RV There Yet?

by Diann Hunt

  “I’ve been as narrow as this motor home,” Millie says with disgust. “No offense, Lydia.”

  “None taken.”

  “When I couldn’t have a baby, I just threw myself into my work. At the library, I could control my environment. At home, I couldn’t control anything.”

  She stares at the wad of tissue in her hands. “And now I can’t even do my job.” Millie looks up at us and shrugs.

  We grab her arm, saying nothing, just being her support while she cries the last of her tears.

  Afterward we sit down to tea. “I guess we’ve all been narrow, Millie. I had my sights set on my career too. Now what do I have to show for it? A business whose very survival is threatened by someone younger, more energetic, more creative.” I look out the window, then back at Lydia and Millie. “I always thought that by the time we reached this age, we would have arrived at the place of contentment, the place where we would finally feel settled, as though we had fulfilled our God-given purpose.”

  They nod.

  “Are we there yet?” I ask with a sly grin.

  “I don’t think so. I’m not sure we ever ‘arrive.’ We just keep traveling, growing, learning.” Millie cleans her eyeglasses with the edge of her blouse. Guess she does learn something from her books.

  No one says anything for a few minutes.

  “Well, I didn’t put a career first, but I haven’t done so great myself. Talk about narrow. My world was my husband, my kids.” Lydia cradles her hands around her teacup. “I’m not saying that I’m sorry I put them first. Still, I should have reached out more to others as well. Expanded my world. The only world I have ever known is gone.” She looks up at us. “Where do I go from here? What now?”

  “Trust our future to the Lord and take one day at a time. The older we get, the more precious each day becomes,” I say, feeling strangely solemn all at once. Extending my hands to each of them, I grab hold of theirs. “In case I haven’t told you lately, I love you both, and I cherish your friendship. Thank you for getting me through the hard places.”

  Lydia and Millie say the same, and soon we’re all bawling and hugging each other.

  “But no matter how much I love you, Millie, I still can’t get used to your horn-blowing,” I say. “So try to be kind if you decide to play in the morning.” I wink at Lydia before I turn and head off to the bathroom to smear on some cold cream—praying all the while that Millie won’t take a picture.

  A piercing scream zings through Waldo’s interior, alerting every nerve in my body. Either Millie’s trumpet is rebelling, or somebody’s in trouble. Could be both.

  Lydia and I scramble out of bed and run to the front room. Millie is frozen in place. She is standing in front of the sofa, trumpet case in hand, staring at the driver’s window like a statue—as in Lot’s wife has nothing on her. My gaze goes from Millie to the window. What I see there causes my heart to attempt a fast escape from my chest.

  We are staring into the face of the biggest moose I have ever seen in my life. Okay, so I’ve never seen a moose, but can I just say here that Bullwinkle never prepared me for this. I’m wondering if the moose got a glimpse of Millie’s trumpet case and decided enough was enough. I mean, even animals have their limits, right?

  Go, Bullwinkle!

  I’m just glad he’s outside and we’re, well, not.

  “What do we do?” The words squeeze out of the side of my mouth toward Lydia, who has also turned to stone.

  “I would say run, but that doesn’t seem to be an option.” You know how Lydia handles that fear thing? Well, if I placed her in the forest right now, we’d be hard-pressed to tell the difference between her and a quaking aspen. Does that tell you anything?

  “I sure wish I could get a picture. But we dare not move,” Millie says with all the talent of a ventriloquist.

  “Lydia’s shaking—does that count?” I’m tattling here, but nerves do that to me.

  “Just keep it to a minimum, Lydia,” Millie whispers.

  “I’m doing the best I can.” Lydia’s voice sounds old. Think Whistler’s mother.

  Bullwinkle’s eyes glance around the home. Frankly, I don’t think he’s all that impressed. He snorts and grunts a couple of times. Yes, we can hear him. It’s as though we’re on the set of The Lost World: Jurassic Park, only we’re not pretending. As far as instruments of torture, Millie’s trumpet is looking better all the time.

