Dedication:
There is one person in particular who has written to me and touched my heart. In his youth, he suffered from abuse much like Stevey did in this story. It is to Rick B. that I dedicate this story.
Live simply, love generously, care deeply and speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.FROM THE END OF CHAPTER 21:
"I thought we'd take my military car. Is that all right?"
Rita's eyebrows raised. "Military?"
"Well, it looks military on the outside." I looked down at Stevey. "If everything goes okay, and your folks approve, would you like to see my collection of cars on the way home?"
Stevey smiled wide. "WOULD I?" He looked at his folks, hopefully. "Can we?"
Rita smiled at him and brushed the hair from his forehead. "We'll see."
We piled into the Hummer, Stevey sitting in front, and made our way to the address Dr. Graves had given Tom.
Nudist Camp Vacation CHAPTER 22 As we pulled into the parking lot, Stevey was sneaking glances at me through widened eyes, and his hands were shaking. On the one hand, I'm glad he can't hide his emotions, but on the other, it bothers me that he's so nervous about seeing a counselor. We made our way inside, and Tom signed in for Stevey. We were about ten minutes early. When we sat to wait, I made sure Stevey sat on a couch between his parents, and I sat in a close chair. Stevey didn't look very happy about the arrangement. There was a scowl frozen on his face, and he looked as if he were about to crawl out of his own skin. Rita, Tom, and I made nervous small talk. The conversation seemed to be forced. As casually as I could, I kept watch over Stevey. He slowly developed a look in his eyes like a cornered animal, as they became wider and wider, and he fidgeted more and more. Finally, in a low voice I asked, "Stevey, are you all right?" He said, matter-of-factly, "I think I'm gonna throw up." My instincts took over. I jumped to my feet and stepped in front of him. "Stand up," I instructed. Instead of leading him to a bathroom, I grabbed him into a tight hug and pulled his face into my chest. It was as if I could feel his anxiety pass to me. His breathing slowly settled down, and I could feel him relax against me. I looked down at his face and saw that his eyes were closed. He seemed to be concentrating on my heartbeat. When I first grasped him, I began to feel a little nauseous, myself, but the feeling slowly abated. When he finally looked up into my eyes, I could see that he looked bewildered. "What did you do to me?" he mumbled. I smiled at him and brushed the hair from his damp forehead. I whispered, simply, "It's amazing what healing a hug can do." Stevey searched my face for a moment, apparently not knowing whether I was pulling his leg. Then he grabbed me and hugged me tight. Just then, the door to the inner office opened and a plain looking woman looked out and softly asked, "Steve Smith?" She had mousy gray hair framing a round face, and she wore a long, loose dress of multiple dark tones of brown, green, and blue, with a long, thin, dark blue sweater over it. As she walked, I noticed that she was wearing black, "sensible" shoes. In spite of her plain appearance, there was a disarming look of strength and understanding in her hazel eyes. "This must be Susan," I thought. I smiled at Stevey and whispered, "I'll be here when you're done." He looked at me with widened eyes. "You're coming with me, aren't you?" he said, hoarsely. It was almost a demand. The nice lady heard what he said and chuckled at Stevey. "Your father and mother can come in, too. I want to talk with all of you before I talk with you alone. When Tom stood, she looked confused, so I explained, "I'm a friend." "Oh!" she said with surprise. "Then you'd better come in, too!" She led the way back to what I supposed was her office. She pulled an additional chair into an assembled semi-circle of chairs in the large, but uncluttered and subdued office. The furnishings weren't exactly plain, just non-descript. The bookcases with their colorful volumes were the finest looking elements in the room. The carpet was teal green and plush. There was an overstuffed burgundy velvet couch between two low walnut end tables, and a matching chair flanked one of the tables. There was a small desk in the far end of the room, with heavily draped windows behind it. If it weren't for the table lamps throwing pools of light into the space, it seemed as if the room could be dark and depressing. For some reason, it seemed warm and inviting. The word "comfortable" came to mind. When we sat in the assembled chairs, Stevey sat between Rita and me, with Tom next to Rita. Stevey desperately gripped my hand and seemed as if he'd never let me go. The woman whom I had assumed was Susan sat opposite us, by herself. As she spoke, her voice was soft and soothing. Susan confirmed my assumption when she introduced herself. "Well, now," she said with a smile. "I believe introductions are in order. I'm Susan Flanders, but please