by Xana Jordan
Thinking about how impatient Mr. Matthews can be has me giggling as I grab my pillow and purse, following him to the living room where my grandparents are watching Days of Our Lives. It’s the only thing Papaw insists on watching other than the Price is Right and Wheel of Fortune. No one messes with his stories, as he calls them. If he didn’t have a VCR to record them, I’m not sure what he’d do while he was at work.
“You kids all ready to go?” Granny asks as she walks over to hug us, kissing each of us on the cheek.
“Yes, ma’am,” Cade answers, shifting my travel bag on his shoulder. “Although, if you discover the bathroom sink missing, don’t panic. Stace’s brought it with her.”
I nudge him sharply in the ribs as Granny laughs, “She always was an overpacker.” Smiling at Cade, she pats his cheek and hugs him again as I lean over the back of the couch and hug Papaw’s neck. He smells like Old Spice and mint, and next to Cade’s cologne, it’s the best smell in the world.
“You two be careful and have fun,” he instructs, patting my arms wrapped around his neck. “Don’t worry about Granny and me, we’ll be just fine.”
“I’ll always worry about my two favorite people,” I say gently in his ear, then kiss his gray, stubble-covered chin. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, girlie. Now, you two best be going. I don’t want his dad in a tizzy if you’re late.” In true Papaw fashion, I’m dismissed and his soap watching resumes. He’s never been one to get all sentimental - not for anything.
“He’s right, we’re already pushing it a little too close and I’m not in any hurry to hear about his schedule the entire ride to Hot Springs.” Cade picks up my suitcase then turns toward the door.
“Me either,” I reply as Grammy walks us out to Cade’s truck.
“You two be careful and call me when you get there,” she commands waving at us from the sidewalk.
Promising to make sure I check in regularly, Cade waves back to her before pulling away from the curb, heading for his house.
“There you two are. I was just about to call and see when you’d be here,” Mr. Matthews greets us as we make our way out of the truck. He’s taken my suitcase from the truck bed by the time Cade helps me down from the cab.
“Sorry, Mr. Matthews. I took too long saying goodbye,” I apologize while Cade gathers the rest of my things from the truck, closing the door with his elbow.
“How many times over the years have I warned you not to call me that? It’s either William, Bill, or Dad, you hear me?” he corrects then ushers me toward the porch just as his wife, Sharon, opens the door. “She’s been waiting for you to get here, girl. They both have,” he adds, referring to his daughter, Michelle.
Michelle graduated college a few years ago when Xana and I were seniors in high school. She’s just finished up an internship at a very popular restaurant in Little Rock and moved back home to work at a locally owned place here in El Dorado. She really hopes to one day open her own Panera Bread meets Diego’s Bake Shop type of eatery. That would be a very interesting place to have around here, that’s for sure.
Cade and his dad finished loading the R.V. with my luggage, and last minute food items Sharon wanted to take, while Michelle and I got our things situated in the Suburban. All of us wanting to avoid any further delays in our departure that would leave Mr. Matthews’s schedule far from intact.
“I’m glad you decided to come with us. Cade and I get along really well considering our age difference, but it is nice to have another girl along for the trip,” she tells me as we settle into our places in the middle row seats, the back one laid down for to accommodate things not suitable for the inside of the camper just yet, along with the ice chests filled with refrigerated items. “Cade and Dad always seem to gang up on me when we’re deciding what to do, and Mom just remains quiet and does whatever they want. It’s so damn frustrating.” She shakes her head, eyes rolling and face slightly flustered, just talking about it. It’s kinda hard not to laugh at her expression, but I know full well what she’s talking about. Those two take charge and forget anyone else might have their own opinions about what should be done. Sometimes it’s a relief not to have to worry about what I need to do, but other times they let it get out of hand, forgetting everyone else. Fortunately for me, I have no problem helping Cade see the error of his ways.
