It took about twenty minutes to find the RV park, but Miranda got the motor home parked out in front of the registration office with no problems. “You wait here,” Miranda said as she went outside. “I’ll see if I can find someone.”
Joy wanted to protest this, to say this was her responsibility, but at the same time she just felt so tired. Instead she just waved a hand and leaned back in the chair, taking some deep breaths. She didn’t like feeling tired and useless like this. But it had been a long day. She probably just needed another good night’s rest.
8
After searching around the office area, Miranda finally located what seemed a slightly dodgy character in the laundry room. She felt hesitant to interrupt the tough-looking woman. Sporting low-slung cargo pants and a black Mohawk, she was mopping the floor to the sound of heavy metal accompanied by some rather colorful language.
“Uh, excuse me,” Miranda said finally. “Do you happen to know where I could find the manager?”
The woman spun around, revealing a large dark tattoo that wound up around her neck and along one cheek. “I’m the manager,” she growled. “Whaddya want?”
Miranda explained that her friend Joy had made online reservations for one night’s stay. “We just need to know what space to use.”
“Oh, yeah, Jorgenson. You’re in space 9.” She tossed the mop in the bucket. “Stupid campers!” She swore as she tapped the sign above a washer. “We warn people about overloading these machines. But do they listen? Do they care?”
“Sorry about that.” Miranda stepped back cautiously. “Uh, do you know if there’s anyone around here who could help me with the, uh, hookups.”
The woman frowned darkly. Her expression clearly said that she thought Miranda was both ignorant and irritating. Fortunately she didn’t voice this.
“I sort of know how to do the water and electric,” Miranda confessed nervously. “But I’m worried that our holding tanks might need to be emptied and I’m not sure how that’s done. I’m new to this. And my traveling companion—you see, it’s her motor home, and she’s rather elderly . . . in her eighties. But she said we might need to go to a special area to do the emptying and I’m just not sure if—”
“Well, you’re in luck. You got sewer hookup right at your space.” The woman snatched a pair of yellow rubber gloves from a cabinet by the door. “I guess I can help you with it.”
“You don’t mind?” Miranda asked cautiously. “I mean, it looks like you’re busy here. Maybe our tanks can wait until morning.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I do it all the time.” She stuck out a hand. “Name’s May and I’ve been managing this place for the last three years. Sorry for being such a grump, but I hate it when campers don’t pay attention to the rules.”
“That’s okay. I understand completely. I’m Miranda.” She shook May’s hand and together they walked out to the parking area.
May pointed at Joy’s brightly decorated RV. “That your rig?”
“Well, it’s my friend’s. Joy Jorgenson. Like I said, she’s elderly—almost eighty-six. I’m helping her with this, uh, trip.”
“Well, I’ve seen some crazy-looking RVs before, but this might be the wildest one yet.” She grinned. “I like it.”
Miranda relaxed a bit, explaining about the Christmas Joy Ride and Joy’s website contest. “And we’re going on Route 66—all the way from Chicago to Phoenix anyway. It was Joy’s dream to do Route 66 in her motor home. Kind of like a bucket list, you know?”
May nodded. “Well, good for her. And good for you too.” May jerked her thumb toward a golf cart. “How ’bout I meet you at space 9 and we’ll see if we can get your rig to take a dump?” She laughed louder.
By the time Miranda got back into the driver’s seat, Joy was back in the bedroom. “If you’re ready,” she called out, “I’m taking off. Hang on!”
Joy gave her the go-ahead, and since May was already leading the way, which was helpful since it was just starting to get dark, Miranda cautiously took off.
They quickly found space 9 and May helped Miranda get parked. Then Miranda hurried to the side of the RV where May had already turned on an exterior light that Miranda didn’t know existed. Now, outfitted in her yellow rubber gloves, May was tugging a large hose from one of the holds.
“Why don’t you hook up the fresh water while I do this,” May called over her shoulder. “That way we can flush the system once we’re done here.”
