The Christmas Joy Ride (4 page)

Madge reached out her arms, gathering Joy in a long, heart
felt hug. “God bless you, Joy. I think the angels must've sent you here today.”

Joy touched Madge's cheek. “Maybe Ralph asked them to do that.”

Madge laughed. “Yes, I'm sure you're right. That would be just like him.”

“Have a happy anniversary this week,” Joy told her. “And have a merry Christmas too!”

Joy found Miranda taking photos with her phone. “I thought I could post them on your website,” she explained. “I've got my laptop, and I can do it this evening.”

“Oh, that would be delightful!” Joy clapped her hands. “See why I needed you to come with me on this trip?” They told LaShanda and a few others goodbye, then quietly exited the now bustling Mansfield Manor. As they hurried out to the RV, Joy felt a tear slide down her cheek. But it wasn't a sad tear. It was a tear of pure joy. Christmas joy.

M
iranda offered to drive to the RV park, but Joy simply waved her hand. “Not this time,” she said. “Just navigate us there with your PGS device.”

Miranda didn't bother correcting Joy over the GPS. It was enough that the old woman could safely drive after such a long day. It was getting dusky when they pulled up to the RV park office. Like Joy's motor home, the little office was lit up with strings of brightly colored lights. “I got you down for space 33,” the manager told Joy as he peered curiously at her in the driver's seat. Maybe, like Miranda, he wasn't sure about an elderly woman driving a big motor home. “Need any help getting set up?”

“I'd love your help,” Joy told him. “This is our first day out
and it's been awhile since I've hooked up the water and electric by myself.”

“I'll meet you down there in a few minutes.” His eyes lit up. “By the way, I like how you got your rig decorated. Real festive and fun.”

“We're on a Christmas Joy Ride.” Joy chuckled.

He laughed. “Sounds like fun.”

“Your office looks festive too,” Joy called out the open window as the RV moved forward.

“This park doesn't look too busy,” Miranda observed as Joy drove around the loop.

“December's a slow time of year for RVers. A lot of parks close for the winter.”

Miranda called out the space numbers, noticing that some of the trailers and motor homes had strings of lights too. But none were quite as merry looking as Joy's. “There's 33,” Miranda announced. “Do you have to back into it?”

“No, it's a pull-through. But if you don't mind getting out, you could help me get it lined up.” Joy explained how they needed to be closer on the side with the hookups. “But not too close. We don't want to run into them.”

Miranda hopped out and, positioning herself so that Joy could see her in the side mirror, did her best to get the RV into place. Then she stood with Joy, watching as the congenial manager, armed with a flashlight and tool-belt, uncoiled a water hose and electrical cord from a storage hold and expertly connected them to the hookups.

“That looks pretty easy,” Miranda said as he turned on the water. “I think I can do that myself next time.”

“You don't want to hook up your water if the temps go below freezing,” the man told them. “But the forecast for the next couple days is unseasonably warm.” He pointed his flashlight
into another part of the RV. “This is where it can get tricky though. Emptying the waste tanks. Ever done
that
before?”

Joy laughed nervously. “Only once. My late husband always saw to it after that experience.”

“Well, being this is your first day out and you're leaving in the morning, you shouldn't need to empty your tanks. But when the time comes—say, in a couple, three days—you might want to ask for assistance. Now you ladies have a good evening.” He tipped his head to leave.

“Wait,” Joy called out before he could go. She turned to Miranda. “Go get him one of those cookie plates—you know the ones in the cardboard box in the dinette.”

Miranda hurried in to retrieve one of the cookie plates that Joy had placed in the motor home that morning. Each tin Christmas plate was filled with yummy looking homemade cookies and chocolates, then wrapped in cellophane and tied with a bright red and green plaid bow. “Here you go.” Miranda gave Joy the plate.

“Merry Christmas.” Joy handed it to the manager. “Thank you for your kind help.”

“Well, I'll be!” He looked down at the goodies, then shook his head. “I haven't seen a good-looking cookie plate in ages.” He smiled at Joy. “Reminds me of the ones my wife used to make for neighbors . . . back before she passed. Thanks.”

“Thank
you
!” Joy called out as he turned to leave.

Once they got situated inside the RV, turning on lights, rearranging some things, Miranda realized that she was getting hungry. But now that the RV was all “hooked up” it wouldn't be easy to run out to get some dinner without undoing everything. And she hadn't noticed any restaurants within easy walking distance.

“I could trek out to fetch us something to eat,” she offered.
“I think I saw some fast-food joints about a mile or so away and I could be back by—”

“Not necessary,” Joy said quickly. “I've got a casserole all ready to heat up.”

“Seriously?” Miranda could hardly believe it when Joy pulled out an aluminum pan topped with foil. “When did you have time to do all of this? Sending your personal things to Phoenix. Packing your Christmas decorations. Making cookies. Preparing dinner too? If I looked up superwoman in the dictionary, I'm sure I'd find your picture.”

“It's just a matter of organization and planning. And a good freezer.” Joy winked. “I made the cookies a couple of weeks ago and froze them. Same with the meals I brought along for us.”

“Us?” Miranda frowned. “How did you know anyone else would be with you?”

Joy made a sheepish smile. “Wishful thinking?”

“So how many meals did you bring?”

“Enough for all our dinners.” She tapped the freezer section. “Some are up here, and some are already thawing.” She held out the pan. “This is easy breezy lasagna.”

“Easy breezy lasagna?”

“A simple recipe I concocted when my boys were young and time was precious. I don't cook the pasta and I use tomato soup . . . and a few other easy tricks.” She held out a lighter. “Want to fire up the oven while I put my feet up?”