“Oh, you won’t have to worry about that this time, they know I’ll speak up.” We’re laughing about payback when everyone else makes it to the Suburban.
“Everyone ready to go,” their dad asks as they all pile into the vehicle.
“Yeah, we’re all ready, bathroom breaks taken and everything,” Michelle answers, obviously having had this conversation many times before.
“Alrighty then, buckle up,” he instructs, fastening his seatbelt before starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway, beginning our drive.
It only takes about three hours for us to reach Hot Springs National Park and find a campsite to get settled into. The park ranger has collected our camping fees, leaving us with all the important information needed for emergencies, along with the park’s guidelines and regulations.
The guys have started getting everything set up and connected outside while the three of us girls are getting things organized inside. “I can’t believe you’ve never been camping with us before now,” Sharon exclaims as she sets the kitchen area up to her liking.
“No kidding,” Michelle, or Meesh, as Cade sometimes calls her, chimes in. “We go at least twice a year and you’ve been with Cade for years.”
“Yeah, there always just seemed to be something else going on,” I agree, storing my travel bag in the cabinet under the small dining table along with Michelle’s. The table folds down into a bed, or so I’m told, never having actually seen it with my own eyes, where Cade and I will be sleeping. Sounds ridiculous that they would allow that, but they do, and honestly, with us all sleeping in the same living space, it’s not exactly like there’s much we could do anyway without everyone knowing. Unbeknownst to most, conversation is the biggest part of my relationship with Cade. Sure, we’ve been physical, more than once - I’ve never pretended to be a prude - but we talk the majority of the time, with some making out in between, just eager to enjoy occupying the same space as the other.
When Michelle leaves to help the guys string up the outside ‘party’ lights, I help Sharon unload the cold food items from the coolers into the recently connected fridge, leaving out the things needed for the hamburgers the guys are grilling for dinner in a little while.
“How are you holding up, honey? Are you still having bad dreams?” she asks, taking the carton of eggs and package of bacon from my still hands.
Taken by surprise with her questions, I nearly drop the carton of juice I was beginning to pick up. Before I can respond, she places her hands around one of mine and I jerk my head to face hers, certain my face is ten shades of embarrassed. How did she know?
“Oh, Stacy, don’t be upset. Cade was just worried about you and asked my opinion if there was something he could do to help you better. Honestly, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t bothered at all by being attacked like that.” She squeezes my hand in hers and gives me a smile so warm and gentle I nearly let myself break down and tell her everything. Nearly.
Instead, with my free hand, I cover her hands holding mine and say, “Thank you, Mrs. Matthews...Sharon,” I correct myself after she reprimands me with the same look Cade gives me. “I know he’s worried about me, but there isn’t much more he can do that he hasn’t already. It’s just gonna have to work itself out, I’m afraid.” I give her the most encouraging smile I can muster and pray she doesn’t push the subject further.
“Well, I know he’s trying. He really cares about you. His father and I aren’t oblivious to that fact, and you’re pretty special to us too, ya know.” She smiles widely at me and I return it, my face growing warm with the blush I’m certain is making another appearance. “You can always talk to me if
you need anything. I know I’m not your grandmother, but I’d like to think we’re almost as close in the ways that count.”
Unable to hold back the tears that are forming in my eyes, I tackle her with a huge hug in order to hide them when they fall. “Thank you,” is all I manage to say before the outside steps rattle, alerting us to incoming people. I quickly wipe away my tears before releasing her, only to to be pulled back so she can run her thumbs under my eyes to clear away my tears, smiling the whole time, no more words needed.
After connecting the water, sewer, and power to the RV, Dad and I begin setting up the lawn chairs, the table tent, then clothesline. We’ve done this so many times before, neither of us question what to do next, our rote memory taking over. That’s why I’m a little startled when he speaks.
