Bring the Rain (13 page)

He pops over to the bar to pay while I watch another dance with knee slapping and choreographed turns. This would never happen in a Manhattan club. Ever.

His hand finds that perfect place again on my back again. It’s so warm, like a mini heater, glowing and radiating its warmth down my spine. It’s impossible to be tense when he touches me.

I eye him while we drive. The friendship game ended on the dance floor. I don’t even know why I tried to play friends. He’s too charming for friendship. Maybe he’s changed his mind too?

But why am I willing to put myself out there again for this cowboy? He’s already rejected me in the worst possible way. I try not to study his arm muscles as he steers the truck or notice the stubble on his jaw. Or the way his smile is slightly sideways. Or how my heart is galloping away from my mind. I’m falling fast and I know this can’t be controlled any longer, so I won’t try.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he turns off the main road.

“My favorite place. A few more minutes drive.”

His route returns to the ranch. His favorite place is our ranch? He plays old country tunes and sings along horribly. My goose laugh escapes, only encouraging him more. He drives past the main part of the ranch and takes a turn I’m not familiar with. A flat piece of wood with a flimsy illegible number sticks out of the ground. Stupid, if they considered that a street sign, they’re insane. I doubt my phone could even find its way around here.

The truck jostles as he takes us off-road, driving over a cracked creek that no longer exists.

“There,” he says as he points to a lone tree in the distance. The tree’s branches are vast, breaking up the horizon.

“A tree is your favorite place in the whole world?”

“Yup. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” He pulls up under the tree and parks. “Perfect. Come on, hop out.”

I try to hide my excitement. He’s totally taking me parking. I will control myself, limiting it to just making out.

“Come on slow poke,” he says.

“Can’t you wait?”

“Not a second longer.”

His voice is husky and everything inside me melts. My heart kerplunks as I jump out of the truck. Sticky sweat cakes my palms the instant the heat hits me. I follow Colt around to the back truck bed. He grips my hips and lifts me up. A blanket and two pillows greet me in back. Wow. He planned this... for me. 

He hops up, handing me a paper bag and holding a small cooler. “Dessert,” he says.

“You brought dessert?”

“My specialty.” He opens the red cooler and picks out strawberries, whipped cream and huge chocolate chip cookies. He builds a sandwich, layering the strawberries with whipped cream in the middle.

I shift towards him. “Do friends make each other dessert?”

“When they need it. Here ya go.”

I take a bite. The chocolate is already partially melted from the heat and it blends smoothly with the strawberries and cream. “This is amazing.” I eat it carefully while he eats his, trying not to get whipped cream all over my lips. The thought of licking it away or him brushing it off is too cliché for me. We’re already parking after all.

“Why do you like it here?” I ask before I take another bite.

“Well, what do you see?”

The dried prairie extends in every direction. There’s a gathering of trees in the distance that a few cattle clump under for shade.

“Nothing, except those cows.”

He leans back and his muscles pop, making my stomach flip flop. “Exactly. Complete isolation. No buildings, roads… nothing. Just me, God and the earth.”

“So you’re an earthy, God guy?”

“Most ranchers and farmers are all about faith even if we aren’t at church every Sunday. We’re at the weather’s mercy and, at times, God’s our only hope.”

“Don’t you feel exposed out here? There’s nothing to do.”

He smiles, leaning back on a pillow. “That’s why I love it. I can’t be distracted from my problems. I face who I am versus who I want to be.”

“Aren’t I a distraction?” I swing my legs over the truck bed’s edge.

“In a way, but I feel like you fit here and you needed to see it. Maybe it’s because this is something New York City can only pretend to offer in a dark spa room or something. But even then…”

“You hear the sound of the vents or doors opening and closing in the hallway. I get a sea mud bath treatment a few times a month to decompress.” I blush and look away from him. It sounds so prissy. Not even mom knows I go that often to find a place to be alone. She thinks I’m using the cash for dinner on the Lower East Side with friends.

“I thought the adventure of New York is your favorite part?”

“It is-- the excitement is great, but sometimes, it’s choking.”

“Exactly. That’s why this is my favorite place in the world.” He sits up. “Here it comes,” he says with a nod towards the horizon. I follow his gaze, and the sun dips down to the earth’s edge, there’s a burst of feathering purples swirling into the wispy clouds above. My breath catches in my throat. I’ve been here a few weeks but haven’t caught a sunset yet. What was I thinking?

