It all seemed like a logical choice. Until she thought about leaving town in three days. She’d lived here her whole life, and now suddenly, she wouldn’t.
Straightening her shoulders, she swallowed down her fear to concentrate on her plan. All she had to do was purchase a pick-up truck and drive to Phoenix, simple as that. Her shoulders sagged. She owned a driver’s license, of course, so how bad could it be to drive a truck? Sometimes, she was required to drive book transfers to another branch in the library system van— or rather— she had been required to.
“I drive a truck,” she said out loud, trying it on for size. But it still felt completely foreign. Before she could drive the thing, she had to buy it. It would be easier to buy a vehicle with cash rather than worry about financing, but the process was still daunting to her.
Nonetheless, it must be done.
Then there was the upcoming road trip to face. “Phoenix isn’t going anywhere, Katherine.” She huffed as she paced five steps one direction, then turned to pace back. “You will turn on the GPS and put a map in the glove compartment,” she motioned with her hands, mimicking slamming the glove box, “and you will get there as planned.” She planted her hands on her hips, working to feel confident.
Phoenix had seemed like an unlikely place to go first, considering it was the complete opposite direction of Pennsylvania, but that was where she’d found someone to teach her first–hand trailer restoration. So, no matter how unlikely the trip seemed, it was necessary. She was a proud woman and considered herself capable, but she was also smart enough to know when she needed help, and help was in Phoenix.
She cast a sidelong glance toward the sofa and considered going to bed, but with her brain clicking away, she knew she’d never sleep. So, she pushed up her sleeves and got busy restacking the dishes. By the time the sink was filled with hot soapy water, her mind was spinning, filled with visions of a beautiful RV park, set amongst a lush green forest -- a babbling brook trickling past smiling people gathered around a campfire, in front of a gleaming vintage camp trailer.
* * *
“Morning,” Alex said as he climbed into his father’s truck the next morning.
“Mornin’,” grumbled the older man through his drooping handlebar mustache.
Alex buckled in, then turned to survey his father. “What are we working on today?”
Mac glanced toward his son, then back toward the road. “Tara bought a few old houses that need rewiring. She asked me to write up a bid.”
“I didn’t know she still bought and flipped houses.”
Mac chuckled and shook his head. “That girl can’t sit still. But Winnie pretty much manages the real-estate business these days.”
“Doesn’t Tara have a little girl?”
“Yeah,” Mac replied, his eyes bright with humor. “And she keeps her momma on her toes too.”
“Well, if the little thing is anything like Tara was, I’m sure she’s a corker,” he chuckled.
Mac didn’t answer, so Alex stared out the window as the mint green hillsides slid past. He didn’t notice the new leaves or the sprouting wild grass; he was already tumbling down the slippery slope that sucked the life out of him on a continual basis. Hopelessness filled his heart. The thought of his old friends with kids only made him feel worse. It seemed like everyone near his age was settling into life, yet here he sat, broken and lost, following his dad to work like a little kid. This was not how he’d envisioned his life.
“You hurtin’?” Mac asked.
Drawn from his thoughts, Alex turned blankly toward his dad. “Huh?”
Mac motioned with his head. “Your leg. You’re rubbin’ your scar. Is it hurtin’ you today?”
Realizing that his dad had found his tell, Alex tucked his hand in his hoodie pocket. “Nah, I’m good,” he said with his characteristic, overly-cocky grin. “Sweaty palms is all,” he added with a wink.
Mac’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t push.
The truck bumped over well-worn ruts as it pulled into the gas station in the middle of town.
Alex motioned toward the store. “I’m gonna grab some coffee, want anything?”
Tucking the truck keys in his pocket, Mac grinned. “Yeah, get me some of those little white donuts, the powdered kind.”
Alex sauntered toward the convenience store. He’d found that if he walked slowly and with a swagger, it hid his limp. Or at least he hoped it did.
