Chapter 6

Now that their love was out in the open, life changed for Steve Anderson in an incredible way. He no longer had to suppress his feelings for her. He didn’t have to watch every word that he said, and he no longer had to fight back the urge to reach out and touch her. He no longer had to invent excuses to go to her house just to spend a precious moment with her. Discovering what made Maria tick was now a full-time pleasure. Every day after work, he raced through his daily chores; he checked his mail, addressed any bills that came that day, then he raced over to her house. On the days that she was at the Humane Society, he worked in the yard and on the patio and pool area. On Sundays, they made it a family meal, inviting Darlene and Bruce McLaren and whoever his current girlfriend was at the time over for dinner. It was usually his partner Lisa, and Maria gladly made a huge Italian feast.

The day after she showed him her pop-up trailer, he arrived at her house with the back of his truck loaded with camping gear and he headed out back to set up their little palace. A pop-up camper was like camping in a large tent, with added benefits, like a heater, sink, stove, and, in Maria’s case, a rooftop air conditioner. There was an enormous bed that over hangs each end and in the middle was a small dinette that can be folded down to a single bed that will also fit a couple of kids. The beds at each end have a curtain for privacy.

This was the same type of camper that Steve and his family camped in; being the only boy, he slept on the dinette, which was only used as a dinette when it was raining. His parents slept on the front bed; his sisters (one older, one younger than him) slept on the rear bed. His family went camping constantly, and he loved it, even if it meant that he was with his sisters. He didn’t get along with them. At some point in their young lives, the girls Monica and Julie decided it was them against him and he no longer felt welcome in his own home.

Back then they camped year ‘round. Winter was a challenge, but they did it. The only nod to the “civilized world” was the gas heater inside their camper. They camped all over the U.P., in Wisconsin and Minnesota, but also on their farm and Steve became an expert at cooking over an open fire. His parents weren’t survivalists, they just loved the outdoors and were cheap.

As Steve tended to Maria’s flower garden on the west side of the large lot, he wondered how Maria’s family fared in their camping adventures. She mentioned they used to go camping until their father moved the family to Brooklyn. Did they tent camp? Did they trailer camp? She was too young at the time to remember fully; she just remembers the whole family spending weekends in the woods. He decided when they meet to ask her sister, whom everyone called Fabbi.

As the sun set, Steve skimmed the leaves and bugs off the “pond” as Maria called her grass edge swimming pool. Then he put the tools away. When the stars glowed in the inky black sky, his real job was ready to begin. Steve was starting Maria on a new course of aqua therapy, and she seemed to be responding well.

The temperature was still in the 90s long after sunset. It was a hot Florida evening in the land of the ‘Year-Round Summer’ and Steve was not done for the day. He had cut the lawn, weeded the garden, and made sure that Maria’s yard was perfect so they could relax when she got home; she even put some beer in the fridge on the patio for him, which really helped when he worked outside.

He was filthy, covered with sweat and dirt after spending the day working in the garden and on the lawn; he stepped under the shower by the pool, still wearing his T-shirt and shorts, and rinsed off. He took off his shirt and shorts, wrung them out, then he started the fire in their firepit. Maria and Steve wanted a real campfire, propane fires looked like a campfire, there were logs and flames, but the sound was wrong, and they just didn’t smell right. Campfires are a living thing. They crackle and snap; they move as the wood is consumed; they get hotter and cooler. The flames are always changing as the wood is consumed as well. But realizing that with the click of a switch, the fire comes on, another click, and it goes off, Maria and Steve went with propane. He lay down naked on the lounge next to the camper, cracked open a beer and waited for Maria...

Maria crutched her way through her kitchen and stepped out onto her patio; home from the fancy fund raiser that ate up so much of her time lately. Steve partially opened one eye and saw her looking around the yard in awe. The flickering glow of the tiki torches placed around the yard illuminated all of Steve’s efforts. She was re-elected secretary for the Humane Society again, but the sight of her yard drove away all thought of her activity today. Steve had performed a miracle in her yard!

She crutched over to where he lay. He had almost drifted off to sleep, and she was leaning over him, whispering, brushing her hand against his cheek, asking, “Why don’t you go out and find a nice girl your own age?” her New York Italian accent coming through loud and clear. “Don’t hitch your wagon to a fading star.”

“You know I hate it when you say things like that.”

“I say it because it’s true, and hating it doesn’t make it different,” she said as their lips met. “You spent your day off working in my garden, you should go, find yourself a nice Yooper Girl...”