RV There Yet? (25 page)

I sit up straighter, alert and ready for some fun. “It's Menopausal Millie coming through! Woo-hoo!” I say, feeling ten years younger. Apprehension covers Lydia's face, but I'm charged. This is the most fun I've had in days. The breeze kicks up a notch, causing our hair to blow about every which way.

The RV engine sounds as though it might cough up a spark plug.

“You'd better slow down, Millie, or you'll get us killed,” Lydia says, trying to ruin all our fun.

“I'm tired of them pestering us,” she shouts back.

“Now this is the Millie I know and love,” I say despite Lydia's frown. “This is the same Millie who joined me in stirring up trouble at camp. A real rabble-rouser.” I grin and rub my hands together with gusto.

Though the motor home is choking and sputtering, we somehow manage to pull just behind the bikers. Willie turns his face toward us and smiles with surprise. Playing Millie, I snap his picture, which probably wasn't a good idea since he almost runs into us. I didn't think about the flash blinding him.

Millie's lips are still scrunched together, and she's not looking at all friendly.

“You'd better slow down, Millie. You might hurt those men,” Lydia says, her own legs stretched into full braking position.

“Exactly.” The rearview mirror shows the evil intent lurking in Millie's narrowed eyes. I smell fear, and it's coming from the Biker Boys.

Millie edges closer.

Ponytail Man waves and leads the pack onto the next exit ramp. Only then does Lydia take a breath.

And by the look on her face, I'm thinking she's thankful that it wasn't her last one.

We drive awhile in silence. I'm still pumped from the whole Biker Boys thing, but obviously Lydia and Millie didn't enjoy it as much as I did. That little crisis, along with the RV's faulty air-conditioning, has done little to cool off Lydia and Millie. Though the windows are open, we're still trying to run the air-conditioning to see if we can get it circulating cool air. Unfortunately, it's only blowing hot air. We must be rubbing off on it.

“I think you'd better let me drive awhile,” Lydia says.

“Figured that was coming,” Millie says. “Want me to get off at the next exit?”

“Yeah, since we left those guys way back there, I think it's safe. This breeze feels wonderful,” Lydia says, poking her head out the window.

I stick my arm out.

“What are you doing?” Lydia asks.

“Trying to get a feel for the temperature.”

Lydia smiles. “What do you think the temperature is?”

“Hot.”

We laugh.

“The RV's engine is getting a tad overheated,” Millie says. “I'm sorry, Lydia. I just don't know what got into me with those guys.” She eases the motor home off the next exit ramp, and we pull into a McDonald's parking lot.

Once we switch seats, Lydia says, “You're right. Waldo is hot. You overworked him, Millie.”

Millie wisely keeps silent.

“We might as well go inside and get a bite to eat since we're here taking up space,” Lydia says. “That will give Waldo a chance to cool off.”

I'm guessing the RV hasn't worked this hard in years. For that matter, probably ever.

After I run to the bathroom to fix my hair, I step into the hallway just as my cell phone rings. Millie and I lock eyes. She's a foot from my phone, and she lunges for it. I rush toward it too. Not that I want to talk to Rob—if that's who it is—but neither do I want Millie to be my “mother.”

“Hello?” Millie says, looking very cross.

“Give it back, Millie,” I say, trying to wrestle it from her, but she twists and jerks, keeping it away from me.

“It doesn't matter who I am. You leave her alone, do you hear me? She wants nothing to do with you, you stalker! Go home to your wife and kids! If you call her again, she's going to notify the police.” With that, Millie clicks off.

Lydia steps inside, looking as shocked as I feel.

“I'm sorry, DeDe, but you need help getting rid of that jerk. You're too good for him, and I refuse to let him hurt you anymore.”

Something about the tenderness in Millie's voice, the way she rescued me from Rob, shatters my anger and brings tears to my eyes. Millie walks over and hugs me. “Please don't be mad at me, Dee. I was only trying to help.”

