by Molly Fitz
“If you would have told me, I could have—”
“If I would have told you, you’d have found a reason not to go,” Charles interrupted, which was fine. I hadn’t really known where I was going with that statement, anyway.
“Fair, but you realize Nan could have packed my suitcase with nothing but evening gowns or pajama bottoms with silk blouses, or only old Halloween costumes.”
A look of mock horror flashed across Charles’s face, but then he shook his head and turned on the mega-watt smile again. “Nah, she knew where we were headed.”
“Since when has that mattered to my nan?” I asked with an admittedly nervous laugh as Charles turned the key over in the ignition and slowly navigated the camper down the rest of the driveway.
“Not knowing what to expect is part of the fun. Right?” He stopped and shot me a quick glance before pulling carefully out onto the main road.
“Oh, I know exactly what to expect,” I countered. “Complete and utter chaos. You know, you could have at least let me change out of my bathrobe before we left.”
Charles tapped his bare wrist while keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “We have a very tight schedule to keep.”
I tilted my head to the side and considered this. “But I thought this weekend was all about relaxing?”
“It is. Just within the parameters of our schedule. Besides, I have something special planned for later.”
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what that is.”
“Oh, my sweet, sweet Angie, why won’t you let me surprise you every once in a while? It’s part of the fun in being your boyfriend, getting to spoil you when you least expect it.”
“I’ve dealt with too many murders, kidnappings, and thefts to ever fully let my guard down,” I admitted, then chewed on my lip as a fresh wave of anxiety washed over me.
Charles either didn’t notice my uncertainty or didn’t mind. “And that’s precisely why we need this weekend away,” he said. “Now sit back and relax. Here, this should help.”
He plugged his phone into the vehicle’s dash with a USB cable, then turned the radio on. Immediately upbeat percussion mixed with the cheerful tune of a whistle. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
“Bob Marley?” I asked with a laugh.
“It’s your Don’t Worry, Be Happy mix. Made sense to kick it off with the title jam. Now seriously, it’s time for you to chillax.” He was so cute when he tried to use slang. Not only was his vocab severely outdated, it was also from the wrong region. He’d grown up in California, which was just about as far from Maine as one could get.
“And I suppose Nan helped you with this, too?”
“Let’s just say there’s more Sinatra than I might have otherwise chosen.”
“Not necessarily a bad thing,” I said, then held my hand over my mouth in a weak attempt to hide the yawn that followed.
“See, your body wants to chillax. Let your mind follow,” Charles said in a woo-woo voice like the people at the massage place in Dewdrop Springs liked to affect.
“Yeah, I’m wicked tired,” I said, eliciting a groan from Charles. He’d once told me that no matter how long he lived in Blueberry Bay, he would never ever use the term “wicked” to refer to anything other than a warty green witch.
I smiled at the memory, then closed my eyes. I must have nodded off, because the next thing I knew, a sudden crash in the back of the RV startled me awake.
“What was that?” I shouted, jumping in my seat, only to be forced back down when the seatbelt jerked tight against my chest. It took me a moment to remember where I was and why.
“We’re almost there, but I’ll pull over at the next exit so we can investigate,” Charles said from beside me.
I shook my head. “No, don’t do that. I can go check it out.”
Before he had the chance to argue, I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood on shaky feet, keeping my hands out to either side for balance. It took me a moment to locate the source of the crash, mostly because everything looked exactly the same as it had when I’d first taken stock of the living space.
I carefully made my way through the kitchen and dining space and back to the bedroom, but it was completely undisturbed.
At last, I yanked open the door to the tiny bathroom and discovered exactly what I’d been searching for. Assorted toiletries covered the floor and the handheld shower head had come loose and was dangling toward the ground.
“Everything okay back there?” Charles called.
“Yeah. Just some stuff that fell over in the bathroom,” I yelled back.
“Ouch, my ears,” came a familiar voice, one I definitely hadn’t expected to hear in that moment.
I followed the sound and spotted Pringle sitting on the floor beside the toilet. “Pringle, what are you doing here?” I shouted in disbelief. He was the very last creature I needed along for my relaxing weekend.
“We stowed away,” the raccoon announced with a smile on his snout.
Horror knotted in my gut. “We?”
“Why didn’t you let us out of here sooner? It’s not at all comfortable in this cramped little bathroom,” Octo-Cat whined, emerging from the narrow cabinet beneath the sink.
I balked. “Seriously, you’re mad at me right now? You’re not even supposed to be here!”
“We figured it was an oversight that you didn’t invite us, so we invited ourselves,” the irksome trash panda said matter-of-factly.
Blood flew through my veins and my heart whomped at an accelerated pace. “How?” I managed through gritted teeth.
Pringle pointed toward the ceiling, drawing my eyes to an air vent that sat propped open, providing more than enough space for two mischievous creatures to climb inside.
“Charles,” I called, still staring at the open hatch above. “We have a bit of a problem back here!”
Chapter Five
By the time Charles and I discovered our two furry stowaways we were less than a half hour from our destination, which put us in quite the pickle.
“Obviously we have to take them back,” I tried to reason.