The bells over the door dinged as he entered, turning heads his way.
“Hi, Alex,” Mindy said from behind the cash register, with a wide grin. “How are you?”
Offering the girl his best smile, Alex leaned his hip against the sandwich cooler. “I’m doing well, what’s up with you?” He asked as he selected a packaged egg salad sandwich.
Mindy blushed and glanced down at his sandwich, then tucked a curl behind one ear. “I’m fine. Is this all for today?” Her admiration for the older man was obvious.
He motioned over his shoulder. “Nah, I’m gonna get some coffee too, will you guard this bucking-bronco of a lunch for me? It’s the last one.”
Her expression fell in question. “Bronco?”
“Have you ever eaten an egg salad sandwich without it running amuck at some point?”
She giggled and blushed again. “I guess not…”
A woman approached to pay for her gas, so Alex offered Mindy a wink, then headed for the coffee pot, leaving her to stare after him with wonder in her eyes.
* * *
Katherine swiped a strand of hair from her face with the inside of her elbow. Never in her whole life would she have supposed that one camp trailer could have so many pieces. Since coming to Phoenix, it seemed like her life had become nothing but a blur of hand tools, dirt, dust, and rotting wood. Oh, and blisters, she couldn’t possibly forget the blisters covering the palms of her hands.
But there was nothing to do now but keep working, so she raised the dust mask up over her mouth and nose and headed back into the rear of the trailer. Tugging, pulling, and ripping, she wrenched out the remaining moldy insulation in the interior of the camper frame. Dust and dirt, along with insulation fibers, floated through the air, and she hurried to jump out of the trailer.
Breathing hard, she lowered the mask and propped her hands on her knees, her head hanging. She’d seen the YouTube videos, she should have known that she was getting herself into a mess, but no, she’d sold nearly everything she owned and driven here in a pick-up truck. It had been years since she’d driven on a highway and learning to deal with other drivers had been scary enough, but she’d had to go all the way across the country.
She hadn’t had to. She could have let old Burt fix up the trailer for her, but she’d wanted to see how it was done and be a part of the process.
What a stupid idea that had been.
She tossed the camper a dirty look. It had actually been kind of cute, in a rusty sort of way, when old Burt had brought it in on his flatbed truck. Sure, it was faded and filthy, but it had looked complete. Then Burt had climbed in and started pointing out all the things that had to be replaced, and her dreams had come crashing down.
That was two weeks ago, and all she’d done since then was tear more and more of the trailer apart. The poor thing was just a skeleton now, only two by fours, a few cupboards in the kitchen and a floor, and even that needed to be repaired. Honestly, she couldn’t see how the trailer would ever be right again.
She stretched her arms over her head, feeling every sore and abused muscle as they protested painfully. She was not in shape, and this trailer rehab showed her weaknesses more than ever. It was good to be working with her hands though. It had been a very long time since she’d really pushed herself physically, and there was something rewarding about working up a sweat, doing a good job, and all that.
She frowned once more at the forlorn camper and hoped that at some point soon, she would start to see improvement.
The little trailer did have big plans in store. Burt
had finally managed to talk her into allowing him to get the curvy, ’50s-style fridge, as well as the stovetop, powder-coated a bright turquoise blue to match the new exterior of the trailer.
She grimaced remembering their conversation. She’d been set on keeping everything in the trailer as close to original as possible, and Burt had had quite a time convincing her otherwise.
She’d had her way too, though. The sink would stay original, along with its unique faucet, and the cupboards over the sink had held up well through the years. They just needed a thorough scrubbing, unlike the cupboards that had been in the nose and tail of the trailer. They’d have to be completely rebuilt.
When finished, the kitchen would form a small letter U, making a two-seated bar between the kitchen and living room. When Burt had suggested changing the original floor plan, she’d been reluctant, to put it mildly. Even though the change would give her a place to sit and eat, she’d felt horrible about changing anything. It just didn’t seem right to mess with the original builder’s design.
