VANCOUVER: The Gem of Canada Is Aglow with Four Romances

by Gail Sattler

  All three ladies stood, staring at him, their arms crossed over their chests. He accepted the fact that he was outnumbered.

  Garrett shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourselves. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Before they could respond, he turned and left.

  The rain set in while he made the rounds at the boating area. His patrol complete, he ran to the truck and drove to the beach, donning his bright yellow slicker before walking out into the pouring rain. As he expected, the beach was deserted, except for Molly, Roberta, and Gwen, splashing about in the lake. He stood on the shore, his arms crossed, not caring about the scowl he knew was on his face. Grinning like idiots, they waved at him. He raised one hand with a single wave back and recrossed his arms. They ignored his disdain and dove beneath the surface, all three of them in different directions. Witnessing enough, he headed back to the truck and back to the office. They’d be sorry. Maybe not now, but they’d be sorry.

  A rainy day provided a good opportunity to catch up on his paperwork. With a cup of coffee beside him at the desk, he drafted up the duty roster and scheduling for the following few weeks, made a few phone calls, ordered some supplies, and began to read all the reports that had piled up on his desk in the hot weather.

  One report in particular caught his interest. It was a follow-up to his warning to the other rangers about the prowler who’d frightened Robbie.

  Garrett sat back in the chair to study the other ranger’s comments. The next night, Dean discovered a man trespassing in another campsite and issued a warning. The man had suspiciously checked out the next morning, and thankfully nothing had been found missing. Although it was impossible to be positive it was the same man without a confession, the timing and pattern were the same, and no more instances had been reported.

  Garrett smiled as he signed the bottom of the page. Robbie would be happy to hear the situation was dealt with. Not that he wanted her to wander around alone at night in the campground, but he felt better about it.

  He continued to read and initial more reports, then stopped when he picked up his own report concerning the eviction of the rowdy group containing the man who bothered Robbie in the water.

  Garrett laid the paper on the desk and stared off into space. Despite the fact that she wasn’t his type, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He probably should have been feeling sorry for her, but he didn’t. True, she was devastated about her fiancé cheating on her. Who wouldn’t be? The thing he personally valued the most in a relationship was trust, and he couldn’t imagine a worse way to break that trust. His heart made a strange flip-flop in his chest as he remembered the series of events upon her arrival, how distraught she was. But instead of dwelling on it, she was dealing with it, and unlike so many people he’d seen facing a major upheaval in their lives, she was moving forward.

  She was obviously a believer, and from what she’d told him, her ex-fiancé wasn’t. From the little he knew, Mike wasn’t the right person to be her life’s partner. Already, she had figured out she was better off without him, and he was strangely satisfied with her decision.

  They’d prayed for her to find that perfect partner God had in mind for her, but even though he’d prayed for it, he didn’t like the idea that she would now go back to the dating scene. He wondered if Robbie would mind him checking up on her periodically through Molly. He almost laughed out loud. Robbie had made it more than obvious she wanted nothing to do with him, but if that were the case, he didn’t understand why he had felt such a closeness when they worshipped and prayed together.

  Garrett continued to stare into space. Just as he prayed for Robbie to find the man God wanted for her, he often prayed for God to show him to his own special someone. This morning he hadn’t. He no longer wanted to pray for it.

  He let his gaze drift out the window, and he noticed the day had brightened. The rain had stopped.

  He filed the last report away and checked his watch. If anyone was going to be stupid enough to use flammable liquids to try to light their campfires for supper, this was the time. Garrett gulped the last sip of his coffee, preparing himself to make the rounds to prevent anyone from blowing themself up for the sake of a roasted wiener.

  But he knew where he was going first.

  No noise emanated from the tent-trailer as he approached it, making him wonder if they were still at the beach. He was about to turn around when he heard Molly’s voice from within, whining.

  “What I wouldn’t give for my blow-dryer right now.”

  “Oh, Molly,” Gwen whined back, “where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “I don’t have a sense of adventure anymore.”

  Garrett smiled. He wasn’t going to say “I told you so,” but he could think it. He knocked. “It’s me,” he spoke into the door. “Can I come in?”

  “Only if you have a battery-operated blow-dryer.”

  He opened the door anyway. Pale, with her teeth chattering, Robbie sat at the table, huddled with her sleeping bag around her, over her jacket and long pants. Gwen stood beside the propane burner wrapped in her jacket trying to warm her hands on the flame beneath the old aluminum coffee percolator as she waited for it to bubble, a towel wrapped snugly around her still wet hair. Her stiff posture and the jerky movements of her hands betrayed how uncomfortable she was. Molly sat awkwardly on one of the bunks, completely tucked inside her sleeping bag, only her head peeking out.

  “Did you have a nice swim?” Garrett asked, fighting the urge to smile.

  He couldn’t help himself. He pressed his lips together tightly as they all glared at him. He knew this would happen. He and Gwen had done this before, when they were in their teens. Against their parents’ advice, they’d gone for a swim in the lake when it was raining, and then they had run all the way down the path in their bathing suits in the pouring rain to get back to the camper. For the rest of his life, he’d never forget that particular camping trip, and how cold they’d been that day. He hadn’t stopped shivering until the next morning.

  He had tried to tell them. They wouldn’t listen. Roberta visibly shuddered, and all three of them looked up at him like frozen, drowned little rats.

  He felt his lower lip tremble, and he could no longer keep the corners of his mouth from tipping up. “Goodness, Gwen, you don’t have as good a memory as I gave you credit for!” Unable to hold back any longer, Garrett burst out laughing. Three cold, wet bathing suits hit him in the face.

  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.

  Sh
e 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 co
ntact 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.