“Everything alright with you and Stace?” he pauses setting up the chairs, looking at me. Thrown for a loop with his question, I stop what I’m doing and stare at him. He must sense my confusion and elaborates, “How are you two doing with everything that’s happened in the last month?” Oh, he’s referring to the ‘incident’. I can’t call it what it really is because everytime I hear the word attack, rage hits me all over again.
“About as well as you’d expect. She refuses to have it brought up. Apparently I’ve become too overprotective and bossy.” Shaking my head when he chuckles, I pick up the mosquito gazebo case, that’s what he calls the screened-in tent surrounding the concrete picnic table, emptying its contents.
“She is a complicated one, isn’t she?” I shake my head, laugh inwardly at his accurate, yet nicely worded remark, my lips smiling slightly at the corners.
“Yeah, complicated. We’re doing alright,’ I assure him. “It’s just one day at a time,” I shrug, handing him two sets of tent poles to put together.
“Things between you two still serious? Still feel she’s the one long term?” Why is he asking me all of this out of the blue? Sure, we talk about things, but this feels a little too mushy to be his style.
“Why all the questions, Dad? Do you think she’s not the right one for me?” I find myself becoming more offended by his inquisition the longer I think about them.
“Hold on, Son. That’s not what I’m gettin’ at. Not at all.” He holds his hands out in front of him in supplication.
“Then what exactly are you saying?” I ask, my arms crossed in front of me.
He takes a moment to look over at the RV before returning his gaze to meet mine. “I don’t know what happened to her when she was little. All your mother and I know is that her parents up and left her with Henry and Sue without any notice we know of. Tina, her mother, only came back twice to see her after that, but she was still pretty little.” He pauses to look at the camper again, longer than last time, making me nervous wondering what he’s thinking about.
“What is it, Dad?” I ask, causing his focus to return to me.
“Your mother and I have come to love that girl just as much as we do you and your sister. I know she’s stubborn as hell and as independent as they come, but I just want to make sure you understand there may be more to it than meets the eye with her. I have a feeling she needs us, needs you, more than even she realizes.” He gives me one last look before putting the tent poles I gave him together.
As we continue to assemble the mosquito gazebo I take the time to consider our conversation. Stace hasn’t told me too much about her parents, and I haven’t pushed for details, respecting her clear desire to never speak of them. Dad is right, though. I’ve always known there was more to her behavior, her attitude, than she wanted people to see. That’s what drew me to her from the start. That and her quick mouth. She’s always prepared with a comeback for anything, even beating me some of the time. She fascinates me in an addictive way I don’t want to detox from.
Before long, we have everything set up outside except for the party lights and he calls inside for Michelle to come help get them strung up among the trees surrounding the fire pit and picnic table. Mom let him pick them out one summer and he bought several strands each of margarita, shotgun shell, and pink flamingo party lights, much to her dismay, and is very proud of his purchase. Personally, I think he did it just to get a reaction out of Mom. They actually don’t look half bad hanging around our campsite, even though she would never admit it aloud.
My parents insist on getting dinner ready themselves while the three of us take a walk around the campground, giving Stace an opportunity to get a better view than what she’s seen thus far. Meesh and I have pointed out the various spots we’ve stayed at in previous years, along with where the public restrooms and trash cans are located by the time we reach the playground.
I can’t even remember how many times we’ve visited this place with our parents and grandparents. They used to take us, along with my cousins, camping for a week every summer when we were little, trying out various lakes and National Park destinations. They’d take us swimming every day, spend time with us hiking through the nature trails, sometimes even renting canoes or letting us go fishing. Caught up in my memories, I allow Stace to pull me toward the long row of unoccupied swings. It’s late, most children with their parents by this time, in to stay for the night.
“C’mon, Hot Stuff. Push me,” she laughs, sitting on an empty swing.
“Me, too,” my sister chimes in, and I laugh at them both.
“Aren’t you too big to be pushed,” I ask inviting her to stick her tongue out at me.
