RV There Yet? (37 page)

Eric's motorcycle vrooms just outside the window of our place. Wait. Did I say “our” place? Please don't tell me that I'm truly bonding with Waldo.

“My ride is here; guess I'll see you at lunch,” Lydia says, referring to our group plans to meet for lunch at a restaurant in Estes Park.

“Okay, have a good time,” I call out.

“I'm leaving too,” Millie says. “Elmer's taking me.”

I'm surprised.

“Hey, it's better than calling the cab. Besides, I'm shedding my stuffy image. Who knows? I may be the next Evel Knievel.”

“Change is good, Millie, but maybe you should start with a skateboard.” I wave good-bye just as my cell phone rings. It's Shelley.

“They accepted our offer to purchase,” she blubbers before I barely get out my hello.

“Oh my goodness, Shelley, we're really going to do this!”

“Just call us businesswomen extraordinaire.”

We talk awhile about our ideas and the next step in this purchase process. By the time we hang up, I can hardly wait to tell Steve.

Once my shoes are tied, I look over at Cobbler, who is staring out the window, most likely looking for her friend. “You're gonna have a hard time saying good-bye to your friend too, aren't you?” I'm hoping Cobbler doesn't pluck her feathers if she gets upset this time. She could be naked by the time we get back to Lydia's house.

Cobbler looks to me and scampers back and forth on her bar. I feel a little sappy toward my new feathered friend. It won't be easy for her to leave this place. She hasn't even squawked for her Barney fix since we've arrived here. Come to think of it, it will be hard for all of us to leave.

Okay, now I'm scaring myself. First I bond with Waldo, now Cobbler?

A car pulls up just outside. Peeking through the blinds, I see that it's Steve in his rental car. My heart blips—again. That's something I don't want to analyze just now, but I know my feelings for Steve are growing. And Rob what's-his-name? Well, I can't even remember what he looks like!

I am
so
changing.

Steve and I have fun shopping in Estes Park and visiting with our friends at lunch. We stop by a Starbucks on the main drag in town and carry our coffee outside, where the Big Thompson River bubbles over boulders and rocks, offering a restful ambience to those strolling along the Riverwalk. Customers sitting outside Starbucks and other nearby restaurants settle in intimate groups around patio tables or on isolated benches in hope of snatching a moment of peace in the middle of a busy day. We sip our drinks and talk. Steve's eyes sparkle as he talks about his son and their relationship.

“You know, there's still plenty of time. I spotted a movie theater back a little ways—how about we go watch a movie?” Steve asks.

Feeling as giddy as a teenager, I quickly answer, “Sure, why not?”

When we arrive at the concession area of the theater, Steve turns to me. “I know we just had lunch, but how about we grab some popcorn and drinks?”

I'm full, but can I turn down his offer? No.

So with a bag of buttery popcorn in one hand and a bulging drink in the other, we head to the appropriate theater and take our seats.

“I'm having a great time, Steve. Thank you.” I stick a kernel of popcorn in my mouth.

“That makes two of us.” He throws a couple of kernels into his own mouth. “I had to make up for the short sheets,” he says with a laugh.

“It was you!” I slug him, then laugh.

He grabs his arm and holds it as if he's really in pain, but we both know those biceps didn't feel a thing. “The others made me do it.”

“Yeah, right.” I take a drink of pop. “Oh well, I deserved it for all the trouble I've caused over the years.”

He grins. “Am I forgiven?” Those eyes penetrate my heart.

“Forgiven.”

The set of his jaw, his muscular frame, the hearty laugh remind me nothing of the lanky boy I knew at camp so long ago. Could I actually consider another relationship? I want to say no, but my heart's telling me yes.

Our eyes stay locked for the span of a heartbeat. I think he might kiss me, but just then previews start playing on the screen and the moment is lost.

After the movie, we head back for Steve's car and pass a jewelry store along the way. “Hey, let's go in here for a minute,” Steve says, grabbing my arm.

My spirits dip. What if he has a lady friend back home for whom he wants to buy jewelry? After all, those kinds of gifts are reserved for the special people in our lives.

“May I help you?” A tall woman approaches us. Her hair is pulled back in an elegant but simple style with a pearl-studded comb. Dressed in a silky black shift, she is wearing a thin necklace of pearls and looking very much as though she's about to attend a banquet rather than work in a sales job.

Steve steps up to her. “Yes, I saw a necklace in the window that I'd like to see, please.”

Not wanting to intrude on his purchase—and not necessarily wanting to spoil my day—I meander around the room, enjoying the glimmer of diamonds, rubies, and other precious jewels along the way.

Rob took me to a jeweler once. Built my hopes on what could be, all the while knowing it was impossible.

“DeDe, could you come here, please?”

Steve's voice shakes me free from the painful memories. Hopefully we're not adding another one here. As if in slow motion, he lifts a delicate silver chain off the counter. From the center of it dangles a silver butterfly with ruby red wings, the color of my birthstone. A tiny diamond glistens from its body. My breath catches in my throat. The saleswoman smiles and slips into a back room.

“This is for you,” he says in a throaty whisper. Before I can comment, he lifts the chain to my neck and clasps it in the back. His fingers brush through the back of my hair, lifting it from the necklace and sending sparks clear through me. “New beginnings.” His whispered words brush against my ear, causing my knees to wobble. I turn to him.

“Steve, this is too much, I shouldn't—”

His fingers press against my lips as his eyes lock with mine. “Me thinks thou doth protest too much.” He smiles and leans closer to me. “New beginnings, remember?”

