Chapter Three
Bedlam reigned for the next half hour as campers elbowed for room around the picnic table, making sandwiches and snatching packages of lunch meat and jars of peanut butter out of other greedy hands.
“Men first,” Sam said, hugging the bread to his chest. “We’ve been on a wilderness trek while you girls have been laying around getting sand in your brains.”
“And we are going to wallop you this afternoon in the scavenger hunt and the fishing contest,” Trent added.
Sally grabbed for the bread. “You’re smashing it, you dodo.”
“Sticks and stones...” Sam began in a sing-song voice.
“And no way you’ll beat us this afternoon,” Justine said.
The banter continued with no clear winner as sandwiches and chips disappeared at a record rate. Sally got up from the table and threw her paper plate in the fire. “Gotta go take a shower!” Mona and Justine followed.
“A shower…before you go fishing?” Larry said.
“Daa-ad. My hair!” Sally ran a hand through wet tangled curls.
“So? It’s fishing, Sal…”
Frannie put down her braunschweiger and horseradish mustard on rye—her favorite—and laid a hand on Larry’s arm. “Dear, we’ve discussed this before.” Her tone was mock exasperation. “Don’t try to apply logic to anything a teenager says or does.”
“Never try to teach a pig to sing,” Mickey began, and the rest of the adults joined in shouting, “It wastes your time and annoys the pig!”
Sam shook his head and looked at them in disgust. “That’s just stupid. You can’t teach a pig to sing.”
“Exactly,” Jane Ann said.
The girls emerged from tent and popup with towels around their necks and pull-string bags bulging with bottles. Justine swung hers by the cord as she started to narc on her older sister.
“Mona’s gotta look good” — the bag described a large arc toward the road and headed back—“for Bry-yun” — she swung the bag again barely missing Sally—“her new boyfriend.” The bag rotated back toward the road.
A pop sounded as the seam ripped. A full bottle of ”Sweet and Sexy” lavender gel with infused rosemary and cucumbers rocketed out of the bottom of the bag, into the path of an oncoming red GMC Sierra.
The driver was following the five-mile-per-hour campground speed limit, but apparently only glimpsed the purple bomb with his peripheral vision. He slammed on the brakes anyway, stopping on the bottle with his right front tire. A stream of purple goo arced back toward the campsite, hitting Trent square in the back. He had been quietly minding his own business as he fixed himself a third sandwich.
“Hey!” Trent reached back and wiped his shirt, looking at his hand in wonder.
The parents had watched the sequence of events with open mouths. Finally, Mickey snapped his mouth shut and then grinned at his daughter. “Bet you can’t do that again.”
Justine stood with her hands over her mouth. The cord of the broken bag dangled from her wrist and the rest of her shower items puddled at her feet.
The pickup driver got out of the truck, looking both angry and baffled. He was a tall, balding man with the start of a pot belly. He pushed the cap back on his nearly bald head and scratched his brow. “What was that?”
Everyone started to talk at once, except Justine, who dissolved in tears, and Mona, doubled in laughter.
“Whoa!” The driver’s brow cleared and he held up his hands. He looked down at the ground by his truck tire. “Is that shampoo? Is someone throwing a bottle of shampoo?”
Mickey stood up and walked over. He explained the curious order of events and the driver nodded, shook his head, and returned to his truck.
Mickey put his arm around Justine. “Maybe just carry your stuff up to the shower? No swinging?”
She nodded and started to giggle.
Mona said, “Just use mine,” and pulled her sister behind her up the hill.
“Well, Mick,” Frannie said, “I admit this camping is pretty fun. What do you have scheduled next?”
Mickey shrugged. “We couldn’t duplicate that stunt in a million years.”
An hour later, the kids gathered at a nearby shelter, where two rangers handed out lists for the scavenger hunt. One ranger didn’t look much older than Sam and Sally, and his short hairstyle and bangs didn’t add to his age or dignity.
The female ranger was short and in her thirties with blond curly hair. Both were dressed in brown pants and crisp tan shirts, which sported Department of Natural Resources patches on the sleeves.
Though the other adults stayed at the campsite, Frannie had trailed behind the kids and stood at the outer edge of the shelter. She was curious how the hunt was going to work. Justine got herself on a team of four with the romantic Brian, while Mona and Sally teamed up with two older girls.
“Could I have your attention?” The female ranger climbed on a picnic table bench and raised her hands to try and quiet the group. It worked only partially, so she resorted to the whistle worn around her neck.
“Take a look at your lists. Five items have stars by them—see that?”
The kids ducked their heads over the sheets of paper and began nodding.
“Those are items that you must not remove—flowers, rocks, etc. If you do, we have to throw you in jail and it will ruin your weekend.” She smiled and waited for a few half-hearted laughs.
