Fire, The (34 page)

The building was impressive, as utilitarian structures go. It was large, for one thing. With a concrete foundation, sturdy cedar sides, and an extension that shot out the back, it took up nearly an entire city block. Unfortunately for those who worked in the building six days a week, it sat on the wrong side of town. Kevin didn't remember everything from Walt's Walking Tour, but he did remember one thing: nearly everything east of Seventh Street had burned to a crisp.

As he drifted off and gazed at the dense forests to the north, he thought again about those who lived in town and about his obligations. Though he knew he couldn't stop the coming conflagration, he knew he had the power to warn and save.

Kevin thought of his wise, compassionate, all-knowing mother, who always seemed to have the right answer. What would she do in a situation like this? Would she ride through Wallace like a turn-of-the-century Paul Revere and warn residents that the fires were coming? Or would she let history run its course and let people die?

He remembered as well a conversation between his parents that he had overheard when he was eight. His mother had tried to persuade his father to visit Mount St. Helens, where a mutual friend had died during the May 1980 eruption. The friend, Michelle Preston Richardson, the original Shelly Preston, had supposedly traveled back in time thirty-one years and saved several people from unpleasant fates before fate unpleasantly took her. Did Kevin have a similar obligation to save others? He didn't know and wasn't sure he'd ever know.

Kevin returned his attention to the warehouse and saw two workers walk out the front door. They slapped each other on the shoulders, laughed, and moved quickly down Residence toward the center of town, where saloons, restaurants, and assorted amusements, including the ones between Cedar and the river, awaited.

He envied their blissful ignorance. They had only their next beer and next girl to consider, not the fates of many lives. They would make the most of each day, even if that day offered no more than the one before, and repeat their routines until someone or something took those routines away.

When the laughing men vanished around a corner, Kevin got up from the bench, turned to the west, and began the walk to Maude's. He inhaled and detected the fragrant smell of lilac, a flowering shrub that his mother grew in Unionville. Then he took another breath and detected something else: the faint smell of smoke.

He knew the fire that produced it wasn't the inferno that would char three million acres, but he knew it was significant. It was a sign that the driest woods in memory had started to burn. Change was coming. It was coming soon. The question now was what he should do about it.

CHAPTER 58: SADIE

Sunday, June 26, 1910

Sadie balanced a twelve-foot pole in her hands with the care of a high-wire artist as Kevin Johnson and Roy Phillips, pants rolled up, stepped out of a canoe and waded their way through a marshy inlet to the south bank of the Coeur d'Alene River. She knew the odds of tipping over in two feet of stagnant water were small, but she didn't want to take any chances.

"Do you want me to pull you in?" Kevin asked.

Sadie glanced at Sarah, who faced her in the middle of the boat, and saw her shake her head.

"I think we're OK where we are," Sadie said.

"Are you sure?" Kevin asked with a grin. "You don't want to drift off. There are strange and dangerous men in these parts, bankers even."

Sarah looked over her shoulder.

"We'll take our chances, Mr. Johnson," she said. "You boys run along and do your hunting and gathering while Sadie and I visit."

Kevin laughed and shook his head but didn't say a word. He instead pulled a basket, a large blanket, and a rope from the near end of the canoe, tied the boat to a bush, and joined Roy on a grassy stretch about fifty feet from the water. Though the site wasn't the most picturesque on the river, it was scenic, quiet, and secluded – a perfect place for a picnic and thoughtful conversation.

Sarah returned to Sadie.

"He's still pretty pleased with himself about the other night."

Sadie turned white.

"What do you mean by 'the other night?'"

"I mean the fight, of course," Sarah said. "Kevin was remorseful at first. He said that even men like Preston Pierce shouldn't be thrown through first-floor windows. In the past few days, though, he's modified his position."

"How so?"

"He now thinks they should be thrown through
second-floor
windows," Sarah said. She grinned. "I laughed when Kevin told me that, but I think he's right. Don't you?"