After a quick explanation of how to light the gas stove, Miranda managed to get it started without setting her hair on fire. “I feel almost like a pioneer,” Miranda said proudly. “The truth is, I've never actually been camping.”

“Oh, I wouldn't exactly call this camping.” Joy chuckled from her post in the nearby easy chair. Then as Miranda set the compact table and made a small salad from the veggies
Joy had packed, Joy shared some of the wild camping stories from trips the Jorgenson family had taken back in the 1960s. Miranda was laughing so hard over the one about Ricky and Robbie getting sprayed by a skunk that she had to sit down.

“You've really led a charmed life,” she told Joy. “I hate to admit it, but sometimes I feel a bit envious of you. Especially considering what a train wreck my life has turned into lately.”

Joy got a thoughtful expression. “Although I wish your circumstances were different, I do believe that the good Lord knows just what we need. And I don't believe he wants anyone to have it too easy. As for a charmed life, well, you don't know a thing about my childhood, do you?”

Miranda considered this. She'd been good friends with Joy for about eight years now—ever since she purchased the house next door, back before she married Jerrod the Jerk. But come to think of it, she really didn't know much about how Joy grew up. “I know you were born in Indiana.” Miranda straightened the silverware. “And you moved to Chicago when you were seventeen, a few years after World War II ended. And I know that you were a secretary for a furniture company, the same place where George was apprenticing while he was attending Northwestern on his GI bill—and that's how you two met.”

“My, but you really do listen to my stories, don't you.” Joy smiled.

“I love your stories.” Miranda didn't add that she wished her own stories were half as nice.

“Well, I probably shouldn't have let you think my life was such a bowl of cherries,” Joy spoke slowly. “But I suppose it's because I've put so much of that ancient past behind me. And I'm not so sure I care to go into it at this stage of the game. But suffice it to say, my parents had more than a fair share of problems. Mine was not a happy childhood in a happy home.
My father was an alcoholic and my mother . . . well, she was not a healthy person. Anyway, I was removed from my parents' custody when I was five. I was placed in an orphan home and since it was the Great Depression and most people were struggling just to feed their own families, I remained in that sad place until I was fourteen.”

“Oh, my goodness. I had no idea.” Miranda tried to imagine sweet, optimistic Joy languishing in an orphanage, but could only come up with images that harkened to the musical
Annie
that her high school drama department had produced about twenty years ago. Dark, dank, and depressing. “I'm so sorry. That sounds very sad.”

Joy nodded grimly. “It was no kind of a place for a child to grow up.”

“You said you were in the orphanage until you turned fourteen—what happened after that?”

“Well, I'd been going to church for several years by then. And I took my faith seriously. It was my lifeline. There was an older couple at my church—the Andersons. They were childless and fairly well-off and offered to take me in. It seemed a great opportunity. The idea of living in a real home and going to high school with normal kids—well, it seemed a dream come true.” She scowled and shook her head.

“But it wasn't?”

“My new parents were not as they seemed. Not in the least. I learned an important lesson though. Just because someone goes to church does not make them a good person.”

“Yeah, I agree with you on that.” Miranda didn't point out how Jerrod had been a churchgoing guy when they'd first met.

“The Good Book says you will know the tree by the fruit they bear. Take it from me, these people bore nasty fruit. So naturally, I couldn't get out of that house fast enough. As soon
as I had my high school diploma in hand, I took off.” Joy shuddered as if the memory alone was distasteful.

Miranda didn't know what to say. “I'm so sorry, Joy. I had no idea.”

“No, of course you didn't.” Joy smiled sadly. “You had a happy childhood in a normal family. How would you guess that mine had been so miserable?”

The little oven timer dinged and soon they were dining on lasagna and salad and watching
It'
s a Wonderful Life
. To her amazement, Miranda was actually enjoying herself—more so than she had in a long time. But the movie was only midway through when she noticed that Joy was dozing off.

“Maybe you should go to bed.” Miranda gently nudged her friend. “You've had a long day.”

“Oh yes—yes.” Joy sleepily pushed herself to her feet. “You're probably right. And we need to get an early start in the morning.”

“I'll save the place on the video to watch with you—”

“No, no, I've seen that movie dozens of times. You go ahead and finish it up. It's such a good one.”

“It is good,” Miranda agreed. “And even though I saw it once back when I was a kid, I don't really remember how it ends.”

Joy said good night and then headed off to the bedroom, back behind the sliding door, where she would hopefully get a good night's rest. Miranda was trying not to fret over Joy's health and age, but it wasn't easy. At some times she seemed zestful and lively, but at other times she seemed very old and frail—and Miranda's biggest fear was that this trip would be too much for her. Miranda tried not to think how she would defend herself against Joy's sons if this cross-country expedition proved too much for the old woman. Hopefully Rob and Rick wouldn't take her to court. That seemed a bit extreme.

Before Miranda would allow herself to finish up the movie, she washed up their dinner dishes and set them on a towel to air dry. Then she sat down and posted the day's photos on the website. After that she made the fold-out couch into what would be her bed, and she slipped into her flannel pajamas and a pair of warm, fuzzy socks. Finally, feeling happy and content with this small, cozy space, she made herself a cup of cinnamon spice tea and turned the movie back on. And as she leaned back into the little rocker recliner, she decided this wasn't such a bad way to live.

She could almost imagine herself becoming a full-time gypsy. What did she need her big old house for anyway? She always just felt somewhat lost in it. And too many things reminded her of Jerrod—which would leave her feeling angry . . . and then sad. Really, why should she care if she lost it to foreclosure? Sure, that was Jerrod's fault too. But maybe it was time to let it go . . . to just leave it all behind her. Maybe she'd just relocate to Phoenix like Joy. She'd start a whole new life there. Or maybe she was just being slightly delusional.