by Gail Sattler
She studied the haphazard pile of firewood.
Almost everyone she knew, except her parents, had gas fireplaces and never burned real logs. When she was growing up her parents never allowed her to start a real fire in the fireplace, unless it was at Christmas time. Then it was the manufactured kind they bought at the grocery store that burned in pretty colors, and all she did was light the wrapper to get a fire started.
Trying to ignore the scrape of the rough bark against her tender skin, Roberta selected a few dry logs. In an effort to calculate how long each piece would take to burn, Roberta juggled the logs in her arms in an attempt to compare them to the pressed Yule logs. The real thing seemed lighter, but weight gave her no indication of how long it would burn.
Since she didn’t know the answer, Roberta decided it best to have too much wood on hand at the campsite, rather than too little. Besides, since she didn’t have anything better to do, she had plenty of time to accumulate mass quantities of firewood.
She studied the large stack of logs. Her biggest challenge would be to carry the wood by hand, since she didn’t want to get pieces of bark and mud in Molly’s clean car.
After the third trip, Roberta lost the bounce to her step. Trudging back and forth in the heat of a summer day, carrying dirty hunks of heavy wood, was not turning out to be her idea of a dream vacation. As she stared at her meager pile of firewood beside her fire pit, she wondered how much more she would need to last the night. During the daytime the temperature was hot, but the evenings cooled quickly, probably more so out here in the wilderness than in the city.
She swiped her arm across her forehead and fanned herself by waving the front of her T-shirt. Even though she had been selective, the logs seemed to get heavier with every trip. Not having the energy anymore to do it properly, Roberta wiggled her foot to dislodge a rock stuck between her toes while she counted the logs in her stash. While it probably didn’t take much wood to cook one little wiener, she was more concerned about evening, when she would need enough wood to stay warm.
Therefore, Roberta wiped her hands on her shorts and headed down the gravel road one last time.
Bent at the waist, while picking through the pile for the lightest pieces of a decent size, she heard that all-too-familiar deep baritone voice behind her.
“Hi, Robbie. Want me to carry some for you?”
Roberta cringed. She straightened and turned around to look up into a huge pair of dark sunglasses. Even though for this moment she couldn’t see his eyes, at least now she knew what they looked like.
Garrett stood tall, smiling down at her, his feet slightly apart and his arms crossed over his broad chest. The man was huge.
Roberta gulped, then lowered her head as she searched for more nice pieces of wood.
He didn’t miss a beat. “I see you’re getting a nice little pile of firewood back at the campsite. Between the two of us, one more trip ought to do it.”
Roberta squeezed her eyes shut. He’d gone looking for her. She wasn’t that helpless, or hopeless, that she couldn’t do this by herself.
She glared at him in silence. With Garrett wearing his sunglasses, she couldn’t see his eyes. Giving him a dirty look didn’t do any good when he wasn’t paying attention. Therefore, she ignored him right back and continued to pick through the woodpile. Once she selected a good armload, she turned to see him standing beside her, waiting patiently, his arms full with approximately triple the amount of wood she could hold.
She opened her mouth to protest, but self-preservation stopped her. With what he now carried, she would now have enough to last the whole night, plus part of tomorrow, maybe even ‘til Molly and her friend arrived.
“Let’s go,” she mumbled.
They walked quietly for a few minutes, which was a welcome change. Although his voice was pleasant, Garrett talked far too much for Roberta’s liking. Unfortunately, as usual, he was the first to break the silence.
“Don’t you just love to sit by a crackling fire in the dark?”
“Uh, sure.”
He looked down at her as they walked side by side. “Have you ever made a campfire before?”
Roberta kept her gaze decidedly forward. “No.”
“Do you know anything about building a fire?”
“No.”
He faced forward again as he continued to talk. “Would you like me to show you? I’ve got a few free minutes. I can chop up some kindling for you. Since you’ve got my camper I know where the ax is.”
Roberta nearly fell over her own feet as she walked. She hadn’t thought about needing to chop the wood she was diligently piling up where the fire would eventually be. Now that she was thinking about it, she did need his assistance. She hadn’t exaggerated when she said she knew absolutely nothing about building a campfire.
She tried to sneak a sideways glance at him as they walked together. She felt bad that he felt obligated to be with her because of Molly badgering him, especially when she knew personally that once Molly got her mind stuck on something, nothing could change it. Yet, as much as he got on her nerves, she at least owed him some courtesy for all his help, regardless of his reasons. “Yes, thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
He turned to her, smiling his response. A strange quiver unsettled her stomach, but she convinced herself it was only because she was over-hungry. Mike had been nice to her too, at least in the beginning of their relationship. He’d been so nice, in her inexperience she’d quickly fallen in love with him. It was only now she could look back and see that instead of wanting to help her, Mike had only wanted a helpless female on his arm to feed his enormous ego.
Roberta promised herself she would never put herself in that position ever again.
Instead of returning Garrett’s smile, she faced forward and trudged into the campsite.
Garrett opened a compartment on the outside of the trailer and pulled out a rather large ax. Then, to her shock, he started unbuttoning his shirt.
Roberta stepped backward. “What are you doing?” she gulped.