  Then again, maybe not.

  Just as I’m beginning to think we’re going to be stuck in this Mexican standoff all day, Bullwinkle gets bored and moves on. It’s only as he ambles back toward the woods that Lydia, Millie, and I collectively let out our breath. Then Millie runs for her camera and gets a shot of Bullwinkle’s backside.

  Now there’s one for the album.

  “Well, that was exciting,” I say. They both turn and stare at me.

  “That type of excitement, I can do without,” Lydia says. She’s never been all that adventurous.

  “I’m half-afraid to play my horn this morning,” Millie says, wavering with indecision.

  Hope rises inside me. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. It might bring the moose back, or maybe even get that bull elk all stirred up.”

  Millie thinks a moment and nods. “You’re right. I’d better not risk it.” She puts her trumpet back in the storage bin.

  My insides are singing, “Let the heavens rejoice!” but I dare not let my face show it.

  After we eat breakfast, we show up for duty around the campfire, which is now just a heap of ashes, and find out that one of Eric’s buddies (Porky Pig) sprained his arm last night. It seems the guys had a rope and were trying to swing from a tree. Maybe somebody should tell them that Tarzan didn’t do trees once he hit midlife.

  Evidently he lost his grip on the rope and fell on his right arm. It takes real talent. Poor guy. The worst part about it is, he was helping with the roofing, so that will slow down things on that end.

  Beverly makes her rounds, telling us that we have some urgent matters to discuss around the campfire tonight.

  Everyone seems a little on edge today. Steve and I have almost finished painting the dorm rooms. He’s exceptionally quiet today too. I tell him about our moose incident, but he doesn’t comment much. He’s evidently preoccupied. So I throw myself into the work and keep quiet—well, as much as I’m able.

  “Appears to be time for lunch,” Steve says, climbing down his ladder. “You ready to go?”

  “Sure.” I put my brush and paint aside for now. We go to our respective bathrooms and clean up, then meet on the porch to walk over to the cafeteria together.

  “You doing all right today, Steve?”

  He turns a heart-melting grin my way. “Yeah. Just kind of solemn about everything coming to a close.”

  His words surprise me.

  “What? Do you think that’s weird for a guy to act a little sappy?”

  “Well, I’ll admit it’s not every day a guy will open up and show his true feelings, you know.”

  Another grin. “Yeah, I know.” He picks up a twig, snaps it, and then tosses it aside. “Listen, DeDe, I was wondering—well, we live only four hours from each other and all, and I thought maybe we—that is, you and I—we, uh, could get together once in a while.” He keeps his eyes focused straight ahead.

  He looks so cute, I want to melt down to a puddle, but the reality is, he won’t be interested in me when I tell him the truth. “There’s something you should know about me before you ask me that, Steve.”

  Now he stops walking and turns to me. Fortunately, we’re still a little ways from the others, so we have privacy.

  “I’m not sure this is the place to talk about it, but since we don’t have much time left, well, I just want you to know I have a past I’m not real proud of. I—”

  Steve holds up his hand and places his fingers against my lips. “None of that matters now. Your past is just that. Past. We’re both starting over, remember?”

  “It’s not as easy a
s all that,” I argue.

  “As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.” Steve steps closer to me and looks down into my face. Brushing a curl from my brow, he says, “He forgives you, Dee. That’s good enough for me.” His gaze holds me for a heartbeat, and I scarcely can breathe. Still, his smile seems to lift the weight of a huge boulder from my shoulders.

  “Thank you, Steve.”

  “So is that a yes, you will agree to see me?” Twinkling eyes again—his. Another heart blip—mine.

  I smile and nod.

  He squeezes my hand, and we continue our walk to the cafeteria, though we’ve both picked up the pace. We no sooner step inside the cafeteria than we realize something is wrong.

  “What’s going on?” Steve asks Eric.

