The Happy Camper

by Melody Carlson

  “I have a lighter. I use it for candles at night. And I have this cute little kerosene lamp too, in case I lose electricity, but I like lighting it just for the fun of it.”

  “Nice. Go ahead and put your lighter by the stove. And open all the windows in there.”

  She did what he said and came back out. “Now you can stay out here.” He showed her how to operate the propane tank. “And I’ll go inside and experiment with the stove and other appliances. Hopefully, they’re all in good shape.”

  “Maybe I should be the one in there,” she suggested.

  “No. It might be, uh, hazardous—and I know what I’m doing. You just stay here by the tank and if I yell turn it off, don’t hesitate.”

  “And if it looks dangerous, you get out of there—pronto.”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry.”

  As they tested the appliances, yelling back and forth, Dillon wondered what had become of Brandon. Not that she cared, particularly. Or maybe she did. Now that she was clean and dry, she felt guilty for the way she’d taken pleasure while slapping white paint all over his fancy shirt and pants. She knew it was part of an expensive suit . . . and what if he got paint on the upholstery of his rental car?

  “Looks like everything in there runs just fine,” Jordan said as he came out of the trailer. “Do you want me to show you how they all work today? Or are you worn out from all our activities?”

  “No, I’d love to learn how to use everything.” She still felt bad for his damp and paint-stained clothes. “But what about you? Maybe you’d like to call it a day.”

  “I’m fine. Might as well figure this out now.”

  “Great. I’ll get my little notebook. I want to write it all down so I don’t forget.”

  They went inside and Jordan took her through all the steps. She asked questions and took careful notes. “This is so exciting. This means I can use the fridge and the stove and have hot water.” She looked around in wonder. “I could really live out here?”

  “Well, we’re still assuming they all work. The stove works perfectly fine, and the fridge sounds like it’s running, but it’ll take time to tell if it’s cold. The hot water heater seems to be okay. And I’m guessing you’ll want to wait for cold weather before testing the furnace.” Jordan replaced the padded bench seat on the dinette, then checked his pants for paint and sat down. “Although I’m not sure you’d want to live out here when it’s really cold. These old trailers don’t have much insulation, Dillon. And as you know, winter can be harsh in these parts.”

  Dillon set her turquoise teakettle back on the stove burner, imagining it whistling . . . making hot tea. “You know what I think I’ll name her, Jordan?”

  “Huh?” Jordan looked confused.

  “My Oasis. I don’t think I should call her an Oasis since that’s not very personal.” She sat across from him. “I think I’ll name her Rose. After your aunt. Since this was her trailer.”

  He grinned. “I think Aunt Rose would like that. And with your Southwest color scheme, you could even call her Desert Rose.” He chuckled. “An appropriate name for an Oasis.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I love that. She will be called Desert Rose.”

  He looked around again. “My aunt Rose would really like what you’ve done in here. It’s so cozy and homey and welcoming. Much more so than my trailer.” His eyes lit up. “In fact, maybe I should hire you to give Helen more personality.”

  “Really? You’d trust me with your trailer?”

  “Well, I suppose I’d want to have sign-off for approval.”

  “Of course. But you don’t have to hire me, Jordan. I’d gladly do it for free. Or think of it as an exchange for all your help with my trailer. I love fixing up—”

  “Hello?” Brandon called from outside, knocking loudly on the door. “Anybody home? I hear voices in there.”

  Jordan, closer to the door, reached over to open it.

  “Is this a private party?” Brandon asked. “Or can anybody come?”

  Dillon sighed. “Sure, come on in,” she called out halfheartedly. “We were just working in here.”

  Brandon stepped in and, positioned by the door, glanced around with a doubtful expression. “Doesn’t look like you’re working to me.”

  “We were testing the appliances,” Jordan explained. “We’re done.”

  “Hey, you changed your clothes.” Dillon pointed at his neat khakis and white polo shirt. “How’d you accomplish that?”

