Firestorm (10 page)

“We yelled at each other, begging one another not to give up, not to run. And I swear, everything in you tells you to run. We were checking in. Coaching each other, in a way. Even as people screamed, they were fighting fires, trying to reseal their edges. I was radioing Thomas Wagner every few seconds, but couldn’t tell if he was responding. It was too noisy to hear. I wondered if those calls would be the last words I would ever utter.

“Inside our tents, we were all dealing with our own version of hell. We pressed our mouths close to the dirt, cupping our arms around our faces, hoping for one good, clean breath. Then, as the noise increased, we each felt alone. I wondered if I was the only one surviving. I couldn’t hear anyone anymore. I started to not think straight. I dug into the earth, searching for clean air I guess. I would take a breath and hold it, then dare to take another. Each was progressively worse. I was dizzy, choking.

“Then all of a sudden, the smoke was gone. It was heaven-sent—no doubt about it.” Reyne’s expression was distant, dreamy. “I swear Jesus was right there beside me. For a moment I even felt colder air, just like when you’re swimming in a lake and suddenly hit a cold spot. I could still hear Oxbow raging, hunting for us, waiting for any opening, but he was moving on. I could hear moaning and thrashing again. I even dared to lift up an edge to peer out. But it was still too hot.”

Reyne sighed and took a long drink of water. She looked sad in the soft light, and Logan wanted to take her in his arms. But she had to finish. For herself as much as for him.

“When could you actually get out?” he asked gently.

“A few minutes later. The winds were still there, but they carried no fire. I raised up a little, and the wind took my tent. Thankfully, it
was safe then. I stood up and called to Shaw and Zeke, and they stood up too. I was starting to get my hopes up again when I saw them.”

She paused, looking away from him. The tears crested her lower lids and ran down her face in glittering rivulets.

“What, Reyne? What did you see?” Logan’s voice was a mere whisper.

“Yellow shirts. All around us was this blackened moonscape. Nothing was left. You know how it is. And here and there were yellow shirts. The people who had run. Four were from my crew. Leanne. Frankie. Allen. Janice.” She recited the names as if she were embracing each one, remembering. She wept softly and quickly wiped away the tears with the palm of her hand.

Logan went to her and lifted her up, holding her in his arms. “I’m sorry, honey. So sorry. Nobody should ever have to deal with that. Oh, Reyne …”

Reyne cried for five minutes, grieving all over again for the four of her crew she had lost, as well as the ten from the New Mexico crew. Logan left her then, taking blankets and placing them on the ground beside a tree. He sat down, motioning her over, and she silently complied, wiping her face.

She sat in front of him, leaning back against his chest with his strong arms around her. They sat there for a good hour, silently staring at the white lights all around them and the valley lights below and the dim stars far above. And for the first time in a long time Reyne felt safe, even in the swirling memory eddy of the dragon’s heyday at Oxbow.

O
ver the following weeks, Reyne and Logan became inseparable. They worked together two out of five days, often went out on Friday night, worshiped together on Sunday morning, and then spent the afternoon and evening at Reyne’s house. Their routine became comfortable, and both enjoyed it.

One Saturday morning, Reyne padded about the house, sipping coffee and looking out her windows at another uncommonly warm spring day. She was happier than she had ever been. She was happy for the empty house so she could concentrate on how she loved it when there was a man there too. The comparison felt like something she wanted to, needed to, explore.

She traced the edge of the couch, picturing Logan sprawled out on Sunday afternoons, playing with her hair while half dozing. She would try to concentrate on her magazine, but his touch kept her mind on anything but the words and pictures before her. Logan McCabe made her feel relaxed, happy, cherished.
Thank you, Father, for bringing him into my life
.

Reyne giggled when she thought back to that first day they had met. How angry she had been! But what would have happened had they not been competing for the same research money? She might not have given him a second look, perhaps dismissing him as just another firefighter. Over the past weeks she had come to admire his
dedication, his resolve, his way of figuring out answers to perplexing dilemmas, his ingenuity, his genuine appreciation of her own abilities. They were a good team. And they had made tremendous progress on the smoke-jumper pouch …

A movement in the yard distracted her from her thoughts, and Reyne glanced up. Beth and Rachel had arrived. Even as her relationship with Logan had escalated, still the two of them had preserved Saturday mornings for their separate friends. Lately, Logan had taken to fishing with guys from his newly formed team, since Matt and Dirk were both “stuck” doing baby care or ranch work.

