Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Keri
Adam and I have settled into a simple, unhurried routine.
Most mornings, he wakes early to walk and feed Molly, then meditates by the campfire while making our coffee.
We move in an easy rhythm, unrushed and without forced conversation.
Mornings are peaceful, marked by birdsong, quiet contemplation, and shared smoothies for breakfast.
Evenings are my favorite time, when I’m tired and satisfied from a long day outdoors with the man I love.
The shift from activity to stillness feels natural as Adam hangs the fairy lights and restarts our campfire.
With the camp set, sometimes we play music and dance under the stars, letting joy settle in.
Over simple dinners at our picnic table, and sipping wine in the majestic beauty of Mother Nature, conversation flows easily: snapshots from the day, childhood tales, bursts of goose-honking laughter at his silly jokes.
We’ve even tagged places to return for pageant-dress photo opportunities, my mind full of ideas and his camera ready for inspiration.
We’ve been on the road for almost two weeks now, traveling from the Sierra Nevadas to Utah Red Rocks to New Mexico, taking advantage of endless off-road exploring.
From canyonlands to petrified forests, we continued through the Texas Hill Country, pausing under the big sky to explore rivers, go on forest hikes, and enjoy the Southern charm of the locals.
I’ve become quite acclimated to camper van living, and I think I’m getting pretty good at it.
We’ve made it to our current destination in Texas where the rugged peaks of the Guadalupe Mountains greet us.
This less-visited area on our map offers diverse desert-to-forest ecosystems and a rich history of Native Americans and frontier settlers.
I’m looking forward to a day hike through the rugged landscape with fewer crowds, and we’ve heard the West Texas stargazing is phenomenal.
Traveling with Adam has done wonders for me. My curiosity has elevated, and my artist’s well has been filled. Being on this adventure has opened my mind, humbled me, and expanded my horizons beyond what I can comprehend.
I’ve learned that peace isn’t tied to a place or timeline; it’s a state of mind found within.
I don’t need to travel far to find it. It’s always been within me.
Even back home, sitting alone on my cozy sofa, gazing out the window and sipping coffee from my fancy machine.
Happiness isn’t about distant journeys in planes or camper vans, but about being content in the present moment.
And I am truly enjoying these moments with Adam.
Still, I worry about him. He hasn’t spoken about what happened in California, and I’ve given him more than enough time and space. Despite our close quarters and evening chats, he hasn’t opened up. I’ve been patient, but now I want answers.
“You haven’t told me anything about your meeting with the real estate broker. Did the sale go through on your property or not?” I finally ask him.
Adam chokes on a sip of coffee. We’re sitting in our pop-up chairs around a morning campfire, listening to the birdsongs and watching the clouds overhead.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you choke.”
He clears his throat. “I’m fine. It’s fine. You just… caught me off guard, is all.”
“I want to know what happened,” I say.
“I know.”
I watch him shift in the canvas chair. His beard has grown in, and he’s wearing my favorite flannel over a dark tee.
I love mornings with Adam most. Waking up in the van safe in his warm arms, with our hair scented with woodsmoke from the night before.
If we’re not at a campground and off the beaten path in a remote area, he’ll set up a wash station with a bottle of water and a washcloth for me to brush my teeth and wash my face.
He makes the best coffee in a chipped enameled pot hung over the embers.
I’ve grown fond of campfire coffee and don’t think I can ever go back to a machine.
“I did not sell my property.”
I’m taken aback. “But isn’t that why you drove all the way to California?”
He leans forward in his chair and rests his forearms on his thighs, palming his hands together around his coffee mug. “Yes.”
“What happened?”
He stares into the fire, shaking his head. “The buyer turned out to be Justin Dirk.”
“Wait… what? Why would Justin want to buy your property?”
He gives me the side-eye. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
I’m confused and toss the remnants of my coffee into the brush. “Adam, this makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“Have you talked to Justin or Roxy?”
“Nope. Just two voicemails. One, to call me back immediately. And the second one, after I had time to process. I was angry and left a few choice words, telling her under no circumstances to contact me—that I’m not interested in selling to them and that I’ll reach out to her when they get back.”
“Wow. This makes no sense.”
“I know. But here’s a clue: the Dirk family has money, and maybe Justin saw a real estate opportunity I didn’t know about. That’s all I can figure. Why else would he offer over the asking price?”
“He wouldn’t do that, would he?”
“I don’t know. I’m shocked Roxy would even let him.”
I get out of my chair and lower my body to the ground, wrapping my arms around his leg. I lean my head against his denim-covered thigh and stare into the flames of the fire. “No wonder you were so upset. I can’t imagine what they were thinking.”
Adam sets his cup aside and strokes my hair. I lift my head and look up at him and see pain flicker across his face before he speaks. “I feel betrayed. I looked through the paperwork and found a sticky note saying the buyer wished to remain anonymous.”
“Anonymous?”
“Yes.”
“Then how do you know it was Justin?”
Adam traces my face with his index finger, his expression conveying sadness and distrust. How much more can this sweet man endure?
