Page 48 of Grown-Up Second Chance

The book was The Kemptons: Adventures of a Montana Ranch Family. It claimed to be a true story. As I skimmed the text on the back, my curiosity awoke. “Does look interesting. I’ll return it when I’m done.”

He shook his head. “Pass it along. There’s not enough space in an RV for books to pile up. And they’re heavy.”

What did heavy have to do with it?

He pointed to his pickup. “When you’re towing, you need to watch how much weight you’re carrying, especially going up and down the long, steep slopes we have around here.”

“I’ve never thought about that,” I said. “But then, there’s a lot of things I’ve never thought about before. Like poop.”

He laughed.

“All my life,” I said. “I just flushed. Never thought about it. Now there are hoses, flushing, seals, and dozens of blue latex gloves.”

He laughed harder.

The sound lifted my spirits.

“The other day I saw a guy standing over the sewer, watching. I asked him if anything was wrong. No, he said. He was watching it go down to make sure there wasn’t a problem. A problem? I don’t even want to think about it.”

I joined Joe in his chuckles.

“Yeah,” he said. “Some people get very serious and obsessive about it.”

“Some people don’t have a life.”

“Probably not. But speaking of living, are you up for going to Yellowstone tomorrow and seeing if we can spot some wolves? We could pack some food. There are some great places to hike in the Lamar Valley. We could snare a spot on the road where everyone parks, have a picnic dinner, and watch.”

“Sounds like old times,” I said. We’d often pack sandwiches when we went on our long walks together, especially once Joe got his license. We’d drive to an interesting spot and find a trail. Our walks weren’t strenuous, we stopped too frequently to point out something interesting. Joe would look for birds, and I’d take pictures with my trusty Instamatic.

Whatever happened to that old camera? Or the pictures? Kathleen might know.

Our friendship had deepened on those long-ago walks. People were always teasing us about being a couple, but I’d never thought of ourselves that way. We were friends, nothing more than that. I’d never thought about kissing him.

Not until the prom.

And that had turned out to be a bad mistake.

“Stop overthinking,” he said now. “It’s a walk in the woods, nothing more.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Then it sounds like a plan.” We’d revert to old habits: simply two friends exploring new territory, sharing a sandwich when we were hungry.

“Do you think we’ll see some wolves?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “You never know. We might get lucky. Or we might have to make a date to come back in the winter sometime and try again.”

“You really going to move down by Ennis?” I asked.

“Once I get done with this trip,” he said. “It seems like a good time in life to make a fresh start. I like to fly fish, and it’s a beautiful area.”

“Sounds perfect for you.”

“What about you? Are you going back to the Bay Area when you are done with your rambling?”

“I have no idea.” What was I going to do with the rest of my life?

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