“Instead, take a photo of the items. We’ll use those to judge the winners. Got that? You—in the Batman tee shirt. What are you supposed to do about the starred items on the list?”
A tall thin boy with a halo of flyaway curls jerked his head around, interrupting a conversation with his buddy. “Who, me?”
A short, heavier kid on the other side of him tentatively raised his hand.
The ranger nodded at him. “Can you help your friend out?”
“Um-take pictures of them.”
“Right. Everyone got that? Any team that can’t get a digital camera?”
One group raised their hands after conferring. “Okay, you guys stop up here before you go out. Any questions?” She looked at her watch. “Everyone meet back here in one hour. That’s 2:30, okay?”
The conversation level returned to a dull roar, as the kids headed in various directions. Frannie rolled her eyes at the ranger and returned to her campsite.
Trent and Sam were already there along with two girls. “Okay,” Sam was saying. “I have a camera—we need a bag to collect things in. And do either of you have a thermos along?” he asked one of the girls.
“I think my mom does.”
“And I think we’ve got a can of beans,” the other said.
“Okay, go get them. I’ll find a bag, and we’ve got a flashlight. Meet back by the gate. We’ll go to the beach to find a shell and then go from there. Go!”
“Kind of bossy,” Frannie said.
Sam shrugged. “Someone’s gotta take charge.”
Frannie and Larry exchanged amused looks.
“There’s an old shopping bag in the truck,” Frannie said to Sam.
He and Trent trotted off.
Frannie and Jane Ann carried lawn chairs to the edge of the lake and let the men deal with the marauding groups of kids looking for everything from marshmallows to bug spray. A soft breeze blew off the lake and the happy, challenging voices receded to the background.
Jane Ann sipped her iced tea. “This is what it’s all about.”
Frannie grinned at her sister-in-law. “Oh, by the way, happy birthday.”
“Thanks. Couldn’t have a better one.”
Frannie pointed toward a small island. “Is that a snake? Swimming away from that island?”
“Looks like it. We nicknamed that ‘Snake Island’ because there always seem to be some around there.”
Frannie shuddered. “Ew. I hate snakes.”
“Relax. They’re usually quite small. Even if they swim toward shore, we almost never see them in the campsites.?
??
“Almost?”
“Almost. I didn’t realize you were afraid of snakes.”
Frannie grimaced. “Mice and bats, too.”
Jane Ann laughed. “Maybe camping isn’t for you! Just kidding—I really wish you would come more often. Otherwise I’ll only have Mickey to talk to after the girls leave home.”
“Oh, sure—play on my sympathy.” Frannie grinned.
Jane Ann sat forward and pointed toward the end of the lake nearest them. “Is that the girls? Sally and Mona?”
They both peered toward a group thrashing about in the woods on the lakeshore.
“I think so.” Frannie opened her mystery and immersed herself in the perils of the family being chased in the woods by a madman.
Various teams of scavengers appeared just often enough to provide diversion; no sign of any serial killers. Otherwise Frannie alternately read and carried on a lazy conversation with Jane Ann. The scavengers returned to report that a team of sixth graders had won and ‘probably cheated.’ Then they rushed off to get fishing gear.
Jane Ann levered herself out of her chair. “I think we need to do something more active. How about a game of dominos?”
“I don’t know how to play,” Frannie said.
“Time to learn.” Jane Ann grabbed her sister-in-law’s hand to pull her up. “C’mon. It’s my birthday. You have to play.”
They played games at the picnic table, joined by their husbands, for more than two hours. The kids occasionally reported back on the progress in the fishing contest.
Finally Mickey got up from the table. “I’d better get a fire started for supper.”
Frannie stood up and stretched. Mickey rummaged in a box for kindling. “I haven’t made much progress on those essays I brought along to grade, but it’s been a great day.”
The reality of school hit Frannie like a box of textbooks. “I haven’t thought about school once today.”
Mickey clapped her on the shoulder. “Good job! That’s the point of all this.”
“I’ll get the table set,” Jane Ann said.
“You sit still,” Frannie told her. “You’re the birthday girl.”
“I’ve got bean salad in the pop-up and some rolls to warm up,” Jane Ann protested.
“The kids will help.” Frannie nodded toward the returning teens, who were all talking at once. “Hey, you guys—shut up a minute. I need your help to get supper on because Jane Ann is the queen today. Your dads are cooking steaks and we’re going to take care of the rest. Get cleaned up and report back here.”
Sam saluted. “Yes, ma’am.” He pulled his arm from behind his back. “But what about these?” He held up two fish on a stringer.
“Sam, that’s great! Did you win?”