  “I just happened to have my suitcase in the rental car. And your mom let me use the bathroom to clean up.” He smoothed his hair. “I feel like a new man.” He frowned at Jordan. “You look a little worse for wear, old man.” He turned to Dillon with raised brows. “But you, Dilly, look like a million bucks.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she said without enthusiasm.

  “Well, now that we got the appliances working, I should be shoving off.” Jordan stood.

  “Yeah.” Brandon nodded. “You better get into some dry clothes, buddy.”

  Jordan shrugged. “It’s a good cooling system.”

  Dillon got up too, following him outside with Brandon on her heels. “Thank you so much for your help, Jordan. And my offer’s genuine. I’d love to help with your trailer. I mean, if you trust me.”

  “We can talk later.” He nodded. “Nice to meet you, Brandon.” His brow creased. “Well, anyway, it was interesting.”

  Brandon just laughed and Dillon watched with dismay as Jordan climbed into his old red pickup and slowly drove away. She hoped that he hadn’t misunderstood anything about Brandon and her. Surely, she’d made it crystal clear that she didn’t want her ex-boyfriend around. Good grief, hadn’t she attacked him with paint? That should make it obvious enough.

  “So what’s going on with you and this Jordan dude?” Brandon asked. Ignoring his inquisition, she strolled toward the house. There was nothing she wanted inside. But she did not want to remain out in her trailer with Brandon nosing around. He clearly disapproved of Rose, and she had no intention of listening to him pass judgment. Besides, Brandon’s car was parked over here. Maybe he’d take the hint and vamoose.

  No big surprise, Brandon did not take the hint. In fact, when Margot invited him, he gladly stayed for dinner. And as if to make up for his bad behavior while painting, he was sweeter than sugar to everyone. But Dillon continued to keep him at arm’s length, almost to the point of rudeness. And when he finally left, shortly after sunset and only after Dillon made it very clear they had no room for a guest, Margot took her to task for her bad manners.

  “I don’t see why you’re so mean to him,” Margot said as she and Dillon stood on the front porch, watching the rental car’s taillights disappearing into the dusky twilight along the farm road.

  “Because he was an uninvited guest.” Dillon sat in a rocker.

  “But Brandon really seems to have changed.” Margot sat down too.

  “Seems is the operative word.” Dillon let out a long, frustrated sigh. “This is all just an act. I know it.”

  “Why would it be an act? What’s the point?”

  “To win me back.” Dillon leaned back in the rocker. “But I just don’t get why. What does he possibly hope to gain?”

  “It’s because he’s realized he loves you, Dilly. Anyway, that’s what he told me. He’s missed you a lot. And he really wants you back.”

  “It makes no sense. I honestly wonder if this is all related to work. Maybe he promised to drag me back to Colorado so that LeeAnn could enslave me again.”

  Margot laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. There are laws against human trafficking.”

  “Then why is he so insistent? What’s his motivation?”

  “I already told you, Dilly. He loves you. Absence has made his heart grow fonder. I happen to think it’s all very sweet. I can even hear wedding bells.”

  “Then you should get your hearing checked. I think the only reason Brandon’s trying so hard is because I’m pushing him away. He’s a salesm
an at heart. He loves the challenge. It’s how he’s wired. It’s all about winning. I resist him and he tries harder.”

  “Maybe you should’ve played hard-to-get back in Colorado. You might’ve been married by now. After all, that was always your dream, Dilly.”

  “For starters, I’m not playing, Margot. I mean it. And sure, maybe I always did want to get married, but I do not want to marry Brandon Kranze.”

  “I think you’re still mad at him, Dilly, for hurting you. You never got over it and now you’re punishing him. Underneath all that angst, you probably still love him. Remember what they say: ‘True love never runs smooth.’”

  “Right. And since when did you become the expert on true love and romantic relationships?” Dillon demanded. “What about you and Don? Aren’t you punishing him? For wanting to get married?”

  Margot laughed. “I guess we have more in common than I realized.”

  “Maybe so. But I’m tired.” Dillon stood. “It’s been a long day.”