After May got the big hose situated, she explained the various valves and why you pulled the black one first and the gray one second, and several other things that went right over Miranda’s head. Sometimes this RV stuff felt like visiting a new planet.
Miranda tried not to cringe at the aroma of sewage as May pulled the “black water” valve. But her respect for May had grown significantly. This was nasty work and this tough gal wasn’t complaining—or even swearing.
“It’s really nice of you to help me with this,” Miranda said meekly, looking on as May released the “gray water” valve.
“Helps to have these gloves.” May held up a hand. “You should get some too if you plan to do this yourself next time. We got some in the store by the office.”
“Yes, I’ll definitely do that.”
After about fifteen minutes, the tanks were emptied, the big smelly hose was rinsed and put away, and the water and electric were all hooked up. Miranda looked over the setup with a sense of relief and victory.
“Thank you so much,” Miranda said as she trailed May back to her golf cart. She watched with admiration as the can-do woman peeled off the rubber gloves and tossed them in a bucket.
“No problem.”
Now May grabbed a bottle of disinfecting hand cleaner, squirted some on, and started to vigorously rub. “Never can be too careful, you know.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“And when you go inside, make sure you put some tank conditioner into your toilet.”
“What’s that?”
“Ask your friend if she’s got some. If not, you better come by the store and pick some up before we close at six. Keeps the smell down. You might need some of this too.” She tossed the disinfectant into the cart and climbed in.
“Good idea.” Miranda nodded eagerly. “Now if you can wait just a minute, I have something for you.” She dashed back into the motor home. “Okay if I give the manager a cookie plate?” she called out as she did a quick hand-washing herself.
“Certainly,” Joy called from the bathroom. “Please do!”
Miranda grabbed a big cookie plate and hurried back out to present it to May.
“Well, this is real nice of you.” May’s dark eyes glinted with surprise. “Thank you much!”
“Thank you!” Miranda said with genuine enthusiasm. “You’re like a true angel, May. Really!”
May laughed as she started her golf cart. “Don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before.”
“Well, you are!” Miranda meant it from the bottom of her heart. She knew she could never have emptied those tanks on her own. She wasn’t even sure she could do it the next time it needed doing. But she was not going to think about that tonight. Mostly she was thankful for May!
When Miranda went inside, Joy was removing a casserole from the fridge. As she peeled off the foil she explained that she’d already added the conditioner to the cleaned tanks. Miranda could tell by Joy’s tone that she was tired. To be honest, Miranda was tired too. It had been a long couple of days. But just the same she herded Joy to the easy chair, insisting she put her feet up while Miranda saw to dinner. And even though she was a little worn out, she was thankful. She would rather be here helping Joy than anywhere else. She just hoped that Joy could keep up this pace. They were only half done, and from what Miranda could tell the second half of this trip would be more grueling than the first. Not only that, but she had overheard some old-timers talking about the weather earlier today, and it sounded as if a cold system might be headed their way in a few d
ays. According to one of the guys, it might even bring snow. But for all she knew it was just idle chatter. Until she confirmed it on her smart phone, she wouldn’t mention it to Joy.
Miranda felt energized as she drove to Oklahoma City the next morning. As far as she could see the weather was just fine. And today would be a relatively short day. Just a couple hours of driving and they would be there. Joy’s plan was to make a “Santa stop” in a handily located Walmart—just a few blocks from their final destination.
“We’ll gather some goodies,” Joy explained while they dined on a Burger King breakfast. “Something to brighten the Mahoneys’ Christmas this year.”
“Who are the Mahoneys?”
“A struggling young couple with six foster kids.”
“Six kids?”
“I believe that’s right. And if memory serves, they are between the ages of four and fourteen.” She shook her head. “Imagine that!”
“So what will we be shopping for exactly?” Miranda asked.
“Something special for each of them,” Joy told her.
“Okay . . .” As she chewed, Miranda considered the idea of shopping for six kids that they’d never met. Instead of feeling overwhelmed, she found it surprisingly appealing. “Sounds like fun.”
Joy chuckled. “I’m glad you think so.”