“You sayin’ you’re not strong enough to push someone who’s smaller than you?” Grinning, she raises a brow, causing Stace to giggle as I begin to push her forward on the swing.
“I’m not even going to go there,” I tell Meesh, giving her a push as well when Stacy starts to swing on her own.
After alternating between them both enough to get them swinging high, I climb in the swing next to my girl, who is grinning profusely as she leans back as far as possible in her forward glide, propelling myself fast enough to become in sync with her every back and forth motion. The three of us continue this way, laughing and cracking jokes until Michelle jumps off at the highest point to land on the sandy ground.
“I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll meet you two back at the camper,” she calls out, pointing to the restrooms that lie halfway back to our campsite.
“Okay,” Stace yells back and I wave in acknowledgement. Deciding to follow her lead, I begin to slow my pace, Stacy copying me. Both dismounting the swing, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to my side.
“That was so much fun!” she exclaims, encircling me around the middle, her head resting on my chest. “I haven’t done that since sixth grade.”
Kissing the side of her face, I say, “Glad you liked it. I’ll push you every day while we’re here if you want,” meaning every word.
“I may hold you to that,” she smiles up at me, then kisses my cheek, but misses as I move my mouth to meet hers in a thorough kiss. I’ve waited all day to do that, but she seems to have other plans.
“We’d better head back before your dad comes to hunt us down,” she declares, pulling us out of the playground. As long as she’s happy, carefree, she can pull me anywhere she likes.
“So what do you kids want to do tomorrow?” Dad asks us while we sit around the campfire toasting marshmallows for s’mores, my arms wrapped around Stace sitting in my lap. “There’s canoeing, swimming, and hiking, or we could go downtown for a walk along Bathhouse Row. We could even drive up one of the mountains for sightseeing.”
“How about you let Stacy decide since she’s never been with us before,” Mom scolds him, and he actually looks a little embarrassed.
“It’s no problem, really. Whatever everyone else wants to do sounds okay to me,” she insists, sitting up a little to look at my family, and I notice Meesh giving her a look. What is that about, I wonder.
“I think we should go downtown and show her around tomorrow and see if there’s anything new to do before we decide anything else,” M
ichelle suggests, looking at Stace for what seems like backup.
“What do you think babe? That something you’d want to do?” I ask in her ear.
Turning to look at me she smiles then looks back at everyone. “That sounds like a good idea, if no one cares,” she replies, smiling at my dad. My girl is smart, laying the charm on thick for him, undoubtedly trying to butter him up. I’m sure he’s aware of what’s going on, but nevertheless, he returns her grin, going along with their plan.
“I think that will work. We can leave after we get up and about and eat breakfast.” He smiles at Stace, then my sister, who returns the smile as she cuddles into his side. Mom and I share a look, each of us amused at how well they worked him. Yeah, I admit to allowing Stace do the same thing to me, most of the time, and I’ll never regret it. That’s what she deserves.
Spending this week camping with Cade’s family has been so much fun. We’ve gone swimming several times in a few different places, picnicking over at Gulfa Gorge National Park, shopping and sightseeing in and around downtown Hot Springs, even spending half of a day at Magic Springs Theme and Water Park. Riding all of the rides, especially the Roaring Tornado with Cade and Michelle was hilarious. For all the smack talking she did, she screamed louder than a little girl who’s just been presented a spider for a gift from a little boy. I’m not sure who laughed harder at her, me or Cade.
While walking around downtown, we didn’t get to tour the bathhouses, instead choosing to take a haunted tour through Hot Springs - which was amazing, yet really creepy in my opinion - and a Duck ride through the National Park. Those amphibious vehicles had me completely entranced along with the beautiful views we saw along our ride. I can’t believe I’ve never been here, or even visited for that matter, not even with a school or a church group. I’ve missed out on a lot of interesting things, but Sharon promises we’ll visit Bathhouse Row, Josephine Tussand’s Wax Museum, and the Gangster Museum of America before we leave for home tomorrow.