  “For me too.” Margot stretched. “Dad already hit the hay. Can’t say that I blame him either. The older I get the more I start to appreciate early bedtimes.” She poked her in the arm. “But you’re young, Dilly. You shouldn’t be going to bed with the chickens.”

  Dillon told her good night. While taking her time to walk to the barn, she paused to look up at the starry sky. This could’ve been such a fabulous day. It had started so well. This morning had been perfect, and she’d imagined them working together for the whole day. She’d even hoped to invite Jordan for dinner after they finished the trailer—as a thank-you and an excuse to spend more time together. By now they could’ve been sitting out here under the stars together . . . and then who knew what might happen?

  But instead, it had all gone sideways. Her trailer was only half painted—if that—plus she’d had to endure Brandon for the duration of the night. So much for her red-letter day.

  CHAPTER

  18

  After going to church with Grandpa, Dillon spent the rest of Sunday afternoon painting her trailer. By herself. She’d just finished when Grandpa came out to check on her. “Looks good,” he said. “Nice and neat and clean. Are you going to leave it all white like that?”

  “No. I’ve got a contrast color for a nice wide stripe.” She used her hands to motion how she wanted it to look. “I won’t try to reproduce the shape of the original stripes. They were so wavy it’d be hard to make it look right. And even though the paint was faded, I could see the stripe was a yellow-orange shade.” She pulled a paint swatch from the top of the paint can. “This is the turquoise color I plan to use.”

  “Turquoise?” Grandpa nodded. “That’s interesting.”

  “Well, it goes with the cabinets. And it has personality.”

  “That’s true.” He smiled. “I think Jack and Rose would like it.”

  Now she told him about naming the trailer. “Do you think that’s okay? Jordan said his aunt would like it.”

  “I think Rose would be honored.” He gave her a sideways hug. “I’m real proud of the way you’ve worked on this old trailer, Dillon. I knew I gave it to the right person.”

  As she thanked him, Margot rang the dinner bell at the house. “Did Margot cook tonight?” Dillon asked. “I thought you were barbecuing ribs.”

  “Well, Margot wanted to make some salad and things. But the ribs are about done. That’s what I came to tell you.”

  As they walked to the house, Grandpa asked about Brandon. “Do you know where your young man is staying?”

  “First of all, he’s not my young man.”

  “Yeah, sorry. My bad.”

  “And as far as staying anywhere, I assume he’s back in Colorado by now.”

  “Maybe not. Margot said he dropped by this morning . . . when we were at church.”

  “Oh?” Dillon didn’t like the sound of this.

  “I’ll give him one thing, he’s persistent.” Grandpa stopped in his tracks, pointing down the driveway. “Speak of the devil—doesn’t that look a lot like the car he drove over here yesterday?”

  Dillon shaded her eyes to see better. “Oh no.”

  “So you didn’t know he was coming?”

  “No.” She felt her stomach tying into a knot.

  “Looks like he’s already in the house too.” Grandpa nodded toward the kitchen window, where he was talking to Margot.

  “Probably inviting himself to dinner.” Dillon groaned. “And I was really looking forward to those ribs too.”

  “No reason for you to miss out on them.”

  “I’d rather starve than—”

  “Hello!” Brandon came bounding down the back porch steps, hurrying toward them. Today, he was dressed casually and, as much as she hated to admit it, he looked handsome in his jeans and plaid shirt. Very un-Brandon-like. And, unless she was mistaken, he was wearing cowboy boots. Seriously?

  “What are you doing here?” Dillon asked him as Grandpa went to check on the barbecue.

  “Didn’t Margot mention I’d stopped by this morning?”

  “Not exactly.” She remained in the driveway, arms folded across her front.

  “Well, I was sorry to miss you. I had a golf date with one of the clients I’d met with on Friday. So Margot suggested I come by for dinner.” He held out his arms. “So here I am. Aren’t you just a teeny-tiny bit glad to see me?”

  It felt mean to say how she really felt, so she just shrugged. “Interesting outfit.”

  He grinned. “I was hoping you’d like it. I got it in town after my golf game. Looks like what the guys around here are wearing.”

