and Helen Wilson of Rochester, New York. It had their email address as well as their daughter’s. On the back there was a long list of phone numbers under, In Case of Emergency please call:
“They make us both carry them everywhere we go. You could let them know, that as far as parents go we’re much more obedient than they ever were as children,” Rufus gave a bark of a laugh. “Happy trails!” He punched a button on his armrest and off they went, Helen holding onto both Gallant and Rufus.
Long after they were inside the travel center I stood staring down at the card. Is this what Brick meant by us having something more permanent between us? It was both sad and beautiful. I smiled, tucked the card in my pocket and skipped back to my RV. Life was good!
Chapter Sixteen
I found a Flying J and a Denny’s at Exit 188 and filled up both the Dolphin and me. I couldn’t help but think of Angelina and the time we’d had at the Denny’s in Georgia. I remembered she’d ordered the Superbird, which she ate with gusto. I decided to do the same.
Forty miles shy of Columbia, what I figured to be the halfway point across Missouri, I began to feel fatigued and decided to start looking for a place to rest my weary head. The heavy carbs of my Superbird—with fries of course—were taking their toll. At Exit 170 I had to decide between Kan-Do RV Park and Lazy Day RV Park. The Next Exit guidebook I’d thumbed through and then purchased while standing in line at the Flying J indicated that both had easy access and were close to the highway. I chose Kan-Do just because I liked the name. I thought it a good sign for my mission at The Rally. They were reasonable at $30 and had full hookups. I noticed there seemed to be a frog theme, and while cute, I was dearly hoping I would not be kept awake by the sound of a multitude of them croaking all night.
I shouldn’t have bothered worrying about the frogs. Within minutes of showering after hooking up, I was fast asleep and I doubt a bullfrog sitting by my ear would have disturbed me unless he decided to lick it.
I was up and out bright and early after having plotted my route on MapQuest and then emailing Rufus and Helen’s children regarding their status and their request for a visit.
I was hoping to make it all the way to Colorado today, but stories I heard about the foreverness of the Kansas landscape had me doubting I’d make it. I didn’t. Not by a long shot. I ended up at Deer Creek Valley near Topeka relatively early in the day because I had a bitch of a headache and just couldn’t drive any further. It was a lovely RV park, fairly new and quite the destination place. I had committed myself in terms of the orientation of my RV before realizing this wasn’t a cheap place, but for convenience, and because I definitely did not want to turn this sucker around, and because the idea of getting back onto the highway made my splitting headache even more, I signed the charge ticket and followed the golf cart around to my site.
I didn’t even set up. I didn’t even get out of my rig. I left the slide in, ran the A/C off the generator, took four Advil and dove into my bed.
I woke to choruses of, “You’re missin’ the party, Dixie!”; “Grandma, git the curlers outta yore hair. If this isn’t occasion to have it curled for I don’t know what is!”; “Momma, stop ironin’ that dress, I said I ain’t wearin’ it!”; “Bubba stop that barkin’, it’s just a damned frog.”
I sat up and rubbed my head. The surroundings were familiar, this was my bedroom, but I didn’t recognize one single voice, not even the dog’s. Added to all the yelling was the loud noise of a game show and unless I missed my guess it was Wheel of Fortune. Had I slept all afternoon?
I crawled off the bed and lifted the blind on the most promising side. Sure enough, Mom, Dad, Grandma, two teenaged girls and a huge bulldog were out in their makeshift living room, complete with a campfire off to the side, and a blaring flat screen TV on a pull-out slide. The man of the house had a bottle of beer in one hand and a remote in the other. Was I back in Kentucky?
“The party already started, can’t you guys hear the band?” One of the teens wailed. And sure enough, tilting my head I could hear the strains of Neon Moon being crooned.
I dropped the blind and made my way up front. The sun was going down but there was still an hour or so of daylight before it was dark. It would be a good time to set the jacks, get the slide out and do all the hook-ups. Then a nice long shower would be just what the doctor ordered.
As I made my way around the RV, checking out this, fixing that, plugging in and setting up I couldn’t help but hear the conversation not five feet away. No one acknowledged me except the grandma who smiled without her teeth and then the dog who slowly got up and came over for a sniff. He was old and it was a major effort, so I had to reward him with a few friendly pats.
“The Johnson twins are playin’, remember they was here last year. I think Jesse was sweet on Darlene,” Grandma said with a grin.
“Hush your mouth Momma, she’s only seventeen, he and his brother gotta be gittin’ close to thirty!”
“Like ma men with some ‘sperience,” the older woman grumbled back.
“Your memory’s failin’ old girl—you’s seventy-seven now, but last time I recall, you liked them breathin’, that was about all.” This from the man sitting in a canvas chair so stretched out from his burgeoning weight that it looked like it was going to let loose any minute now.
If I weren’t so afraid my headache would come back, I would have been doubling over with laughter. As it was, I was having trouble just trying to hide my smirk. I finished all my chores, nodded to the teenager who was now glaring at me and went back inside.
The shower revived me and I felt like a new woman. So new, and so frisky that I thought I’d wander over to the pool pavilion and check out these Johnson twins. I was intrigued. Plus I loved the voice of the man signing Roy Clark’s Come Live with Me. As far as I was concerned that man wouldn’t have to even have a ring if he promised to sing to me like that everyday.
I dressed in jeans and a soft blue button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled back. If there’s anything I’ve learned about camping, it’s that nighttime is not a time to show the mosquitoes too much skin. Instead of my usual ponytail I took the time to French braid my hair and insert some turquoise pendant earrings I’d bought in New Mexico.
The music was coming from an area not two hundred yards away, set up in front of the meeting rooms in a building used as a storm shelter and people were literally dancing in the streets. All the sites and roads were paved and people came from all directions in golf ca
rts, wheelchairs, skateboards, and Razor scooters. I watched the teenagers from next door straddling their bikes and mooning over the band members. It was a small group, but they were really good.
A table was set up with BBQ fixin’s and I was encouraged by the woman who had checked me in to help myself. I took a plate and put a piece of chicken on it that I picked at along with a corn muffin. I sauntered around and looked at the RVs parked around the perimeter and then I ambled back to the crowds in front of the band.
The Johnson twins were indeed yummy, and as Grandma had said, reeked of “‘sperience.” Or at least that was what I took their well-placed winks to mean. And of course, they were too old for the girls next door. But I, with my newfound sexuality, was intrigued. Nothing like a man in tight jeans with the obvious package on the front side and a tight butt on the backside—times two and I was in hormone-girl heaven. When break time came and a DJ replaced the live band, one of the twins tapped me on the elbow and invited me to dance. It was a fast two-step and I begged off saying I didn’t know how to do the dance that everyone in the big circle was doing. No apparently wasn’t an option as I was dragged over to the circle, gripped around the waist and introduced to country line dancing. Over the course of two hours I learned to Boot Scoot, Tush Push, Watermelon Crawl, Cowboy, Slap Leather, and of course, Two-step.
I finally had to remind the twins that while they were two, I was only one and could not be expected to be passed back and forth between them and dance every dance. I did manage to corral them into dancing with “the girls next door,” and had to smile at the teenager’s over-the-moon bright faces. It was a night to remember, for them and for me. I’m sure some cowboy fantasies were etched into young hearts that night. For me, it was flattering to have the attention of two handsome ranchers who could make me damn near melt onto the pavement when they crooned their husky songs into my ears.
Running Into A Brick Wall Page 8