Christmas Eve 1977
Little Rock, Arkansas
The pop of bedsprings woke Diane from a sound sleep. She opened her eyes and squinted through the shadows. She didn’t jump when her bleary gaze zeroed in on her mother. “Mother, you woke me up.” Her voice sounded growly, the way Daddy’s did after he’d finished a cigar on the porch.
“I’m sorry.” Mother spoke softly, soothingly, almost a whisper. She scooted closer and ran her hand over Diane’s hair. “Close your eyes and go back to sleep.”
Diane pulled the covers higher on her shoulder. “Why’re you in here? Did I have a bad dream?” She couldn’t remember a bad dream. She couldn’t remember dreaming at all.
“No, sweetheart. I was just checking on you. To make sure you were all right.”
“Oh.” Diane yawned. She pawed under the covers for the teddy bear she always slept with and brought it up under her chin. “I’m fine.” She closed her eyes. But the mattress didn’t move. Which meant Mother hadn’t moved. She opened her eyes again. “I’m fine. You can go.” Then she remembered what day it was.
Diane sat straight up. “Are you making sure I don’t sneak out and snoop under the tree?” She tipped her head, listening, but she didn’t hear any rustling from the living room. Maybe Daddy’d already put the presents under their decorated tree and had gone on to bed. She hoped the bike she asked for—the purple glittery one with the gold banana seat—was out there waiting for her.
“Honey, I know you won’t snoop. That would spoil the surprises.”
Diane choked back a snigger. Mother didn’t know her very well at all. She’d found half a dozen presents on the top shelf of the hall closet, where her parents didn’t know she could climb. She couldn’t wait to play with her tape recorder and wear the corduroy bell-bottoms.
“Lie back down.”
Diane slowly lowered herself to the pillow and pulled her ratty teddy bear, the one Daddy had bought even before she was born, close.
“Close your eyes.”
Diane squinted at her mother. “I will. Are you gonna go?”
“Soon.”
“When?”
“When I’ve had my fill.”
“Fill of what?”
“Of the sight of you.”
Mother was so weird sometimes. And how could Diane sleep with somebody sitting there staring at her? She moaned, “Motherrrrr…”
“Close your eyes.”
With a huge sigh, Diane closed her eyes.
Then Mother began to sing. A lullaby. Diane gritted her teeth. She was eleven already. Not a baby. Why wouldn’t Mother go? She burrowed farther under the covers and made a promise to herself. If she became a mother someday, she would never torment her kids with stupid songs and weird things like watching them sleep. She’d be a totally cool mom instead of a whacko.
Present Day
Kendrickson, Nevada
Diane finally understood why Mother had sat on the bed and watched her sleep. Meghan looked so peaceful, so young, so sweet. Love swelled in Diane’s breast—an intense, searing sweep of emotion that made her long to turn back time and gaze for hours on her daughter’s baby face, her toddler face, even her pimply teenager face.
She reached slowly across the gap separating them and tucked a wispy strand of hair away from Meghan’s cheek. Her daughter stirred and opened one eye.
“What’re you doing?” Her sleep-thickened voice made Diane smile.
“Nothing. Just…getting my fill.”
Meghan snorted softly and rubbed her nose. “You’re so weird, Mom.”
Why did it feel like she’d just been given the biggest compliment ever? She crooned, “Shhh, go to sleep.” She wished she knew a lullaby. She’d prove her weirdness and sing it again and again to make up for all the times she hadn’t sung her daughter to sleep.
Twenty-Six
Hazel
“A road trip with the two of you?” Hazel took another sip of her coffee. Hot, flavored with hazelnut, thickened with cream. Such a marvelous way to start the day. But not as good as planning a vacation with her daughter and granddaughter. She’d never dreamed Margaret Diane would agree to such a venture. The idea made her giddy.
“It’ll probably take a chunk of change to fund the journey.” Meghan’s face pinched into a brief grimace of remorse, then brightened. “But I think it’ll be worth it. I’ve always wanted to go to Cumpton and see where you grew up, and I love the idea of having you as my tour guide.”
