Chapter Sixteen #2
“Reese . . .” I kneel next to her. “I’m not going to apologize for being there for you.
I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.
I was watching out for you because I care what happens to you .
. . maybe cared more than I realized back then.
You are and always have been special to me.
Even before you started drinking, I’ve had to keep an eye on you because I knew your family wasn’t going to do it.
Des was lost in his head most days, and your granny couldn’t keep up at her old age.
I prayed about you a lot, and to be honest, I still do.
But I don’t think just my prayers are enough. When is the last time you prayed?”
Her lips quiver. “Des did when—”
“I didn’t ask about your brother. I asked about you.”
Rubbing her chest, she lets out a long sigh of defeat. “A long time ago.”
“It’s an easy fix, you know?”
“Nothing about me is easy.”
She blinks, focusing on the tire. With a quick jerk, she dislodges the nail from the rubber. A high-pitched whistle sounds, the tire deflating even faster. She jams a piece covered in clear goop into the hole and quickly yanks it out, the odd piece wedged inside, plugging up the hole.
“That’s it?” I ask.
“Now we wait for the rubber cement to dry. It needs about ten minutes before we can inflate the tire.” Her hand catches mine, linking our fingers together.
“Be honest. Do you think I made a mistake letting Des purchase this motorhome? I’m supposed to be a good mechanic, yet I missed all these problems. Des’s repair bill keeps ticking up.
I’m worried we are going to roll into Rocosa on a unicycle. ”
“I think it’s impossible to predict every worst-case scenario. But you tried your best with your Mary Poppins suitcase. Though I wonder if God is slowing us down on purpose.”
She blinks. “What? Why?”
Tapping my fingers on my thighs, I debate my answer, knowing it’s a touchy subject for her.
“My mom used to say it was God calling us back to Him. We never need Him as much in the good times as we do in the bad. But really, we should need Him all the time.”
She chews on her lip, lost in thought. “What about my granny? Why would He allow her to suffer like that?” Her fingers clamp around mine, almost painful. “She was a good person, Tris. Better than I could ever be.”
A broken shadow hovers behind her eyes, a haunted expression that has my heart clenching in sympathy. How long has she been grappling with her doubts and hurting in silence? I plop to the ground and throw my arms around her, pulling her close onto my lap. If I could take her pain, I would.
“Oh, Reese . . . She wasn’t being punished. We live in a fallen world, destroyed by sin. It’s not meant to be perfect, nor are we. But it doesn’t mean God loves us less. In fact, He loves us more. He never gives up on us, even when we push Him away.”
“I think I’ve done a lot of pushing too,” she says into the fabric of my shirt.
My hand brushes over her hair and down her back.
“Is this why you haven’t been back to church?” I ask quietly.
“It’s hard to worship what you don’t understand.”
“There’s a name for that—faith. Still believing through the doubt. Have you prayed for answers?”
“I didn’t think to.”
“Well, why don’t you start now?”
“Even though it will be a silent prayer, can you stay with me?”
I nearly cry at her timid question.
“Of course. Yes. Please,” I babble, letting her ease away from me.
“Okay. Here I go.”
Her eyes flutter closed, her oval face relaxing, and I can’t help but count the light freckles over her nose. Then her left eye pops open, landing on me.
“Quit staring at me. It’s distracting.”
“Then stop being so beautiful.”
She fights a smile and closes her eye, trying her best to remain serious. But I do as she requests, staring off into the distance while she has this moment of restoration and rekindles her relationship with God.
“Thanks,” she says after she is done and squeezes our joined hands. “For sitting with me.”
“Do you feel better?”
“A little. Like some of the pressure to be perfect is gone. Because let me tell you, I was failing miserably.”
“We all do.”
She turns to admire the camper, shaking her head. “What a mess I’ve gotten us into.”
“It’s not as bad as you think. Don’t forget to give yourself some credit. Every time we’ve hit an obstacle, you’ve risen to the challenge. The tire is patched. The leak is fixed. The engine is starting. You’re more capable than you realize.”
Her smile grows bigger with each accomplishment.
“I’m thankful to have you in my corner.”
“I’ve always been here.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long to appreciate it.” A long sigh rumbles through her lips.
“Don’t forget we’re in this together.” I wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t give up on either of us.”
“I won’t.” She leans over and kisses my cheek.
