Chapter 22

Terri McCarthy rode out to Springville with Jen Combs and her husband Dale, and her boys five-year-old Ethan and three-year-old Chip (Charles). They pulled into the driveway and found several cars parked by pulling off the driveway to the left, so they followed suit. The right side of the driveway was protected by a wall of trees. They got out of the van and heard music playing in the distance, along with the sound of hammering. “Sounds like someone’s putting on a roof,” chuckled Dale Combs.

They walked up to the garage, and there was an ancient sign that looked like an arrowhead. It pointed to their right and said, “Office.” They followed the curving driveway through the line of pine trees to a land that campers dream of. A lake with a dock and a sand beach was directly in front of them. There were two row boats tied off to the dock and a pontoon boat was slowly making its way to the north end of the lake. It was carrying lumber to what appeared to be a dock that was under construction in front of a small cabin. The road they were following led to a large cabin and then curved around the south end of the lake and disappeared into the woods.

Near the cabin there were picnic tables set up, coolers and grills were placed here and there, and there was an animal roasting on a spit over an open fire. It was being tended to by a tall man with jet black hair. “We’re having a pig roast?” asked Terri.

“No, I don’t think Mister Friedman would appreciate that,” chuckled the fellow. “He’s our host, so we’ll roast the fatted calf and have a pig for next time.” The man wiped his hands and shook their hands. “I’m a neighbor from across the road, Paul Jarecki.”

“I’m Don, this is my wife Jen and our boys Ethan and Chip, and our friend Terri.”

“Jen and I have to be here,” groused Terri. “My boss called it a team building exercise.”

“You must work for Josh,” said Paul. “They’re back in the woods.”

Just then, an Asian woman stepped out of the cabin. “Break time is over, get your hands off my roast!” she shouted and Paul backed off, hands up in surrender.

“This is our chef Yi. I let her think she’s in charge. Follow me.” Paul led them down the road into the forest, where they found several cabins in different states of repair. “Cabin seven is where Mister Friedman and his family stays, we’re working on cabin eight.” Cabin eight was a madhouse. Several ladders were leaning up against the cabin and fellows were hauling shingles up. Up on the roof were two shirtless men that were nailing down shingles as fast as Cole Reagan and Nick Taube from Josh’s team could carry them up the ladder. Rasheed was at the peak of the roof, cutting shingles to do the ridge cap when they got up there.

“Jen, Terri, help us inside!” called Anthony.

“What should I do?” asked Jen’s husband Dale.

“The hayride will be by in a few minutes, hop on,” said Marj as she helped hold a window in place for a carpenter to screw it into position.

“Is that Josh up there nailing the shingles down?” said Terri. Her boss was up there shirtless, bathed in sweat. His muscles rippled as he hammered shingle after shingle down. His hair was hanging in ringlets and when he raised up to drink water, she saw the scars on his side that his service left him with and, for some reason, that was the hottest thing that Terri had ever seen.

“It is,” said Jen, and she led Terri into the cabin.

“Wait a minute, for the first time he’s hot and you’re dragging me away?” demanded Terri. Inside the cabin there were all kinds of people in there, many were from Marj Friedman’s adoption advocacy group that were sponsoring the camp out. They were painting the interior walls and assembling metal bunk beds, installing windows, and Dave Johnson and Larry Clark from Terri and Jen’s team were installing a used refrigerator in the kitchen area.

“Is Veronica here?” asked Terri.

“She’s on a special mission,” said Marjorie.

Outside, a small green tractor pulled up, it was towing a large wagon that was filled with children and a few parents. Veronica stopped and hopped off the tractor and said, “Do you fellows want a ride? There’s a bunch of kids in the wagon to play with.” Jen’s boys just nodded at the pretty lady, so she turned to their dad and shook his hand. “Veronica von Köster.”

“Dale Combs.”

“Jen’s husband, right? I hope you know a few camping songs.”

“A couple from my old scouting days,” said Dale.

“Good, because we’re getting tired of Bunny Foo-Foo.”

“HEY!” shouted Sandy from her nest in the straw. That was her favorite camp song.

Dale and Veronica hoisted Dale’s boys into the hay and children filled trailer, then he climbed aboard. Veronica climbed up on the tractor’s driver seat and opened the throttle, and soon they were off, heading back into the woods. “Give us a song Dale,” she called.

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree Merry merry king of the bush is he Laugh, Kookaburra, laugh, Kookaburra Gay, your life must be...