by Gail Sattler
She fought with it until her fingers were sore, and finally it released. After flexing her numb fingers, she started cranking again. Finally, using considerable effort, she had barely worked it high enough to drive Molly’s car forward when she heard the same baritone voice behind her.
“Hi, how’s it going, Miss?” the ranger said cheerfully.
Roberta felt far from cheerful. She was sweaty, her fingers were sore, and her shoulders ached from all that cranking. And while she was thinking of cranking, she felt cranky.
“Fine,” she replied curtly. Standing straight, she realized she should try to be pleasant. Even though she was getting nowhere fast, if the ranger was back, then he probably thought she should have finished setting up by now, and she still didn’t even have the car pulled away. She couldn’t read the expression behind the ranger’s dark glasses, but she thought he was frowning.
“I think you should have a piece of wood under there, or you’re going to find it will sink in the gravel.”
Roberta sagged. After all the work and sweat, she didn’t want to consider that she would have to do all that work, all over again. She squeezed her eyes shut. In the back of her mind, she recalled seeing a piece of wood under the pin in the driveway.
“Oh,” was her only reply.
The ranger studied her, making her feel even dumber. “Want me to do it for you? I see you’ve already been working hard at it.” It might have been her imagination, but Roberta thought he was struggling to keep a straight face.
At work, she only ever lifted a few books and light boxes. For someone so badly out of shape, cranking the trailer up was hard work. She was sorry it showed.
The thought of her ex-job froze her where she stood. Thanks to Mike, the ex-love of her life, she was now unemployed. She could still barely believe Mike’s father defended his conduct by firing her.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized she should have figured it out. Instances started to pop into her mind, making her realize that everyone, including Mike’s father, knew what was going on and hid it from her. Naively, she had ignored every hint of any indiscretion. She’d listened to every one of Mike’s many excuses, refusing to believe Mike was anything less than loyal and happily in love with her. For awhile, he’d even started to attend church with her.
Roberta turned back at the ranger, who had been watching her the entire time she’d been staring off into space. What she really wanted was to be left alone. If she treated him politely and answered him, maybe he would go away.
“That would be nice, thank you very much. I guess I’m more out of shape than I thought.” She forced herself to smile graciously.
With no apparent effort, the ranger turned the crank, easily lifting the shaft off the ground, slid in the piece of wood, then cranked it up high enough to clear the ball and drive forward.
Roberta noticed the ease with which he turned it. She hopped in the car, drove forward a few yards, parked it, and returned just as the ranger cranked the trailer back down to the right spot.
“You know, my family has this same kind of tent-trailer, and it gets hard to turn the crank at exactly the same spot. How about that?” He smiled again at her.
Roberta gritted her teeth. The last thing she felt like doing was making conversation with a strange man while she was alone in the middle of nowhere. She did not smile back. “Thank you very much. I think I can handle it myself from here.”
He nodded, tipped his hat again, and strode out of the campsite. Roberta assumed he would continue making his rounds.
Checking her notes, the next step was to crank the roof of the tent up. She dragged her hand over her face at the thought of more cranking.
She tried every key on the key chain, and finally the last one fit in the lock for the storage compartment. Finding another crank, she inserted the key into the slot at the back of the trailer and went back to work.
After turning forever, the roof finally reached the top. Her back ached, so she stretched her arms above her head to try to release the kinks, then resigned herself to the next step. According to the list, she had to pull out the beds and insert the support bars.
Roberta emptied bazillions of poles from the storage compartment, then sorted them into piles. With her head bent and hands on her hips, she tried to figure out what in the world they would be for. Unable to do so, she skimmed the list with her finger, hoping a name for their uses would help her match them up. About halfway down the paper, while standing in the midst of the poles in neat piles about her feet, she heard that same voice again.
“Hi. Making any progress?”
Her finger still on the paper, she raised her head. The ranger again stood a few feet away, his long legs slightly spread and planted firmly. Resting his hands on his hips, he held a clipboard loosely in the crook of one arm. He wore an annoyingly smug smile on his face, but his lips were pressed together tightly, like he was trying not to laugh.
She said nothing as she glared at him, waiting for him to say something.
“You’ve never done this before, have you?”
Roberta blushed. If only there had been more time for Molly to give her better instructions. If only Molly’s friend’s mother hadn’t been in such a rush to get going. If only she had told Molly to forget this dumb idea and stayed home. “No, I haven’t. It’s not mine.”
“Ah,” he mused, tapping the end of his pen against his cheek, the other hand still resting on one hip, holding the clipboard. “Like I said earlier, my family has one just like this. Want me to help you set it up? There’s hardly anyone here, so I think I can spare the time.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I really can do this myself. If you really want to help, how about if you tell me which poles go where, and I can do the rest.”
His chin lowered almost imperceptibly as his smile faded. Finally he was getting the hint. “Of course.” The clipboard remained in the crook of one arm, and he used the pen to point to the various piles as he spoke. “The ones with the flat ends support the pullouts, and the ones with the small round ends go inside to hold up the tent on top of the beds. Those are for the awning, and those look like they’re for a tent, which you don’t appear to have with you. Are you sure you want to do this by yourself?”
