“I think you’re handling the RV just fine.”
During the forty-minute drive to Carlsbad, Christopher explained some of the aforementioned events to a lively and amused Kirstin.
“Let’s take in the Living Desert Park before we settle in our campsite.”
“Suits me. You’re the tour guide.”
“Just make sure we don’t overlook your eating schedule.”
“I’ll keep one eye on my watch, Doc. And I had my snack.”
“Yep, and I’ll have mine later.”
Kirstin grinned as she was warmed by his smoldering look. Alone and snuggled together in the bed behind them … she’d never had sex with David anywhere except in their bedroom, not even in hotels during the few trips away from it.
In the Ocotillo Hills overlooking the town, they visited the park with its numerous examples of native plant and animal life in their natural habitats. They savored the scenery and information about the Chihauhuan Desert and each other’s company. Hand in hand, laughing and chatting, they strolled around the cacti, and mountain lions, the roadrunners, elk, deer, and bobcats, the javelina, prairie dogs, foxes, snakes, birds, and other creatures.
“This is great, woman, but it’s getting late. It’ll be dark soon. Let’s get moving to our campground. I have some juicy steaks to cook.”
“My mouth’s watering in anticipation.”
“I hope for more than food.”
“There’s food and there’s … food, Doctor Harrison.”
The RV was set up and meat was on the grill. Christopher relaxed in a chair and sipped a beer. Kirstin had the folding table ready for their meal and was drinking a diet cola. They talked about their plans for the next two days. After the steaks were done, they ate and continued their chat. When everything was put away, they strolled around the picturesque area. The moon was almost full; it lighted their path and bathed them in a romantic glow. They passed many campers of various sizes, a few with amusing name tags on them. Some were adorned with colorful lanterns; others had all sorts of items around for the comfort or entertainment of the occupants. Genial folks nodded, waved, or spoke a few words to the couple. It became a game to see who could spot the funniest or most creative tag.
“Check it out, Christopher: ‘Old but not over the hill, agewise that is, just this rig.’ There’s another cute one: ‘Roughing it smoothly.’ “
“This certainly isn’t like old-time camping. I like it. What about you?”
“I could get used to it fast, Doc. Sort of like taking a minivacation.”
“No wonder John and Maria enjoy it so much. They keep their RV ready to pull out at a moment’s notice. I’ll have to consider buying one. There’s a lot to see in America. Some of the boys go on fishing and hunting trips around the state and northward. And some groups have rallies that John says are loads of fun. They travel to all different places and do all kinds of fun things. They meet interesting people from everywhere, even foreign countries. Most of my travels in the past were medical trips, so I didn’t see much. Of course it wouldn’t be much fun alone. Maybe I can persuade you to tag along.”
“Sounds great to me. As I told you, I haven’t seen or done much, either, around the country. This is a. good way to travel.”
“Maybe you should go with me to select which size and model to buy. We’d want all the comforts of home like this rented one has. I could even earn expense money doctoring along the way when folks have accidents.”
Kirstin realized how excited he appeared about the unexpected idea, which included her. She was surprised by his mention of doctoring without a glance at his disabled hand or hint about it. Was he viewing them as a couple? She decided not to comment about his statements, in case they were just slips because of his relaxed mood. “Look: ‘Retired before the kids used up all our money.’” She spotted two more side by side: “I bet ‘Rebel Rouser’ is from the Deep South. The ‘Eagle has flown’ on that American Eagle is cunning. I bet those cost plenty; they’re huge and sleek. Probably loaded with extras. My kind of camping.”
Christopher noticed she didn’t respond to his remarks. “Those next two aren’t shabby, either: ‘Big Bucks’ and ‘Southern Comfort.’ I bet it cost them some big bucks. Yep, I could get into this easy-going lifestyle.”
“We’d be spoiled in a week and hate to return to work. Those two say it all: ‘Retired: home is where I am.’ ‘Lost but I don’t care.’ “
“That’s nothing, look at that one: ‘If I’m rocking, don’t come knocking.’ I wonder what it means?” he asked with a grin and chuckle.
“I wouldn’t have the vaguest idea,” she laughed. “There’s mine, ‘Sweet Time.’ How cute, ‘Peters Perch’ on a Blue Bird.”
The owners of it, setting up for the night, rounded the recreational vehicle at that moment, smiled, and greeted them.
“Hi, we’re the Peters, Larry and Corky, from St. Louis. This is some location, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s lovely. I’m Kirstin and this is Christopher. We were just reading all the signs and tags. They’re adorable. This is our first. trip.”
“What kind of camper do you have?” Larry asked Christopher.
The men chatted about RV’s and sites while Kirstin and Corky got acquainted. When Kirstin mentioned the tag next door, the redhead told her she was a diabetic.
“So am I,” Kirstin revealed. “How long have you been diabetic?”
“Nearly all my life. I’m an old hand at it. What about you?”
“Only a few months. I’m still learning and adjusting. It’s hard sometimes because our society seems built around eating events: food, drink, and those infernal sweets to tempt even the strongest person.”