“I know,” I whisper. “Thanks. It's just hard.”

We talk through it a moment so I can recover from the incident. Then Millie's usual self kicks back into place. “Well, let's go eat breakfast. I'm starved.”

Lydia and I smile, and we all lock arms and head for the restaurant.

A few minutes later, I'm one bite into my sandwich when my heart stops as I look out the window. The Biker Boys are back, and they're headed our way.

“Oh my goodness,” Lydia says with a shaky voice, “it's those—those men again.” It takes three swallows before her bite of muffin goes down her throat.

“Turn your heads,” Lydia says. Fear makes her voice crack. “Maybe they won't see us.”

If she throws a napkin over her face, I'll be so embarrassed.

“I don't care if they do see us. I'm not backin' down,” Millie says, chin jutted outward, eyes flashing.

The five men climb off their bikes and head toward the restaurant. They're old, but they've got the macho walk down; I'll give them that. Think
Mod Squad
.

“Now, Millie, don't you start anything.” Lydia is practically crawling under the table.

I glance toward the bikers, and they spot us.

“Busted,” I whisper, shrinking into my shirt.

They come our way. “Well, look here, guys, it's our lady friends,” Ponytail Man, aka Willie, says.

“We are not your lady friends,” Millie snaps.

“Whoa,” one of them says. Willie looks back at them, and they all laugh. I'm thinking Millie will lift her handbag and thwack 'em a good one. Instead, she lifts it and takes out her camera, warning the men that she will use the picture to identify them to the police if she has to.

“Just leave us alone.” Lydia's voice shakes, and her eyes are wide and droopy.

Willie's jaw drops. “Lydia? Lydia Thornton, is that you?” the man asks, referring to Lydia's maiden name.

Lydia squeaks, and I'm almost sure surprise has sucked the air from her lungs.

“Who are you?” Millie demands more than asks as the flash goes off right in the man's face.

Willie blinks and runs his hand along the side of his hair. I've seen that gesture before . . .

“Why, I'm Eric. Eric Melton.”

At this our jaws drop simultaneously. Eric the Ego Melton. From Aspen Creek Camp. Who knew?

“Eric Melton?” I say.

He practically rocks on his heels here. His self-esteem is obviously still intact. I'm wondering if he's looked in the mirror lately.

Lydia lifts a weak smile. “Hello, um, Eric.”

Millie is speechless. No doubt trying to get her adrenaline under control.

I'm just having the best morning. I've decided this trip is great after all. I'm so glad I came along.

Willie—I mean, Eric—introduces the other guys, but their names are already a blur to me. “We hang out together back home,” he says. “Okay if we get our food and join you?”

I look to Lydia, hopeful. Now, Lydia's a lot of things, but rude isn't one of them. “Sure,” she says, looking as though she has no idea how to handle this situation.

Eric flashes a grin and a wink to Millie, who in turn har-rumphs. Such a fiftyish thing to do. Once they get their food, the boys take off their jackets and scoot a table up to our booth to settle in for a good visit. I can't believe what I'm seeing. The looks on Millie's and Lydia's faces tell me they can't believe it either. The Biker Boys are actually the Looney Tunes. That's right. Beneath their jackets they're wearing T-shirts with Looney Tunes characters. Let's see, Eric is the Tasmanian Devil (big surprise), whose friends around the table are Elmer Fudd, Porky Pig, Daffy Duck, and Yosemite Sam.

I lean into Millie and whisper, “For cartoons you almost killed us?”

She chuckles. Lydia hears me, and she laughs too.

Eric looks over at us. “Yeah, we get that reaction just about everywhere we go. We may look rough, but we're really harmless.” He shrugs. “We like
The Looney Tunes
, what can we say?” The guys laugh, and we join them.

“Just goes to show you can't judge a book by its cover,” I say, looking at Millie, who makes a face back at me.