“I thought you wanted me to chop some kindling for you?” Garrett slung his shirt over the back of one of the lawn chairs, walked to the pile, selected the largest log, and stood it up on end. Holding the ax across the front of him, one hand on the end of the handle and the other about two thirds of the way up, he shuffled his feet to stand with his legs planted firmly apart.
Roberta gulped and stared. He hadn’t been pushy on purpose. One look at him told her he loved what he did as a ranger. He stood before her as the personification of Mr. Great Outdoors. Broad-shouldered and bare-chested, with muscles tensed and ready, he steadied the ax in his large hands as he contemplated the log in front of him.
While Garrett stared at the log, Roberta stared at Garrett. Rugged and powerful, he was gorgeous. The hat and dark glasses shielding his face added a touch of mystery to his appearance.
“Stand back,” he commanded as he raised his head in her direction to be sure she was a safe distance away.
He heaved the ax high in the air behind his head and swung it down solidly, cleanly splitting a thin piece of wood from the log. Repeating the procedure a number of times, he soon reduced the heavy log to a mere pile of kindling.
Resting the ax on its head, he wiped one arm across his brow, then wiped his hands on his shorts. “I’ll split one log more for you, and then I’ll be on my way.”
All Roberta could do was nod.
He pulled off his hat, ran his hands through his hair, then placed the hat back on his head as he picked through the pile for another log to split. He didn’t keep looking back at her—in fact, he paid her no attention whatsoever. He was only there to do a job, which he was doing quite efficiently.
Once he’d picked another suitable log to split, Garrett positioned himself as before. Holding the ax across the front of him, he assessed the log. He turned his head, and as best Roberta could tell, he was probably watching her from behind the dark sunglasses. “Just checking where you
are. Don’t move while I’m doing this. You’re supposed to stand to the side of someone who is chopping wood. If the head of the ax flies off you could get hurt.”
“Okay,” she mumbled.
He touched the tip of the ax to the log, then inhaled deeply. He moved slightly and started to raise the ax, but as he did so the log fell over. He sighed, rested the head of the ax on the ground, and with his free hand, he reached toward the fallen log.
Roberta watched him, mesmerized. When he righted the log, she let her hand drop down. The motion caused her to brush a hard shape in her pocket. Slowly, she wrapped her hand around the object—her camera.
Roberta smiled. She hadn’t seen the squirrel, but watching Garrett chop wood turned out to be far more interesting than any four-legged creature.
She couldn’t help herself. She raised the camera and quickly snapped a picture. As she waited for the sound of the auto-advance to finish, Garrett managed to steady the log to stand on end. She again positioned the camera, intending to attempt to snap the picture at the exact second the ax landed to actually split the wood.
He positioned the ax. Garrett tensed at the same time as he raised his head to look up at her. “I’m ready. Don’t …” As he caught sight of her, his voice trailed off. His smile instantly degenerated into a miserable scowl. “What are you doing?” he barked.
Roberta lowered the camera. “I’m going to take your picture. Smile.” She deliberately failed to mention she had already taken one. Raising the camera to her face again, she took a step back. “Go ahead and chop the wood. I have an idea.”
If looks could kill, Robbie would have been six feet under. “Put that thing away.”
Once again, she lowered the camera. Even without seeing his eyes, his tight frown and pinched lips told her he wasn’t pleased.
He stiffened and let go of the center of the ax handle, holding just the end of it with one hand while the head rested on the ground. “I said put that thing away,” he said from between clenched teeth.
She held the camera behind her back.
“Away. Put it away.”
Roberta turned the camera off and tucked it back into her pocket. “Why don’t you like having your picture taken?”
He clenched his teeth. “I just don’t. Okay?” he said in a straight, even pitch. Despite the fact that she obviously didn’t know him very well, any fool could see he wasn’t kidding. She didn’t understand, because up until now, he had been so mild mannered. Roberta thought it best not to push her luck. She took her camera out of her pocket and laid it on the picnic table, where he could plainly see it, while he glowered at her, watching her every step.
Obediently, she stood in an acceptable location while Garrett silently split the other log. Roberta watched in admiration but said nothing as he repeatedly swung the heavy ax, making perfect, even pieces every time.
When he was done, he remained uncharacteristically silent for possibly the first time. Purposely leaving the camera on the picnic table, Roberta ran into the camper.
Garrett inhaled a deep breath and watched her disappear, still feeling irritable, and hating himself for it. He knew he shouldn’t have been so harsh with her, after all, she couldn’t have known. The poor woman had enough problems without having to deal with his hang-ups. All he wanted to do was keep an eye on her, although he didn’t know why. She was certainly less than receptive to his presence. He didn’t usually fall for her type, but something he couldn’t name would have kept him watching her, even if Molly hadn’t asked. He rested his hands on his hips and waited, staring toward the camper, wondering what was taking her so long. His gaze drifted to the camera, still lying on the picnic table. His gut clenched at the thought of it.
When she finally reappeared, she handed him a clean towel. He lifted his hat and sunglasses with one hand and wiped his face, then rubbed the sweat off his chest and shoulders. Instead of giving it back, he tossed the towel over the back of the lawn chair.