Poor Burt. She was certain that she’d been far more of a trial than he’d bargained for.
She pulled the dust mask off over her head and plodded across the shop to find Burt, sure that he’d have plenty more for her to do. Soon enough the hard part would be done, her trailer would be finished, and she’d be on her way to set up the RV park.
* * *
Katherine covered her face with her hands, fighting panic. After driving for 37 hours, and her first night in the trailer at a Wal-Mart parking lot, she was finally here. Unfortunately, here was the middle of nowhere.
Of course, her RV park wasn’t built yet, she’d come to oversee its construction. But the site was literally nothing but overgrown grass and a gravel road.
“What did I expect?” she moaned into her hands. “Okay,” she tried again, her hands dropping back onto the steering wheel, “this is daunting, but…”
But what? She was completely exhausted.
“If I could turn the rig around, I’d go—”
She didn’t have anywhere to go.
She waited, hoping for inspiration, but nothing came. The only thing she managed to find was the sound of the air-conditioning pumping from the dash of the truck and the grass waving gently in the breeze.
The whole park currently consisted of only a rusty shipping container for storage, an oval white propane tank, and a spindly power pole -- none of which offered much of a welcome.
Overwhelmed by the gravity of her situation, Katherine stared at the open field that was now her home.
Chapter Four
“Hey, Alex!” Mac called out, halting his son’s progress up the steps to his apartment.
Closing the mailbox, Mac wiped his forehead with his shoulder. By the end of the day, it had been hard to ignore the fatigue written across Alex’s face. “You got a letter,” he called. “Looks like your license.” Waving the envelope, he headed across the yard toward Alex.
Already halfway up the steps, Alex grimaced, then turned to head back down. His leg throbbed -- it probably always would -- and it was hot as blazes. All he wanted to do was to sit in the darkness of his room and drink a cold beer.
His dad had been keeping him busy the last two months. With that and his disability from the military, his bank account was reflecting his efforts. But the thought of his electrician license arriving only made him feel more pressured to get on with his life. “Make that two beers,” he muttered.
Mac handed over the letter, then waited expectantly as his son stared at the envelope. “Well, aren’t you going to open it?”
“They told me I passed back when I took the test,” Alex answered, his voice flat with exhaustion.
Mac stroked his overgrown mustache, contemplating his son. Finally, he spoke. “Yes, but this means I can send you out to manage your own jobs.” Alex didn’t respond, so he tried again. “You do want to work, don’t you?”
Burden on top of anxiety weighed on Alex’s shoulders. “Of course, I do,” he snapped. His dad had always set a good example as a hard worker. He’d even found a whole new career in the electrical field when the coal mine closed. He’d never understand how it felt to be so defeated. He rubbed the back of his neck. He wouldn’t let Mac down. He knew he would lose his mind sitting around doing nothing, but the thought of being ‘sent out’ by his dad still didn’t sit right. He was a leader, not a follower.
Mac turned toward the house, motioning for Alex to follow. “That’s good news because I’ve got more work than I can possibly handle. I need another solid electrician on board to get through the spring building rush.”
Alex lagged behind, feeling worse than ever. Why was it so hard to re-engage with civilian life? In the months since old Hershel’s death, there’d been no one to talk to.
Mostly he missed the camaraderie he’d shared with his buddies out in the field. The brotherhood. It might help to get involved with the vets down at the American Legion, but the thought of opening up about the nightmares, pain, and deepening depression left him flat.
At the back door of the house, Mac motioned up the stairs. “Get some rest, Son; we’ll talk about it in the morning. We’ve got a whole new—” he started, then he changed his mind, his eye narrowing as he contemplated his son. “You okay?”
Summoning a grin, wanting to reassure his dad that he was doing fine, Alex waved him off. “Yeah, thanks.”
Mac paused halfway through the open door and turned back. “Want to join me for some beans on toast?”