call me Susan. I believe you are Steven Smith." She was looking at Stevey. "No, ma'am. I'm STEVE Smith." He said that with a decided chill in his voice. I know I shouldn't have been amused, but I stifled a laugh and covered it with a cough. There's just something about a youngster doing "righteous indignation" that is just too cute! Susan looked at me with concern and asked, "Are you all right? Would you like some water?" I cleared my throat and said, "No, no, but thank you just the same. I'm Alan Stuart and on the other side of Steve are his parents, Rita and Tom." "Thank you, Alan. I'm very pleased to meet you all. Now, if the report I received from Dr. Graves is correct, Steve is the one who has come to see me. Is that right?" She was looking at Stevey. He started to shiver and crossed his arms. It seemed as if he was retreating. Speaking in a small voice, Stevey said, "I guess." In her soft, soothing voice, she continued, "Okay, I'll explain a few things about how this works. It's pretty simple, really. I see only children and young adults. From what little I've been told, Steve may need to see me once a week for at least a couple of months. We'll have to see how it goes. Whatever Steve tells me will be in strictest confidence, unless he tells me I can share something. I won't tell anyone anything about what we discuss, so don't bother to ask. Does everyone understand that?" She hesitated long enough for everyone to nod. Steve still had his arms crossed, but was loosening his grip on himself and his eyes were widening. I think he was positively surprised about her statements. It seemed as if he was impressed that he could say anything and no one would know but Susan. "Good. From time to time, I may need to call one or more of you in, but I will never talk with you unless Steve hears what you tell me. Now, does anyone have any questions?" Everyone was silent. "Steve, do you have any questions?" Slowly, he shook his head. "All right, then, I think it's time for me to talk with Steve, alone." As I started to stand, Stevey reached out and quickly grabbed my hand. Rita saw his reaction and turned to Susan, saving Stevey the need to object. "Susan, there's something you need to know. Stevey has a strong friendship with Alan. It might be better for Stevey if Alan stays with him, at least for the first session." To her credit, she didn't register any surprise. "That's quite all right." She turned to Stevey. "Is that what you want?" Stevey's eyes were still wide. He nodded, vigorously. "Okay, if you and Tom will wait outside, I'll let you know when we're done." Rita and Tom nodded. When Rita stood, she leaned down, cupped Stevey's head in both hands, kissed him on the cheek, and whispered, "We'll be right outside in the waiting room." He looked up at her and nodded. I thought I could see Rita's eyes clouding. After Susan had seen them out, she came back to us and said, "Why don't we move to where we can be more comfortable?" She led us to the couch and took a seat in the adjacent chair for herself. "Steve, you're nervous about seeing me, aren't you?" He nodded. "I know telling you that you don't need to be nervous doesn't do any good, so why don't you just tell me the first thing that comes to your mind?" He shrugged and remained silent, looking at my hand as he clasped it. Susan broke the silence by asking, "Why don't you start by telling me how old you are, and what grade you're in?" As she pried words from Stevey, he answered her questions at first with few, monosyllabic words, but then elaborated more and more, telling her about where he lived, how he liked it, and how he liked being nude all the time. He explained, "It gets to be a drag to have figure out how to pick out clothes to wear all the time. It just seems like clothes are a real pain." That comment elicited a smile from the otherwise imperturbable Susan, and Stevey smiled back at her. Her efforts to gain his trust seemed to be working. She was good! "Is there anything you want to talk about?" Stevey looked up at me and swallowed hard. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. In a small voice, he said, "No." I looked down into his eyes as he looked up at me. I whispered, "Stevey, it's time." He wrinkled his face and his eyes clouded. I brushed his hair from his forehead and kissed him there. "Stevey," I whispered, "I know talking about it again will make it more real, but you know you'll feel better after you do. Once you get it out, you don't have to take it back. Talking about it will help you to let it go, right?" He took a deep breath and let it out, then nodded. I reached over to the table at my elbow and grabbed a tissue for him. