Page 76 of Grown-Up Second Chance

Chapter Twenty-Three

“This is my son, Joe,” Joe told me when I arrived at his site prior to our excursion to Mammoth Springs.

“You can call me Bug,” the young man said as he shook my hand.

“Bug?”

“Mom used to say I was cuter than a bug’s ear—not that anyone could ever tell me what a bug’s ear looked like. I’m not sure they even have ears. Anyway, it got shortened to Bug. It stuck. A lot less confusing than having two Joes in the same house.”

“I bet.”

“Dad said the two of you used to be friends in high school.”

“That’s true,” I said.

“You’ll have to tell me all the things he wouldn’t want me to know,” Bug said with a grin.

“I’ve sworn her to secrecy,” Joe said.

“But I can be bought,” I said.

“Good to know.”

As we piled into the car, Bug gave me the front seat beside Joe. My trepidation lightened. It was going to be a good day.

As we traveled into the park, Joe caught me up on the adventures he and his son had had over the last few days. I told them about a hike my sisters and I had taken on the North Rim Trail by the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. I had to admit all the walking Liz insisted on doing was becoming easier.

“Did Dad force you to listen to his limericks in high school?” Bug asked.

I groaned. “All the time. It was his favorite way to get out of a lesson. I don’t know how he comes up with them.”

“And they’re so bad.”

“There was a young lad from Butte …” Joe began.

“No!” Bug and I said at the same time.

Joe laughed but didn’t continue.

As we drove through the Norris Geyser Basin area, Bug commented on the heavy sulphur smell. “It’s pretty overpowering at times,” he said. “I’d rather muck out stalls than smell that all day.”

“Do you muck out stalls often?” I asked, expecting a negative reply.

“Every day. We’ve got a small ranchette outside Dillon. My wife runs it while I’m teaching, and always makes sure to leave the ugliest chores for me.”

I glanced at Joe. He hadn’t mentioned his son was married.

“With the new baby, I don’t mind. She’s got enough on her hands,” Bug added.

I arched an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Joe said. “I’m a grandfather. I tried to get Bug to name him Joe IV, but he was having none of it.”

“You hadn’t mentioned it,” I said.

“Didn’t get a chance.”

“Dad neglected to tell us having a baby is so much work. Do you have any kids?” he asked me.

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