When Ella proposed the idea, Sharanne was assembling a lattice crust on a homemade apple pie with surgical precision. There was only a week to go until the annual Apple Barrel Craft Show and Fair.

“Camping in October?” 

Ella sat at the kitchen island wearing the same “Mary Lake Camp” hoodie she’d possessed since late August. It still smelled of wood smoke, sweat and axe body spray. 

“It’ll be awesome.” 

            “It’ll be freezing.”

Sharanne pinched the edges of the crust together, straightened up and faced her daughter. 

            “Not if you’ve got one of these,” Ella said, tightening the string on her hood until she looked like a fleecy turtle.

            “Fine. If you want to sleep outside in October, that’s your business.”

            “Great! So, can you give me a ride to London next weekend?”

            Sharanne stared at her daughter, pointed to her pie and slowly shook her head. “There’s not a soul in town who could drive you anywhere next weekend, sweetie. You should know that.”

 

The following night, at her dad’s place, the cozy apartment above Valley Hardware, Lorne sat down beside his daughter on the worn plaid couch.

            “Ella, you’re going camping!”

            Her biology homework fell to the floor with a loud thud. “You got out of dunk tank duty?”

            Lorne laughed, shaking his head. “As if. I’ve been running the dunk tank since you were a baby.”

  “Right. I know, I know. The craft show is like a cult, if you don’t volunteer at a booth, you get kicked out.”

“Actually, I think it’s pretty hard to get kicked out of a cult…”

  “Okay, never mind. But, if you can’t bring me, how am I getting to London?” 

Once upon a time there was a train that ran through town, but nowadays even the Greyhound only passed through once a day, at five o’clock in the morning, and that would only take her to Toronto where she’d need to transfer…

            “Not London, my dear. I’ve found you a ride all the way to Rondeau!”

            Ella waited. There had to be a catch. 

            “Now, it’s a bit unconventional…”

            Here it comes.

            “But it’s actually a lot like riding in a limousine, or so I’m told.”

            “Dad?”

            “Sweetie?”

            “Who’s giving me a ride?”

            “You remember Rod and Denise Granton?”

            Ella shook her head. Her dad had an encyclopedic memory of every household in town.

            “They run the funeral home on the hill.”

Suddenly Ella felt she’d rather be running the dunk tank at the craft show.

            “Oh, Dad…”

            “They’re selling their old hearse to an establishment near Rondeau Park, and said it’d be no trouble to give you a lift. It’s like it was meant to be!”

            She closed her eyes and remembered paddling along the river with Derek just before summer’s end, the way they kept perfect rhythm together, like they were meant to be. Was she really going to show up at the campsite in a hearse? It was that or another year of wandering through the craft sale. She breathed into the fleece of her hoodie and exhaled. 

 

The Friday morning of Apple Barrel weekend, the Grantons pulled up in front of Valley Hardware.

            “Hello there, Ella. Nice to finally meet you. Your mother talks about you all the time.” Denise Granton patted Ella on the arm. “All.the.time.”

            Rod Granton opened the back door of the hearse, picked up Ella’s bags and placed them gently inside. “Hullo, Ella. Ready to go?”

            Ella looked at the gleaming black Cadillac and wondered for a moment if anyone could mistake it for a limousine. Then she noticed the license plate: “RIPXO”. She swallowed a sigh, kissed her dad goodbye and silently counted the hours until she would see Derek again.

            “Now then, Ella. You sit next to the window and my bride will squeeze in close to me,” Rod said with a twinkle in his eye. 

            Denise giggled and took Ella by the elbow. “Come on dear. There’s so much to see!”

            Ella sank into the soft black leather seat. The Cadillac smelled like the storeroom at Valley Hardware when they received a new shipment of raincoats. She’d suspected it might smell like roses or maybe the bathroom deodorizer they use at the YMCA but in fact all Ella really smelled was Denise’s perfume, vanilla, and she liked it. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. 

The car turned west and Denise shook out an old road map. “Full tank, my love?”

“Yes ma’am. Where to?”

“You like fish, Ella?”

“Yeah… I like fish.”

Denise clapped her hands. “Perfect! Then it’s settled. Fish for lunch in Bayfield. I know just the place.”

“Mrs. Granton?” Ella said.

“Call me Denise, sweetheart, otherwise you’ll make me feel old.”

“You are old, my love,” quipped Rod.

Denise gave him a gentle shove that sent the hearse temporarily across the yellow line, which mattered little since they were on a secondary road and there wasn’t another car in sight.

Rod chuckled. “Sorry… you were asking something Ella?”

“Well,” she cleared her throat. “Isn’t Bayfield somewhere on Lake Huron?”

“Yes,” Rod and Denise replied in unison.

“Um… isn’t that a bit far from Rondeau Park?” On Lake Erie, Ella thought. Maybe she should have taken the Greyhound…

The Grantons were quiet for a moment, then began to laugh.

“Denise and I don’t have many hobbies,” Rod began.

“In our line of business, it’s difficult to plan ahead,” Denise added.

“You never know when someone’s gonna die!” Rod said, a little too cheerfully, Ella thought.

“So, when we have a few days off, we like to explore.”