“You should see the sunrise too, especially in the fall. It’s slow, pink, and hazy.”

I nod like an idiot, my eyes glued on the experience before me. It’s more beautiful than any art I’ve studied at the Museum of Modern Art, or anywhere for that matter. Memories of hundreds of sunsets from my youth flood me. We’d all watch it together with a bowl of popcorn on the front porch. Mom and Dad always said it was their favorite show.

The sun’s color deepens into blood-red with dark purple, green, and orange jets of light pierce through the coming night sky.

Beautiful. I want to paint it. No, I need to. I wish I had my watercolors with me so I could try to capture such beauty. I’d create nothing compared to what’s radiating through the sky, but it’s like my soul needs to try.

“Thanks,” I whisper. During the last moments, his arms wrapped around me and his palm cupped my shoulder. I wait for my adrenaline to take control, throwing me into a fit of desire and surely making me shove my tongue down his throat. But nothing comes. We’re just here, together, at ease when I should be freaking out.

He squeezes me close, and I feel a moment coming. It’ll be soft and sincere. Real.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

He leans over and kisses my forehead. “Not more than that. Not tonight.”

I glance up and his eyes smile into my own. “Just so you know, I’m okay with it.” It’s true. I didn’t feel rejected at all, almost the opposite. “I just… I don’t know. After dancing with you, being friends doesn’t seem like enough.” I blush, rarely am I so honest with anyone, let alone myself.

He nods as he tucks my hair behind an ear. “No. Friendship’s not possible anymore.”

“Then why not kiss me?” I slide an inch closer. My chest burns, waiting for his response while the sun slips behind the earth.

He brings my hand up to his lips. “Because that’s not what I’m fighting for.”

“What are you fighting for?”

“You. A kiss is easy to get, but to get to you? That’s a battle worth fighting.”

Me?

The word is like the swirls of color dancing in the sky.

Me?

His arms wrap around my waist, holding me close. Soft lips press against my cheek.

Time stops while the stars turn.

Me.

Silence is my response, but it doesn’t seem wrong. Silence makes sense. I’m not saying no, but what exactly am I letting him fight for? What part of me?

My mind begs to spin this into something insulting, but my heart holds firm, whispering the truth.
He fights for all of you.

We breathe together, gazing above. Something’s changing. Every knot in my back releases, and my palms are sweat free. For the first time I can remember¸ I’m okay simply being here.

What has this cowboy done to me?

I wake to
a soft glow on the horizon. Colt lies next to me in the truck bed, a plaid blanket covering us both. Somewhere between star watching and talking about our fathers, we fell asleep.

I study the sky, expecting the top orb of the sun to appear. I won’t wake Colt. This sunrise needs to be my own. A secret part of me is screaming for newness. The sun can be my new beginning.

Waiting, I look for my favorite Oklahoma haze, but none appears. Maybe the morning is too warm? Yet the stars still blanket the black sky above.

The glow spreads out but no sun crests. The yellow-orange yanks at my heart and something clicks.

“Colt!” I rock him back and forth. He peers at me with a grin.

“Fire! Get up, fire!” I yank the blanket off.

He jolts up and looks out at the pasture before swearing and diving for his phone. “Get in!” He says as he jumps out of the truck bed. I follow, studying the spreading glow in the distance before climbing into the front seat.

“JENKINS, your north field. Fire!” Colt shouts into his phone. 

It isn’t Dad’s land! I sigh. Thank God. A wildfire is the last thing he needs right now.

“I’ll start the phone tree. I’m on my way.” He clicks off and dials another number as he throws the truck into gear. “Chris, Jenkins’s got a fire in his north field.” He pauses for a beat. “Absolutely. I’m on my way to drop her off.” Another pause. “Sure.” He hands me the phone.

“Dad?”

“Autumn, I’m going out to help.”

No, he can’t. Mom took me once to watch Dad fight a wildfire. It was terrifying. I expected a knee-high fire, but met a huge inferno that threw tails of fire at the men and their watering trucks. I don’t want Dad there. Colt’s jaw tenses. I don’t want him there either.

“But...” How do I ask him not to go?

“I’m needed, Autumn. We don’t play one-man for himself out here. We’re a community. I’ll be fine. I don’t know when I’ll be home-- sometimes it takes all night. I’ll call you if I’ll be past five in the morning.”

“Sure, Dad.”

