Counting Stars by Long Kathleen

Author:Long, Kathleen [Long, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781503948914
Published: 2015-10-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

We’d reserved a spot at a campground twenty minutes away, just off the route to our next stop in Michigan. As much as Jenny’s directional bossiness had made me bonkers on the way to the kaleidoscope, I missed her input now, wishing she’d climb out of the dark hole she’d fallen into long enough to go for a run, criticize our meal preparation, or correct my choice of routes.

But she didn’t. And she showed no signs that she planned to do so anytime soon.

She sat hunched over the puzzle, muttering to herself, celebrating quietly on the rare occasions she actually made two pieces fit.

Ashley moved into the seat behind Mom, earbuds firmly in place, head bobbing to her tunes. “She’s weirding me out,” Ashley said loudly as she buckled in.

“Just think how Jenny feels,” Mom said beneath her breath, shooting me a sly grin.

Go, Mom, I thought as I met her smile with my own.

Although the trip and distance from her kids had let Jenny slide fully into her grief, the daily activity, such that it was, seemed to be bringing Mom back to life. As for me, I wasn’t sure yet what I felt. I’d never been more tired, but I imagined that was to be expected after hitting the road day in and day out.

Our luck with pull-through parking spaces ran out the moment we arrived at the White Dove Campground. Although the website and my reservation receipt boasted of fifteen pull-through spaces, there were none to be had by the time we made camp a little before four o’clock.

“Are you sure?” I asked the overly polite woman behind the counter in the office. “I thought we had that reserved.”

She shook her head and gave me a patient smile. “You do have a full hookup site, but I’m afraid you don’t have a pull through.”

I thought of Thad back at our first overnight stop. “I don’t suppose you have a highly qualified teenage boy around who might be a whiz at backing up motor homes?” As much as I hate to admit it, my voice tightened and my pulse quickened as soon as I uttered the words backing up.

“No ma’am,” she replied. “Just my dad, and he won’t be along until”—she leaned back to catch a glimpse of the wall clock—“another hour or so. Did you want to wait?”

I’d practiced backing up. I knew everything about finding the center mark on Georgie’s length and where and when to cut the wheel. I knew how to use my mirrors, check the site, and position the coach in the space. I knew it all. And if that campground had consisted of a set of slightly dented orange cones in the middle of an empty grocery store parking lot, I’d have all the confidence in the world that I couldn’t do much damage.

As it was, I was fairly certain I didn’t have a prayer. So I did the only self-respecting thing I could do. I lied.

“Should be fine,” I said. “Just asking.

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