“Well, why don’t you start now?”
“Even though it will be a silent prayer, can you stay with me?”
I nearly cry at her timid question.
“Of course. Yes. Please,” I babble, letting her ease away from me.
“Okay. Here I go.”
Her eyes flutter closed, her oval face relaxing, and I can’t help but count the light freckles over her nose. Then her left eye pops open, landing on me.
“Quit staring at me. It’s distracting.”
“Then stop being so beautiful.”
She fights a smile and closes her eye, trying her best to remain serious. But I do as she requests, staring off into the distance while she has this moment of restoration and rekindles her relationship with God.
“Thanks,” she says after she is done and squeezes our joined hands. “For sitting with me.”
“Do you feel better?”
“A little. Like some of the pressure to be perfect is gone. Because let me tell you, I was failing miserably.”
“We all do.”
She turns to admire the camper, shaking her head. “What a mess I’ve gotten us into.”
“It’s not as bad as you think. Don’t forget to give yourself some credit. Every time we’ve hit an obstacle, you’ve risen to the challenge. The tire is patched. The leak is fixed. The engine is starting. You’re more capable than you realize.”
Her smile grows bigger with each accomplishment.
“I’m thankful to have you in my corner.”
“I’ve always been here.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long to appreciate it.” A long sigh rumbles through her lips.
“Don’t forget we’re in this together.” I wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t give up on either of us.”
“I won’t.” She leans over and kisses my cheek.
The final stretch of our adventure is thankfully uneventful. We hit a rough patch of traffic through Colorado Springs, and I try to ignore Reese’s soft giggles as she finishes listening to the end of my audiobook. She catches me staring a couple of times and chucks a piece of popcorn at me.
I hope that means she’s enjoying it.
Winding around the tight mountain roads feels like the final boss battle with victory around the corner. Never have I been so happy to see the Rocosa welcome sign.
Streetlights bathe the sidewalks in a warm glow. Due to the late hour, the majority of shops on Main Street are closed. Only the restaurants and Cliffys still have light shining through their windows. A few stragglers wander down the streets, leisurely on their way home. Heads turn at the loud rumbles from the motorhome’s diesel engine. Some even stop in their tracks and blatantly stare as we drive past.
“Oh, man. I didn’t think about this part,” Reese mumbles under her breath.
“It won’t take long until the neighborhood watch launches the phone tree.”
“I wish there was a place we could hide it out of sight.”
Eyebrows high, I turn to her, surprised I didn’t think of it sooner. “Instead of parking it in my yard, we can hide it inside my barn.”
“Isn’t that thing condemned?”