“To be honest, I’d always hoped that I’d be shopping for my own kids at this stage of life.” Miranda picked up her coffee and shrugged. “But I think I could have fun shopping for someone else’s too.”
“Good for you.” Joy reached across the table and patted her hand. “Good for you!”
It was a little before noon when Miranda pulled into the Walmart parking lot. “Here we are,” she announced as she drove toward an empty section on the perimeter of the lot. “Ready to shop till we drop?” She turned to Joy, but her old friend simply nodded sleepily.
“Joy?” Miranda peered curiously at her. Joy had been awfully quiet the last couple of hours. “You look a little pale,” Miranda said cautiously. “Are you okay?”
Joy waved her hand dismissively. “It’s just my age, dear. Getting old isn’t for the faint of heart.”
“Neither is battling hordes of crazed Christmas shoppers.” Miranda frowned at the crowded parking lot. “Do you really feel like attacking the aisles of Walmart? It is just four shopping days until Christmas. This place looks pretty packed.”
Joy let out a weary sigh. “Yes . . . I suppose it might be rather busy in there.”
“How about if I do the shopping?” Miranda offered suddenly. “You can stretch out on the bed in back and have a little nap.”
Joy brightened slightly. “You know, that sounds rather nice, dear.”
“And when I’m done, I’ll hunt us down something good for lunch,” Miranda assured her. “We can just eat in here.”
“Yes, that would be nice.” Joy pointed to her red and green notebook. “I have the names and ages of all the Mahoney children in there. Look in the Oklahoma City section.” She was fishing something from her handbag.
Miranda reached for Joy’s notebook, flipping to the right section to look over the names of the kids.
“Use this.” Joy handed her a Visa card. “Just sign my name for me. I doubt anyone will notice or care.”
“You’re sure?” Miranda thought about using one of her own credit cards, except they were all nearly maxed out. That was the result of being jobless these past six months, and something she preferred not to dwell on right now. “What’s the limit? I mean, per child?”
Joy frowned. “I don’t have the slightest clue. What do you think?”
“Twenty dollars a person?”
“Goodness, that seems a bit stingy, Miranda. Surely we can do better than that. How about fifty?”
“Fifty per child?”
“Unless you see something really wonderful that costs more. And older kids’ presents might be more expensive. Take that into consideration too. And be sure to get something for the parents too. We can say it’s from the kids. And how about a couple bags of fun groceries? You know the fun kinds of things that families on a budget can’t always afford? Food that feels like a party?”
“Uh-huh.” Miranda grabbed a pen. “Let me write this down. I don’t want to miss something.”
“Just do your best, dear. I trust you implicitly.”
As Miranda hurried into the store, she wasn’t so sure about this shopping mission. Buying gifts and food for eight people she’d never met—well, that could be a challenge at best. And she really wanted to get it right. As much for Joy’s sake as for the Mahoneys.
9
Before long, Miranda was cruising the crowded aisles and pressing into “rolled-back prices” with the best of them. This was a whole new world to her, but she kind of liked it. With her list in front of her and canned Christmas music playing merrily in her ears, she quickly got her bearings and figured out the lay of the store.
“Put on your Santa,” she whispered to herself as she studied the list she’d compiled in the RV. She’d started with the youngest kids’ names, leaving a space to fill in with whatever she selected for them—just to keep things on track. Her plan was to check the names off as she located just the right gifts. But the more she shopped and perused the store, the more she realized this wasn’t as easy as she’d expected. It took some time and careful thinking. And even some heartfelt prayers for divine direction. Would five-year-old Katie really want a tea set? Would eight-year-old Benjamin already have a soccer ball?
Ninety minutes and two overflowing carts later—and with the assistance of a tall and helpful employee named Tower—Miranda was loading her loot into the RV. With Joy watching in amusement, Miranda piled bag after bag on the floor by the door, then waded on through. “I can’t believe your credit card didn’t go up in smoke when they totaled the purchase.” She handed Joy her card as well as the receipt. “I hope I didn’t spend too much.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Joy tucked both into her purse without even looking. She picked up a stuffed tiger. “Now how are we going to wrap all these goodies?”