“Yes, thank you very much.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the sharp edge out of her voice. Mike had always insisted on doing everything for her, expecting her to be grateful, when all he did was make her feel useless, then guilty for not appreciating him. She refused to let this ranger treat her the same.
He nodded and left again, this time not tipping his hat.
Roberta heaved and pulled the large pull-out sections for the beds, struggling with every inch until she got them into position. Then she wiggled and manipulated the support poles until she could be sure that everything was secure.
For a moment she stood still to admire her work, then pulled the list out of her pocket. She eyed the poles the ranger had said held up the sides of the tent by the beds. However, the list said that the next step was to insert the door.
Roberta froze while she stared at the gaping, doorless opening in the side of the tent-trailer. Slowly, she ran her hand along the empty frame, then dragged her palm down her face.
After some searching, she located the door under a pile of sleeping bags on the bed inside the trailer. Delicately, she gave it an experimental push to discover it was heavier than it looked. The top of the frame showed a series of slots, and the bottom of the frame had a few clips to hold it in place. Now, all she had to do was get it there.
She picked it up, tipping it awkwardly to try to fit it into place. The harder she tried to fit it in, the heavier it became. Then, just as she thought she had it, it slipped. Roberta jerked her knee upward to prevent it from crashing to the floor, which smashed it into her kneecap. She gritted her teeth to prevent herself from screaming.
“Are you all right?”
That voice again. Mr. Ranger was back.
Roberta looked up, bringing herself face-to-face with a large pair of dark sunglasses and a big, bright smile.
“I’ll live, thank you. Nothing’s damaged.” Except her pride. Her temper was working overtime, though.
“Want me to do that for you?”
Without a word, she grumpily handed him the heavy door and stepped out of the trailer opening. Of course he showed no indication of it being heavy. He effortlessly slotted it into the holes, gave it a little push, and fitted it neatly into the bottom of the frame. Fastening it to the bottom half of the door, he never lost that insipid smile. Roberta glared back.
“Done.” He wiped his hands on the back of his shorts. His smile faded quickly as he saw her grumpy face. “Feel free to call me if you need any more help.” And he left again.
Roberta stomped outside to the picnic table where she had left the list. It was gone.
Since the campsite was almost completely surrounded by trees, Roberta assumed it had to have blown off the table. The bright white of the paper would contrast with the darkness of the ground cover, making it easy to find. Walking a bit farther into the trees, she paused to inhale a deep breath of fresh air.
Somewhere in the forest, squirrels chattered and birds chirped. The wind rustled the leaves, and in the distance, Roberta could hear children laughing, playing at some far-off campsite. A slight breeze carried the pleasant scent of a campfire and burnt hamburgers. Roberta smiled.
Despite the trouble she’d had so far in setting up, Roberta considered the possibility that maybe Molly was right. Getting away from the city into the peaceful surroundings of the campground could go a long way toward helping her sort things out.
On her quest to find the missing list, Roberta glanced upward, searching for a glimpse of the nearby squirrel who chattered brightly from the high branches. As she walked, her sandal caught in a branch on the ground.
With one foot caught helplessly while the rest of her weight still continued forward, Roberta couldn’t maintain her balance. She flailed her arms, but it didn’t help. The trees flashed by as the ground came closer and closer.
Roberta landed with a thud. As she bounced on the ground, her foot slid out of the sandal, causing her to skid along the rough terrain. In the process, her already sore knee struck a jagged rock. Her arm scraped against a branch, leaving a painful stinging welt.
Arms and legs splayed, Roberta lay facedown in the rocks and sticks. Instead of moving, she began to consider the possibility that despite the serene setting, maybe, just maybe, this camping business wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Sprawled inelegantly on the ground, she briefly considered standing up, except that surely something else would go wrong. On the other hand, if she continued to lie in the dirt long enough, maybe she would wake up and find this had all been a bad dream. She let her mind wander. Maybe she could get comfortable down here among the rocks and branches. She could have a nap if some rabid chipmunk didn’t come along and bite her.
Footsteps. Running. No, anything but that.
“Miss! Miss! Are you all right!?”
Not Mr. Ranger again! Roberta pushed herself up on her hands and knees, barely managing to prevent her left knee from buckling as she put her weight on it. When she rubbed the scratch on her arm, her fingers came away sticky when she moved her hand away.
Watching blood slowly seep out of her new wound, Roberta wondered what else could go wrong. She turned to the ranger, unable to keep the bite out of her voice as she spoke. “Look, I just tripped. Nothing serious. Thank you for your concern, but I really want to be alone, okay?”
“I was concerned when you didn’t get up.”
“I’m fine!” she snapped. “Now why don’t you just go away!” She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, trying her best to get him to take a hint.
Instead of leaving, Mr. Ranger stood still. His lower lip quivered, like he was trying to stifle a smile, making Roberta wish she could see what he was looking at behind his dark glasses.
His smile dropped, and he cleared his throat. “You’re bleeding. Do you have a first aid kit?”
“Probably, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Okay, fine,” he mumbled. Again, he turned and left.