“No, got second.”
Larry said, “Good job, son. How about if I clean’em and we’ll have Uncle Mickey throw them on the grill.”
“Surf and Turf!” Mickey gave him a thumbs up.
“I’ve already named ‘em. I want to keep them as pets.” Sam grinned, but handed them over to Mickey.
Sally ran her fingers through her hair. “I need to shower.”
Frannie shook her head. “After supper. It will only be us at the table and we don’t care what you look like—we love you anyway. Go wash your hands, and I’ll put you and Justine in charge of the rolls and salad that Jane Ann brought.”
She kept the kids busy and moving for the next hour. By the time Mickey put the steaks on, the table was set with festive colors and the side dishes were ready.
At the store that morning, Frannie had picked up potato salad to keep things simple. She felt a little guilty that she hadn’t made it at home, but knew Jane Ann understood about her last week of school. Besides, if she had brought it along, the raccoons would be the ones enjoying it.
Larry and Sally disappeared into the tent after he whispered instructions to Frannie to keep Jane Ann away. It wasn’t easy.
Mona had made her mother a paper crown that said ‘Birthday Girl’ and placed it crookedly on Jane Ann’s head. Jane Ann played the part of the reigning queen expertly and gave orders from her lounge chair to fetch her cheese and crackers or turn up the radio.
She sat up and looked around. “Where’s Larry?”
Frannie put down the basket of rolls. “I don’t know. Why?”
“I think he should fix his sister a margarita. It’s one of the few things he does well.” She smirked.
“I don’t think he brought the fixings.”
“We did. Mickey knows where everything is.”
“Can’t Mickey fix you one?”
Jane Ann stuck out her tongue. “Not as good as Larry’s.” A burst of laughter came from the tent. “Oh, that’s where he is!”
“Well, he’s busy. I’ll fix you a drink since you’re being such a princess.” Frannie laughed.
“Queen. I’m the birthday queen.”
Fortunately, Larry and Sally emerged from the tent and Jane Ann called out to him. “Larrry! Come fix a margarita for your beautiful sister!”
“Aren’t you carrying this birthday thing a little too far?” But he obliged with a smile.
Another beautiful evening provided ambience for the birthday dinner. Afterward, Larry and Sally produced the birthday cake, such as it was. The layers of unwrapped Twinkies and cupcakes teetered precariously, topped by a dozen blazing candles.
The group’s rendition of “Happy Birthday” compensated for a lack of quality with plenty of decibels. Nearby campers cheered and called out greetings.
Jane Ann took a deep breath and blew. The candles went out, sparked, and blazed anew.
“Oh, no!” Jane Ann laughed. “That old joke again? You guys aren’t very original.” But she blew on them again, with the same result. Laughing the whole time, she pinched each one out individually. Her girls clapped her on the back.
“Buck up, there, Mom! Don’t keel over on us now, just cuz you’re a lot older,” Justine said.
“Thank you so much. Just for that, you’re on the dishwashing detail.”
Justine started to groan, but Mickey caught her eye. “Okay.”
“Love that enthusiasm,” Jane Ann said.
By the time supper was cleared away and the men built up the fire, a glorious sunset was building in the west and reflecting off the lake.
Frannie swirled her wine in the plastic cup, and gazed at the sight.
“That takes my breath away.”
Mickey glanced at the sky as he added wood to the fire. “Not to put a damper on things, but that buildup of clouds that is so gorgeous right now is a storm coming in.”
“A damper?” Frannie said. “Bad pun, Mick.”
“Then get your head out of the clouds.”
After they digested dinner, they made s’mores—this time with graham crackers—sang silly songs, and laughed at Mickey’s stories of his early teaching years.
Frannie decided she could get used to such perfect evenings. The firelight reflected in the faces around the fire and she didn’t hear one complaint from any of the teenagers.
The only downer was when the ranger stopped by. “Evening, folks! Looks like a great fire.”
They all agreed and looked at him expectantly.
“I just wanted to tell everyone that we have a thunderstorm and tornado watch out this evening, so stay alert. If we get a tornado warning, we’ll sound a siren and then you should get up to the shower house.”
“Thanks,” Larry said. “We’ll do that.”
Frannie looked up at the sky. It was full dark and all of the stars had disappeared. The clouds had moved in. “What do you think, Mickey? Have you been in a bad storm before when you were camping?”
“A couple. The wind is the main thing—if it gets too strong, we should move to the shower house anyway, even if there’s no warning. But you know the weather guys. They prefer to err on the side of caution, which is good I guess. We may not get anything.”
Frannie nodded
and the hilarity resumed around the fire. Before long, even a bumpy air mattress on the ground sounded good.