“Not too far, mind,” Denise said.

“In case we’re needed at home.”

“I think I understand,” Ella said, feeling a little bit like a third wheel on a long overdue date.

“She sounds like Sharanne,” Denise said.

“I was going to say she sounds just like Lorne,” Rod said.

They smiled at one another like two old detectives who are close to solving a crime, at which point they began to tell Ella a series of anecdotes about her parents. She knew her mother was a talented hairdresser, she’d watched her cut hair her whole life. But somehow she didn’t know her mother had taken Mrs. McGuire to the city to buy her a wig when she started chemo last year. She knew her dad taught a student named Hugh how to sort metal, but she didn’t know he’d lent him the money to buy a trailer and start his own business. 

“How do you know all this?” Ella asked, as they wove along the Bruce County lake roads.

Denise looked sideways at her husband. “Receiving lines, my dear. There’s a whole world that passes through our doors on any given week.”

Rod turned into a parking lot in front of a beach kiosk. “It’s funny, but even at a visitation, nobody likes to talk about death, so they talk about everything but.”

Ella had only been to one funeral, for her stepfather Chuck’s dad, and all she remembered was the overpowering smell of lilies. She wondered if Rod and Denise were immune to it.

“Time to stretch our legs,” Denise announced.

“You girls want a coffee? Hot chocolate?” Rod asked.

They took their take-out cups to a table and watched the waves roll in.

“Beautiful,” Denise sighed.

Rod Granton looked at his wife and smiled. 

“Do you mind if I take a wander down to the shore? I think I see a heron over there by the wharf,” Ella said.

“Go right ahead, my dear.”

Ella grabbed her binoculars and went in search of the heron. Just her luck, she found the nest. Maybe there were others nearby. She squatted by a clump of wild grass and watched the heron fish for its breakfast, smiling when it swallowed it whole. 

They were back on the road soon after. Rod was curious about her binoculars so she told him everything she’d learned in the past couple years about bird-watching. 

“I’m rambling. I’m probably boring you. I mean, not everyone cares about hawk talons, right?” 

“I find it quite interesting. When I was your age all I cared about what baseball,” Rod said. 

Ella smiled. Relieved. 

“Mint?” Denise held out a roll of peppermints. Ella took one and Denise passed Rod the rest.

“Better take one otherwise the missus won’t kiss me!” he laughed and Denise did, too. Ella wondered if they would have stayed longer at the beach if she weren’t tagging along.

 

It wasn’t far from Bruce county to Huron county. Denise couldn’t remember exactly which street the fish and chips restaurant was on, so they drove slowly up and down the picturesque lanes of quaint cottages until they spotted it. When they pulled up into the parking lot, nobody gave the hearse a second glance. The host welcomed the Grantons like old friends and seated them at a table overlooking the bluffs. Rod pulled out a chair for Denise and then Ella before making himself comfortable.

They chatted while they waited for the fish to arrive. 

“So, what’s like, spending your days with dead people?” Ella asked.

Rod wiped his mouth his napkin and gravely set it down beside his plate. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said. “It’s the live ones you have to worry about!”

Denise and Rod burst out laughing. Ella chuckled. She supposed it was like any job, you had to keep a sense of humour.

After the meal, Rod began to look a little tired.

“Oh dear. Looks like you and I will need to enjoy some retail therapy while Roddy has his cat nap,” Denise said.

Ella wondered if he would crawl into the back of the hearse and if so, should she offer him her sleeping bag? But, it turned out, he had practiced the art of resting his eyes by reclining the driver’s seat a touch, and letting the lake breeze wash over him from the open window. Within minutes, he was gently snoring.

“What are you gonna do? It was that second piece of whitefish that did him in. Well, where to? Antiques? Clothes? Bookstore?”

Ella smiled. Her mother would go straight for the clothes. Her step-mother straight for the antiques. But something about Denise made Ella hope she was a reader.

“Bookstore?”

“Woman after my own heart!” Denise led the way and once they arrived, Ella hoped Rod would take a very long nap. She loved the smell of books, the promise of a good story, the hand-written proprietor’s recommendations on sticky notes. Reading the first pages of a half-dozen novels in four different genres she lost track of time

“Will you buy them all?” Rod asked.

Ella jumped. “You’re awake.”

“And I always know where to find Denise.” He smiled. “But we should get back on the road if we’re to get you to your friends for supper.”

“Right.” Somehow camping felt far away. She purchased an updated field guide to North American birds and a bookmark for Derek that said, “You are my happy ending.” She wasn’t sure when she’d give it to him; she’d wait for the right moment. For now, she shoved it inside the guide. 

 

The last leg of the drive was uneventful. Rod drove the hearse alongside dirt roads that passed a Native reserve, tobacco fields and gingko farms, occasionally pointing out various crops to Denise, who was crocheting a doily and half-listening to a radio documentary. Ella flipped through her new field guide, skimming an article about pair bonds between eagles, cranes and swans.

“You nervous about sleeping in a tent?” Denise inquired as they at last pulled into Ridgetown.

“Nah, maybe cooking over a fire, but I think we’ll be fine.”

