Chapter Four
Frannie woke up to the crash of thunder, accompanied by lightening that made the tent walls flash and glow. The tent pulled at the stakes and swayed in the wind—like it was trying to rip itself from the ground. She reached out for her watch and glasses that she had laid next to the air mattress and snatched her hand back as she touched cold water.
“Larry!” She could hear the others stirring. She searched for her moccasins as the tent filled with the sounds of everyone shouting over the roar of the wind.
Sam yelled, “Dad! We’ve got water everywhere!”
They crashed into each other, confused in the dark and frightened by the storm.
“Get to the truck!” Larry yelled.
“What about the sleeping bags and clothes?” Sally yelled back.
“Leave ‘em! We won’t need ‘em if we’re struck by lightning.”
Sam struggled with the door zipper and Frannie bent to help him. Trent found a small flashlight to give them a little light.
“It’s stuck,” Sam said. “I can’t get it to move either way.”
Larry said, “Get out of the way!” When they did, he launched a kick at the bottom of the door, ripping the canvas. “Now go!”
They tumbled over each other and emerged from the tent into driving rain. Larry reached the truck first, got it unlocked and the rest piled into the cab.
Frannie used the bottom of her wet pajama top to mop her face. Sally and the boys all crammed into the back seat..
“There’s some extra blankets back here!” Sally handed a couple forward.
Larry started the engine and turned on their headlights, which were aimed toward their tent. He leaned over the steering wheel and peered through the onslaught toward Ferraros’ popup. It rocked and swayed in the wind.
“I can’t tell if they’re still in there. I wonder if we should go up to the bath house? I didn’t hear the siren go off so I don’t know how bad it’s supposed to get.”
Frannie huddled in her blanket. “Doesn’t seem like it could get any worse.”
“Tornado,” Sam said.
“Thanks, Sam—that’s encouraging.”
“Just sayin’.”
“It hasn’t been typical tornado weather,” Larry said.
“Maybe not typical, but there’s such a thing as freak storms. What time is it?”
“Three-thirty,” said Trent.
“Maybe there’s an all-night diner nearby, and we could get breakfast,” Sam said, hopefully.
“Nice try,” Frannie said. “Ack! There goes the tent!”
They watched, frozen, as the wind lifted the canvas structure and threw it into Ferraro’s popup. It wrapped around one of the drop-down beds, causing the popup to tilt and then settle precariously back on its wheels.
“Wow!” Trent said. “That’s not good.”
Larry grabbed a stocking hat out of the side pocket in his door. “Sam! Let’s go see if we can drag that thing back here. I just hope it didn’t damage their camper.”
He pushed open his door, letting in a blast of wind and rain. Sam groaned but followed his father. As they leaned into the wind and slogged toward the camper, Trent sighed and said “I’d better help.”
Frannie opened her door. “We all should.”
When they got to the camper, they could hear voices inside it. Larry and Sam tried to unhook the tent poles from the camper screens. As Frannie and Sally got there, the door opened a crack and Mickey stuck his head out.
“What just happened?”
Frannie yelled above the sound of the wind. “Our tent blew into your camper!” Rain streamed down her face and she shivered in her wet pajamas.
Mickey stared at her. “Good Lord—get in here!”
“No, we have to get it secured. All of our stuff is still in there!”
Mickey slammed the door shut, and Frannie joined the others pulling at the unwieldy wet canvas. Soon Mickey was back out, followed by Jane Ann—both in rain gear. Frannie kicked herself for not even packing a jacket.
Mickey pushed her aside, and Jane Ann grabbed her arm. “Let’s find you some dry clothes.”
Frannie stood her ground. “We need to save this tent. All of our stuff is in there.”
“Well, come with me just a minute.” She dragged Frannie up the steps. Inside, she pulled a garbage bag out of a large box and made a couple of snips with a scissors.
Frannie protested the whole time. “What about the others?”
“I have more bags. At least you won’t get any wetter. Send someone else in.” She pushed Frannie toward the door.
“You sure are bossy,” Frannie muttered, and then stumbled down the steps. She returned to the tent project and sent Sally and Trent for the makeshift rain gear.
The group had managed to remove the tent from the camper. With the tent gone, even in the dark, Frannie could see a large hole in the canvas of the popup.
They dragged the heavy tent to the side of their truck out of the wind. Sam and Trent found the door and started handing out bags of clothes and sleeping gear. Everything was wet. Frannie and Sally piled it in the back of the pickup, creating a sodden, stinky mess.
“What d’ya wanna do with the tent?” Mickey yelled.
“Leave it—I’ll throw some firewood on it so it doesn’t blow any farther,” Larry shouted back.
“Unless there’s a tornado,” Sam said.
“In that case, it won’t matter. Get back in the truck. I’ll help Mickey fold up the damaged end of their camper so they don’t get any more water in.”
Sam didn’t argue, and they climbed back in the truck.
For a few minutes the quiet was broken only by the sound of the rain as they caught their breath.