“I know what you mean,” Corky replied, “You can’t pick up a woman’s magazine or watch TV without being inundated with pictures and recipes for no-no’s. I finally stopped looking at them. When I see something sinfully delicious, I keep telling myself what the eater will have to do to work off all that sugar and fat.”
Kirstin laughed. “Does it help?”
Corky pushed windblown fiery curls from her eyes. “Are you kidding? No. But sometimes I fool myself long enough to get beyond the temptation. I lecture myself about how fast simple sugar dumps into the body and how one candy bar or piece of pie could land me in the hospital. I have too much to do and too much to see to waste time lying around in a white room.”
Kirstin liked the vivacious woman. “If only we could live in a vacuum and not be tempted at every turn. We need to enjoy holidays and special events, too. Planning strategies with doctors and dieticians gets tiring, doesn’t it?”
“Yep, but we can occasionally splurge or cheat by rearranging our diet, medication, and exercise. If you’re interested, Kirstin, I can give you lots of tips I’ve learned over the years.”
“You’ve had more practice than I have; I’d appreciate it. I don’t come into contact with many people I know well enough to get down to brass tacks about the condition. It seems to make some people uneasy and others think you’re dying before their eyes.”
“It gets easier; I promise. You can’t let it make you feel helpless, because you aren’t; you’re in control of your health and life.”
“It’s just so intrusive on my life and work. Few people have to almost stop in their tracks to eat on schedule or suffer the consequences. It’s hard on people around you, too.”
“No matter how much family and friends love you, worry about you, and want to help, the responsibility is yours. But they have to adjust to our moods and insulin reaction problems. Why don’t we get together tomorrow and I’ll give you those tips I mentioned? Larry and I had a long drive and we’re starving. Are you two staying around for a while?”
“Just tomorrow until we visit the caverns. Then we’re heading for White Sands. We only have until Monday night to take in the sights.”
“That matches our plans until Monday. Then, we’re on to Arizona for the sixth time; there’s so much to see there.” Sh
e nodded toward her husband, chatting a short distance away. “Larry works for the postal service and has a month off. We take advantage of every day.”
“Christopher is a semiretired physician. He has a ranch about three hours from here. I work in medical research and I’m finishing a vacation. I would like to chat with you. I need help.”
“What about if we see the caverns and have lunch in the underground restaurant together?”
“That sounds wonderful. Thank you. We’d better get moving, Christopher. Corky and Larry had a long drive today and they have chores.”
“We’ll meet here at nine. Okay?”
“See you then,” Kirstin replied without asking her companion.
As they continued their stroll, she said, “I hope you don’t mind my making plans without consulting you first.” She related the reason.
“Both things sound perfect to me. I liked the Peters. I can learn plenty about RV’s and places to go from Larry. They’ve done this for years. Besides, we men made plans to cook out and play cards together tomorrow night.”
“Wonderful. But I thought we were heading for White Sands after we tour the cavern.”
“We are; so are they. Larry suggested we visit the space center at Alamogordo and spend the night at Oliver Lee State Park, then do White Sands on Monday. He says if we pack too much into one day, we won’t get the full benefits of each sight. What do you think? Want them along?”
“Sounds fine to me; they’ll make good tour guides for us greenhorns.”
“Learning western lingo already. I hope you don’t mind my telling him we’re married. I thought that would make you feel more at ease around them and others we meet. You didn’t tell Corky otherwise, did you?”
“No. She didn’t ask and I didn’t offer any personal information,” she said, then related the tiny exception to her statement. “But what if somebody you know comes around tomorrow and contradicts you?”
“I doubt it. And I figured we’d never see the Peters again.”
“It’s fine, really. I’m sure lots of couples do the same when traveling.”
Following a passionate night and morning, Kirstin and Christopher joined the Peters at their camper at nine. If any questions were asked about them, they had their “wed three months ago story” ready. The Peters towed a car with them for sightseeing, and the four got inside and drove to Walnut Canyon.
After listening to the ranger’s talk, they approached the cave’s entrance, a gaping hole in the earth that was surrounded by rocks and gray-green vegetation and a multitude of colorful cacti in varying species. As they toured America’s largest underground chamber of beautiful and breathtaking formations, the two women chatted almost nonstop, as did the men, to Kirstin’s surprise. They worked their way through the remarkable honeycombs and admired the awesome sights of draperies, crystals, domes, soda straws, helictites, stalagmites, and stalactites.
Kirstin was glad she was wearing a light jacket and comfortable tennis shoes, as the air was cool and the path rugged. She also was relieved they could tour at their own pace to help regulate fuel-sapping exertions for her and her new friend. Even so, she had an ample supply of glucose tablets in her pocket for emergencies, as did Christopher and Corky.
The couples talked about the legendary bat flights at dusk, something they would miss this time because the migratory creatures had not returned from their winter location. The guide told them that about three hundred thousand came each year around mid-May and remained until October and gave visitors a memorable and stimulating sight.
Everyone nodded when the redhead quipped, “Well, I guess that gives us an excuse to come here again during the right season.”