  “It’s Lydia. We can’t find her anywhere. Lunch isn’t prepared.” Worry lines his face.

  A pain slices through my heart. “Who saw her last? Where would she go? What could have happened?” My questions are stumbling over one another as panic rises.

  Millie comes over and touches my arm. “I think she went looking for wildflowers, Dee.” She points to the counter where Lydia displays her flowers, and I see that the basket is gone.

  A cell phone rings nearby. One of the Biker Boys answers it. “She’s lost,” he tells the person on the other end of the cell phone line. “We’re going to look for her now.” He hangs up and looks at us.

  “Who was that?” I ask. How could anyone possibly know about Lydia already?

  “Drew somebody, I think he said.”

  “That was Lydia’s phone and you told her son that she’s lost?” I ask in disbelief. Leave it to a man to get things stirred up.

  Everyone looks at him. “Well, I didn’t know it was a secret,” the guy says, completely clueless. His shirt says “Daffy Duck.” Somehow that fits him.

  I pick up Lydia’s phone to see if she has caller ID. She doesn’t. Her redial doesn’t work. I go through the list of numbers on her phone to see if I can call Drew back so he won’t worry. When I finally find it and call the number, he’s gone. There’s no time to worry about it. There’s nothing I can do about it now.

  Eric takes charge. “Okay, guys, we’re going to look for her. She obviously went searching for flowers and got farther into the woods than she had intended.”

  “Hold everything. You can’t just take off like that,” Beverly says. “You need water bottles, snacks in case you’re delayed for whatever reason, flashlights.” She continues on, but her words are lost on me.

  God, please keep her safe. We can’t lose Lydia. We just can’t.

  26

  “Pacing doesn’t help anything, Millie,” I say as she takes three steps forward across the living room—which, by the way, puts her into the kitchen—and three steps back.

  “Well, it helps me. I’ve already organized everything I can in this place.” Three steps, turn, three steps. Millie runs her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know how Lydia stands it here. The walls are so close, things are falling apart, if one thing is left out, the whole place looks a mess—”

  I walk over and put my arm around Millie. She pulls her hands to her face. “What are we going to do, Dee? What will we do without Lydia?”

  “Wait a minute. No one said we had to do anything without Lydia. They are going to find her, Millie, do you hear me? They’re going to find her.”

  “It’s been three hours, Dee!”

  “I know. God knows where she is, Millie.”

  “So what? That doesn’t mean she’s safe. He knew where her husband was too, but he still died.”

  “Let’s sit down, Millie.” She wipes her face and reluctantly allows me to walk her over to the sofa.

  “We don’t know how this will all turn out, but no matter what, we know that Lydia is in God’s hands. He loves her even more than we do. And we know that Lydia loves Him too. That’s all that matters.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because this life isn’t what it’s all about. We’re just passing through.”

  “I think I’ve heard that somewhere before. Like here a thousand years ago, remember?”

  “I remember.” I could use a little help here, Lord; she’s just not listening. “Why don’t we pray for her together?”

  “You go ahead. I’ll listen.”

  I lead us in a prayer for Lydia’s safety, but most of all that she will know she is not alone, that God walks with her this very minute. Millie and I cry together, and before we can wipe our faces, someone knocks at the door.

  Millie jumps up and answers it. I’m right behind her.

  “Hi, girls.” Lydia’s face is dirty, her pants and top are scuffed up, but she’s never looked more beautiful.

  She steps inside, and soon we’re all a tangle of hugs and tears.

  “I’m sorry I worried everyone. It seemed like a good idea to go out and pick some more wildflowers. Unfortunately, I forgot to mark my trail as I went along, and soon I was lost. I told you I’m forgetful. I should have dropped bread crumbs.” She laughs.

  “Right. Then you would have had a bear following you,” Millie says dryly.

  Lydia stops laughing.

  “Well, we’re just glad you’re back and you’re safe,” I say.

  “That makes two of us.” Lydia falls onto the sofa and stretches out her legs in front of her. “But you know, I learned something while I was out there.”