  “Uh-huh.” She frowned.

  “Oh, Dillon. I wish I could turn back the clock on all the stupid things I did. You don’t know how much I miss your old sweet smile.”

  She forced a smile. “It’s not that it’s completely gone. It’s just that—”

  “I know, I know. You’re still mad at me. I was a jerk. I’m trying to own that now. All I want is for you to give me a second chance. Is that too much to ask? Can’t we try again?”

  She blew out a sigh. “Brandon, you don’t get it. We’re through. You and I are a thing of the past.”

  He shrugged. “I know that’s how you feel right now. Margot explained a few things to me this morning. She says it’ll take time for you to get over our breakup. I understand that. Like I said yesterday, I deserve some of your angst. But I’m willing to wait for you to cool off. Because I know deep down you want to be with me, Dilly. I know we can make this work again.”

  Why did he not get it? Dillon was speechless. But she was also hungry and, despite her unwanted guest, was determined to indulge in Grandpa’s ribs. The smell alone made her stomach rumble. Deciding Brandon wasn’t worth missing dinner, she headed for the house.

  “Oh, there you are.” Margot smiled at them. “We’re eating in the dining room tonight. Easier than hauling everything outside again. Dillon, can you take this—”

  “I need to go wash up.” Dillon held out paint-speckled hands. “Maybe Brandon can help you.” Then she hurried to the upstairs bathroom, where she planned to leisurely wash her hands and while away the minutes until she heard Grandpa come in with the ribs. After that, well, she would just have to grin and bear it.

  A few minutes later, Dillon sat down at the table with her focus on food, trying to pretend Brandon wasn’t sitting across from her. As usual, Brandon took control of the conversation. His charisma and charm were apparently winning not only Margot but Grandpa too. Especially when he asked them more questions about their farming projects, making enthused comments and offering some of his own ideas. For a brief moment, Dillon fell under his spell, thinking he wasn’t so bad. She even wondered why it was she had absolutely no interest in him. Except that she didn’t. But was that only because of Jordan? What if she’d never met Jordan? Would she be making plans right now to return to Colorado with Brandon?

  Brandon shared with them that he planned to remain in town through the Fourth o
f July. “I’m overdue for some time off.” He explained how he’d taken a hotel room at the Best Western. “And I’m enjoying your small town.” He winked at Dillon. “I can see why you like it so much.”

  Despite her confusion—and even if there were no Jordan Atwood—Dillon didn’t think her old feelings for Brandon would ever reawaken. And she was determined to set him straight on this—before the sun went down. So after dinner, Dillon took him outside. Her goal was to make her position clear—but with a softer approach this time.

  “Brandon,” she began as they sat on the front porch together. “I’ve been thinking about what you’ve said and it seems possible that you really have changed. That’s great. I’m truly happy for you. And you need to know that I do forgive you. I don’t hold anything from the past against you anymore. Maybe I used to, but I’m done with that now.”

  “I knew it was just a matter of time.” He sounded triumphant.

  “But that’s not all, Brandon. You also need to understand that it is over between us. What we used to have was good . . . in its own way. But I’m done with that. I have moved on.”

  “I don’t think you really mean that.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. “You used to have deep feelings for me, Dillon. You told me that you loved me. You can’t take that back—”

  “I thought I loved you, Brandon. But now I realize that wasn’t love. And I seriously doubt that you ever loved me. Not really.”

  “That’s not true. I did love you. I still love you. More than ever. But I used to suppress my feelings, Dilly. I know it sounds cliché, but I was afraid of commitment. Then after you left me, I had time to think about it. Time to realize what you meant to me. And, you’re right, I have changed. I can see us together now. And I’m even willing to consider a wedding date—as soon as next summer if—”

  “That’s not going to happen. I’ll admit that marriage was definitely on my mind before. To be perfectly honest, and I’m not proud to admit this, that’s probably what made me stick with you so long. But whatever we had before, I’ve gotten over. I’ve outgrown it, Brandon. And I’ve outgrown my old job too. I have no intention of returning to Colorado. Or going back with you.”