Re-kindled Love

Re-kindled Love

“Toby, look,” I sat on the sofa and handed him the card from today’s mail. “It’s my grandma’s 85^th birthday and my parents are planning a party. We’ve got to be there.”

I knew that would not go over well. I said it half to irritate my husband and half in seriousness. I wanted to be there with my family for this event.

Toby scowled. “We don’t have money for plane tickets—divorce is expensive.” I did agree with that, but wasn’t going to give up.

“Then let’s drive. It will be one last trip for the two of us. We can announce our pending divorce in person this way.”

“You think we can stand each other for a drive through three states?”

I shrugged. “Well, I don’t want to drive that far by myself. You know I’d fall asleep at the wheel.”

Toby paused before handing back the card. “We had always wanted to visit those three national parks…we could do that on the way…”

The morning dawned with fog glooming up the sky. Toby threw the last bag into the trunk and slammed it shut.

I was carrying our disposable cups of coffee and settling them into the carrier between the seats when the car rocked with the slam of the trunk. Hot coffee sloshed onto my left hand and I jerked back, splashing it on the seat. I mopped it up with napkins from the glove compartment as Toby got in the driver’s seat.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he mumbled.

The drive out of town and onto the east-bound highway was clear of traffic this early in the morning. I thought this would be a good, undistracted time to discuss what we would tell my family.

“Toby, how much of our problems should be tell Mom and Dad—”

“Just tell them we’re not in love anymore and are getting divorced.”

The GPS flashed from night to day screen. I contemplated the past five months. “You know, Toby, out of respect for you…I haven’t told my mom that we are having problems at all. This will come as such a surprise.”

Like every time I tried to confront him, he changed the subject. “Did you put the national park into the GPS?”

“Yes. Well, I put in the campground we’re staying in outside the park.”

“Good enough.”

“Toby, we’re finally getting to that one park that we had to skip on our honeymoon. We’ll get to check this one off our list after all.”

We had both been young when we married, and had started life together by making a list of all the national parks that we wanted to visit. Our honeymoon had actually caught our first three.

“Yeah, you were so sick with that kidney infection. Luckily there was a hospital nearby.”

“We can laugh about it now, but at the time, I was so disappointed to make us miss the park.”

“I was so relieved when the doctor said you’d be okay with antibiotics. I thought you were dying. When we get home, we’ll color it in on the list.” I was silent, contemplating our list. It hung on the wall of our extra bedroom. Each summer we had been able to color in at least three more. There were still many to go. Who would I go with now? Or would I just give up? Who would get to take the list in the divorce? Was it even important to Toby?

We traveled in silence and I pulled out my kindle.  “Drat, my kindle won’t turn on!”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know—it worked fine yesterday. I downloaded some books for the trip. The screen is just blank.”

“Plug it in and charge it.” I rolled my eyes. “Brilliant—it’s been plugged in all night plus I’ve had it plugged into the care since we started.”

Toby shrugged, “Guess we’ll have to sing then. You’re always on that kindle. It will be good for you to not have it.”

My jaw dropped. “I’m always reading because you’re always watching TV or something on your phone. What else would I do?”

Toby glanced at me and apparently decided to not fight about it, because he reached over and turned on the satellite radio. “Let’s sing together like we used to in the car.”

We had always sung 80s tunes driving to the different national parks and he pulled that station up. I sat there sullenly through the first one while he just hummed. Then “Don’t Stop Believin’” came on next and I had to join in.

The Police’s hit “Every Breathe You Take” came on. “Every book you read. Every page you turn. Every kindle book you upload and star, I’ll be watchin’ you.” I giggled at him.

“When your kindle breaks. When you have to communicate.” (That was hard for him to squeeze into one line of the song.) “When I have no TV. And no emails to read. We’ll have to talk instead.” The song with on without him as we both sobered at his made-up version.

What had happened? My husband is clever and funny. When had I forgotten that?

We had been driving for another two hours when Toby said, “This town will be the last we’ll come to for a long time. We should grab something to eat here.”