“The dogs will go, too.” Margaret Diane spooned sugar into the herbal tea she drank in place of coffee. The stuff smelled like burnt grass and looked like algae-infested water. “Is that a problem?”
Hazel wouldn’t let it be a problem. Not for this trip, this chance of a lifetime. “I’m sure we’ll get along as well in the car as we’ve managed in the house.” She glanced at the row of dachshunds munching from their food bowls. “They’ll be in their pet taxis, won’t they?”
“They’re happier that way in the car, but if we end up renting an RV—something Meghan is pushing for—I’ll let them roam free.” Margaret Diane picked up her cup and blew on the surface of the tea.
The aroma made Hazel want to gag. How on earth did the girl put something in her mouth that smelled so awful? She held her own cup beneath her chin and inhaled, clearing her nostrils of the tea scent. “Fine.”
“But before we go”—Meghan exchanged a look with her mother that put Hazel on alert—“Mom and I would like you to see a doctor and make sure it’s all right to travel so far.”
Hazel’s ire rose so quickly it brought a pinprick stab in her temple. She thumped her cup on the table. “I don’t need permission to take a trip.”
Meghan took Hazel’s hand. “Of course you don’t. You’re a grown woman who can make her own decisions. The doctor wouldn’t be giving you permission, Grandma. He’d be letting us know there’s no worry about you traveling over an extended period of time.”
Margaret Diane rested her elbows on the table and held her cup between her palms. “It’s mostly to ease our minds—”
Hazel sent her daughter a sharp look. She would expect Meghan’s concern, but Margaret Diane was concerned, too?
“—since you’ve had those light-headed spells. Before we get in a car and take off, let’s make sure the spells aren’t anything to worry about.”
Hazel examined their faces. She read sincere worry in both sets of brown eyes, and her aggravation diminished. “I suppose I should be grateful you want to be sure I’m healthy enough for the trip. But I can also tell you the worry is misplaced. I’ve hardly been sick a day in my life. My mother had a strong constitution, and she passed it on to me. I’m sure it’s only because my body is aging. Things don’t function as efficiently as they used to.”
“And as soon as a doctor confirms your prognosis, we’ll pack our bags and go.” Margaret Diane finally began drinking the tea. She didn’t even make a face. Such a brave girl.
Meghan slid a sheet of paper across the table. “I’ve got it all mapped out, Grandma. Our first stop will be at the Grand Canyon.”
The Grand Canyon. She’d visited it once, many years ago, with Albert and Margaret Diane. Now she’d see it with Meghan. She nodded. “I like that idea.”
Margaret Diane rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, it’s a marvelous idea. One of you on crutches and one of you with dizzy spells, peeking over the edge of a mile-deep hole in the ground. You’ll probably give me heart palpitations.” Despite the sarcasm, something akin to eagerness glittered in her eyes.
Hazel winked at her.
Margaret Diane grinned and took another sip of her tea.
“After that”—Meghan continued as if her mother hadn’t interrupted—“we’ll find some places to visit in New Mexico and maybe even in Oklahoma. I’m not sure what, but a Google search ought to turn up something worthwhile. Oh, and speaking of Google searches, I need to locate a reputable company that rents out RVs. I really like the idea of having something we can spr
ead out in and use as our home away from home on this trip. Do you have any suggestions, Grandma?”
Hazel smiled, smug. “I certainly do. But you won’t need Google to find it. A gentleman at our church—a member of my Bible study group—has a small RV he loans out to people in our congregation. Several people have borrowed it to take on brief mission trips.”
Margaret Diane’s brows pinched together. “We aren’t doing anything remotely close to a mission trip. Would he let us use it?”
“I don’t know, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Meghan said reputable, and John Wedman is as reputable as any man I know. Do you want me to call and ask him?”
Meghan looked at Margaret Diane, who looked at Meghan. They both turned to Hazel simultaneously and shrugged.
Hazel burst out laughing. “At least you’re in agreement. I’ll call him midmorning. Maybe we could drive over and take a look at it, make sure it’s what you have in mind.”