But he insisted that we stick to the schedule he’d already laid out, which meant we didn’t have the time to add a five-hour delay by circling back home to drop off Pringle and Octo-Cat.
“It will be fine,” he promised, even though I could tell that he, too, was unhappy about this particular turn of events. “They can hang back in the RV while we go do other things,” he added, then turned up the volume on our no-worries playlist. Frankly, I had lots of worries, but there was no point in hashing them out over and over again. Like Charles, I would just have to sweep my troubles to the back corner of my mind and do my best to have a good time.
We only had time to listen to a few more songs before we pulled into a little campground near the base of Mount Katahdin.
“Surprise!” Charles cried as he navigated to an open lot. Of course, I’d already figured out our destination a long time back but hadn’t let on.
“Mount Katahdin, the tallest mountain in the entire state. It’s supposed to be really beautiful here,” he continued. “The perfect place to kick back and relax, starting with a hike! After all, the name literally means, ‘The Greatest.’”
Hiking up a mountain was definitely not what I considered R&R, but at least I could be certain our furry stowaways wouldn’t try to follow us there.
Charles leaned over to give me a peck on the cheek. “You go get changed, and I’ll check in with the owner of the campgrounds to let her know we’re here.” He clambered up from the driver’s seat and almost skipped out the door, leaving me with the unenviable task of trying to find appropriate attire in a bag packed by my crazy nan.
I padded back to the bedroom where my suitcase sat waiting for me on a bed made with perfect, tight hospital corners. Octo-Cat and Pringle lay stretched out on either side of it, both dozing away as if they hadn’t a care in the world.
I clapped my hands together as loud as I could, startli
ng them both awake. “Out,” I said when they turned their heads to me.
“You’re disturbing our nap,” Octo-Cat droned.
“And you’re disturbing my vacation,” I shot back.
“Do what you need to do,” Pringle said while Octo-Cat stood and turned in slow circles, padding at the bed.
I’d changed in front of my cat hundreds of times, but I didn’t feel comfortable getting undressed in front of the raccoon. Privacy was tricky business when it came to talking animals. Of course they didn’t view things the same way humans did, but the ever-observant Pringle could easily spot a weird mole or birthmark and then find a way to bring it up in every single conversation we had from that point on. I, for one, refused to give him that kind of power over me.
“Out,” I repeated, stamping my foot for good measure. When Pringle still didn’t budge, I took off my bathrobe and threw it over him, then picked up the bundle and set it outside the door, which I shut firmly behind me.
“Your pajamas don’t match,” Octo-Cat said. And because nothing could ever be easy, he’d now settled himself on top of my suitcase.
I picked him up and sat him back on the bed. He wasn’t happy about it, but at least I could trust him not to bite me.
Taking a deep breath in, I unzipped the suitcase, preparing for the worst assortment of clothes I’d long since relegated to the back of my closet. I hadn’t, however, prepared myself to find a bag filled with outfits that weren’t even mine.
I snapped a quick picture and fired off a text to Nan: Explain.
My phone rang a few seconds later. I picked up, and Nan’s words rushed out. “I had to keep it a surprise, and you were in your room right up until go time. I had no other options, so I did the best I could.”
“You do realize we don’t wear the same size?” I said, eyeing the suitcase warily.
“That’s why I picked stretchy things. Relax, you’re going to look fabulous!”
I let out a long sigh. At this point, I was getting very sick of everyone telling me to relax. “Okay. By the way, Octo-Cat is with me. Long story. Tell ya later. Gotta go,” I muttered before ending the call.
After rummaging through the bag, I found there were two choices here. I could choose from a couple different floor-length, form-fitting gowns, or I could wear Nan’s hot pink sweats with the word “juicy” written across the tush.
“Kill me now,” I moaned as I cycled through my options again and again, trying to pick the lesser evil.
“Ask me later after I’ve had my nap,” my cat answered unhelpfully.
In the end, I chose the juicy track suit, opting to keep my pajama T-shirt on top so that I could tie the jacket around my waist and hide the branded booty.
I’d just finished pulling my hair into a high and tight ponytail when a knock sounded on the door. “Ready to hit the trail?” Charles called.
“Ready.” I opened the door, and he grinned, handing me a bottle of water.
“Looking good.” He winked and he motioned for me to lead the way out of the RV.
I exited into the bright sun, wishing I’d had the foresight to grab some sunglasses on my way out of the house. I hadn’t been awake enough yet to think properly then. I wasn’t even sure I was awake enough now.
Charles exited the RV after me with a picnic basket slung over his arm.
“Wouldn’t a backpack be better?” I asked, pointing to the awkward cargo.
“We don’t have that far to go. It’s just a short walk to a nice clearing that overlooks the water.” He locked the door and then shoved the keys in his pocket. “Don’t you think I know better than to make you work out on your big day off?”
I smiled and leaned into his side, and he slung an arm over my shoulders.
Perhaps this wouldn’t be such a terrible trip after all.
Chapter Six
Charles and I walked hand in hand to the spot he’d pre-selected for our picnic, and it was every bit as lovely as promised.
