brand recommended by Consumers Report,” Jami defended, resenting all their remarks about the odor.
“Ah, I understand why the stuff works.” Grant pinched his nose, grinning at Jami before turning to her son. “Toby, please run and get the old phone book by my backpack inside our tent.”
“Isn’t this an odd time to find a phone number?” Jami queried with an arched brow.
“Fire-starter,” Grant returned, carrying the kindling to the dirt spot where he’d had Toby help him form a rock fire pit.
“I crumple pages to light to start the fire kindling.”
Jami watched Toby skip out of the dome tent carrying a beat-up, dog-eared phone book.
“Okay, partner,” Grant said, crouching down as he spoke to Toby. “Rip out several pages and crumple them up for me.”
“Tear pages out of a book?” Toby gasped, worried brown eyes darting to his mom. “You should never tear books.”
“It’s all right, honey,” Jami replied, impressed the lesson was so ingrained in her son. “It’s a way to recycle the old phone book.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Jami smiled tenderly at her son.
“Cool!” Pages flew as he ripped and crumpled page after page.
“Whoa.” Grant gathered the balled pages. “That’s plenty. Now let’s build a campfire.”
“Okay.” Toby dropped the book, sprinting to Grant’s side to kneel in the dirt right beside him. “What’s next?”
“First, wadded paper.” Grant brushed the dirt surrounding the spot before arranging the crumpled pages. “Clear the ground for at least a foot all the way around to keep the fire contained.”
“Safety first.” Jami circled them nervously, not pleased to have her baby learning about fire.
“Aw, Mom, I’m going be a fireman.” Toby shot his mother a look of exasperation. “I know about Smoky the Bear and all that stuff.”
“Next,” Grant said, ignoring the exchange. “Grab that kindling you gathered. Let’s put the tiny twigs and wood pieces over the paper, then the bigger twigs and sticks on top of that.”
“It’s kinda like a tepee,” Toby announced as Grant placed a dozen sticks pyramid-style over the kindling.
“That’s so it lights easily.” Grant pulled out a slim metal canister full of matches. “Scoot back, and I’ll light our fire.”
With a whiff of sulfur and flash of flame, the paper ignited. Then the small twigs and wood pieces began to smoke and burn as Grant poked the fire with a long stick.
“Cool.” Toby’s eyes were huge as he stared, mesmerized.
Grant added thicker sticks and branches and then finally several logs. “Okay, got it. How about this fire?”
“Kinda small though.”
“Small?” Grant looked puzzled.
“Yeah.” Toby watched the flickering flames with fascination. “Campfires are bigger in the movies when people dance around them.”
Grant threw back his head with hearty laughter.
“Those are bonfires,” Jami explained, secretly sharing the amusement. “Campfires are that way for cooking and warmth.” She held her palms up to the fire, realizing the heat of the day had extinguished with the setting sun.
“Go throw on some jackets or sweaters. It gets cold in the mountains at night,” Grant advised before moving away.
Strange, he seems to always know how I feel, Jami thought, watching him arrange rainbow trout in a heavy, black cast-iron pan.
“Grant’s right, let’s find you something warmer to wear. Come on, Toby.” Jami pulled her key chain flashlight from her pocket, but didn’t need to turn it on when they entered the dome tent, since the doorway net allowed the firelight to illuminate the interior.
Toby found his Houston Rockets sweatshirt and tugged it over his head. “Now can I help cook supper?”
“Yes, only if you stay clear of the fire.”
“Right.” Toby skipped outside, just ahead of her. “I know, Mom.”
Her heart swelled with pride as she watched Toby eagerly help Grant dump a container of chopped carrots, potatoes, and onions into a piece of aluminum foil. They triple-wrapped the vegetables, then Grant let the child toss them into the outer edge of the flames. “Good job, buddy.”
“Thanks, Grant. I’ll even eat ‘em.”
“Brave kid, huh?” Laughing, Grant exchanged a glance with Jami.
She smiled back, hugging herself for warmth. She needed something warmer to wear, too. Delicious aromas of trout and vegetables drifted in the air following Jami, along with the smoke, as she made her way toward the pup tent. She opened the door flap, flicking on her tiny flashlight to aim the beam toward her tote bag. Half bent, she rummaged through the tote, extracting her sweatshirt and struggling into it. Her flashlight dropped to the floor, rolling away to cast the tent into darkness.
“Ouch!” Her elbow whacked into an end pole. The tent sagged with