out of the SUV and started across to the RV but stopped when she noticed Emma dragging things out of the back seat. “What are you doing?”
“Read the note,” Emma yelled. “None of those pig critters are going to attack us tonight.”
Stepping up on the bottom step, Sophie read through the short note twice: This RV is for Sophia Mason and Emma Merrill’s use until Saturday afternoon. Josh Corlen says he forgot to pack a tent.
Sophie suddenly felt a little better just knowing that the trailer family was thinking about her. She went back to their vehicle and got her phone from her purse. She scrolled down through the list of contacts until she came to Josh’s name and then hit the call icon.
“Hey, did y’all make it? I’m sorry about the tent. I called the Terlingua rental right outside the park, and they said they only had one left. I asked them to put a rush on it and have it set up for you when you arrived. The keys are under the bottom porch step,” Josh said.
“Thank you, thank you! You are my new hero,” Sophie said. “I’ll reimburse you when I get home.”
“No need,” Josh chuckled. “My treat, and it’s good to hear your voice. You sound better.”
Yes, sir, she was better because so many people cared about her and were supporting Emma in trying to get her over this horrible nightmare of depression.
“I am better,” Sophie said. “There’s nothing like a friend who’ll rescue you, or other friends who help her out with the job. See you on Saturday.”
“Bring home paintings,” he said.
“And Emma?”
“Yes, please,” Josh answered. “See you then. You ladies have a great time. ’Bye, now.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Emma carried the first load of food into the small RV. A bench wrapped around a small table on one side of the room. A kitchenette-type area was straight across from that with a tiny sink, dorm-size refrigerator, and stove top with two burners. To the right was a small settee, and to the left, two bunkbeds took up the rest of the space—except for a shower and potty in a room that was smaller than any broom closet Emma had ever seen.
“It beats javelinas and bears attacking us in our sleep or going without a shower for three days,” she whispered.
“Pretty small.” Sophie brought in another load. “I usually rent one about twice this size, but a rescued princess can’t fuss about her living quarters.”
“I love it, and I hate to break the news to you, but neither of us are princesses, thank God. If I never see that hideous bedroom at Mother’s house again, it will be too soon,” Emma said. “This is about the size of the tiny house I’ve always dreamed of having. And we have a shower, and a flushable potty.”
“The potty should only be used at night and the showers kept very short or we’ll run out of water.” Sophie set her things on the table. “Potty only at night because, even in three days, it will begin to smell. Showers because a trailer this size has a small water tank.”
“Still, it’s better than being pig food in our sleep.” Emma smiled.
“I can agree with that for sure.” Sophie slumped down on the settee and scanned the whole place. “It’s got more room than a two-man tent, and we don’t have to build a fire to cook, so we’re good. We’ll set up our painting supplies on the picnic table and put them all in the SUV at night.”
This was her Sophie—taking charge and making decisions. Emma couldn’t help but think about her own journey from institution to standing up for herself. Dragging Sophie away from her pity party was the right thing to do, but Emma was already missing Josh.
Emma searched through the bags on the table until she found the beer. She twisted the top off one and handed it to Sophie. “I was scared out of my mind that I might be pregnant after the rape. I was too scared to go to the pharmacy for the morning-after pill. I stopped by a store on my way home and bought ten tests and took one every week until I finally got my period.” She removed the cap from her beer and took a long swallow. “I buried the rest of them in the rose garden out in the backyard. I was afraid that if I put them in the trash, Mother would find them.”