She gritted her teeth. The last thing she needed was for Mr. Ranger to laugh at her. Contrary to Molly’s promises, her camping adventure was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth. She reached up to push her hair back off her forehead when her fingers poked a hard object. Roberta wrapped her fingers around a long, slender object and pulled. Along with a stick, she also pulled out a number of strands of her hair.
With a growl, Roberta broke the stick into small pieces and threw them on the ground. She slid her foot back into her sandal, then stomped the stick into smaller pieces, trying to get some revenge against the great outdoors.
“How did I let Molly convince me to do this?” she shouted at the little squirrel, who for some reason turned and ran away.
Roberta limped back to the camper. If it wasn’t for Mike, she would be sitting at her desk, calmly working away in an air-conditioned office. The thought of her job made her even angrier at the unfairness of it all. She had been fired because her fiancé was fooling around on her, yet there was nothing she could do about it.
Roberta flopped herself on the bed. Her knee ached and her arm stung, but she was too angry to care. She was determined to get the stupid camper up without the instructions or she would die trying.
She stomped outside and studied the poles on the ground. When she figured out which pile Mr. Ranger said supported the tent above the pull-out beds, Roberta lugged those poles into the camper. She threw them on one of the beds, and they clanged loudly as they bounced together.
Roberta didn’t care. One pole at a time, she pushed and wiggled and pushed some more until every pole was slotted into place and the tent-trailer was in the shape it was supposed to be.
For the next step, Roberta crawled under the middle bed. Supporting it with her back, she hooked the support section into the slot. Still pushing up with her back beneath it, she pulled down the collapsible leg, positioned it properly, and crawled out.
Finally done, Roberta stood in the center of the trailer and heaved a sigh of relief.
Now she had a table. Success.
With that success, she closed her eyes and smiled, thinking of how a cup of steamy coffee would hit the spot, despite the heat of the summer afternoon.
When she opened her eyes, her smile disappeared. In order to make coffee, she needed to use the propane-powered elements, but she had not hooked up the propane tank connection. The bed and support bars were now pulled out over the propane tank. Instead of relaxing, she now had to crawl under the overhang to hook up the propane.
Roberta squeezed her eyes shut. Just when she thought she had everything done, something else had gone wrong.
Cringing with every movement, Roberta hunched beneath the overhang and crawled underneath the bed, trying to ignore the gravel digging into her already sore knees as she screwed the hose onto the tank. Not wanting to take chances with the connection, she thought it best to exchange the screwdriver for a wrench, except she didn’t know where to find one. She’d discovered Molly’s friend’s tent-trailer held many cubbyholes and compartments, and wished she had a map to locate them all.
Roberta gritted her teeth with every painful contact of the gravel on her knees as she backed out from her cramped work space. Unfortunately, she misjudged the distance she’d crawled forward, because in crawling backward, she straightened up too soon and hit her head on the overhang.
At the same time as she bit her lip to prevent herself from saying something she shouldn’t say out loud, Roberta heard a sound from a few feet behind her. Holding her head, she backed out the rest of the way and turned to come face-to-face with good old Mr. Ranger again. It was apparent that he sincerely tried to suppress the urge to laugh, but he didn’t do it very well.
“What do
you want now?” she barked at him, still holding her head.
Mr. Ranger’s mouth straightened. “Let’s get you registered. Have you got that propane properly connected? I see you don’t have a wrench there. It may not be tight enough.”
Roberta squeezed her eyes shut and stiffened from head to toe. The events of the day roared through her mind. Her disastrous morning at work. Molly railroading her into this idiotic camping trip. The nerve-wracking drive. The trouble setting up. Then, every time she turned around, there was Mr. Ranger, always showing up whenever she did something stupid or clumsy. Now, here he was again, telling her something she already knew. Of course she needed a wrench. She wasn’t brain-dead.
She knew the Bible spoke of patience, but not a single verse came to mind. “I know I need a wrench!” She waved her hands in the air as she hollered at him. “I just have to find out where it is! I was going to do that when you barged in on me again. Don’t you have something better to do? Some wild animals to document or something?”
Mr. Ranger frowned and stepped backward. “Sor-ry!” he mumbled sarcastically. “I’ll sign you in and be out of your way.” He flipped to the right page and held up his pen, ready to write. He cleared his throat. “Name and number of people in your party.”
Roberta glared at him. “Roberta Garland. The whole group won’t be here until tomorrow.”
He looked up with the frown still on his face. “You mean you’re here alone for the night?”
“No. One friend will be here tonight, and two more tomorrow. I don’t know how long everyone will be staying.” She glared at him, wishing she could see his eyes beneath those dark glasses.
They stared at each other in silence.
After about a minute, Mr. Ranger let out a sigh. “Look, I’ve got a wrench in the truck. I see you’re limping. I can get some ice for that knee, and I can check that propane hose for you, if you want.”
Roberta scowled at him, but he only scowled back at her, looking like he was starting to lose his patience with her too.
Visions of Mike flashed through her mind—how he always did everything for her, and instead of acting gracious, he lorded it over her, only making her feel stupid and incompetent.