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose. "I'm such a cry baby." Susan smiled. "You'd be surprised at the big, burly, grown men who've cried in front of me. Sometimes we need to cry. It helps us to be who we are." Stevey looked at her, expressing his surprise. "Alan says I need to talk about this, and I trust him. He's the only one who knows everything. My brother Tim heard me tell some of it, but I told Alan everything." Susan sat quietly, attentive, but expressionless, riveted to every word. Stevey sat back, cleared his throat and sniffed. Carefully folding the tissue, he laid it on his leg and smoothed it obsessively. He continued to concentrate on the tissue as he began to speak. "It started about two years ago when I was eleven. . . ." He shared every detail of his abuse and even a few more things he hadn't told me. Then he told in graphic detail of his ordeal with the kidnappers. He also shared how Frank had scared "Doug" away and had helped rescue him from the kidnappers. Then he looked up into my eyes and hugged my arm. I thought I could see some of the "worship" Tim had spoken of. Immediately, my eyes clouded. I leaned into Stevey's face and kissed his forehead. Stevey then did something completely unexpected. He looked directly at Susan and said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Alan's really the one who saved me. The reason I love him so much is because I owe him my life. If it weren't for Alan, I'd probably be dead now." I couldn't help myself. I lost it. I grabbed Stevey into a hug that probably hurt and began to sob. He reached around me and tightly hugged my waist. To her credit, Susan only sat a watched. When I managed to regain some of my composure, I choked, "This is one very special young man." She slowly nodded and whispered, "I can see that." I looked at her carefully. Tears had streaked her cheeks. She looked quickly at Stevey and saw that he had his eyes closed and face buried in my chest. In a fluid move, she pulled a tissue from the box to her face, wiped her tears, and quietly blew her nose. Clearing her throat, she spoke in her soft voice. "Steve, can you tell me what you're feeling, now?" He peeked at her from my chest. In a muffled voice, he said, "I feel like I'm loved. Alan loves me, Tim, my brother, loves me, my mom and dad love me. . . ." She squinted and looked at him carefully. "Does someone else love you, too?" Stevey looked at her, startled. "What do you mean?" "Just now, when you described who loves you, it didn't sound like you finished your list. Is there someone else on your list?" He looked up at me with big eyes and blushed, then looked back at Susan. Slowly, he said, "No, but there's someone . . ." She smiled. "Someone special? More special than Alan?" "Maybe." "Maybe, you're not sure, or maybe, you don't want to say?" He blushed again. "Yeah, both," he whispered. He looked up at me again, possibly for reassurance. I smiled at him and mouthed, "Paul?" He smiled and buried his face in my chest again, then nodded. I looked at Susan and whispered, "The boy who was kidnapped with Stevey." Susan smiled sadly and nodded. "Stevey [She seemed to have picked up on his nickname.], is it that you want him to love you, but you don't know if he does?" He looked up at me, then at Susan, and cleared his throat. "Yeah," he whispered. Susan only nodded. After a respectful pause, she asked, "Stevey, how do you feel about the man who abused you and the men who kidnapped you?" He looked at her with a hard face, wrinkled his brow, and closed his eyes to slits. I had never seen such vehemence in one so young. He hissed, "They hurt me. They hurt me a lot. I HATE them! I hate Doug, `cause he did things to me I didn't like and made me do things I didn't want to do. He made me be afraid of my mom and dad, `cause he made me think my folks'd hate me if they found out I like sex with guys. And I hate the kidnappers, `cause they did things to me I don't even want to think about. They even took pictures of what they did!" "What would you say to them, if they were here, now?" His eyes grew big and his nostrils flared. If his anger at that moment had been directed at me, I think I would have backed away from him. As it was, he was squeezing the skin on my side, and it hurt. I tried not to react. He growled, "I'd tell them to die! When they tied me up, and put things in me and pinched my skin, it HURT me! I begged them to stop, but they wouldn't! They laughed! If I could, I'd KILL them!" As he finished, his last words cracked his voice. He began to cry, softly. Again, he buried his face in my chest, and I hugged him, tightly. Susan sat quietly for several minutes, until Stevey calmed. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. "Stevey," she said softly, "what you feel is perfectly all right. They violated you and your body. There isn't anything that's more important to us than the privacy of our bodies." He looked at her, wiped his eyes with his hands, and sniffed, loudly. He said in a small voice, "There were some times, when Doug was gentle, . . . I liked what he did, the way he touched me, you know?" He wiped his eyes again. "That's perfectly normal, too," she smiled. "Every boy your age feels urges and wants to feel things, sexually. If someone touches you, lovingly, in a sexual way, it'll probably feel good to you. But if someone forces you to do something or submit to something, it's very likely to be an unpleasant experience. It's better to focus only on the positive experiences, if there are any." Stevey nodded. "Well, our time's almost up for today. I need to ask you: how do you feel? Are you tired all the time, and do you want to sleep a lot?" Stevey thought a moment. "No, I don't think so." "That's good. We'll call your folks in, now. There are only a couple of things I need to say to them. And Stevey? You did real good for our first meeting." He looked puzzled. "Thanks," he shrugged. She excused herself and quickly returned with Rita and Tom. Rita and Tom sat next to Stevey and me on the couch. I still had my arm around Stevey. He had relaxed and he was resting his head against my chest. "Stevey did very well for his first visit," she began. "I want to see him again next week. Be sure to make another appointment before you leave. Alan, I think it would be good if you could be here, too." I quickly nodded. "I don't think he's suffering from depression yet, but I want you all to watch for signs. Some signs might be a lack of energy, listless, sleeping too much, crying too easily, or being self-destructive. I can prescribe medicines, but I don't like to give psychotropic drugs to my people unless it's absolutely necessary. We'll wait and see if Stevey needs something. I've also noticed a very positive interaction between Stevey and Alan. Stevey seems to be relying on Alan for most of his support. It would be good for Stevey to continue to have that support, if Alan agrees." "There's no question," I said as I looked down at Stevey and met his eyes. "I love this young man. If there's anything he needs that's within my power to give him, he'll have it." "It's just that kind of dedication that will help Stevey the most." She looked at Rita and Tom. "Do you have any questions?" Rita looked at Tom, then spoke. "No, I don't think so. I want to thank you, doctor, for all your help. Stevey is very important to us." She smiled. "I can see that." She stood and led us all to her door. We filed out to the front and waited for Tom to make Stevey's next appointment. While we waited, Rita looked up at me. She had a slight smile on her lips. She whispered, simply, "Alan? . . . Thanks." I did my best to stifle the lump forming in my throat. I did tell you I'm a hopeless romantic, didn't I? Whether from my residual depression, or just because I'm a soppy old softy, I get choked up easily. I feel needed. I've decided it's what I need more than anything else in this life. "Rita, if I could do more, I would. Like it or not, you're my family, now. You're stuck with me." She smiled, nodded, and stared into my eyes. Then she did something strange. She put her hand softly on my cheek. "Good. You're stuck with us, too." Tom rescued me from my emotions when he stepped out and said to me, "Next Tuesday, same time. Okay?" I looked at him and swallowed hard, registering what he said. "You bet." I looked down under my arm, where Stevey had taken permanent residence. "Okay, sport?" He smiled shyly and put his arm around my waist to join his other arm. He hugged me tightly, and I hugged him back. "Yeah." Then he looked up at me, quickly, scaring me. "Can we see your cars, now?" he asked, excitedly. I took a quick breath in relief and smiled. Pretending disappointment, I said, "Yeah, I suppose." He smiled wide and squeezed me again. Rita and Tom looked at us with smiles, then Tom ruffled Stevey's hair. With a soft voice, he said, "C'mon, boy. Let's go." Stevey smiled at his dad and loosened his grip on me, but not completely. He turned us toward the door and stumbled along at my side, like a clumsy appendage, all the way to the car in the parking lot. He let go of me only to get in the Hummer. Without his closeness, I felt a strange absence. When I got in, I gave Stevey a reassuring smile. With all the love he was getting from everyone around him, he seemed to be blooming. When we finally arrived at Tim's and my abode, I bypassed the house and pulled directly around to the "Toy Box." I looked over at Stevey. He was staring out at the nondescript metal building and had a puzzled look on his face. "Is this it?" He wrinkled his nose. "It looks like a crummy warehouse!" Tom almost said something, but I chuckled. "Don't judge a book by its cover! I want it to look like it's nothing special. But wait'll you see inside!" I led them all to the entrance, and in my best dramatic fashion, I turned to watch their faces as I flipped on the lights. I was not disappointed. Of course, Stevey's reaction was immediate and extreme! "Holy shit!" was all Stevey could utter. He was spellbound. Rita's and Tom's reactions were more subdued. Rita was silent until Stevey's exclamation registered with her. "Stevey! Watch your words, young man!" she said, without looking at him. Her correction was tossed in