“Are we going far? I have to work tomorrow.”
“No, you don’t.” His eyes are soft and sweet as he looks over at me. “I’ve arranged for the week off, paid. You need a break.Weneed a break. So, this will be home for the next five days, just you and me…and the cat.”
I would cry, but I have too much to do to give into the happy tears. I’veneverbeen camping, and I’ve always wanted to go.
I love being in the woods with the trees and the wildlife.
“Then let’s get a move on and get the hell out of here.”
I run ahead of him and into the house, where we pack up the groceries that Tanner already bought. Once those are put away and organized in the van, I run back into the house to pack some clothes and necessities and all of Petunia’s things. The last thing to go out is the feline herself, who doesn’t seem to be super excited about it, until we’re in the van, and she finds a little perch up by the window to watch the world go by as we drive.
The coastline is rugged, jagged even, and never ceases to take my breath away.
Tanner heads south, taking his time on the windy Highway 101.
“How far are we going?” I ask him.
“A few hours,” he replies. “Just southern Oregon. And that’s all I’m going to tell you.”
“Okay.” I settle back into the seat and feel my eyes get heavy.
“Go to sleep,” he urges.
And that’s the last thing I hear before drifting off.
“Hi there,we’re checking in. Last name is Hilleman.”
“Ah yes, here you are.” I open my eyes and see that we’ve pulled up to a one-man kiosk, and a young gentleman in a brown jacket is typing on a tablet. “You’re in slot seventy-one, and everything is set up for you. Do you need help connecting to the electric and water?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll let you know if I screw anything up,” Tanner replies and signs a sheet of paper, then passes it back to the man.
“Just drive straight ahead and follow the signs. Have a great week, and welcome.”
He hands Tanner a few brochures and then nods, and we’re off.
“I love the trees.” I roll down the window and lean out so I can take a deep breath. “Smells so clean. I know we have the same thing in Huckleberry Bay, but this just hits different.”
Within minutes, we’ve reached our site.
“Close your eyes,” Tanner instructs me. “Just for a few minutes.”
I comply. It’s a good thing I don’t get carsick because he has to whip the van around, forward and backward, I assume, to get it just the way he wants it.
“Keep them closed.”
I hear him hop out of the van and move stuff about. And just when I think I might fall asleep again, he opens my door and brushes his knuckles over my cheek.
“Okay, open your eyes, pretty girl.”
I do, and in front of me is simply woods. No other RVs are parked in the slots; it’s just the two of us.
“Come on.”
Tanner takes my hand and leads me around to the back of the van, and that’s when my breath catches. All I can do is stare.
We’re parked near the edge of a cliff, maybe a hundred feet back, and through the trees on either side of the camping space is a view unlike any other I’ve ever seen.
Big, brown rocks jut up out of the sand, almost as tall as this cliff, and the waves crash around them, sending sprays of water into the air. Birds fly around them. They obviously have nests high up, out of reach of the tide waters.