My tummy had been rumbling already and I was looking forward to grabbing fast food. I started watching closely. “There—there’s a Dairy Queen on the left.”

“No, no DQ today.”

“There’s a sign for McDonald’s and Taco Bell.” I had the GPS open and saw how small the town was. “That’s probably the only fast food they have. I’d like DQ. We don’t have one back home.”

“No, let’s find something else.” Toby couldn’t see, but my eyebrow raised.  “Ya think so? Ok, turn left here.”

Toby turned left into a somewhat residential area. I took him through the five streets that looked like the extent of the town. When we came back to the highway, he said, “Ok, you’re right.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, and you’re not saying ‘I told you so’ now, but I know you were showing me that those were our only choices. Let’s go back to the Dairy Queen.”

We’ve crossed the state line already. Why is that relevant? Because of covid-19 rules being different in each state. In the state we’re in now, the fast food places are open, but only for drive through or pick up. Sigh. At least this line is a lot shorter that the McDonald’s line.

Toby growls. “I do not want to eat in the car. This is ridiculous.”

“Look.” I point as we drive to the back. “They have two nice picnic tables in front. We can eat there.”

After getting our order, Toby slams into a parking spot and we walk over to the tables.

“It’s nicely shaded.” I try to make the best of it. I’m happy anyway, because I have ice cream.

We are halfway through our meal when I hear a slithering sound. I look around for a snake, see none, turn back around and find that the sprinkler is now watering our table. Toby jumps up and backs away.

I laugh. “What luck do we have today—come on, Toby. Let’s run through it.”

I put down my fries and grin at him. As I trot through to the other side of the grass, I see him shaking his head at me.

“Come on,” I shouted from the side of the road. “Your food is wet anyway. Let’s have some fun.” I ran through a couple more times before he wadded up his trash and tried to tag me with it. That’s it. Game on. I gave him a bear hug and his eyes got big. I squealed and ran off. I didn’t get far though before I slipped. Toby was too close on my tail and tumbled down on top of me.

I looked up through my bedraggled hair and saw his face coming down. Was I going to get a kiss? It had been so long.

His lips found mine in a very brief kiss and he hauled himself up.

“Come on, Tami. Grab your ice cream and let’s get back on the road.”

We both laughed though when we had to pull the towels out of the camping gear in the back of the car to sit on.

Back on the road, I turned off the AC and wiped his face with another towel.

“Well, that was like old times.” I grinned but he didn’t answer.

We settled back to the trip, drying off in the spring sun and humming or singing along to the radio. The sky, however, was getting progressively brown looking.

“Why is the sky brown? It looks like smog.” Toby shrugged.

An hour later, the sun had started setting. The sky was a bright red now. Beautiful where it was red, and brown where it wasn’t.

Toby slowed the car.

“What’s going on?”

“Looks like a police barricade ahead.”

“What!” I scooted in my seat and pulled myself up taller. Sure enough, police lights were flashing about two miles down the highway. There was a mile of cars backed up.

I flipped the radio to a local station. We were at the back of the stopped cars however before the news came on.

“Because of the brush fire between mile markers 6 and 25, the highway has been shut down and residents are being evacuated. Exit the highway at Exit 5 and detour around the affected area.”

“Toby, this exit is where the detour starts. Let’s get off and find our way around.”

“Yes, we’re going to have to, aren’t we.”

We followed the mass exodus of traffic heading to the same detour, feeling sorry for the cars stuck ahead of the detour.

Winding along the narrower back roads, many of the other cars stopped at the first little town with a hotel. We kept going.

After an hour, Toby said, “I’m getting tired of driving in the dark. There’s a state park with camping in a few more miles. We’ll pull over there.”

After stopping to fill out a fee envelope, we drove slowly to find an empty spot. Our headlights I’m sure were annoying to the other campers, but what do you do?

Finally, we pulled into a spot and pulled the tent out of the trunk. Spreading it out together in the glare of the headlights, we grinned at each other.