The final stretch of our adventure is thankfully uneventful. We hit a rough patch of traffic through Colorado Springs, and I try to ignore Reese’s soft giggles as she finishes listening to the end of my audiobook. She catches me staring a couple of times and chucks a piece of popcorn at me.
I hope that means she’s enjoying it.
Winding around the tight mountain roads feels like the final boss battle with victory around the corner. Never have I been so happy to see the Rocosa welcome sign.
Streetlights bathe the sidewalks in a warm glow.
Due to the late hour, the majority of shops on Main Street are closed.
Only the restaurants and Cliffys still have light shining through their windows.
A few stragglers wander down the streets, leisurely on their way home.
Heads turn at the loud rumbles from the motorhome’s diesel engine.
Some even stop in their tracks and blatantly stare as we drive past.
“Oh, man. I didn’t think about this part,” Reese mumbles under her breath.
“It won’t take long until the neighborhood watch launches the phone tree.”
“I wish there was a place we could hide it out of sight.”
Eyebrows high, I turn to her, surprised I didn’t think of it sooner. “Instead of parking it in my yard, we can hide it inside my barn.”
“Isn’t that thing condemned?”
“I’ve been fixing it up since the summer. You just haven’t been by to see it. It’s something I was working on in my free time.” More to increase the property value should I need to move, but now that I’m not, I’ll have to figure out what to do with that big empty space.
“Between managing a bar and being an audio narrator, you mean?”
“I think of myself more as a voice actor. I’ve done a few commercials too.”
The hopeful look in her eye makes me regret saying anything.
“Please tell me it was for something embarrassing. A fungus cream?”
“You’re a little too close for comfort,” I grumble and roll my eyes when she starts laughing.
More nosy faces peek out their windows at us as we drive down my street.
This big beast doesn’t have a stealth mode, so we hold our breath as we pass Des’s place, hoping that Maya isn’t outside on his deck reading as she is most nights.
But he must have gotten our warning text as his windows are pitch-black. Another crisis avoided.
The stress of the trip melts away as I pull into my gravel driveway. My family’s farmhouse is highlighted in moonlight, appearing almost gray in the moonbeams instead of its usual deep red.
“Huh? How did your truck get here?” Reese asks, tapping on her window.
“Des volunteered to grab it for me. Speaking of which, you better make sure Des owes you big time after this. This overnight bus trip turned into an extended long weekend. A mental note for the next time we buy an RV—maybe to not buy one so old.”
“The next time, eh?” She glares at me from the corner of her eye.
“It wasn’t that bad. I can see it being good for growing families.”
“Words I’d never expect you to admit. You used to go on and on about real camping and being one with nature. Now me? This is my level of camping. A soft bed? Check. A full bathroom? Check again. Air conditioning and heat? Double check. A place to plug in a coffee maker? Mega check.”
With a grin, she hops from the vehicle to unlatch the oversized barn door, shivering in the cooler Colorado temps.
Her mouth drops open at the newly refurbished space.
While it’s still a work in progress, it’s better than the peeling, rotting wood that was here before.
Most of the beams have been replaced and the salvageable ones were sanded and restored.
I’m almost worried if Gladys Monroe or anyone else from the historical society finds out, they’ll come slap a plaque on it since it dates back to the early 1900s.
I’m not sure what was stored here before, tractors or horse carriages, but the tall arched doors and high ceilings make it easy for me to pull inside and out of sight.
Reese holds up her hand, signaling me to stop when I’m positioned properly.
“This spot is good. You should have room to open the slide-outs.”
I lean out the window. “I ran electricity out here too. Over there on the wall is a light switch.”
Surprised, she flicks the switch, illuminating the open space. “This place is huge. Maybe Des should have gotten a bigger camper.”
“I’m not sure I could have managed one larger than this for my first trip. Baby steps.” I laugh. “Feel free to keep it parked here as long as you need to. It’ll be away from prying eyes and protected from the elements. But we do need to fix the window seals the first chance we get.”
“Agreed. But not tonight. I can probably stop by after work, depending on how backed up we are.”
“Need me to give you a ride?”
“Aren’t you working at the bar?”
“Yeah, but it’s Wednesday.” I shrug and cut the engine, tossing her the keys. “I usually prep things for the weekend rush. Dede can manage things for fifteen minutes . . . at least, I hope she can. Not looking forward to seeing what state the bar devolved into while I was gone.”