Chapter 9

Roberta nearly dropped her supper plate when Garrett stepped into the site. He wasn’t wearing his uniform. All she recognized of his attire was the battered hiking boots. A light jacket blew open in the slight breeze, showing a sweatshirt with some kind of wild animal picture, accompanied by very worn jeans that fit him perfectly. The casual clothes made him appear even larger, if that were possible.

She nearly tripped over her own feet when she recognized the duffel bag he carried. Although she knew it was coming, she’d managed to push it to the back of her mind. She could no longer bury her head in the sand. He was off work now and here to join them on their camping vacation.

He casually tossed his belongings into the tent-trailer, except for a cylindrical bag that Roberta recognized, which he leaned against the picnic table, then sat to join them, helping himself to a cup of coffee.

Molly craned her neck at the bag on the ground. “What’s that?”

“My tent.”

“Tent?” Molly stared at it like it was radioactive. “What do you mean, tent?”

“Tent. Portable sleeping accommodation.”

“What’s it for?”

“I’m going to sleep in it, Molly.”

Roberta gulped. “No, Garrett. Please, don’t feel you have to sleep outside again.”

“I won’t be outside. I’ll be inside my tent. I’m not sleeping in there with you ladies.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and all three of them turned their heads, as if they’d never seen the tent-trailer before.

She wondered if he would have slept inside the camper if she hadn’t been there. She opened her mouth to speak, but Garrett cut her off.

“I know what you’re thinking, Robbie. I would have slept in the tent anyway, even if you weren’t here, so don’t worry, okay?”

She clamped her mouth shut. Even though the sun came out and the ground was surprisingly dry, she still thought it would be cold and lumpy, but she was learning the hard way what it was like to try to change his mind, once it was made up.

“Hey, Bro, since you’re here, if you want some food, you can have whatever’s left over.”

Garrett grinned as he walked back to the picnic table.

“Hey! What’s this?”

At the sound of Garrett’s suddenly sharp voice, Roberta nearly choked on her mouthful of barbecued pork chops.

All three heads turned. Garrett held in his hand a battered mug containing a few wildflowers she’d picked earlier.

“I couldn’t find anything else to use,” Roberta mumbled, hoping she hadn’t desecrated his favorite coffee mug by mistake.

“I didn’t mean the mug. I meant these.” He plucked the flowers out of the water and held them up for everyone to see.

“It was a flower arrangement.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You know, a flower arrangement. A centerpiece in keeping with the great outdoors.”

“Where did you get these?” He held the flowers out towards her.

“I picked them from over there.” Roberta pointed to the edge of the clearing, where a number of pretty wildflowers were growing.

“It’s against the municipal bylaws to pick wildflowers.”

Roberta cringed. “Oops. I didn’t know.”

Garrett dragged his palm down his face, then stared at her. “There’s a sign right at the entrance to the park, next to the notice about the firewood. If every camper who came here picked just one flower, there would be no flowers left. The plants wouldn’t come back the next year, and they’d be destroyed forever. I’m supposed to either report you or issue you a warning.”

Roberta stared at him, not caring that her mouth was hanging open. She didn’t doubt that he would do it.

Molly’s voice drifted from behind her. “You’re off duty. You’re out of uniform.”

He didn’t comment, but his stare told Roberta how seriously he took her infraction. However, even though it didn’t seem like a big deal to pick a couple of small flowers, she could see his point. Like so many things in life that started small, if not checked properly, they would soon escalate. Like what happened in her Christian walk.

It had started with omitting saying grace when she went out because Mike said he felt awkward praying in public. That developed into missing church every once in awhile, then more and more often. It had been such a gradual process that now, except for her recent talks with God since she’d come camping, she didn’t remember the last time she’d prayed or even read her Bible. It started with one small thing, and if she had continued much longer, she wondered if there would have been anything left of her Christian lifestyle, just like the little wildflowers that could disappear forever, one small flower at a time.

“I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.” She watched as Garrett turned back to Gwen, completely unaware of the thoughts racing through her head. “Are you sure I can eat the rest of this potato salad? And the last pork chop?”

Fortunately, the incident was quickly forgotten as Garrett consumed the rest of the food. By the time Roberta and Molly finished the dishes, the sun had completely set. Gwen had a cheerful fire going, and Garrett had set up a few tarps near the camper in case it rained again. He also had his small pup tent set up in the flat grassy area next to the tent-trailer. He sat beside the fire, spearing a marshmallow onto a stick. Roberta purposely sat in the end chair of the row of four, which were placed neatly to the opposite side of the drifting plume of smoke. Gwen sat on the far end, and Molly sat between Roberta and Garrett.

“Oops, forgot my cup,” Molly mumbled, and rose to disappear into the camper.

Grabbing the bag, Garrett smiled and shuffled one seat over to sit beside Roberta. He slowly waved the raw marshmallow on the end of the stick in front of her nose. “I’m an expert marshmallow roaster. Wanna share?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” she mumbled.

He held the marshmallow close to the glowing embers and turned to smile at her. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” His shining smile made her breath catch. Roberta turned to study the fire.