He waits for me to say more, but I don’t. I don’t tell him I love him or to be safe. It’s the only time I’ve wanted to say that to him in years and I can’t.

I fail and it sucks.

“Autumn, Tango’s with me.” Great, now I have to worry about the dog’s fate too. Colt takes the phone and makes a few more calls as he races across the land to the road. Dust flies around us as he guns it back to the ranch. He pulls up in front of the house. The lights are on, but Dad’s already gone.

I’m shaking. The glow is spreading at an astounding speed. I swear I can see it whipping fire. One wrong step and someone can get majorly hurt. Fire can even jump, right over a truck, blocking it and its driver from escape. Anything’s possible. Does Colt know this?

“It’s not my first wildfire, Autumn. I’ll be just fine, and your dad? Well, I’d worry more for the fire than him. He’s a genius at stopping these things.” He gives my shoulder a light squeeze.

“Right.” We hop out of the truck. I shouldn’t even let him take the time to open my door but I do. My head’s on completely backwards.

“I’ll call you tomorrow when everything’s fine. Thanks to you, we’re catching it early. There’s nothing to worry about. Hell,” he chuckles as his lower hand finds its spot on my back, “if I don’t hurry, I may miss the show.”

He kisses my forehead. His lips are soft with heat.

“We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Text me? Just so I know…” That everyone’s okay.

“You got it.”

Colt’s pickup throws dust into the air as he blasts toward the flaring horizon to the north. I’m alone except for the night stars. Only an hour before they were so comforting, but now I can’t help thinking of them in their true form as dangerous balls of gas and flames. Their beauty is no longer found in their twinkle, but in their force.

I sit down, failing at keeping my mind off Dad and Colt at the edge of the battle. Hopefully they’re just driving the water trucks. Darkness seems to take over more of the horizon in the hour I stay watching the sky from the porch. Finally, the raging yellow and orange relaxes into a soft glow. Good, they should surely be safe now.

Exhausted, I return to my room. I roll into bed, not even bothering to change out of my tank top and jeans. I pull up my sheets and smell my shirt—fresh pine and Tide detergent. Colt. Butterflies tickle as I lose myself in the scent, being overcome with almost a drunk feeling.

I swear I can feel the warmth from his hand on my back too. My muscles relax with simply the memory of his touch. I fall asleep, embracing the change between us and for once not frightened of what it may bring.

***

Dad throws a log into the crackling fire. Marshmallows roast on the tip of my stick. An edge kisses gold so I rotate it. Burned marshmallows really taste disgusting.

“Why does Mom have to spend another week in New York?” I ask.

He takes off his work gloves and wipes his brow. I wipe the sweat from mine too.

“Well, Bug,” he says as he sits at my side and messes up my hair. “She’s getting things in order.”

“Why?” I pull my marshmallows out of my ember cave, a perfect gold crust. Dad takes his time sandwiching them between graham crackers and chocolate. He hands me the S’more. “Why Dad?” I ask again as I take a bite. Melted chocolate drips from the side, rolling down my hand and onto the collar of my favorite purple shirt.

“Well, I know you’re worrying about us.”

“You’ve been fighting a lot.” I hate saying it, but it’s true. They used to watch stars together out back. Now they go there to fight. 

“And we’re sorry about that.” He wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. “We don’t want to fight anymore. Not around you. So your Mommy is looking for a place for you both. To stay.”

“Stay? Like…” A lump grows in my throat and tries to block the question’s exit, but I need the answer. “Without you?”

“Yes, baby.” He sniffs then he’s crying. He’s not supposed to cry.

“Don’t cry, Dad. You can come visit. Maybe if we ask, we won’t have to leave. Just ask her, okay?” I hug him. “I don’t want to go either, Daddy. Ask her, please?”

“I will, Autumn. I promise.”

“Good. I’ll ask her too.” I kiss him on his rough cheek before plunging my hand into the bag for more marshmallows. Instead of finding plump puffs, I meet hot goo. We never cooked these. I search through the heat, finding one intact marshmallow. I touch it and immediately it disintegrates. The inside pours out, boiling hot.
Ouch.
I yank my hand out of the bag. The horrible burning smell dives into my lungs, choking me.

Dad grabs my shoulders and leans in, whispering, “Wake up, Autumn.”

I cough and he brings his face close to mine. His eyes are wide and his voice trembles. “Now, Autumn. Wake up!”