Alex cringed and kept climbing. “Out of yard bird, eh?”
Mac wasn’t stupid. He could see his son sidestepping his concern. “No chicken tonight, it’s beans or nuthin’.”
“No thanks, Dad, I’ve got leftover pizza in the fridge.” He motioned up toward his apartment.
Mac grunted, watching with concern as his son limped up the last few steps and closed his door behind him. “Suit yourself.”
Huffing into the kitchen, Mac closed the back door, tossed his dusty jacket over the back of a kitchen chair, then glanced back toward the garage. “That boy has no idea what’s comin’ his way,” he said, then he chuckled to himself. “If tomorrow don’t light a fire under him, nothing will.”
* * *
Katherine pushed open the door of the trailer and blinked into the morning sunlight. Standing in her pajamas, squinting across the expanse of open land, she was completely out of her element. For some reason, she still expected to see buildings and people and a crush of traffic outside her door.
The field was beautiful with its rippling wild grass and sprinkling of flowers. The river rumbled beyond the tree line. This was all just so different.
This is my home. Maybe it would feel true if she said it enough times. Why didn’t she feel more settled? After all, her parents were from here. Or at least her mother was. Had her dad looked out over these same fields, wondering about his future? Had her mother picked wildflowers in fields like this?
Leaving the front door open, she drew the screen door closed and turned to survey the room. Her critical gaze took in the details of the restored travel trailer. Everything looked very fresh, yet alien. The RV was every bit of 65 years old, but it had turned out better than she expected.
Did I do the right thing coming here? She roamed over to touch the small bookshelf at the end of the sofa, remembering the cherished books that she hadn’t been able to bring. It had been difficult to select which ones to keep, almost like splitting up a family.
Would Hershel be happy with her decisions about his land? She slid open the turquoise curtains. Sunshine poured through the windows and reflected off the polished blonde wood covering the interior walls of the room. Hershel had likely never dreamed of her putting an RV park here.
She reached up to touch the smooth yellow panel of wood by the door and noticed that her fingernails were dirty, chipped and broken. Too bad there would be no shower in the near future.
Contemplating the upcoming work on the pa
rk, and then the days ahead, her resilience faltered. She certainly wasn’t looking forward to her first trip into town. She had enough food and water to keep her going for a few days, so she’d wait until it was absolutely necessary. The last thing she needed was to be the talk of the town or to run into Alex. But she’d decided months ago that it was silly to let an old breakup ruin her future, and she was resolved to stick with it.
She poured bottled water into the teakettle and lit a burner on the stove. Things were in order, as per her plan, she just had to follow through with her strict timeline, and everything would be fine.
The well would be drilled later in the week, and the water lines were scheduled to be put in by someone named Steve. Electric lines had already been strung out to the property, and she had an electrician scheduled to start today. Everything is on track.
The kettle whistled, prompting Katherine to put a filter in her pour-over coffee maker, then spoon in a tablespoon of coffee grounds from the canister. Carefully, she used a potholder to lift the steaming kettle and pour the boiling water onto the grounds, gauging the water level as it filtered down into her mug below. What a beautifully simple process! A heady aroma swirled throughout the room as she removed the top of the contraption and put it in her sink. No need for plugins or machines, just hot water and coffee grounds. And the rich brew smelled heavenly. A bit of sugar from the glass dispenser and a light dose of creamer from the fridge came next.
Deep in thought, Katherine opened the top drawer and fetched a spoon, then headed toward the sofa in the nose of the trailer, stirring her coffee as she walked.
Curling up in the sunny corner of the couch with one foot under her, she inhaled deeply over her steaming cup. Her life here would be very quiet. Not that that was bad, it was simply a bit off-putting. She’d adjust. She’d never been social by any means, yet now a part of her missed the teeming throngs of people in the city, even if she never interacted with them.
Hometown Series Box Set Page 100