“I remember.” Tears swell in my eyes, but I dare not drop them for fear they will break the spell. “Thank you,” I manage in a whisper.

My heart pounds hard against my chest as Steve's gaze moves to my lips and he dips his head toward me. Tenderly his lips claim my own in a sweet moment of surrender that I'm sure has set angels' wings to fluttering.

Afterward my cell phone rings. I reach into my pocket and glance at the screen.

Steve smiles. “Important call?”

“Not important at all,” I say, stuffing the phone back into my pocket and knowing that all ties to Rob are gone forever.

“The best is yet to come, DeDe Veihl.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes never leaving mine. “The best is yet to come.” Right now, looking into his eyes, I believe him with my whole heart.

27

We spend the late afternoon getting things in order for our trip
home. The guys come over and coat the roof with some weird rubberized RV roof treatment that will hopefully help Waldo make it home with few leaks. They also give us some stuff that will help us remove leak stains inside. Beverly manages to get Waldo scheduled to have his air-conditioning looked at the next day, and she tells us the window and screen we ordered are now at the shop and ready to be installed, so we plan to stay over one more day with Beverly and have the RV fixed before we go.

By the time we gather at the fire pit, Beverly pulls out all the stops, insisting that everyone indulge in s'mores. She unpacks bags of marshmallows, graham crackers, and candy bars. Millie passes around the photographs she's taken of our trip up to now, only freaking out slightly when someone forgets to hold them by the edges or mixes them out of order.

When they come my way, I manage to slip in her pajama picture with the rest. Hey, it's too good not to share.

As people start to snicker, Millie gets suspicious. Her gaze locks with mine, and understanding dawns. She dashes over to Eric, who is laughing and pointing at a picture. Upon seeing the photo, she snatches it from his hand.

“That's not funny, DeDe,” she says, ripping it to tiny shreds and tossing the pieces into the fire.

“Oh, come on, Millie, it's a great shot—well, all except for your swinging arms got in the way.”

The others laugh out loud, and despite herself Millie finally grins and laughs along.

The guys bring their instruments—though they wisely encourage Millie to leave her horn behind—and we enjoy more singing around the campfire. Millie snaps more pictures, and finally the instruments are laid to rest and our time together winds down.

“Though it's hard for everyone to go home, I'm sure you all will be glad to get back to your regular routines,” Beverly says.

“I admit I've missed playing my nightly game of basketball.” Eric takes on an all-American jock look here.

“You should have told me—I would have taken you on,” Steve teases.

“And where would we do that?” Eric wants to know.

Steve looks around. “Oh, I don't know. Right when you come in, just past the office, there's an open space. Sure would have been nice to have a cement slab there.” At this he stops, his eyes grow wide, and I can almost see a “think bubble” pop over his head.

“What?” Eric asks.

“That's what's missing.”

Beverly scratches her head.

“Sports!” Steve practically comes out of his seat. “What if we make this place into a sports-mountain-adventure-type place? You know, with basketball—”

“Yeah, and football—”

“Soccer—”

“Lacrosse—”

“Waterskiing—”

“Batting cages—”

The guys toss out one idea after another, while the women sit openmouthed.

“Excuse me, I hate to rain on your parade, but are we forgetting something?” Millie cuts in.

Steve looks at her. “What?”

“Money. We need money to prepare a football and soccer field. We need money for tennis and volleyball courts, sports equipment, batting cages. We need money to buy the campground. Those things don't just magically appear.”

“I know.” Steve rubs his jaw.

“We could form a corporation,” Millie says matter-of-factly.

“What did you say?” Steve looks at her as though she's announced a major rise in the stock market.

“I said we could form a corporation.”

Steve smacks his hands together. “That it!” He scoots to the edge of his hay bale. “We all want to see this place survive, right?”

We nod.

“Millie's right. We could form a corporation. Those of us who want to participate could be shareholders. We could share in the cost according to our capabilities and go from there. I'd be willing to handle the lion's share of the investment, if need be. I totally believe in this sports concept, and I think it would be an awesome way to draw kids in to hear the gospel message.”

“You know, I've been wanting to get involved in something that could make a difference. I mean, all my life I've been living for myself. This would be contributing to the future,” Eric says.

It's really cool to see Eric getting focused on something other than his hair. Besides, that will soon be gone, and then what will he have?

“Dude, I feel the same way,” one Biker Boy says. “It's like you hit forty, man, and you start asking yourself, what am I doin' here? Will anybody even care when I'm gone?”

“Right, that's it,” Millie joins in. “I mean, you work and work, and where does it get you? Who cares that I've cataloged thousands of books in my lifetime? No one. But if I could contribute toward a camp that would change the future of a kid's life, well, then it's all worthwhile.”

One comment after another shoots through the night air, hope sparking everyone to life. We'll let other alumni know and see if they want to help in the cause. The quiet biker, Yosemite Sam, pipes up and tells us that he's an attorney. I almost fall off my hay bale. He talks to us about the ins and outs of incorporating, and before the evening is over, we've elected a president, vice president, secretary, and treasurer and made up our minds to make an offer on the camp.

Later when we're back dressing for bed, the three of us are so excited, we can hardly sleep.

Lydia's hair is wrapped in a white terry towel, and she's sitting cross-legged, pretzel-style, on her bed. “Who would have thought things could turn around like this?” She unscrews the lid of her cold-cream jar, dips her fingers inside, and starts applying the cream to her face and neck. “It's just wonderful. I love the idea of contributing to such a worthy venture, playing a small part in helping kids.”

“I know, me too,” I say, shrugging on my pajamas. “I just hope my business survives our move and things work out so that I'm able to continue helping.”