“Just checking.” Denise pulled down the visor mirror and pinched her cheeks.

“That’s where we’ll be staying.” Rod pointed to a Victorian mansion with a wrap around porch framed by ornate gingerbread trim. Another Cadillac hearse and a town car stood at the end of a circular laneway anchored by a three-tiered fountain. 

“If you hate camping, I’m sure we can find you a bed,” Denise whispered.

“Or a coffin?” Ella said.

Denise burst out laughing.

“They’re actually quite comfortable,” Rod quipped.

Denise rolled her eyes and Ella had no idea if he was joking.

The hearse pulled into Rondeau Park at 4:30 in the afternoon. Derek and the rest of the counsellors were already set up. They watched Ella get her stuff from the now dusty vehicle, their eyes widening by the second. 

“Thank-you so much,” Ella said, holding out her hand stiffly. 

Denise pulled her into a hug. “Such fun having a young person along for the ride. You take care now, honey.”

Rod tipped his cap to Ella and then they were gone.

“Ella!” Her girlfriends squealed in delight and ran over to greet her. They spoke over one another telling her about the tent-assembly-debacle and how no one had remembered to bring a pan so they’d gone to the dollar store to buy one and now they all owned a pan together, so they were bonded forever. Wasn’t camping the best?

Ella stole a glance across the site at Derek, who was sitting on a picnic table playing cards. He caught her eye and waved. Oh, that smile.

“Be right back,” Ella said.

The girls laughed. “Oh, yeah. We forgot. You came all this way for lover boy.”

“Ha ha,” she replied. Okay, so what if it was true?

 She walked up to Derek. The other guys looked up from their game.

“Hey, Ella. Nice ride.”

Laughter.

“I’m almost done this round,” Derek said.

“We’re losing miserably, as usual,” his partner said. 

Ella sat on the edge of the picnic table and looked around. Three hours in a car and she could really use a walk. She’d seen a birding map at the park entrance and heard there were over twenty-one species of warblers here. She’d grab her notebook and binoculars and come back when his game was over. 

“I’m going to grab a snack,” she said, thinking for a moment ‘grab my binoculars’ might sound pretty nerdy to someone like Derek.

“I’ll come with you,” Derek said. He abandoned his game and put his arm casually over her shoulders, making her heart pound, just like in the summer. “I’m glad those old geezers brought you here.”

“They’re actually really great –”

“Yo!” Derek yelled towards the card players. “Who ate all the chips?”

Ella stared at the empty bowls. “How about a walk? We can grab a snack at the tuck shop.”

He smiled at her. “Good idea.” 

They walked hand in hand down a boardwalk towards the beach and Ella remembered the joke from that morning.

“Hey, so, you know how I got a ride with that couple from the funeral home?”

“So freaky…” 

“Well, I asked them what the hardest part of the job was–”

“Rigor mortis!” Derek said.

“What? Oh, yeah, I get it. Um, no… you see, it’s not the dead ones you need to worry about­–”

Derek turned her towards him and began kissing her. It wasn’t quite the way she’d remembered it. He tasted like he’d been eating hotdogs all afternoon. When he came up for air, he said he’d missed her. She stared at him and thought his eyes were almost the same shade of blue-grey as the heron’s from that morning. Would it be weird to tell him herons were known to mate for life?

“This morning when I took out my binoculars for the first time–”

He dove in while her mouth was open for round-two of sloppy French kissing. So, not everyone was into birds. Derek was clearly into her. 

After a while, the gang sent out a search party to let them know dinner was ready. Somebody’s parents had prepared bacon and cheese baked potatoes. It smelled amazing, but there were only ten potatoes and eleven counsellors.

“No problem,” Derek said. “Ella and I can share.”

Ella’s stomach grumbled, but she said nothing. She’d spent an entire day in a hearse to get to him. Besides, sharing food was romantic, or so she’d read once somewhere.

 

If you asked Ella, years later, whatever happened to Derek from camp, she might tell you the truth, or some version of it. She might tell you that Derek ate the lion’s share of a delicious bacon and cheese baked potato. Or, she might tell you that kissing Derek was like licking a bowl of mustard, but the truth of it was that at some point during the Apple Barrel weekend of her fifteenth year, as she rolled over on the hard ground in a damp tent beside four other girls who were all still wearing their boyfriends’ sweaty camp hoodies, she realized she couldn’t ever imagine taking the scenic route with Derek. Not then, not ever, not in any vehicle.

 

When Lorne picked Ella up at the London Bus Terminal late Monday morning, she was sitting alone on a bench, reading a field guide to North American birds, oblivious to everything else around her. She had bags under her eyes and her hair needed a good wash.

“Hi kiddo, how was camping?”

She shrugged and gave her dad her soggy sleeping bag. “I can live without it. I’d rather be an undertaker than sleep in a tent ever again.”

“Seriously?” 

“Rod says you can sleep on the ground when you’re dead.”

“That sounds like something he might say.” Lorne laughed. “Well, did you at least buy a souvenir?”

 “Yeah.” Ella gave her dad a half-smile.  “I bought myself a book mark.”

In Memory of Frank Ritskes, for chauffeuring me many years ago.