Chapter Twenty-Nine
Fletcher
As we pull into the parking lot, I find myself grinning at the sheer audacity of the place.
Wall Drug sprawls across what looks like several city blocks, a maze of wooden storefronts designed to look like an Old West town.
The whole thing is delightfully kitschy, and I can already see the children's eyes lighting up.
Even Jennifer seems entranced by the eccentric atmosphere.
"This is crazy," my wife whispers beside me, but she's smiling as she says it. "How did a pharmacy in the middle of nowhere become this massive tourist destination?"
"Marketing genius," I reply, watching as Henry presses his face against the van window. "Free ice water during the Great Depression, then they just kept adding attractions until it became this wonderland of American roadside culture."
"Says an Englishman. You Brits must have your own wacky destinations too, though."
"Oh yes, indeed we do." I wag my eyebrows at her.
"We've got Stonehenge, which is essentially a pile of rocks that people travel thousands of miles to see.
And don't get me started on the various museums dedicated to cheese-rolling or Morris dancing.
I can't forget the Gnome Reserve in Devon either, where hundreds of garden gnomes live in a woodland setting.
Visitors are encouraged to wear pointy red hats to make the gnomes feel comfortable. "
Jennifer laughs, linking her arm through mine as we exit the van. "I'd love to see those someday. Maybe that should be our next family vacation---showing the kids your homeland."
"They would love it. Henry would go mad for the Tower of London---all those gruesome execution stories."
Henry rushes up to me. "Dad! They have a giant dinosaur! Come on!"
Sure enough, there's an enormous T-Rex model roaring mechanically at passing tourists. Henry stands beneath it, arms outstretched in a matching "roar" pose while Charlotte snaps photos.
I whistle to get the kids' attention. "Five-minute rule. No one wanders off beyond my line of sight." I point to the entrance. "We meet back at this spot in an hour if we get separated."
"An hour?" Amelia groans, already eyeing a shop displaying turquoise jewelry. "Dad, there's like a million things to see in there."
"One hour, love. No more."
The grandparents have already disappeared inside, lured by promises of homemade fudge and five-cent coffee.
Jennifer squeezes my hand. "Ready to embrace American kitsch culture?"
I make a grand gesture with one arm. "Lead the way, milady."
Once we're inside, Wall Drug is even more chaotic than I'd imagined.
The place is a labyrinth of interconnected shops, each one more bizarre than the last. Every corner reveals some new oddity---a mechanical piano playing ragtime, a towering case of jackalopes, and what appears to be a life-sized cowboy band that springs to animation when someone drops a quarter in the slot.
"Dad, can I have a quarter?" Josh appears at my elbow, pointing to the animatronic display. "I want to see how it works."
I dig into my pocket for change. "Here you go. Engineering research, is it?"
He grins, already analyzing the mechanism. "The gears must be connected to a timing belt that coordinates the movements. I bet there's a hidden air compressor too."
Jennifer slips her hand into mine as we watch Josh carefully deposit the coin. The cowboy band jerks to life with a wheezing rendition of "Home on the Range" that makes Henry double over with laughter. "This place is fun. Don't you think so, Fletcher?"
"It is beginning to grow on me."
We spend the next hour exploring every nook and cranny of Wall Drug, and I'm genuinely charmed by the place's unabashed commitment to tourist trap excellence.
The children scatter like marbles, each drawn to different attractions.
Henry discovers a penny-stretching machine and becomes obsessed with creating elongated Lincoln profiles.
I'm examining a display of vintage postcards when Amelia sidles up to me, looking unusually serious.
"Dad," she says quietly, "can we talk for a minute?"
I freeze, not even blinking. Serious conversations with my eldest daughter rarely end well. "Yes, pet, we can do that. What's on your mind?"
She glances around, making sure we're out of earshot of the others. Then she flings her arms around me for a firm but brief hug. "I just wanted to say...thank you. For this vacation. For everything, really."
I blink, caught off guard by her earnest tone. "What do you mean, love?"