Garrett didn’t take the hint. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “You’ll make Gwen jealous. She’s wanted to know my secret method for years.”

Roberta turned to stare, but all he did was grin at her. Over his shoulder, she could see Gwen and Molly staring at the two of them. Her face warmed, but not from the heat of the fire.

As soon as he noticed her looking over his shoulder, Garrett’s grin dropped. He pulled the half-roasted marshmallow out of the fire and turned to his sister. “Don’t you two have something better to do?”

Gwen and Molly shook their heads and rested their chins in their palms, leaning forward. “No, not really.”

He sighed loudly, then continued to roast the marshmallow in silence while Molly and Gwen chattered away. If Roberta didn’t know any better, she’d think Garrett was coming on to her.

While Molly and Gwen chattered away, she supposed good manners dictated that she should talk to Garrett, since she would have to speak over him to join in their conversation. Instead, she watched Garrett, which was a mistake, because he caught her looking. Without a word, he blew on the marshmallow to cool it and held the stick in front of her, offering it to her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t really like marshmallows.”

He smiled that killer smile she was beginning to know and love. “They’re different roasted. Consider it changed, refined by fire, the impurities burned away, refined like silver, tested like gold, the end result being perfect and pure, just like Zechariah 13:9.”

After a line like that, she couldn’t help but accept the transformed marshmallow. The rich, creamy roasted texture melted in her mouth. It was delicious.

“Want to roast one yourself?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never roasted a marshmallow before, and I’d likely incinerate it.”

He stabbed a new one onto the stick. “Here. I’ll show you.” He placed the stick in her hands, then covered both hands with one of his. With his other hand, he gently guided the stick to point the marshmallow to the side of the flames, near the glowing embers at the bottom of the fire. “Now we patiently wait.”

Roberta waited, although not too patiently. She didn’t know when it started, but Garrett’s thumb trailed up and down her wrist, massaging gently, lulling her into a calm relaxation as they waited for the marshmallow to slowly brown.

“So, what do you think of camping?” his low voice murmured almost in her ear.

She turned her head to discover her face only inches from his. She froze, mesmerized. Their eyes locked, and she couldn’t have looked away to save her life. In the flickering orange glowing light, his eyes shone with sincerity and seemed to gaze into her soul. “I like it,” she mumbled.

“Good,” he murmured.

She wasn’t sure they were really talking about camping, so she didn’t say anything more.

Slowly, he pulled her hands up but didn’t break eye contact. “If you don’t watch it, your marshmallow is going to burn.”

Blinking rapidly, Roberta tried to regain her bearings. She stared at the golden brown marshmallow, steaming on the end of her stick. Gingerly, she touched it, then pinched it cautiously, pulled it off, and popped it into her mouth. It melted in her mouth just like the first one, except this time she ate it slowly, savoring it, as if it were an expensive truffle from the downtown specialty chocolate store on Robson Street.

Garrett held eye contact the entire time.

This time, some of the molten marshmallow had dribbled onto her finger, so she stuck her forefinger into her mouth to suck it off. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he watched. In a split second, she yanked her finger out of her mouth and wiped it on her jeans.

Fortunately, neither Molly nor Gwen seemed to notice anything strange. She turned back to Garrett, but he simply smiled at her and stabbed another marshmallow onto his stick and started yakking away about some of their family’s camping experiences. Roberta shook her head.

Garrett continued to talk. At first she was content to listen, but soon she began to answer his questions, and then gradually contributed more and more to the conversation until she found herself enjoying talking with him.

Before she knew it, it was after midnight. She knew sunrise came early, so they quickly packed things up and doused the fire.

She mumbled a quick good night to Garrett and followed Gwen and Molly into the tent-trailer.

But she couldn’t sleep. Before long, someone started snoring, which didn’t help. She couldn’t stop thinking about the exchange by the campfire. They were just roasting marshmallows, but she’d almost felt like he was going to kiss her.

Earlier in the evening, the sky had clouded over again, obliterating their view of the stars, making the night even darker. As she lay in her sleeping bag, it was so dark she couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or not. She tried to count sheep to lull herself to sleep, when a shuffling noise came from outside. Her eyes shot open as she listened.

Then something fell off the picnic table.

She knew Garrett’s tent lay only a few feet from the window of her side of the camper. Roberta unzipped the window.

“Garrett!” she whispered loudly through the screen. “Garrett! Did you hear that?”

A light came on inside his tent, and his head appeared in the opening.

He briefly shone the flashlight in the direction of the picnic table, then turned it off. “Go back to sleep. It was just a raccoon.”

Roberta froze. She’d heard that line from him before. “That’s what you said last time,” she called out in a loud whisper. Whoever was snoring paused, snorted, then started up again.

The light in Garrett’s pup tent went on again. He unzipped his sleeping bag, then she heard the shuffle of clothing. He crawled out of the pup tent with the flashlight at his side, pointing to the ground, and stood beside her at the screened window. “Robbie, believe me,” he whispered into the opening. “It’s a raccoon.”

A scraping sound drifted from beneath the picnic table.

“Garrett …” Roberta couldn’t keep the waver out of her voice. “Do something!”