They finished their breakfast, and while Margaret Diane straightened the kitchen, Hazel and Meghan worked on a few scrapbook pages. The images stirred memories to life, and the accompanying emotions left Hazel feeling both weak and revived at the same time.
Meghan had decided to divide the book into four sections—Hazel’s childhood in Cumpton, her relationship with Albert, her relationship with Margaret Diane, and finally her relationship with Meghan. Strange how each stage of her life required a separate section. Shouldn’t there be overlap? Hazel hoped their planned trip would give them a fifth section—one dedicated to togetherness.
Midway between nine and ten, Hazel called John, and as she’d suspected, he was more than willing to let them borrow his RV. “But I need to caution you. Even though it’s a Class C, it’s one of the smaller models. Sometimes Wanda and I felt like we were bumping into each other in there. With three of you—”
“We’re also bringing four dachshunds.”
His chuckle rolled. “—and four dachshunds, it will be even more crowded. So you come see it, go inside and get a feel for it. Then you decide.”
They made arrangements for the women to come by before lunch, and then Hazel hung up. She smiled triumphantly at her daughter and granddaughter. “Things are falling into place. Isn’t it ex…Ex…” She frowned. What word did she intend to use?
Meghan tipped her head. “Exciting?”
Hazel slumped with relief. “Yes. Exciting.”
Margaret Diane and Meghan exchanged a look heavy with meaning.
Hazel rose and headed for her bedroom. “If we’re going to drive over to the Wedman place, we might as well enjoy lunch at a café afterward. I want to change into something more appropriate for an excursion.” Her navy-blue ankle pants and white blouse were fine for any of Kendrickson’s restaurants, and John Wedman wouldn’t care what she was wearing. But she would change anyway. To prove to herself that she still knew how to put an outfit together. After her struggle to recall a simple word, she needed the reassurance.
Diane
Cozy. That was the word Mr. Wedman used the most to describe his RV as he led the women along a sidewalk to the back edge of his two-acre patch of ground on the edge of Kendrickson. The older-model RV, which reminded Diane of an overgrown pickup truck and topper, lurked under an unpretentious carport on a slab of concrete. He chuckled every time cozy emerged, and Diane began to wonder if he was playing a joke on them.
“Yes, Wanda and me sure enjoyed our cozy little motor home. Lots of good memories stored up in it. Just couldn’t make myself get rid of it after she passed.” He cleared his throat and unlocked the door. He aimed a watery smile at them. “Go on in and take a peek at my cozy home-for-the-road.”
Mother went in first, followed by Meghan, who needed a boost from Diane to mount the fold-down metal step. Then Diane entered. Apparently John had come out and readied the vehicle for their inspection, because she couldn’t spot a speck of dust and it held the slight essence of lemons. Every window from front to back was open, allowing in the breeze. Even though the wind was anything but cool, the moving air kept the place from feeling overly stuffy.
Meghan had some trouble navigating the narrow walkway with her crutches, but her smile never dimmed. Her gaze bounced from the mounted fans in all corners of the main living space to the built-in cabinets to the three-burner stove and finally to the opening for the sleeping area. She plopped onto the corner of the bed that jutted at an angle into the kitchen area, and then she released a sigh.
Mr. Wedman remained outside, but he braced his hands on either side of the door frame and leaned in, beaming at them as they explored. “I keep the dining room table set up most times, but it does change into a bed. Then there’s the bed in the back, and the one above the cab, so each of you could have your own place to sleep. ’Course, that bed in the back’s classified as a queen, so if two of you wanted to share, you wouldn’t have to take the table down every night.”
Meghan smoothed her hand over the bare mattress. “That sounds good, especially since the table is the only place to sit other than the driver’s seat and passenger seat.” She aimed a teasing grin at Diane. “Grandma and I could share the queen and you could take the bunk, huh, Mom? Or are you too old to climb up there?”
Diane arched one brow in reply, and the gray-haired man laughed as raucously as if she’d spouted a torrent of defensive words. “When Wanda and me took the motor home out, we always had our cats, Cindy and Mittens, with us. They loved riding up in the bunk and looking out the window. Might still be a few fur balls up there. I am old enough that I’m not fond of climbing into the bunk. Hope you don’t mind fur balls.”