Rachel rapped on the door, and Reyne padded over to answer it. She opened it, waving them in, and smiled at the old blue jar in Beth’s hands. Late spring wildflowers overflowed from it.

“Are those for me?” Reyne asked.

“I guess so,” Beth said. “They were sitting on your doorstep.”

“A secret admirer?” Rachel kidded, heading directly for the java.

“Hardly secret anymore,” Beth retorted. “The whole town is talking.”

Reyne sat down, waiting for her friends to join her. She could not stop the smile that spread from ear to ear. “The whole town, huh?”

“Yeah,” Rachel said. “Molly the hairdresser was pumping me for information.”

“What’d you tell her?” Reyne asked, idly curious.

“All about you two, of course! I wanted her to keep away from your man. Logan is drawing females in this county like bees to honey.”

“But it’s just like you and Dirk, Rachel,” Beth said, accepting a
mug from her. “There were many women who would’ve given their eyeteeth for a date with Dirk Tanner. But he had eyes for one, and one only.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Rachel said merrily. “It’s tough to be so gorgeous that you enslave a man with one mere look in his direction,” she quipped, throwing a wave of hair over her shoulder dramatically. “Okay, okay. There’s no need to mention the lengths I had to go to get him to take me out!”

“Oh, it didn’t take much,” Beth said.

“It’s hard for me to imagine either one of you with anyone but your particular spouses,” Reyne mused, then blurted out, “But how does that happen anyway? I mean, what exactly happens when you marry? Is there something to the two-becoming-one phenomenon?”

Beth raised an eyebrow, considering her words. “I think there is something to it. Matt and I have really tried to maintain our own identities, but there’s a bond that’s tough to describe. Something spiritual almost. I think God helps us join in a way that makes it tougher to drive us apart.”

“Like Siamese twins?” Reyne asked, smiling.

“Something like that, I guess,” Rachel said. “You couldn’t separate Dirk and me without us each losing something of ourselves. And there was a time when we were like you and Logan are now—joined at the hip for a while so you can learn everything you need to know about one another.”

“Yeah, remember those times?” Beth asked, enjoying the memory.

“It was great,” Rachel said, smiling at her. She looked to Reyne. “You can’t get enough of each other, right?”

“Exactly. Like now. I love you guys, but I can’t wait to see Logan later.” She waved in front of her to the wildflowers on the table. “He’s
so sweet. At least once a week he brings me a bouquet of flowers, usually ones he’s picked himself. And we talk for hours, sometimes until two in the morning …”

Rachel sighed dramatically, putting on a moon-eyed look that was half silly, half serious. “Ahh, love. And it just gets better. Deeper. Softer.”

“Ain’t it grand?” Beth asked, putting her head next to Rachel’s and looking upward with a similar expression.

“All right, you two,” Reyne said, pursing her lips. “You just said that you’ve both been through this. It’s so great now. But it fades, doesn’t it? Doesn’t that make you sad?”

“Occasionally,” Beth said. “I happened to marry a man who’s romantically impaired.” She giggled. “I mean, Matt’s idea of a romantic dinner is ham sandwiches in a fishing boat—while we fish! And yet our love has mellowed into something deeper, richer than I could’ve ever imagined.”

“It’s true,” Rachel agreed. “The rush of romance does fade some in time. But as Beth says, a good relationship just seems to get better with each year. ‘Like a fine wine,’ my grandfather used to say. Your communication gets better. You know one another better. It all helps.”

“And kids add a whole new dimension,” Beth added. “Have you and Logan talked about children? How many do you want?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Reyne said, laughing. “We’re not even talking marriage yet!”

“Well, what’s holding up the process?” Rachel kidded her. “You two have been dating for almost a month now! Shouldn’t we start planning the wedding?”

“Ooh! Another Elk Horn wedding!” Beth exclaimed. “Can’t you
just see her in white, Rachel? I can see this gorgeous, soft-white gown—sort of a sleek design, I think, to show off that figure—”

“Wait, I said,” Reyne interrupted, her tone firm. “This is getting a little crazy. I don’t want to think about weddings yet.”

“Oh right,” Beth said.

“No, I mean it,” Reyne said, hearing her own voice grow defensive.