  “What’s that?” Millie asks.

  “It doesn’t do a bit of good to worry about things. Every fear I’ve ever had followed me out to that trail, and I almost folded beneath the weight. Then I prayed, and God helped me to get a grip. I let Him know then and there, my future belonged to Him, and come what may, I would trust Him with it.”

  “That’s awesome, Lydia,” I say.

  “I learned something else too.”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t wear sneakers when you’re hiking in the mountains.” Lydia pulls off her sneakers and winces when she sees how red her feet are, no doubt from walking over jagged rocks.

  Later that evening, we’re a grateful lot when we settle around the campfire. The logs crackle and spark, shooting puffs of pine scent through the air. We talk awhile about Lydia’s trip into the woods, and we tease her a bit, though there’s no denying the relief we all feel that she’s safe and with us tonight.

  “I need to talk to you all,” Beverly says once the group gets quiet. “This has been quite a day. In fact, we’ve had a struggle from the moment we started this project.”

  I shift my weight on the hay to get comfortable. Firelight and shadows dance upon the faces of my friends, and with one glance around the group, I realize my life has changed because of these people. This place.

  Beverly clears her throat. The expression on her face tells us something’s wrong. A weak smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “First off, I want to thank you for coming here. It’s been wonderful to reconnect with all my old friends.” Smiles return to her. “I never could have accomplished all this by myself. And because we have put up the effort, I believe none of us will leave here the same as when we came.”

  “That’s sure true for me.” The words come out before I can stop them. Everyone looks at me, and I share with them my recommitment to the Lord. Some smile knowingly, and others look at the ground. They might be searching too.

  “I’ve done the same thing, DeDe,” Eric says. “My life has been, well, quite frankly, a mess. I’d forgotten the things I learned here. When we arrived at camp, the memories slowly returned.”

  “It’s easy to get caught up in our daily lives and forget what’s important. God, family”—Steve looks at me—“and friends.” Heat climbs my face.

  One by one, the others share what the camp has meant to them over the years and how it has helped them.

  Millie keeps silent, and I whisper a prayer for her.

  Our conversation dies down. We each stare into the flames in t
he fire pit, lost in thought.

  “Well, I want you to know how much I appreciate all you have done to fix up the camp. The place looks so much better than it did before you came, and I was very hopeful. But I’m afraid I have some bad news—well, maybe not bad, but just not what I was expecting.”

  We all look to Beverly. Tears pool in her eyes, and my heart squeezes. Lydia puts her hand on Beverly’s arm. “What is it, Bev?”

  She swallows hard. “I got a call this evening that the denomination has decided to change its district boundaries. As you know, the Red River Church Camp is not all that far away, and since our camp is the smaller of the two, they’ve decided to close Aspen Creek and put money into their Red River Church Camp.”

  A collective gasp comes from the women.

  “After all we’ve done? That’s just not fair,” Millie says in a huff.

  Beverly looks at her. “Unfortunately, life isn’t always fair.”

  “When is this going to take place?” Lydia wants to know.

  “I believe immediately. They’re going to send a Realtor out here sometime next week.” A brave smile shines from her lips and eyes. “Though I wish things were different, I know the Lord is in control, so I just have to trust Him.”

  A twig in the fire snaps while we keep silent. A soft breeze catches a tuft of Beverly’s hair, lifts it, and drops it back into place.

  “Not enough money from the alumni to buy it, is there?” Millie asks.

  “Not even close.” Beverly rubs her neck. “Even if we had enough for a down payment, what then? It just won’t work.”

  “So do we pack up and leave tomorrow?” Eric asks.

  “Not much point in working any further. It might bring a better price for the camp, but I know you all have families and jobs to get back to.”

  “It’s a real shame. This camp has so much potential,” says the man we call Elmer Fudd.

  “Well, I think we should stay one more day together,” Steve says. “Only let’s spend it having some fun. Make one last memory as a group.”