Meghan smirked. “Mom’s partial to fur balls.” She shifted her smile to Mother. “What do you think, Grandma? Are you ready to take to the highway?”
Mother turned a slow circle. “As John said, it’s very compact, but it has everything we need. It’s amazing to me that the makers managed to fit in both a bathroom and a kitchen.”
“Wanda had me take out the factory cupboard with a little fridge below and pantry above and replace it with a bigger fridge.” Mr. Wedman leaned farther in and gestured like a salesman peddling his wares at the state fair. “When we traveled, she always wanted to cook, so she needed the fridge space. Losing that pantry meant losing storage, so I put a drawer under the bed there where Meghan’s feet are. You can tuck a lot of canned and boxed goods in that drawer.”
Meghan leaned forward and shifted her feet. She laughed. “I didn’t even notice the handle when I sat down. Ingenious.”
The old man puffed up. “Oh, now, I wouldn’t call it ingenious. Maybe practical. Or inventive. But not ingenious.”
Diane eased sideways past Mother, who was examining the cooktop, to the pair of captain’s chairs in the cab. She slid into the driver’s seat and examined the instrument panel. It seemed similar to her Jeep. “Would I need any special training to learn how to drive it?”
The man stepped in, leaving the door open. “That’s one of the nicest things about this particular model. It’s six inches shy of twenty-four feet and only a foot wider than a standard diesel pickup truck, so if you’re used to driving, say, a full-size SUV or double-cab pickup, you shouldn’t have trouble adjusting to this.”
“You’ll probably be the one doing the driving, Mom,” Meghan called from her perch on the corner of the bed. “Unless Grandma wants to take the wheel.”
Mother waved both hands and made a sour face.
Meghan laughed. “Do you think you can handle it?”
Once again, Mr. Wedman released his deep, throaty chuckle. He dangled a set of keys like a toy in front of a cat. “Only one way to find out. Got your driver’s license on you?”
Diane patted the little cross-body wallet resting on her hip.
“Buckle up, then, and let’s take her for a spin.”
Twenty-Seven
True eagerness quivered through Diane’s frame as she climbed down from the driver’s seat of Mr. Wedman’s cozy RV. Although initially apprehens
ive about the trip, now she couldn’t wait to pack, load up, and—as Meghan had put it—hit the road. Diane had left the engine idling, as he’d instructed her, and vibrations traveled from her soles to her scalp, adding to the pulse of energy coursing through her.
The man ambled around the front of the RV to Diane. His ever-present grin and twinkling blue eyes reminded her of her father’s cheerful personality, and she couldn’t help but smile in return. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his baggy knee-length shorts and waggled his eyebrows at her. “Well…what do you think?”
She could tell by his expression he already knew, but she answered anyway. “I can handle it.”
“And it’s fun, yes?”
She giggled—the most girlish giggle she’d released in years. “I was kind of nervous at first, but once you get used to it, you’re right—it is fun.” Sitting in the high seat, guiding the vehicle on the highway and along city streets was a nearly heady experience. She’d felt powerful, almost invincible behind the wheel. Is that how her trucker daddy had felt when he drove his semi?
Meghan and Mother came around the RV and joined them, and Mr. Wedman inched toward the driver’s door. “Let me park this thing, and then I’ll answer any questions you might have.”
The three of them stood aside while he expertly drove the vehicle onto its pad. The engine stilled, and Diane keenly experienced a rush of loss. He climbed out, locked the door, and then rejoined them, a smile stretching across his face.
Mother held her hand to Mr. Wedman and he gave it a quick squeeze. “John, thank you so much for letting us take it out. I wrote down everything you said about recharging the generator, emptying the tank, and filling the water reservoir.” She scowled at the notepad in her hand. “The only thing I don’t know is how much you charge for rent.”
He pinched his chin and aimed his gaze skyward, as if deeply thinking. Then he sighed and scuffed his toe on the ground, head low. “My rates might make you balk, but I have to be fair and charge everybody the same.”
Bringing Maggie Home Page 21