He chuckled softly, then aimed the flashlight beam toward the noise. “Look.”

From beneath the picnic table, animal eyes glowed from the reflection of the light. He aimed the beam directly at it. A raccoon huddled in the corner, eating bits of cereal that had spilled at breakfast time.

Roberta gasped. She’d never seen a live raccoon before, only on television. Aside from the fact that it was much bigger than she expected, the black mask around its eyes and the way it huddled under the table made it look like a cuddly little bandit. “It’s so cute!” She looked toward the door, then started to wiggle out of her sleeping bag, when Garrett’s open palm pressed on the screen.

“Robbie!” he called in a harsh whisper. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, to see it …,” she stammered, then glanced back and forth between his hand pressing against the screen and the path to the camper door.

“Don’t let their adorable expressions deceive you. Raccoons are vicious. I hope you don’t think you’re going to walk up to it and pat it. When a raccoon feels threatened, it will attack. It’s not a cute little puppy dog. It’s a wild animal, very used to fighting for survival. Never forget that.”

“Oh.”

They watched it finish the rest of the cereal and waddle off in search of more treats left by other sloppy campers. Garrett’s palm still lay pressed against the screen. Roberta was amazed at the size of his hand. Very lightly, she touched her fingertips to his, then trailed her hand down ‘til the heel of her palm rested against his. His fingers extended a couple of inches beyond her own. She stared at their hands, touching, with the screen between. “Sorry to wake you for nothing. I’ve never seen a raccoon before.”

Garrett’s voice came out hoarse and croaky. “Then it wasn’t for nothing.” He dropped his hand, then backed up a step. “Good night, Robbie.”

At sunrise, armed with a handful of quarters, Roberta tiptoed past Gwen and Molly, who was still snoring, exited the camper, crept past Garrett’s quiet tent, and headed to the amenities building to have a shower.

Upon her return nothing had changed, except the sunrise had brightened. The sun shone gaily in the blue sky above, promising another gorgeous day for camping. Rather than chance disturbing anyone, Roberta eyed the silent hammock. Did she dare?

She dared. She tiptoed into the camper, snagged her book, and returned to the hammock. Very carefully, she settled in it like Garrett had shown her and lifted the book.

Approaching footsteps crunched in the gravel. “Hi. You’re up early.”

Not having read a word, she rested the book on her stomach. “Good morning, Garrett.”

He stood beside the hammock and peered down at her. His duffel bag lay slung over one shoulder, and his wet hair evidenced that he, too, had snuck off for a shower. He also held a steaming mug in one hand. “So, did you dream about patting raccoons? Or feeding them, perchance?”

“No.” During what little sleep she did manage to get, she dreamed about him. Roberta inhaled deeply. Coffee. He had coffee. She wanted one, but she suspected he had been to the ranger camp to get it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were up, or I would have brought you one too. But I’ll share.”

She narrowed her eyes to stare at the steaming cup. After a gentle sip, he held the mug forward a few inches. It seemed a little too intimate to be sharing a morning coffee, so Roberta shook her head and raised her book. “That’s okay, but thanks, anyway.”

“Do you know what their plans are for today?” He jerked his head toward the camper.

She lowered the book back to her stomach. “No, but since the day looks promising, we’ll probably go to the beach.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

He didn’t say anything, so she raised the book again.

“How long do you think they’ll sleep? The day’s a-wastin’.”

The book dropped back to her stomach. “I have no idea,” she replied. “We were up at dawn yesterday. It’s only 6:30 now.” She acknowledged Garrett’s nod. When he didn’t comment further, Roberta lifted the book.

“Gwen usually gets up early camping,” he said, glancing back at the camper, “but I don’t know about Molly. What do you think?”

The book dropped. “Molly sleeps like a log. I have no idea.” When he didn’t comment further, she picked it up again.

“I don’t know how you could sleep with all that snoring in there.”

Roberta squeezed her eyes shut, thumped the book back down to her stomach, then stared up at him. He smiled down at her. She hadn’t slept well, but it hadn’t been Molly’s fault, it was his. “It didn’t bother me,” she said and lifted the book.

“Yes, the fresh air does that to a person. I always sleep better out here. Do you find that?”

She stared at the book, not seeing the print.

“Oh, are you trying to read? That’s a good book. Watch out for Stanleigh. He’s got something up his sleeve.”

Roberta squeezed her eyes shut, but kept the open book up in front of her. “Garrett!”

Garrett chuckled softly as he walked away, speaking over his shoulder. “Enjoy your book, then, but you might be able to read it better if you turned it right side up.”

She slammed it shut, groaned out loud, took aim, and threw it at him.

“Heads up!” he shouted as he projected its trajectory. Using his duffel bag like a baseball bat, he swung and deflected the book, sending it flying into the bush. He laughed out loud, making no effort to retrieve it.

Gwen stepped out of the camper. “What’s going on out here? What time is it?”

Garrett stopped laughing but grinned ear to ear. “Better get that coffee going. I won’t mention any names, but someone’s crabby in the morning.” He snickered and crawled into his pup tent.