Sadie nodded at Sarah and then smiled at no one in particular as she mentally revisited the second part of that eventful Friday evening. She knew she would never again see a birthday like her last, but she didn't care. She had the memory of a hundred and six kisses on a moonlit night and no one, but no one, could take that away.

"Are you all right?" Sarah asked. "You seem kind of lost."

"I'm all right. I was just daydreaming."

Sarah smiled.

"Was it a good dream?"

Sadie reddened.

"It was."

"That's nice. I think dreams are important. We should often imagine wonderful things, even if they're not particularly realistic."

Sarah swept an insect off her dress and repositioned herself on the narrow wooden seat. When she finished, she looked at Sadie with thoughtful eyes.

"Roy seems like a fine man."

"He is."

Sarah tilted her head.

"You say that like you don't mean it."

"He's all right."

"I don't understand. Is something wrong with him?"

"No."

Sadie looked at the man standing next to the man she loved and admitted that there really was nothing wrong with Roy Phillips. He was attentive and good-looking and had a sense of humor that had kept her in stitches since the third grade.

"I see," Sarah said. "Does he not treat you well?"

"He treats me very well. He's treated me like a queen since the church picnic. We've gone skating three times and out for ice cream twice."

"Then what is it?"

Sadie wanted to scream the answer from the hilltops, but she was afraid she would do little more than scare the forest creatures she loved and maybe start a deadly rockslide. She instead looked at Sarah sheepishly and then turned away.

"It's nothing."

Sarah studied Sadie's face for a moment.

"It's Kevin, isn't it? I can see it," she said. "You like Roy, but Roy's not Kevin. That's what you're thinking."

Sadie furrowed her brows.

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"I can read your eyes. That's how. You have honest eyes, Sadie. You have the most honest eyes I've ever seen."

Sadie frowned as she considered the statement. She didn't like the idea that someone could read her like one of Marcus Duvalier's reference books, but she knew Sarah was right. She did have honest eyes. She couldn't hide her thoughts and feelings any better than she could hide a huckleberry pie from Andy O'Connell.

"Does it bother you that I still think about him?" Sadie asked.

"No. But it bothers me that he still thinks about you. I guess I'm a bit selfish. I want Kevin to think about me and only me, but I know that will probably never happen."

"He thinks about me?"

"He does," Sarah said. "At least he talks about you."

"What does he say?"

"He says you're kind, which you are, and smart, which you are. He doesn't say that you're beautiful, but then he doesn't have to. We all know that's true. I get envious at times."

"I'm not half as smart or pretty as you," Sadie said. "You have no reason to be envious."

Sarah smiled sadly and gazed at the still water, which formed a slightly rippled mirror in an inlet the size of a small city lot.

"I am, though. I know for a fact that he cares for you deeply. He adores you."

"Well, he
loves
you."

Sarah beamed.

"Then I guess we both have something to crow about!"

Sadie laughed.

"You're awful."

"You're not the first person to say that," Sarah said.

Sadie laughed again. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't bring herself to dislike this woman. Sarah may have had the man she wanted, but she was thoughtful, funny, and more understanding than the nuns who ran Providence Hospital. No wonder Kevin had picked her.

Sarah looked over her shoulder at the hunters and gatherers, who unfolded the red plaid blanket, shook it like a rug, and placed it on a spot next to a stretch of lupine. When she returned to Sadie, she leaned forward, put a hand on Sadie's wrist, and looked her in the eyes.

"I don't know where Kevin and I are going. I really don't. Things are moving so fast that I've started to lose track of the days," Sarah said. "I just know that I don't want our common interest to come between us. I'd like to remain friends."

"I'd like that too."

Sadie sighed and smiled. She looked at the 22-year-old teacher from Indiana not like a rival for a young man's affection but rather like the older sister she'd never had.

"It's settled then," Sarah said. "We're friends."

"We are."

The women shook hands.

"I want you to know, though, that I don't plan to give up," Sadie said.

Sarah chuckled.

"I'd think less of you if you did."

Each woman smiled, leaned forward, and gave her new and improved friend a hug.

"Hey, what's going on over there?" Kevin asked from a distance.