Both women looked at her quizzically. Rachel spoke first. “All right, Reyne, what’s up?”

Beth leaned forward, setting down her coffee cup. “Yeah, Reyne. Let’s hear it.”

Reyne rubbed her legs, feeling the rough texture of her jeans. She stood up, puzzled by her own agitation. “Come on, you guys. Lay off, will ya?” She forced a laugh. “I’m just not ready to talk tuxedos and gowns. What’s the big deal?”

“Well, for one,” Rachel said, putting her feet up on the table and leveling a no-nonsense gaze on Reyne, “I think you wouldn’t want to talk weddings if you were afraid it wouldn’t happen. Has something happened between you two to make you doubt it?”

“No! Nothing!” She laughed in exasperation. “What is this? The grand inquisition?”

“No,” Beth said softly. “But your defensiveness makes us worried.”

“He’s not a man that can’t commit, is he?” Rachel asked bluntly.

“No. At least I don’t think so …”

“He hasn’t made you uneasy, pushing you physically?” Beth asked gently.

“No. I mean, we have to really work to keep our boundaries clear. But that’s
both
of us.”

Her friends smiled, but they weren’t about to let it go. Reyne glanced from one to the other and then out the window again. She started to pace, then stopped. “Can’t we just let this go?”

“No,” her friends said in unison.

Reyne sighed, gathering her thoughts. “It’s just that … I’ve been having these awful thoughts …” She looked back at them as if seeking help. “You see, I’ve had these bad dreams lately. It’s like I’m back in Idaho. Back fighting Oxbow.”

Beth’s mouth formed a silent O, and Rachel nodded, understanding at last.

“The last three nights I’ve had this dream that I come out from under my fire shelter and there are bodies.” Her eyes grew wide as she played it out in her mind yet again. “And one of them is Logan.”

“Come here,” Rachel said, rising and going to her with outstretched arms. She hugged her fiercely as Reyne giggled in embarrassment.

“It’s just a stupid dream,” Reyne said, wiping her nose as Beth came to encircle both of them with her own arms.

“But it plays out your worst nightmare,” Beth said softly.

After a moment, the three separated and sat back down quietly.

“I’ll get us more coffee,” Rachel said. She was soon back with the pot, pouring them each a second mug. “So tell us, Reyne. How are you going to get past this so it won’t get in the way?”

“I don’t know,” she said miserably. “To be honest, this is the first time I’ve really thought it out. I mean, it’s been a small nagging thought in the back of my head—especially over the last few days—but until you started talking weddings, I didn’t realize how scared I was.”

“Have you told Logan?” Beth asked.

“No. It hasn’t come up.”

“But you’ve told him about Oxbow?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah. The whole saga, from beginning to end. He asked.”

Rachel nodded. “It
is
a big deal. You guys risk your lives when you fight fire. It would be tough for me to send Dirk off to his job thinking I might never see him again.”

“But you can’t let it get in the way!” Beth said, her voice uncus-tomarily loud. Her brows were knit in earnestness. “Promise me, Reyne. Promise me that fear won’t keep you from loving Logan.”

Reyne looked at her, a bit surprised by her intensity. “Okay, Beth. I’ll do my best. But I’m just beginning to see that this is an issue for me. I’m not sure I’m ready to risk my heart on someone who is so constantly in danger.”

Beth looked down at the floor, choosing her words. “It seems to me that you’ve already risked your heart. I think you love Logan McCabe.”

Reyne’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I love him?” she mused, mostly to herself.

Rachel grinned. “Yeah, there’s no doubt about it. And he’s mad about you too.”

The three women smiled at one another, enjoying the verbal reaffirmation.

“One word about love,” Beth said. “The hardest part is to risk your heart, Reyne. Don’t let fear strangle your love. It’s the best, most incredible thing you’ll ever do.”

Beth reached across the table and took Reyne’s hand in hers. Reyne struggled to concentrate on her words, not the thin, frail, chilly skin next to her own. She raised her eyes to meet her friend’s gaze.

“Nothing’s better. No risk, no gain. Gamble it all, Reyne. Because love will see you through, one way or another.”

Days later Reyne woke gasping from another nightmare. She was coated in sweat from head to toe—despite the chilly room—and her sheets were a mess. She was just contemplating a shower and a very strong cup of coffee when she heard a noise outside. It sounded as if someone was chopping wood.