It was still quite early in the season, but this was also the first nice weekend after a long and hard winter, which meant that campgrounds were packed. In fact, all of the tables that had been setup in the clearing were already filled with picnickers.
“C’mon,” Charles said, tugging me along. “Let’s find our own little spot off the beaten path.
Thankfully, the fresh air and beautiful scenery had already begun to do wonders for my sour mood. As we walked, I glanced back at the trail behind us a few times to make sure no uninvited animals had decided to join our trek, and each time I didn’t spot them, my smile grew wider and wider.
And my fantastic boyfriend had planned an impromptu getaway because he knew that I needed it. How lucky was I?
We walked another five minutes until we came upon an enormous white ash tree. By the time we settled ourselves at its base, I was more than ready for the break—and the sustenance. I’d only managed half a mug of coffee that morning before our big adventure began and was looking forward to filling my stomach with the feast Nan had prepared. Yes, even though she was terrible at picking out clothes for me, Nan’s cooking beat all.
“Let’s see what we have here,” Charles said, rubbing his hands together before lifting the lid on the basket. The scream that followed made us jump back in fight.
“What is it?” I asked with a gasp.
But Charles didn’t answer. He simply pointed at the basket with a shaky finger.
Okay. I gulped and crawled forward on my hands and knees to see for myself.
I’m not proud to admit that I yelled out a string of curses at the top of my lungs when I discovered what was inside. Needless to say, there was no delicious picnic waiting for us. Instead I found one very fat and happy raccoon covered in sticky berry juice.
“Pringle!” I cried. “How could you?”
He flopped out of the basket and rolled right into me, splattering my borrowed hot pink sweats with deep red juice.
I groaned in frustration.
Pringle moaned in discomfort. “I was just going to nab a quick taste, but then I heard Charles coming, so I hid. I didn’t know he’d take the basket with me in it. And then the two of you were walking and walking for what felt like forever, and I’m a nervous eater, so I decided to help myself to the rest of what you had in here.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I demanded, my brows pinched together in fury.
He rolled his eyes as if this whole thing was my fault and not his. “I just did.”
“Before that, I mean.”
The raccoon moaned again and clutched at his belly. “Everything was so good. I just couldn’t stop.” He rolled onto his side and studied me with dark, glistening eyes. “Say, do you think Nan will make me another of those strawberry cream cakes once we’re back home? Because that was one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”
“I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” I fumed. At least none of the other campers were around to see the crazy lady yelling at a raccoon.
“Now go wash yourself off in a creek or something. You look like you just walked out of a crime scene,” I said with a scowl before relaying the whole thing to Charles.
As I talked, Pringle loped away. His entire coat was stained with berry juice, giving him a blood-soaked zombie roadkill appearance that made us both cringe.
“It’s fine. Everything will be fine,” Charles said with a smile that felt forced. “We’ll relax here for a little bit before heading back. We can grab something for lunch once we’re back at the RV.”
“Yeah, if Octo-Cat hasn’t already eaten it all.” I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned. I didn’t want to be a bummer, but I was just so, so disappointed, and I knew Charles was, too.
“We can still turn this weekend around,” he promised as he leaned back against the thick tree trunk and pulled me to his chest. Then he repeated for the dozenth time, “I have it all planned out.” It was quickly becoming his getaway mantra.
He then went on to tell me about his plans for c
ampfires and swimming and simply lounging about in the RV, enjoying each other’s company. “We’re skipping fishing, though. I figured with your ability, that would be kind of a nightmare scenario. Ah, please don’t eat me!” he cried in a silly, high-pitched voice.
Honestly, I was already this close to becoming a vegetarian. The only thing that stopped me was that all my animal friends also ate meat, even though they could talk to each other, too.
“Are you ready to head back?” Charles asked after we’d sat snuggled up against that tree for a good twenty minutes.
I stretched my arms overhead, then let out a groan. “We can’t leave without Pringle. He might not be able to find his way back.”
Charles arched one eyebrow. “And that’s a problem because?”
I shoved him playfully. “I know he can be a pest, but for better or worse, he’s our pest.”
“You won’t be calling me a pest when you see the present I’ve brought you,” Pringle called, emerging tail-first from the nearby brush.
Uh-oh. There’s no way a present from Pringle could be a good thing.
A glint of silver caught my attention—the sunlight reflecting off the scales of an enormous salmon that Pringle dragged behind him.
“How did you manage to get that?” I asked in surprise.
He paused to flash us a giant grin. “I felt bad about eating all your food, so I went and secured new food.”
“And by secured you mean…?”
Pringle dragged the fish the rest of the way to us, then stood on his hind legs and admitted, “Okay, so I had a little help. Gloria, come on out!”
I followed his eyes as he turned back toward the brush, where a massive grizzly bear emerged.
Charles jumped to his feet and spread his arms to block me. “Angie, get down! Or run! I won’t let him hurt you!”
I gulped hard, then rose to my feet and put a hand on my boyfriend’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I think the bear’s friends with Pringle. Let me just talk to them before you freak out. Okay?”
I turned to Pringle so he could explain.