“I’m glad to be out of that car.”

“I’ll drive in the morning.” Toby nodded his thanks.

Toby walked to the tent bag.

“Tami—did you put the tent poles somewhere special?” His voice sounded strained. My blood froze.

“No. No, they should be in the bag.”

Toby straightened. We just stared at each other. “Oh no.” His shoulders fell. “I loaned it to the Smiths and didn’t look after they gave it back to make sure everything was in there.”

“Well, I guess it’s either the car or the sleeping bags outside”

Toby grabbed the sleeping bags and we put them on top of the flat tent. I got our pillows from the back seat and we settled in for the night.

The air on this side of the brush fire was clear. “It’s a great night for sleeping under the stars.” I said.

“At least there were no bear signs here.” Trust Toby to be practical.

“It’s getting chilly.”

“Come closer.” Toby wrapped his arms around me. I thought he’d go to sleep right away, but instead he started talking about other camping trips we’d experienced together. I let him talk, happy to be in his arms again.

The next morning, we cleared up our “camp” and started back on our detour.

A few miles down the road, I spotted one of my favorite roadside treats. “Look, Toby. There’s a fruit stand.”

He knew I couldn’t resist those, so he pulled in to the parking area. We browsed for a while, finding items for breakfast as well as a bag of pears that I knew my grandma would enjoy.

Back in the car, we ate our breakfast. I handed him wipes and reminded him that it was my turn to drive. His eyes sparkled.

“I know you love when I drive because you can read your book, but since your kindle is dead, you might as well drive.”

We talked about things back home and Toby drifted off to sleep. I passed into the next state and slowed at their vegetable check point.

“Do you have any vegetables, Ma’am?” The uniformed officer asked.

“No sir.” He started to back away but glanced into the back.

“Ma’am. I need you and your companion to exit your car.”

My blood froze again. I never get into trouble. What was going on? I shook Toby awake. “Toby, this officer says we have to get out.”

Toby gazed bleary-eyed at me. “Huh?”

“Sir, I need you to exit your vehicle.”

When we were both standing on the side of the road, the officer reached in and pulled out my grandma’s bag of pears.

“These are not allowed over state lines. We are working to prevent the spread of the –beetle. Do you have anything else you’d like to declare now?” He glared at me suspiciously.

“No, sir. I’d forgotten those were there. Plus—” I said this a bit defensibly—“Plus, you asked for vegetables. I think of those as fruit.”

His eyebrow tilted at me, but he motioned us back into our car and along our way.

Toby was staring at me then burst out laughing. “You were going to argue with him?”

I spluttered, embarrassed and still upset. “Well, he asked for vegetables. Isn’t he supposed to say ‘produce’?” I would have thought of the pears if he’d said ‘produce’.”

It was miles before Toby stopped chuckling at me getting in trouble like that.

We reached our last-of-our-married-life national park that night. I had made reservations for a campground and we had no trouble finding the spot.

We had stopped in a town along the way and had bought a new tent. It was small—the box said “3 people” so I knew it was big enough for only the two of us.

We soon had a fire in the pit, and the tent set up. The ice chest was at the table and the sleeping bags inside the tent. We sat at the fire in our camp chairs and--

“This is nice.” “This is the life.” We said same time. And laughed.

Toby went over to the bag of food on the table. “I brought you something.”

He pulled out the fixings for s’mores. “Reece’s Peanut Butter cups?” I said. “You remembered I’ve been wanting to try those on s’mores?”

“Yep.” He smiled shyly, like he had when we were first dating.

I smiled back, then pulled open the bag of marshmallows. “What are we waiting for? S’mores for dinner!”

That night, snuggly together in the very small tent, listening to the crickets and the passing river, we started a new list. A list of what we had loved about each other in the past and discovered it was the same now.

And when we pulled into my parent’s driveway for Grandma’s birthday party, we were holding hands and had nothing to announce except our love for each other and for our family on this special 85^th birthday reunion.