Stevey's direction, but it didn't touch him. He was still captivated as he looked at all the cars. I laughed, my echoes in the building finally breaking the spell. "Let me give you the nickel tour." Then I called out, "Marty? You in here?" When I heard no reply, I saw that the roll-up door on the far wall was not completely closed. He must have taken a car for some exercise. Stevey looked back at me. "Who's Marty?" "He's my mechanic and keeper of my toys. He takes them out to exercise them, and I think he has one out, now." Tom finally broke his silence. "You drive all these cars?" he asked in disbelief. I welcomed his reluctant remark. "Almost all of them. There are a few that we've mothballed, but only because they're so old they're too fragile to drive regularly. But, they could be gassed up and driven, almost at a moment's notice." He nodded with what I thought to be approval as he continued to try to take it all in. "Come on. Let me show you my favorites." They had no way of knowing, they're ALL my favorites, with only a few "special" favorites! We slowly walked up one aisle and down the next as I gave a quick description of each car. Stevey started to touch my old Henry J, and Rita said, quickly, "Stevey, don't touch!" Just as quickly, I intervened. "No, it's quite all right! These are all mine, and I want you all to touch them! This isn't a museum. These are all my toys, and I like to share them. Touch them as much as you want! As a matter of fact, Stevey, come here." He followed me to the tall Henry J. I opened the door and said, "Get in!" All he could say was, "Awesome!" as he jumped into the driver's seat. "Look, Mom!" She laughed at him. "Yes, I see!" Then she leaned to me and whispered, "Alan, you must have a fortune tied up in these cars!" I smiled and shrugged. "It's only money, and I get a lot of pleasure out of playing with my toys! But it's like I told Tim: they're only `things.' People are more important than all of these cars put together. If a tornado were to touch down and destroy the building and it's entire contents, it could all be replaced. You can't say that for the loss of a person." Then I looked out at the cars and remembered a few days before when I thought I had lost Tim, and my eyes clouded. I choked, "Rita, I love these cars, but they can't love me back." She was seriously studying my face, then a small, sad smile appeared on her lips. "You're an amazing man," she whispered. "I'm glad Tim found you." I cleared my throat and swallowed. "You'll never know how much he means to me. I don't think anyone will." Stevey climbed out of the car and began to wander further down the aisle, so I continued the tour. When we reached my '56 Chevy Nomad, I heard an audible gasp from Tom. He had been silently walking along with his hands behind his back, studying each car until he saw that car. "Oh, my God! A Nomad!" he hoarsely gasped. We found his car! "You like it?" Without taking his eyes off of it, he breathed with reverence, "I always wanted one!" "Get in!" "Oh, no! I couldn't!" "Get in, and take it for a drive!" He spun to look at me with incredulity in his eyes. His mouth hung open. I smiled, but kept myself from laughing. Softly, I said, "Tom, I mean it. These cars need to be driven. They were built to drive. The men and women whose hands put these cars together intended them to be driven. They're no good just sitting here, and they're happiest when they're driven. The keys're in it. I'll open the door." He still had his mouth hanging open as I walked away from him to open the overhead door. When I returned to him, he was standing, staring at the driver's door. "Tom," I whispered, "put your hand on the door handle." Slowly, he reached out and gently rested his hand on the handle. "Push the button with your thumb." He did, and the door clicked and jumped open toward him. He seemed startled. "Pull the door open." As he did, a big, open-mouthed smile appeared on his face. He turned to me, his face frozen in ecstasy. After a moments' hesitation, he slid into the seat and pulled the door shut. He sat, stroking the plastic piping on the upholstery with one hand and the huge steering wheel with the other. He studied the controls, the radio, and then the back seat. He seemed to be remembering. When he looked down to see if the key were in the dash mounted switch, he reached for it and looked at me through the windshield. I smiled and nodded. As he turned the key and the engine roared to life, I saw Rita watching the interaction. "Get in," I invited her. She wasted no time. She had what I can only describe as a girlish grin on her face. From the passenger's seat, she looked at Tom. They grinned, leaned toward each other, and exchanged a gentle kiss. I detected a gleam in their eyes. They were kids, again! THAT'S why I have all these cars! It can only be for the enjoyment of special people like Rita and Tom to turn the clock back to special memories and relive them! He depressed the clutch, shifted