It’s just about time for those big bed sales, so today we’ll talk about beds. As in the best bed ever! Where I found it just might surprise you.
Here’s my story.
So you know, I’m a life-long rock collector—there are home movies of me in diapers putting rocks in cups—and if you visit my house, the first thing you’ll see is a huge, glass case with about 400 specimens dominating my living room. If I’ve had enough wine, I’ll tell you where each and every one of them came from, whether you want to know or not, so frequent visitors make sure to steer clear of my collection if they want to avoid an earful.
A number of years ago, my sweetie pie and I traveled half way around the world to Perth, Australia, where we participated in the Australian Mineral Symposium. There we met about 40 enthusiasts—geology professors, miners, and hobbyists—who, like me, are fascinated by the rock world.
The Aussie rockers immediately took us under their wings. After a few days of speakers discussing gold—the featured mineral of the year, talks punctuated by periodic tea breaks, which for an avid tea drinker like me seemed almost heavenly—we formed a caravan and set off for the wilds of Western Australia.
Our trek took us through the towns of Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie, both centered in the area where the great gold rush of 1892 began, and another called Widgiemooltha. No, the names don’t roll easily off an American tongue, but they were fascinating places nonetheless.
While we stayed in small hotels early on, eventually we made camp under the stars. Since Ryan and I live in Arizona’s Sonoran Desert, the landscape seemed familiar, though the kangaroos and emus bouncing about made it clear we were far from home. Following dinner, we sat around a beautiful campfire that sent sparkling embers into the star-splashed night sky.
Later that night, Ryan wrestled my air mattresses from the car, an embarrassing accommodation for me as I’d spent quite a bit of time camping in my youth when sleeping directly on the ground posed no adverse reactions. But—in a concession to age and myriad broken body parts—we had both brought along air mattresses, even though the 90-something man who’d joined us seemed just fine sleeping on the ground.
Finally, we adjusted ourselves in our little tent and snuggled down in our sleeping bags, but a few hours later I awoke. Something wasn’t right. A rock was sticking in my back. My air mattress had failed.
“Ry,” I whispered, even though the other campers were too far away to hear.
He lifted his head, groggy with sleep and blinked. “What?”
“There’s no air in my air mattress.”
He huffed and sat up, then squinted at me. “Okay, take mine.”
Wasn’t that sweet? There was a time in my life when I would have never admitted weakness, but I was cold and tired and didn’t miss a beat. “Thank you!”
I couldn’t bring myself to say that even with the air mattress, I was uncomfortable, especially with Ryan tossing and turning, trying to find some modicum of comfort on the cold, rocky ground.
We emerged from our tent blurry-eyed and cranky the next morning, though all the other members of our group were extraordinarily chipper, so we kept our misery to ourselves. Ryan and I did our best to buck up, and while a visit to a fantastic chrysoprase mine did the trick for a while, by dusk we were exhausted.
“Now, you two be careful,” one of our leaders said as we prepared to hit the road. “The roos are out. Keep a watch.”
We’d seen the iconic Australian animals hopping about in the distance every day, but had viewed none up close.
“You scan the road while I drive,” Ryan said.
I nodded and focused on the blacktop ahead.
A short time later, a red-eyed head appeared in the roadway. “Kanga…” But it was too late. We slammed into Skippy and the big marsupial went flying off into the brush. Ry got out to inspect the damage and I peered around the roadside, hoping I didn’t see the poor kangaroo lying in anguish, but he’d disappeared.
“Do you think he’s okay?” I asked hopefully.
“Not a chance,” Ry said as he inspected the front end of the rental car.
“Can we drive?” I looked up and down the empty road as dusk settled. Our friends had gone ahead, unaware that we’d had an accident. By this time we were so tired we could barely see. Luckily, the damage appeared to be mostly cosmetic. (Later, when we tried to explain to our insurance agent that we’d hit a kangaroo with a rental car, he didn’t seem to believe us. Go figure.)
When we finally arrived at our destination we were ushered across a small, rickety walkway that boasted numerous holes. The room was constructed of bare boards and held a small bed and not much else. We were to share a bathroom with another couple. The accommodations could be gently described as spartan. And yet, after a communal meal that warmed our bellies and a few rounds of wine and beer, we fell into that unassuming, lumpy-looking bed only to discover that it was the most comfortable bed we’d ever been in.
How is that possible? I guess we could only compare it to the previous evening when we’d slept on rocks in the cold.
“Ain’t this grand?” I said as I snuggled under the covers.
But Ry was already fast asleep.
Your Forgotten Sons
Inspired by a true story
Anne Montgomery
Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to a Graves Registration Company, where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?
Release Date: June 6, 2024
Bookstores, libraries, and other booksellers can order copies directly from the Ingram Catalog.
Anne Montgomery’s novels can be found wherever books are sold.
Author Anne Montgomery 