Firestorm (8 page)

Reyne clenched her lips and stood with some effort. She stepped closer to him, poking him lightly in the chest. “I’ll have you know that I’ve reached a Class Four certification in search and rescue. I am a certified EMT, and I have made countless rescues of my own. I’m smart enough to know when I’m in shock, thank you very much, and can
certainly
tell when I’ve broken a leg!”

Logan backed off a step, raising his hands in surrender as she followed him, lecturing all the way. When she finally stopped, he looked back down into her eyes and began laughing silently, great belly heaves that lifted his chest and brought water to his eyes.

Reyne allowed a tiny smile to raise her own lips in response, knowing that she had finally won a round. She looked back at Rachel and Dirk, who were also laughing. “Boy, you guys pick the pushiest people in the world to be your friends, don’t ya?”

Relieved that she was all right, Logan and Dirk still insisted that she ride on Logan’s gelding while the rest of them picked their way over the rock-slide area on foot. Then Logan mounted behind her, strapping Cookie’s reins to his saddle so that she could follow without carrying any undue weight.

Rachel and Dirk rode on ahead, wanting to warn Beth and Matt that they were running late. Logan and Reyne followed more slowly, taking their time so as not to push Cookie. As Logan talked softly to the mare over his shoulder, Reyne had to admit to herself that his strong arms felt good at her sides.

They had reached the valley floor but were still quite a ways from the house. To their left, a long line of irrigation pipe was spewing
water in pulsating, circulating jets. In the early evening sunshine, it threw a shimmering rainbow against the bright green of the grazing grasses beneath. The effect was mesmerizing, and Reyne sighed happily. The earth smelled good, like the rich black soil that ran through her fingers when she gardened. It smelled of new grass and water and peat and a hint of manure.

She held the reins, but Logan held the saddle horn in front of her. It had been a long time since she had been this close to a man. As their bodies matched the easy cadence of his horse, both grew silent, listening to the
clop-clop
of the horses’ hooves, the creak of their leather saddle, and the gentle buzz and whir of God’s world all about them.

Logan lifted his head to feel Reyne’s hair in his face, relishing the smell and the silky strands tickling his cheeks. He did not get too close, fearing he’d make her uneasy, although he longed to bury his face in the soft, blond waves in front of him. He knew without a doubt that he wanted to know Reyne Oldre better. If only she’d let him in!

“Are you doing okay?” he asked, using the excuse of talking to her to draw his face closer to hers.

“I’m fine,” she said, tensing. Then after a pause, “Boy, at this rate, we’ll be lucky to get to the house by dark.”

Logan listened carefully to her tone, hoping to see if she really was in a hurry to be away from him or was just making conversation. He was unable to tell. “We’ll get there,” he said easily. He, for one, would not mind if it took until midnight.

“Logan,” she said after another few minutes, “what made you want to go into smokejumping?”

He sat back a bit, startled by her first personal question. Maybe she was warming up to him after all. “Smokejumping? Well for one, my dad and grandfather were both forest-fire fighters. My dad was a jumper. He filled my head with so many war stories that I grew up thinking I wanted to wear his shoes when he left. You know … take on the enemy myself. Prove I was a man. After I felt like I had proven myself—and I took a ton of stupid chances doing so—I thought it was time to retire. But it was only then that I realized how much I loved it.”

Reyne nodded, seemingly in approval.

Logan went on, encouraged. “I loved not only the rush of taking on the fire, but also figuring out where he was heading next, what he was thinking, if you will. I liked outsmarting him. And when he outsmarted me, I liked taking him on again and beating him.”

“You should’ve gone into fire science,” she said. “Figuring out what he’s up to, outsmarting him … that’s all a part of what I do.”

“Yeah,” Logan said gently, “but there’s no hand-to-hand combat.”

“Exactly,” Reyne said, almost in a whisper. Logan had to strain to hear her.

“You retreated to the back lines because of what happened with Oxbow, didn’t you?” he tried.

She stiffened slightly. “You don’t know anything about me, Logan,” she said defensively. “Someday I’ll tell you about Oxbow. Until then, please don’t try to psychoanalyze me.”

“I’m sorry, Reyne. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted. She glanced up and said, “Ah, Timberline at last. We can finally get Cookie to some tender loving care.”

At her sudden change of subject, Logan grew silent. It was obviously still a sore spot for her. He needed to let her open up in her own way, in her own time.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

L
ogan hung up the phone with a decisive click, grinning at the familiar surge of adrenaline that always came with a new assignment.
Time to get this show on the road
, he was thinking. But then his smile drooped just a little. Almost without thinking, he picked up the phone again and dialed.

“Hello, this is Reyne Oldre.” Her voice was friendly but businesslike.

“Reyne,” he said, faltering, wondering why he was calling her. They hadn’t spoken since their ride the day before. “I, um … I just wanted you to know that they’ve called me to Missoula.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Well, I … I was thinking that we wouldn’t be able to get together on the smokejumper pouch until next week. Will that be okay?”

“That’ll be fine. I’ve got more than enough to do.” She was silent for a moment. Logan was about to say something else when she went on. “Are you going down for spring training?”

Logan felt a smile melt away the concerned furrow of his brow. Her question was an opening at least. “It’s the beginning of spring training. I’m supposed to form my Elk Horn team. Half experienced. Half rookies.”

“Half rookies!” she exclaimed. “Boy, I bet you’ll be swamped with applications. There haven’t been that many openings on a crew in years.”

Logan had paced while talking with her and now paused to wind the phone cord around his arm in snake fashion. “I know it. I’m hoping to get six guys I’ve worked with for years to form the backbone of the team, then fill in from there.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Logan felt strangled, scanning his head frantically in an effort to find something else to say. When he remained silent, Reyne’s voice came over the line again. “Well, I hope your trip is fruitful. Give me a call when you get home so we can arrange a meeting.”