“I thought maybe it was a fluke too. The buyer on the paperwork was listed as ‘Dirk Enterprises, LLC.’ I looked them up. Come to find out, it’s definitely Justin’s family and not some other random Dirk.”
My heart aches for him. “Maybe it’s all a terrible misunderstanding. For the life of me, I can’t imagine sweet Roxy trying to pull something over on you.”
“I know.”
“So, what happens to your property now? Are you going to leave it on the market and hope for another buyer?”
“No. I’ve made a decision.” His chest lifts in a deep sigh. “I’m going to hold on to it. Let nature take it over and return the land to its natural state. Maybe visit every few years.” He’s quiet for several seconds. “I never told you this, but… I didn’t have a funeral for my girls.”
My voice is a solemn whisper. “You didn’t?”
“No. I was too distraught and overwhelmed. Maybe… maybe this could be a memorial of sorts; a way to remember them.”
A gentle feeling settles over me like a warm blanket. This is Adam finally making amends for what he has lost, shifting from despair to a necessary determination to move on with his life. I offer him an empathetic smile.
“I like this idea, Adam.”
“Me too.”
He turns quiet. Even though the years of pain and now this latest twist involving his cousin are a definite blow, I feel like he’s finally made peace with himself. And that’s the most important step for him to feel any sense of closure.
“What do you say we pack up and get this day started?” He leans over me and puckers my lips with his hand, kissing me on the mouth, long and hard and deep.
Even through his ongoing grief, this man remains rugged and magnetic in a quiet way that moves me.
I’m entirely present in this life we’re building together.
“Let’s do it.”
I’m still in pajama bottoms and a loose tee, my hair tied back in a ratty, messy bun.
We haven’t camped near a bathhouse in days, and I’m starting to resemble a prehistoric cave woman.
I climb aboard the van and make the bed and straighten up the interior while Adam handles the outside.
I open my toiletry bag and dig out some wet wipes, running them under my armpits and other areas before changing into hiking gear.
My hair falls limply around my shoulders as I remove my scrunchie.
I rummage in my bag for some dry shampoo and a hairbrush.
The travel bottle is empty, and my brush has disappeared.
“Oh, well,” I mutter under my breath. I rarely complain around Adam, but he knows how I feel about personal hygiene.
It’s been several days of sunscreen and sweaty hikes since I’ve washed my hair.
I told him the night before that I would need to use the faucet at a gas station if we didn’t get to a campsite with running water soon.
As I climb out of the van, fully dressed and ready for the day, I stop in my tracks.
Standing under a shade tree is Adam, grinning from ear to ear. He’s parked next to one of our camping chairs with a towel draped over his shoulder. There’s a gallon of water in his hands, and a bottle of shampoo in the other.
“What are you doing?” I slowly walk toward him.
His entire face evokes love when he smiles at me. “I want to wash your hair for you.”
I am hundreds of miles away from my other life, where everything was clean and shiny.
Where I sat alone in an office and watched the world spin outside while not knowing what I was supposed to be doing.
And now, here I am with dirt under my fingernails and unwashed hair hiding under a ball cap, standing at a campsite in the middle of nowhere with the man that I love.
With his gentle heart, he’s offering me a simple gift, something he knows I’ve wanted.
Delicious heat rolls through my belly, spreading slow and sweet like honey.
“You told me last night your head felt itchy. I feel bad we’ve been off-roading for the last week. You’ve been a good sport. Please, let me do this for you.” He pats the top of the chair, and I walk closer to him.
“Are you sure? I think I can go another day or two.”
He chuckles, grabs the ball cap from my head, and flings it into the grass. “I’m sure. Now sit.” Molly perks up and fetches the hat, bringing it back to him. “Good girl.”
I do as I’m told and sit in the chair, tilting my head back to look at Adam upside down. He loops the towel over my shoulders and smiles down at me, brushing my hair out with the hairbrush I was looking for earlier.
“I’m not pulling too hard, am I?”
I close my eyes. “No. Feels wonderful.”
I can hear him chuckle again, his hands stilling before a surge of cold water rains down over my head. It’s a shock to my system, and I squeal.
“Sorry. It’s not warm, but it could be worse.”
Expelling a long breath, I mutter, “I don’t mind.”
He squirts some shampoo into his hands and rubs them across my itchy scalp before kneading his strong fingers through my hair like a pro. I moan with pleasure, the intense feeling intimate and oh, so relaxing. I feel beloved, Adam’s touch and care for me romantic and tender. I don’t want it to end.
With gentleness, he tilts my head back and I keep my eyes closed, feeling another waterfall pour over my head. He repeats his process with conditioner, and when he’s finished, I sigh with gratitude. I look up at him with a satiated smile.
“That’s better.” He grins and lifts the edges of the towel up and over my head into a turban.
I stand, and he draws nearer to me, wiping rogue droplets of water back from my forehead with his thumb. “I love you, Adam,” I sigh, staring into his tawny eyes.
“I love you too, Angel Face.”