“Thanks,” he mumbled as he picked up his shirt. More quickly than he’d ever done before, he buttoned it, tucked it into the waistband of his shorts, and left before he said something he’d regret.
Roberta’s stomach grumbled, making her grateful he left when he did. Before starting the fire to cook her hot dog, she lifted the ax to put it away. As she did so, she turned to the pile of logs, then shifted the weight of the ax in her hands to get a feel for it.
Garrett had made the whole thing look so easy.
Digging through the pile, she found a log that would balance nicely on one end. Following Garrett’s example, she wiggled it into the ground to steady it fully, picked up the ax, and touched the blade to the center of the log. She was ready.
The ax was heavier than it looked. She tried lifting it high, but it was too heavy to heave over and behind her head like Garrett had. As carefully as she could, she lifted it as high as she could without the fear of falling backwards, then swung it down, aiming for the center of the log.
The blade barely caught the edge. Instead of splitting a piece off, the ax lodged in to a depth of a few inches and stuck. Roberta pulled and heaved and twisted, but couldn’t get it out. Out of frustration, she pushed the log over, with the ax still firmly wedged into the wood. Using one foot to steady the log, she wiggled the ax until it came out. She dropped it on the ground, then stopped to catch her breath.
Perhaps the woodcutting was best left up to Garrett.
After she tucked the ax back into the bin and pushed the log back into the pile, Roberta set to work building a fire. Since she started the Yule log burning by first lighting the paper, Roberta used some newspaper she found stashed beneath the ax to start the real logs, and very soon she had a good fire roaring. Rather than use a stick to roast her wiener, she used a long metal pole she found inside the camper, and soon her hot dog was nicely roasted.
She helped herself to everything she’d brought to share with Molly, and sat in a lawnchair beside the fire. Before she began to eat, Roberta stared at the plate in her lap. It had been a long time since she had stopped to be thankful for God’s blessings, yet today, surrounded by the beauty of God’s creation, she felt compelled to offer a prayer of thanks, as she sat in the wilderness, alone.
Despite the bad things that had happened to her, she could be thankful. Molly was with her mother, who was fine after her asthma attack. Even though Roberta had lost her job, she received a severance package to see her through financially until she found something else. This time she didn’t want to work in downtown Vancouver, but she knew she could find a good paying jobs in the suburbs, closer to home.
She couldn’t see the city from where she was now, but she knew that somewhere in Vancouver, Mike and Suzie were having a great time now that she was gone.
Mike. Her teeth clenched. It wasn’t God’s fault Mike was an unfaithful jerk. She really should have known what kind of guy he was. At first, Mike said he “kind of” believed in God, and he even had attended church a few times with her. Soon he convinced her to start missing services, until she hadn’t been going for months. She wondered if Mike had ever been a believer. She now suspected he had gone to church with her in the beginning only to win her trust.
She had never felt like such a fool. Thinking of Mike as she now knew him to be, she realized he was no loss. Now that the shock was over, she was thankful she found out in time, before the wedding. The real loss was her job.
And so what? She could always find another job, maybe even a better one. Her best friend, Molly, had come to her rescue, providing a break from routine to give her time and opportunity to get her head together. Even though she was more alone than she’d originally planned, God had provided Garrett to help if she should need it. That he got on her nerves didn’t make him any less available. Perhaps he was to also be a lesson in patience.
Roberta bowed her head and thanked God for taking care of all her needs. Just as she raised her head and lifted the hot dog to her mouth, a familiar voice echoed behind her.
>
“Nice fire. Looks like you’re going to make a decent camper yet. I see you found the roasting poles. Am I invited?”
Roberta turned around to see Garrett’s lithe form striding to the fire pit, all traces of his anger from their last encounter forgotten. She had been enjoying the silence until now.
“Help yourself. Everything I brought is in the cooler.” She doubted what she brought for Molly would be enough for a big man like him, but what she had, he was welcome to share.
She heard him digging through the cooler, pausing every once in awhile to open a few lids.
“Hey, potato salad, great! And carrots, already cut up and everything. This looks like grape juice. You’re sure I can help myself?”
“That’s what I said.”
Roberta heard him without really paying attention to what he was saying as he complimented her on the food she brought, comparing it to an allegedly miserable campfire meal at the ranger camp. He stepped into the camper to get himself a plate and utensils, yakking constantly the entire time. She hoped he would at least be quiet while he was eating.
Plate full, he sauntered to the campfire, dragging a lawn chair with him. He smiled as he accepted the pole with his hot dog. She ate her dinner, nodding politely as he kept up enough conversation for both of them, until finished roasting his supper.
Conversation abruptly stopped. Just in case he was choking on his dinner, Roberta turned her head to check on him. Garrett sat in the lawn chair, his head bowed. She stared as he didn’t move or speak for a few seconds. He nodded once, still silent, then raised his head. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes through the sunglasses, she knew he was staring back at her.
“Yes?” he asked, then opened his mouth and took a massive bite out of his hot dog.
Chapter 4
Roberta concentrated intently on the fire, poking the glowing embers with a long stick she had found earlier.
He prayed over his meal. Without any prompting.