“I knew there wouldn’t be much time to wrap everything,” Miranda explained. “So I splurged on a bunch of colorful gift bags and tissue paper.” She dug through the mound of bags until she found some of them. “See?”
“Perfect.” Joy shook out a big candy-striped bag and went to work.
The motor home soon resembled Santa’s workshop as the two sorted and packed the assortment of presents into dozens of varying sized gift bags and Joy carefully wrote out each recipient’s name on a gift tag. She also tied the bags securely with bright ribbons, making them look even more festive.
“Very pretty,” Miranda observed as Joy held a finished bag up.
“Tying them closed will discourage peeking,” Joy explained. “You know how curious children can be right before Christmas.”
Miranda took some photos of all the filled bags that were heaped along the sofa and floor, transforming the RV into a makeshift Santa sleigh. And then the two women dined on the packaged salads that Miranda had bought for them.
“It’s kind of a skimpy lunch,” she admitted, “but it looked healthy.”
“It’s just perfect. And we’ll have an early dinner,” Joy promised. “I suspect it won’t take too long to get the Mahoneys’ house all decked out. Not with all those children around to help out—and Ellen assured me that they’ll all be there.” As they ate, Joy described the decorations she’d packed for this visit. “They’re all very child friendly,” she explained. “Lots of cartoon characters and silly things that my boys used to enjoy.”
“I’m surprised your boys didn’t want some of your Christmas decorations for keepsakes.”
Joy waved her hand. “Trust me, they have more than enough. You know me when it comes to Christmas, Miranda. I always went overboard. The bins I packed for the Mahoneys are all very bright and colorful and fun. Nothing’s easily breakable either. With a little supervi
sion and direction, we ought to be able to just set the children loose with it. I can’t wait to see how it turns out.”
“Sounds like it’ll be fun for everyone.”
By three o’clock, they were in the Mahoneys’ living room. It was a spacious area, but rather stark. A big tan sectional occupied one wall, a green recliner sat against another, and a fairly big TV was prominently displayed across from them. Miranda listened as Joy explained her plan to an overwhelmed but grateful Ellen Mahoney. “We won’t worry too much about perfection here,” Joy told her, with Miranda and the six kids looking on. “This is as much about the process as the final product. I want the children to enjoy all of it.”
“Okay,” Ellen said with uncertainty. “If you’re sure it won’t turn into a big mess.”
Joy just laughed. “In that case, it’ll be a fun mess.” She looked at the kids now. “I’m sure you’ll all do your best, won’t you?”
They eagerly agreed, so Miranda and several of the children began hauling boxes and bins into the Mahoneys’ two-story house. “Hey,” Miranda called to a teenage boy loitering on the front porch, taking a moment to introduce herself.
“I’m Sean,” he told her. Then he pointed to a boy who looked to be about ten. “That’s Phillip, my little brother.”
“How about if you get the ladder that’s strapped to the back of the RV, Sean? You can be in charge of putting lights on the outside of the house.”
“We get to have lights on the house too?” Phillip asked.
“You bet.” Miranda nodded. “We’re doing this up big-time. Why don’t you help Sean with the exterior lights?”
As Miranda worked with the boys to hang up lights around the windows and along the eaves, she managed to extract pieces of the Mahoneys’ story. Apparently this family of eight was relatively new.
“The two youngest girls, Katie and Kelsay, have a mom named Kara,” Sean quietly explained while Phillip returned to the RV to get a box of light-hanging hooks. “She’s our foster mom’s niece, but Kara, uh, she got arrested for drugs last year. She’s doing time.” He reached up to loop a hook onto the gutter’s edge, then laced the lights’ wire through it. “The rest of us are siblings. Our parents split up a long time ago. Our mom had custody.” He sighed. “But our mom’s kinda like Kara . . . I mean as far as her problems go.”
The Christmas Joy Ride Page 6