My eyes fly open. I’m still in bed, but the darkness is wrong. I choke, my lungs searing. There’s a thick haze hovering above. Rolling from my bed, I press myself against shaggy carpet below. A swirl of whites and greys hangs inches above my head.

Holy shit.

The fire’s here.

My door’s closed, but smoke pours from the crack under the door into my room. The window is my only option. It’s so frickin’ hot. Adrenaline takes over as my fingers somehow find the window. I yank on it but it won’t budge.

It hasn’t been open in over seven years.

I grunt as I pull up once more. It doesn’t budge.
No!

I duck below the smoke line again, gasping for air. Black tendrils now snake through the hinges. The door isn’t an option, and I’m not burning in here.

A roar erupts from within a core I never knew existed, a rage I’ve never felt before. I’m not dying today. I swat above the smoke line, finding my chair and pull it down to the floor.

To hell with this death air.

I drag the chair to the opposite side of the room.

Okay. Last breath before I have to stand in this thick gray haze.

Guided by a single light, I grip the chair like a jousting stick and my adrenaline throttles me across the room. I ram the window.

I duck down and suck another breath. My lungs ignite like they’ve been tossed into hot lava. There’s no oxygen left here.

No. This isn’t happening. I can’t end like this.

My shoulder finds the window, and I ram and ram. Finally, my flesh tears and I fall out of the window, meeting the fresh, sweet air. I slam against the ground where small flames join the prairie. My feet find the dirt and suddenly I’m darting across the field. I’ve got to get to the barn before the flames do.

I glance back; the speed of the fire is terrifying in the tall, dead grass. A huge wall of flames moving like a semi truck. Another second later, and my home is completely engulfed. I can’t dwell on that right now. The animals need me. I grip the iron handle and pull the door open, remembering an old piece of advice.
Let the animals run free and they’ll know where to find safety.

I tear open each stall. The calves totter out, following the darting goats out the front door.
Please, let them find safety.

I make my way back toward the horses as the smoke seeps in through the cracks in the barn walls. Every step strangles my breath. I set a few horses free as my head pounds and the world spins with a new coughing fit.

I skip a stall, desperate to get to Howdy. He’ll get me away. I throw open the latch, reaching for his neck, but slides past me, bolting from the barn. Shit. How can I blame him though? Terror is here. 

A frantic neigh calls from the stall I skipped. Shadow kicks at the doors.

He’s my only chance.

The fire crackles outside the barn now, popping its threat while more smoke pours in through the windows.

Please God, free me from this hell.
I slide open the stall only a few inches. I grab his mane and prepare for a near impossible vault. I hold on as he bolts, using his speed to throw my weight so I can fly up on his back. My shoulder feels like it’s being torn apart, but my bottom slams against his back. I’m on! Thank the Lord for my days in the rodeo.

I dig my face into his mane as we escape the barn. The fire rages next to us. He bolts away to the left. My legs grip tight as he prances sideways, trying to decide how to handle the flames.

I give him a swift kick.

Go boy, go!

Horses either dart or freeze in danger.

Please, Shadow, don’t freeze.

He lunges forward and breaks into a gallop.

Yes. Finally!

My thighs squeeze tight, and I try to catch my breath. He’ll bring me to a river or a road. He’ll know where to go. Right?

A coughing fit takes over again, my fingers falling loose from his mane. I swallow hard, grasping again. I grab a big chunk of mane, wrapping my other arm deep around his neck. The coughing makes it impossible for fresh air to reach me. It’s like I’m drowning in the middle of a drought.

Shadow jerks s with a vicious whinny. He throws himself back with a scream. I’m flying and now there are flames here too. My head hits the ground and the world bounce in and out. Blackness to fire and back again.

Someone’s shouting,
Hold On
. My hands find the dirt, my sweaty palms making mud.

Fire. Blackness. Gray. Smoke.

Weeds... 
burning
weeds.

The shouting grabs me again.
HOLD ON!

The heat is too close. It hurts so much.

I pull myself up and try to encourage my legs to move, 
away
from the flames. Pain rips at the skin between my shoulder blades. My skin pops as I stagger.

My lungs scream for air. Air, please God, air.

A fit of coughs paralyzes me at the edge of the flames.

I drag my legs away for a few feet before I collapse.

This is it.

Death by flame.

Dear Mom, I love you.

Dad, please know I love you too.