it into gear, released the brake, and carefully crept forward, toward the open door. Stevey came to my side and put his arm around my waist. "They sure get mushy, sometimes." I sniffed as I put my arm around him. "Yeah," I breathed. He looked up at me and narrowed his eyes. "Not you, too!" I smiled at him. "Yeah, me too." We watched as they disappeared through the door. I turned again to Stevey and said, "Okay, Buster, which one do you like the best?" "I haven't seen all of `em, yet!" "Okay, I think I know what you'll like." I led him straight to the row of sports cars. "Oh, yeah!" As we walked down the row, I described them and told him a brief history of each, if I knew it, and how I came to own them. He was silent and attentive, apparently content to hold my waist as we walked, until we got to the end of the row. That was when he spotted the Lamborghini. He exploded into appreciative expletives! I didn't need to tell him anything about it as he rattled off its specifications. "Lamborghini Countach! Mid-ships V-twelve, six two-barrel carbs, three hundred and seventy-five horses, zero to sixty in five-point-six seconds, top speed a hundred and seventy miles an hour! What year is it?" "Nineteen seventy-nine." "An early one! Wow! Nice! You know it's Tim's favorite car?" I smiled at him and continued to hold him with one arm. "Yeah, I know. He's already driven it." Stevey jumped out of my arm. "No way! Really? I bet he CREAMED himself!" I laughed `til my sides hurt! Still chuckling, I said, "Yeah, he almost did!" I looked at him carefully. "I suppose this is your favorite car, too." He smiled up at me. "Nah! Actually, I like the new `Vette! It's got more horses, and fewer problems. Besides, I like American made cars, even if they aren't as expensive." "I like your style! I've got one in the garage." He looked up at me in disbelief. "Nuh, uh! Really? If it's red, I'm stealin' it!" "It's red, but you can't have it! At least not `til you have a driver's license." "I'm kickin' your ass! Is there ANYTHING you don't have?" I looked down at him, lovingly. I whispered, "No. Nothing." I smoothed his hair from his forehead as he sighed and leaned against me. "I love you, Alan. Not `cause you've got so many cars, but `cause you make me feel so good." I wanted to tell him I loved him, too, but for some reason, my voice wouldn't work. We held each other for what could have been several minutes, when I heard two cars pull up to the open door at the same time. We heard voices and laughing, then Rita, Tom, and Marty all walked in together. Stevey and I broke our hug as Tom walked up to me and grabbed me up into a big bear hug. Rita and Marty were standing in the doorway, chattering about the cars. After he released me, Tom looked into my eyes and said, "Alan, I can't thank you enough! That brought back so many memories! I feel like a kid again!" That was the most I'd ever heard Tom say at one time, except, maybe, when I was checking into the nudist camp! "Tom, you can take it out anytime you want! Just let Marty or me know you're taking it." "You'd better watch what you're saying! I'll take you up on that offer!" "Then the offer stands! Any time!" He stood back and shook his head, then he shook his finger at me. He was back to being speechless. He smiled at Stevey and ruffled his hair. Softly he asked, "How you doin', son? Are you ready to go?" I interrupted. "Are you hungry? Would you like some lunch before I take you home?" Rita had finally made her way to where we were standing. "Oh, thank you, Alan! But we've really got to get back. We left Sharon in charge, and she's a little young to leave for very long." Rita looked as if she were a little worried. "Okay, I'll give you a rain check." I looked down at Stevey. "I'll take you for a ride in the `Vette some other time. You ready to go, then?" He looked at his dad and nodded, "Yeah." Looking around the building, he said, "I'm gonna have to come back and look around some more! This place is totally awesome!" "You're welcome any time, sport! And it doesn't have to be to look at the cars, either. You can come visit me, too, y'know!" He looked up at me and smiled. "I know." Then he grabbed me into a hug. Again, I walked back to the Hummer with a clumsy appendage appearing to grow from my hip. As awkward as it was, I didn't mind at all. We rode in silence back to the camp. It wasn't uncomfortable, but rather it was similar to the silence after a big meal. It seemed that we were all in a state of contentment. Stevey was deep in thought, but had a slight smile on his lips. Glancing into the rear view mirror, I caught Rita and Tom grinning into each other's eyes. They were holding hands. Apparently, the Nomad was a catalyst for some kind of a reawakening in them! Everything seemed to be going so well until we turned into the driveway at the camp. There were at least six police cruisers, parked haphazardly around the office, all with their lights flashing!To be continued . . . .