"It's none of your business," Sadie shouted.

"We're talking about misbehaving men," Sarah said.

Kevin walked toward the canoe.

"Then maybe I should come over there and give you something to talk about."

"Don't you dare," Sadie said, "or I'll hit you with this stick."

"You wouldn't really hit him, would you?" Sarah asked.

"I would," Sadie said as she broke into a grin. "And I'd enjoy every whack!"

CHAPTER 59: KEVIN

Monday, July 4, 1910

Kevin had seen his share of classic cars in Fourth of July parades, but until July 4, 1910, he had never before seen classic cars that appeared fresh out of the showroom.

Eight horseless carriages built in the first decade of the twentieth century rolled onto Sixth Street at half past ten to kick off Wallace, Idaho's celebration of America's 134th birthday. They included a Model T Ford, a Keystone Sixty-Six, a Reliable Dayton, and a Marmon Roadster, in addition to a Hudson Roadster, a Brush Runabout, a Midland Roadster, and a Klink Model 35. Bunting and flags adorned each car.

"I'd like to get my hands on one of those," Andy said as he stood near Kevin, Sarah, Sadie, and Maude in a throng of cheering residents between Cedar and Bank.

Kevin laughed. If his thrill-loving friend swooned over Model Ts and Klink 35s, he could only imagine what he'd do behind the wheel of a Lamborghini or even a '65 Mustang. He had a pretty good idea though. He'd wet his pants.

"Maybe someday you will. You just need a better paying job," Kevin said. "Did you ever hear back from the publisher in Spokane?"

"I did. He sent a telegram this morning. I have an interview next Monday."

"Congratulations, Andy. I know that means a lot to you."

"Thanks, Sarah, but I don't have the job yet. I know for a fact the paper is also looking at some crackerjack from Boise. That worries me a bit."

"You'll do fine."

"I agree. You're the hardest working reporter in the Northwest," Sadie added.

Andy laughed.

"I ought to bring you two to the interview. I'd clinch the deal at the door."

Kevin glanced at Maude and noted her much different reaction to Andy's news. She stood stoically at the end of the group and watched the parade with dispassionate eyes. He knew about the relationship she had developed with Andy and knew she'd be the least eager to see him go.

Kevin then looked at Sadie and found her only slightly more animated. He had thought about her often since she had broken things off with Roy Phillips on Sunday. He had thought about her often since June 10. By giving in to her on her birthday, he had succeeded only in encouraging her. She had not moved on with her life. She had not given other men a serious look. She had instead clung to hopes of a future with Kevin that simply wasn't in the stars.

The time traveler didn't need to look at Sarah to gauge her mood. He could tell by the way she held his hand that she was happy, content, and firmly on board the KJ Express. Whether she was ready to leap a century into the future in less than three weeks was another matter. He would not know the answer to that question until he actually asked it.

Kevin knew he should have done more to prepare Sarah for the momentous decision. He knew that leaving her with the impression that he was planning to return to the high school in the fall was dishonest and possibly counterproductive. He had concluded, however, that the only way he could win her over was to strengthen their relationship as best he could in July and hope for the best. There was simply no good way of telling someone that the price of spending the rest of your life with the person you loved was to forever leave the people who had raised you.

Kevin tightened his hold on Sarah's hand and mentally rejoined the festivities. Though he had seen more than twenty parades in his lifetime, he found this one particularly impressive. He loved watching the school band play "Yankee Doodle Dandy," men ride high-wheel bicycles, clowns push baby buggies, and white-gloved maidens in cars and carriages throw candy to children near the curbs. When he glanced at a small reviewing stand across the street, he half expected to see Norman Rockwell capturing the scene in real time.

He also enjoyed watching a group of veterans move down the street. Some, like grand marshal George Marshall and his brother, rode on horses. Others marched in tight formations or casually walked along the edge of the procession and worked the crowd with handshakes, candy, and salutes. All wore uniforms they had first donned in places like Antietam, Gettysburg, and San Juan Hill, not Iraq, Afghanistan, and Vietnam.