As hours passed, Corky filled Kirstin’s head with information about diabetes: safe ways to alter a rigid schedule, facts on “sugarless” treats, calling ahead about restaurant menus and parties, how to pretreat before special events to avoid problems, when and how many glucose tablets to use to forestall trouble during rushed or inconvenient times, discount places for ordering supplies, charts and lists to make and post inside kitchen cabinets for quick reference, reduction of her instruction book to a carry-along purse size, heating hands under warm water in the winter to aid taking blood samples when they were cold and stubborn, how and when to exercise without encountering hypoglycemic attacks, and ways she could test herself to ward off complications.
“I’ve read countless books and brochures on diabetes, but you’ve told me things I didn’t know. All of this will be a big help, Corky; thanks.”
“Somebody who’s been there a long time learns lots of tricks. If at all possible, Kirstin, you want to stay off insulin injections. Take good care of yourself and you might accomplish that.”
“I’m doing my best. With all this knowledge, it’ll be even easier.” For the first time since her diagnosis, Kirstin felt in control of the situation; she experienced hope of staying well; she felt resentment fading. Some of the terror was lessened or gone. The highway episode and its aftermath was a godsend. Now, all she had to do was deal with the two men in her life: her son and Christopher. Everything she was learning improved her courage and gave her strength.
When their drinks were delivered in the underground lunchroom, Corky pulled out a bottle of strips and told Kirstin, “Keep some of these in your purse for testing your sugar. We ordered diet drinks, but busy waiters and waitresses can forget and serve regular ones. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with fountain types. One cola has nine spoons of sugar, and we know what that can do to us. The strips are good for checking sauces, too. If you can’t get enough liquid to pool, just add a smidgen of water and stir and dip. It only takes thirty seconds to be certain something’s safe for us. Don’t ever be embarrassed or reluctant to special order, like duck without a sugar-loaded cherry sauce. Chefs don’t mind, and don’t let waiters con you into thinking it’s too much trouble for them. Protect yourself at all times.”
“Kirstin’s smart; she’ll take your good advice,” Christopher assured Corky.
“She’s lucky she has you for a husband, Doctor Harrison. You can understand what she’s going through and how- to help.”
Christopher chuckled. “Sometimes I’m too much of a nag.”
“So is Larry. But even when we frown and fuss, we appreciate you two caring so much about us. Don’t we, Kirstin?”
“Yes, we do.”
The talk halted a time while they finished their meals.
While the men waited, the women purchased souvenirs. Kirstin bought a picture of the landscape to hang in her apartment as a reminder of the lovely day. It was one she’d never forget because of Christopher and Corky. She hoped they could see each other again after this trip, meet at other places. She had observed Christopher with the other man; they seemed to have struck up a good rapport and friendship. Once, to her amazement, she had overheard Christopher telling Larry why he had retired, and she hadn’t detected the usual enormous bitterness in his voice.
As they were leaving the cavern, Kirstin chatted with Larry about children, as the Peters had one in high school and one in college. Corky used the few private minutes to talk with Christopher about “his wife’s” health and how not to take her mood swings to heart. Christopher was delighted by the woman’s caring and generous manner.
On the return drive, they drove the loop along the Guadalupe ridge. They stopped several times to look at the splendid terrain of wild beauty: sweeping hills, arroyos, rolling dunes, with a wild variety of plant and animal life. They reached the campground and separated to prepare for departure.
As Kirstin readied herself for travel to their next location, she mused on the day. She felt wonderful, happy and relaxed. Christopher appeared the same. He was so cuddly and sweet and attentive that he almost made her suspicious. If she didn’t know better, she would think he was convinced of their marital tale or he was trying to tell her something without using words.
He grinned and quipped, “I’m fast, woman. ‘On the road again.�
� “
“That isn’t fair, Doc; the engine isn’t running yet, so it doesn’t count. You can’t win a treat by being first to say it if you cheat.”
“You wound me to the core, woman: me, a cheater?” he jested, one hand held over his heart and a feigned grimace on his face. “I’m going to win this contest more times than you because I’m going to stay alert; I need all the treats I can get before you go.”
“Just so you share those treats, Doc. I don’t mind you winning them.”
“Or mind playing Kirstin Harrison on the trail? Oh, yes, ‘On the road again,’ and I win. I gave you time after I cranked up to leave.”
“Cheater! You had me distracted. I’ll have to watch you closely.”
“I hope so; I truly hope so, woman.” Whistling, he put the gear in drive and pulled out of the assigned slot behind Larry Peters’s rig.
The two couples drove through the southern Rockies and national forest, the desert heat and landscape left behind. They passed Cloudcroft and its fine resorts high in the mountains and woods.
“Do you snow ski?”
“No, do you?” she asked.
“Not anymore, and I didn’t do it much in the past. Don’t miss it, either. But I miss golf and racquetball. I never could get them down with my right hand, so I gave them up and stopped aggravating myself.”
Kirstin glanced at him from the corner of her eye; she couldn’t read his true feelings. To avoid a mood change in him, she ignored that topic. “I would be terrified to fly down a slope at such a pace and without control; I don’t have the slightest interest in trying that sport. I water-skied some when I was in high school and college. I’m too old for it now.”
Taking Chances Page 28