"Well, I mean..." She fidgets with the hem of her T-shirt, seeming younger than her fifteen years. "Before Jennifer came, we were all just, you know, happy enough but not as happy as we should've been. When Mom left, you were trying so hard but you were sad all the time."
My throat tightens. I hadn't realized how much my children had noticed during those dark months.
"But now you're different," Amelia continues, her voice gaining strength.
"You laugh more. You actually want to do things with us instead of just checking items off some parental obligation list. Like this trip---the old you would have booked us into a boring educational museum and called it bonding time. "
I let out a shaky laugh. "Wall Drug is hardly highbrow. And I'll have you know, I've always wanted to do fun things with you lot."
Amelia smiles shyly. "Sure, Dad. But you weren't having fun yourself. Now you are. It's...nice."
I'm momentarily speechless. My teenage daughter, who typically communicates through eye rolls and exaggerated sighs, is standing here having a genuine heart-to-heart with me. I pull her into another hug, not caring that we're in a touristy shop.
"Thank you, Amelia," I murmur into her hair. "That means more than you know."
She allows the hug for precisely three seconds before extracting herself with a dramatic, "Dad, people are watching."
"Let them watch."
After our exploration of the strangest drug store I've ever seen, it's time for our large extended family to get back on the road. Even the kids agree we should go straight home and only stop for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If we keep to that schedule, we might be home by early afternoon.
The drive back to Millbrook Valley passes in a blur of prairie landscapes and sleepy children.
Even Jennifer dozes against my shoulder for most of the journey, her hand resting on my thigh in that casual way married couples often develop.
I steal glances at her while she sleeps, still amazed that this incredible woman chose me---chose us.
"Dad," Henry pipes up from the back seat, "when we get home, can we put all our pictures in a scrapbook?"
"That's a brilliant idea, champ." I catch his eager face in the rearview mirror. "We'll make a proper family album."
"I want to write captions for everything," Charlotte adds. "Like 'The Day Dad Conquered Wall Drug' and 'Henry Versus the Mechanical Dinosaur.'"
Even Josh tears himself away from his book. "We should include geological data about the rock formations we saw."
"What a clever idea."
We keep to the schedule I had suggested and arrive home by twelve forty-five.
Before we can return to our house, though, first we need to drop off the grandparents as well as Jennifer's parents.
Larry and Joanne opted to take a room at my hotel.
Well, the hotel where I'm general manager. I don't own the place.
Finally, our little family pulls into the drive. Henry has already fallen asleep, so I carry him into the house and into the bedroom he shares with Josh.
Amelia yawns. "NGL I'm zonked."
I raise a brow. "And that means..."
"Not gonna lie. I'm really tired."
"You could take a nap, love."
Her jaw drops, and she stops blinking. "At two in the afternoon? I'm not super old like you and Jennifer."
I pretend to clutch my chest. "You wound me, my child."
She shakes her head. "Old people are sooo weird."
Despite her horror at my suggestion, Amelia does doze off on the sofa---beside Charlotte. Josh crashes on the floor.
After their respective naps, we eat an early dinner.
And finally, the house is quiet again. Jennifer and I go to sleep not long after.
But in the morning, we're all rejuvenated.
Breakfast chatter centers on our fantastic vacation.
I sip my coffee and watch as my children chatter excitedly about their favorite parts of the trip.
Henry's animated description of the mechanical T-Rex has everyone laughing, his little hands mimicking the dinosaur's jerky movements.
Josh sidles up beside Charlotte. "Remember when Dad almost got pooped on by that bird at Mount Rushmore?"
Charlotte nearly spits out her orange juice. "Yuck! Boys are so gross."
"It wasn't 'almost,' Charlotte," I correct her with mock seriousness. "That blasted bird had perfect aim. Thank goodness for baseball caps."
As the laughter of six children and two adults fills the air, I realize I'm more contented than ever before. I claim Jennifer's winking at her furtively. She kisses my cheek.
The doorbell rings. Who on earth could that be?
"I'll get that." I push my chair back and rush to open the door. My jaw drops. "Claudia? What in the world are you doing here?"
"Visiting my children. What else?"