They roasted hot dogs and marshmallows over the campfire. The kids ate every bit of it.
When bedtime rolled around, Carolyn insisted he sleep with the boys in the bunk; she worried one of them would fall off in the middle of the night. She and Austin took the bedroom and they all slept in their clothes since no one had remembered to bring pajamas.
The next morning Carson returned to the marina convenience store and bought thirty bucks worth of donuts, milk and juice, which the boys devoured in one sitting. Since Carolyn didn’t swim, she kept Austin in the camper with her.
The boys had brought swimming trunks, but no towels, so after they’d exited the water they’d had to dry off in the sun. Upon returning to the camper, once again the boys were starved.
Instead of traipsing back to the overpriced convenience store, Carson pulled up stakes and they drove into town for lunch. When neither their grandsons nor Carolyn seemed too keen on camping another night, they dropped the boys off and headed home.
Home. It was a pretty nice place to be. After polishing off a half a dozen cookies, Carson plopped in his easy chair to watch TV.
So the camping experiment hadn’t gone too well the first time. Next time they’d be more prepared. He’d drifted into a mental road map of the places he’d like to visit when Carolyn snatched the remote out of his hand.
He looked up to see her planted in front of him, wearing her pissed-off face.
“How long have we been married?”
He opened his mouth to answer and she cut him off.
“In all those years have I ever told you it was my fondest dream to own an RV and travel the country?”
Shit.
“No, I haven’t. You know why? Because that is my idea of hell. That is the single most asinine thing you’ve ever…” She made a huffing noise and leaned forward to jab her finger into his chest. “You don’t cook, so who would be responsible for all the meals? Me. You don’t clean, so who would be responsible for keeping the camper tidy? Me. You don’t grocery shop, so who would be responsible for stocking the camper pantry? Me. How is that a f**king vacation for me, Carson McKay? It isn’t. And it makes me think that you don’t know me at all if you believe I’d want that nomadic life. Our life is here. Not with strangers at some senior citizens RV park playing bridge and comparing pictures of our grandkids. How the hell much did that camper cost?” She jabbed him in the chest again. “For that kind of money, we could fly wherever we wanted. We could stay at a five star hotel. We could eat at a different restaurant every night and still have money left over to do it again…ten or fifteen more times! That is a vacation. Dragging the whole damn house with us so I can cook and clean in an itty bitty space while you watch satellite TV in your plush captain’s chair ain’t gonna happen. Ever.”
She stood and placed her hands on her hips. “Monday morning you will return that camper to the dealer. Tell them you changed your mind.”
His mouth dropped open. “Do you know how much money we’ll lose if I do that?”
“Do you know how much more money you’ll lose if I divorce your stupid ass for expecting that’s how I’d spend my retirement?”
Holy shit. She wasn’t serious…was she? “Caro—”
She drilled that sharp index finger into his chest, punctuating every word. “I. Am. Not. Kidding. Me or the camper, Carson McKay. You choose.”
After the camper was gone, they never spoke of it again.
Chapter Thirty
Hospital, Day 7—morning
Carson had overslept, and the nurses hadn’t woken him so he’d missed three visits with Carolyn. By the time his visitation window arrived and he’d dragged himself into her room, he was a wreck.
“Hey sugar. I’m sittin’ here beside you. I know you can hear me. I need you to hear me. Come back to me. I need you to know that I’m right here, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.
“I’ve tried to stay so positive every time I’m in here. But the closer it gets to them pullin’ you out of this, the more I worry that you’ll wake up in pain.” He studied the rise and fall of her chest. “Every time you brought a child into this world, I hated the pain it caused you. Even when you swore it was worth it in the end, I wanted to shoulder that burden.”
In his mind—maybe his crazy mind?—he heard her soft, I know that.
His phantom conversation with her seemed so much harder on the seventh day. He’d happily relived a lifetime of memories in the last six days. Why was he struggling now?
Because you’ve wanted it to be over and it almost is. And you’re scared to find out what happens next.
So he kept babbling. “You’ve been so healthy over the years. You wouldn’t get so much as a sniffle when it seemed at least one of the kids was always sick. Your blood pressure is good, so’s your cholesterol. You didn’t smoke, you didn’t drink to excess. How’s it fair that you’re in here now…” It should be me in that hospital bed. I should’ve been exercising my own damn horse. I asked too much of you. I always have.
Stop with the guilt, Carson.
He really was losing it because he swore she’d whispered that in his ear.
Get it together.
Carson traced every bone in her hand. “I remember how worried you were that you’d inherited your mom’s arthritis. I’d catch you starin’ at your hands every once in a while, wondering if they’d turn on you like hers had. If you’d become frail like her. But again, you dodged that bullet. You are the strongest person I know, Caro.”