“Lydia Thornton,” Eric says, shaking his head. “Still as pretty as ever.” He smiles, then chomps into his sausage biscuit.

Lydia blushes but says nothing.

“What's it been, thirty years?”

“Right around there,” she says.

“And who could forget DeDe Veihl—well, that was your maiden name, right?”

Oh sure, let's rub it in that I'm still not married. “Still the same name,” I say. Maybe he'll think I'm liberated and took it back after a failed marriage or something.

“Boy, DeDe sure kept the guys hopping at camp,” he says to his buds. “Everyone tried to get her attention at one time or another.”

My face feels warm, but I don't think it's a hot flash. They're probably freaking over what thirty years has done to me.

“No doubt you'll get 'em all stirred up again,” Eric adds, making me feel better. He looks over at Millie. “Let's see, you and DeDe always used to get into trouble.”

Millie starts to open her mouth.

“No, no, don't tell me. Let me guess.” He thinks a moment. “Millipede!” he says, referring to the camp nickname for Millie. I had totally forgotten about that.

Millie's not impressed. “Millie will do,” she says, as in thank you very much. “By the way, what was the big idea cutting us off in traffic?”

Somehow I knew Millie wasn't going to let this die.

“Oh, we were just having some fun.” He takes a swallow of coffee.

Millie stares at him. “I expected that when you were sixteen, Eric.”

“Same old Millipede,” he says. “Did you join the service or anything? You know, become a marine sergeant, run a home for juvenile delinquents, work a crack house?” He winks and grins at Lydia.

Though I'm enjoying this banter immensely, I figure I'd better change the subject. “What brings you out this way?” I ask before taking a bite of my fruit.

“Oh, I figured we were headed to the same place.” His eyes register disappointment as he looks at Lydia. “We're headed over to Aspen Creek.”

Millie drops her fork, and Lydia spills her water.

“Oh, good grief,” Lydia says, scrambling to grab all the nearby napkins and mop up the mess.

Eric takes on a studly look. “I still get you all riled, eh, Lydia?” He winks.

With our gazes fixed on him, we freeze, as in nobody moves.

He holds up his palms. “Just kidding.” He nudges the guy next to him, and they laugh. “Where are you headed?”

Millie pipes up. “Well, we're going to—”

“Out west,” Lydia interrupts. “We're going out west to see some old friends.”

Millie and I shoot her a look. She avoids our gaze.

Eric's expression drops. “That's too bad. Aspen Creek could use your help.” He explains the dire circumstances of the camp, and I'm wondering what Lydia's planning to do. After all, this is the reason we came.

“Well, I guess we'd better get going,” Lydia says abruptly. She starts to scoot out, causing all the guys to have to get up and move the table out of the way. “Nice to see you again, Eric,” she says, and we're back in the motor home before Eric knows what hit him.

Once inside, Lydia's white-knuckled fingers grip the steering wheel as she stares straight ahead.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“I'm fine.” She pulls her hands to her face. “What are we going to do?”

“We're going to go to Aspen Creek and not worry about it. We have as much right to be there as he does, Lydia,” Millie says. “Why didn't you tell him we were going there?”

“I don't know. It just came out that way.” Lydia pulls her hands to her face for a second. “What was I thinking?” she asks, dropping her hands. “I don't know what came over me. I felt all flustered like I was sixteen again.” She takes a deep breath and releases her grip from the wheel.

“It's understandable, Lydia. Seeing Eric again was sort of a blast from the past,” I say.

Millie climbs into the passenger's seat. “Well, get used to it. 'Cause we're going to see a lot of him at Aspen Creek.”

By the look on Lydia's face, I'm thinking Millie could have gone all day without saying that.

19

A beautiful pine forest surrounds us as we climb the mountain
toward Aspen Creek Camp. Though the RV's fuel pump is fixed, it's still struggling with the climb, but come to think of it, I don't do stairs as well as I used to, either.