Then Sally said, “Is it my imagination or is it letting up a little?”
Frannie listened. “I think you’re right.” In a matter of minutes, the rain was down to a sprinkle. The relative silence almost hurt Frannie’s ears. A lone security light on the other side of the campground silhouetted some of the other campers scurrying around trying to rescue awnings and lawn chairs.
Mickey and Larry gazed up at the still-dark sky, and Mickey slapped Larry on the back with a grin. They talked a minute more, and Larry headed back to the truck.
“We have a plan. We’ll go up to the bath house and get hot showers and hopefully find some dry clothes in that mess.” He indicated the back of the truck. “Then we’ll take Sam’s advice and all go to that truck stop on the interstate for some breakfast.”
“Yes!” Frannie said. Four solid walls, comfortable seats, and hot food sounded like heaven.
Frannie and Sally emerged from the women’s side of the shower house as dawn began to lighten the sky. Larry and the boys were waiting by the truck so they both stopped on the walk and posed as if they were in a fashion show.
Frannie wore green and blue plaid shorts and an orange-flowered long sleeved shirt—the only items left in her bag that were even close to dry. Red flip flops and a purple bandana completed the outfit.
Sally had found a pair of slightly damp Indian print pajamas and a yellow tee shirt with the logo of a local feed store. Still giggling, they stashed their bags in the back of the truck and climbed into it.
“We are ready for dining out!” Sally announced. She looked at her brother and Trent and started laughing again. “I think I look better than you two.”
Sam sported brown and orange flannel pajama bottoms and a Cubs tee shirt, which looked reasonably dry. Trent’s sweatshirt was obviously quite wet.
“Trent,” Frannie said, “you need something drier to put on. Larry, do you have anything better?”
Larry glanced down at his tee shirt, once dark green, now a drab gray-beige and riddled with holes. Frannie had hidden it in the trash several times but he always managed to find it.
Now he looked at her. “You don’t look so great yourself, you know.”
“I mean, for Trent! His shirt looks sopping wet.”
> “Oh, yeah. I think there’s another tee shirt in my bag. I’ll get it.”
They filed into the restaurant. The few patrons appeared to be truckers, most sitting alone. Several gave them suspicious glances as the group slid into a large corner booth.
Sam caught the looks they were getting. “They don’t have a dress code here, do they?”
“Doesn’t look like it.” Mickey said.
As they perused the menus, Larry cleared his throat. “I imagine it’s obvious that we will head home this morning.”
“Awww, Dad,” Sally said.
“That tent is done for,” Larry told her. “We don’t have any more dry clothes, the raccoons got most of our food yesterday.”
“I know. It’s just that yesterday was so much fun.”
“It was a neat day,” Sam said.
Larry and Frannie both looked at him in wonder, not used to hearing too many positive statements from him. Even Trent wagged his head in agreement.
“Brian and Greg invited Mona and Justine and I to go on a picnic this noon,” Sally continued, the beginnings of a whine edging her voice.
“Me,” Frannie said.
Sally’s mouth dropped. “Mom! We don’t need a chaperone!”
“No, I mean Mona and Justine and me, not I.”
“You’re not still my teacher,” Sally said.
“No, and I don’t teach English, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use it correctly.”
“Aunt Frannie!” Justine said. “Sally can stay with us, can’t she?”
Frannie raised her eyebrows and looked at Jane Ann.
“Fine with me. The three of them will have to share a bed—I’m not giving up mine.” Jane Ann grinned. “We’ll have to do some duck tape repairs on that end or you’ll be sharing the bed with the raccoons.”
“Oh, man,” Sam said. “She always gets to do the cool stuff.”
“It’s always best to end something when you still want more rather than when you’re tired of it. You’ll have much better memories,” Frannie said.
Sam looked at her in disbelief. “Who thought that up? Anyway, does that mean you don’t want Sally to have good memories?”
In the end, Sam and Trent decided that if they went home they could take in the pool party that night. And maybe certain girls would be there.
As Mickey mopped up some egg yolk with his toast, he said “So, Shoemaker, are you ready to join us on our next trip? We’re going to Jackson Lake for five days in about three weeks.”
Larry looked at him, speechless for a moment. “Are you crazy? We don’t have a tent any more. Our sleeping bags are probably ruined. We’ve had no sleep…”
Mickey held up his hands. “Relax. You just need a better unit. The only damage we had was from your tent. I’m not blaming you, ya’ understand, but did you look around the campground before we left? People in trailers and motorhomes were fine.”
“So after this fiasco, we should go spend a fortune on a motorhome?”
“Naw, you could pick up a used trailer or fifth wheel pretty cheap.”
“Define cheap.”
“Boys, boys,” Jane Ann said. “Don’t fight. The children are listening.”
Sally grinned. “This is the best part.”
“Well, there’s nothing to fight about,” Larry said, returning to his waffle-and-sausage skillet. “We are not buying a camper.”