“Oh. Okay,” he said, feeling like a teenager. Why was he so disappointed that their conversation was over? Did he think it was going to go on for hours?

“Bye, Reyne.”

On the other end Reyne thoughtfully pressed the button on her cordless phone and disconnected the line. She took off her reading glasses and looked out her studio window to the towering line of the Rockies. What had Logan really been after? She smiled, wondering if he was more interested in her than their project. He certainly was acting that way. And for once, it felt all right that a man was pursuing her.

Are you speaking to me, Father?
She looked outside at the tulip leaves shooting up from the black dirt, a fresh green that only spring could bring. Reyne felt as if her heart were shooting up and out, just like those flowers. She frowned suddenly.
But he’s a smokejumper. A firefighter. Please, God, anyone but a firefighter
.

Once again, unbidden, came those images, the ones that haunted her dreams and drove her in her work. The charred meadow. The reek of the smoke. The crumpled, empty fire tents. And beyond them …

She leaned back in her chair, set her feet on the desk, and closed
her eyes, deliberately pushing back the images.
Please God, not a smokejumper
, she prayed again.
Anything but that. I just couldn’t stand to lose someone I love …

But the urgings of her heart were unstoppable.

The next day Reyne entered her office to find a faxed note waiting. She smiled immediately, spotting Logan’s name in the From section. She sat down, amazed that just his name on a piece of paper set her heart to pounding, and then read his short note:

Reyne glanced over the comic strip, smiling as Calvin set Hobbes’s foot on fire, then ran to get away. She didn’t know what was funnier: the cartoon or Logan’s all-caps style writing.
Just like in life, Logan
, she thought.
Bigger and louder is always better
.

But she was charmed. There was no getting around it.

Five days later, coffee cup in hand, Rachel Tanner came strolling into Reyne’s office. “I want to see what you’re working on these days,” she said. “Oh, you’ve got a fax …”

Reyne, just behind her, squeezed through the door and hurried toward the machine, but Rachel had already plucked the paper from its tray.

Smiling, she read the missive and handed it to Reyne. “You have some ’splainin’ to do, Lucy,” she said, in her best Ricky Ricardo imitation.

Reyne gave her a sly smile and ripped the paper from her hands. “I most certainly do not.”

Rachel sat on the countertop and stared at her. “Oh yes you do. Are you telling me that a firefighter is courting you and you’re actually allowing it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Shut off my fax? He’s just being friendly,” she tried, hoping to sidetrack her friend.

“Ha! That’s the friendliest fax I’ve seen in a long while. And what are these?” She picked up the stack of previous faxes and paged through them quickly. “Every day? He’s been sending you one every day?”

Reyne nodded, smiling. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s terrific! And romantic! And sweet. We’ve already covered the handsome part. Are you telling me that you’re actually giving him a chance? I thought you’d sworn off firefighters.”

Reyne moved away, pacing. Her mind was a mass of thoughts, her heart a frantic mix of emotions. “I don’t know, Rachel. I
had
sworn off firefighters. This is crazy.” Her voice was tight, agitated.

“Reyne,” Rachel said gently. “I know it was rough that day in Idaho. I know you’ve suffered since then. But maybe God is telling you that it’s time to get on with your life. To share your heart again.”

“And it would be just like him to make that person a firefighter.”

“Through him all things are possible—”

“Yeah, yeah, spare me the sermon. I
know
, Rachel. But I’m scared. Scared to death. And who knows? Maybe he’s just idly flirting.”

“He doesn’t seem to be the type. For all his joking around, from what I can see, he’s pretty single-minded.”

Reyne nodded thoughtfully. “Well, we’ll see what happens. I’m
not making any moves. We’ll see what Logan McCabe is really up to.”

The following morning Reyne dressed quickly and headed out to the office before the coffee was even brewed. She threw open the door and had to mentally keep herself from actually trotting over to the outbuilding. Smiling already, she crossed immediately to the fax machine.

But there was nothing there.

She fought the wave of disappointment that swept over her and chided herself for fighting back tears.
What’s this, Oldre? You’re tougher than that!

She shook her head, unable to believe that she had let herself get so worked up over a silly fax. Reyne opened the door and slammed it behind her, eager to get back to her coffee now. Logan McCabe did not owe her a thing. So why was she so disappointed?

Reyne spent the rest of the morning reading firefighters’ detailed reports and studying her figures. Much of her job entailed helping the interagency command center study satellite reports and deploy the appropriate troops to fight fires as they occurred. On most days, when there were few fires, she studied old data, charts, film, or footage to try and make sense of certain fire behavior.

That’s what she was doing today. Studying old data, trying to develop new firefighting strategies. Or that’s what she was trying to do anyway. Every minute sound seemed to distract her. Then she realized that she was listening so hard for the facsimile machine to begin transmitting that she could almost hear the blood pulsating in her ears.

Finally, three hours later, the quiet ring sang out, and the machine
began to print. She sighed and then rose to wait beside the machine, laughing as she reached shaking hands to grab the paper it spit out. She felt lightheaded, delirious.
What is happening to me?

She scanned Logan’s words and doodle, giggling as soon as she saw them.

Reyne giggled, but her mind was still back on his closing:
Love, Logan. Love, Logan. Stop it, Reyne! It means nothing!
But her heart pounded, and she was glad that no one was around to see the silly grin on her face.

What is this, Father? I feel your urging, but I am so scared. I don’t want to lose someone I care about again. Not ever
.

She sobered as she pictured Logan fighting fire this summer. Pictured him facing the dragon and the dragon winning.