Firestorm (12 page)

“And forest fire entered a new era,” she finished for him.

“Exactly. So here we are.” They spent the rest of their hike debating the benefits of prescribed burn, changing subjects eventually to the effectiveness of the Incident Command System. Reyne thought it was the saving grace of firefighting. Logan thought it was the bane of their existence.

“Are you telling me that you’d rather do without it in the midst of a major conflagration?” she asked incredulously, breathing a sigh of relief as they reached level ground much later that afternoon. Her calves and thighs were aching and threatening to cramp with every step.

“All I can say is that nothing drives me crazier than watching a fire gain force while we sit around waiting for the proper commander to give the proper command. What’s so confusing? ‘There’s a fire; put it out,’ seems obvious enough to me.”

Reyne guffawed. “Come on, Logan, you know it’s much more than that. You’ve told me yourself that some guy in a tent with a weather computer with satellite linkup has saved your bacon. More than once.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And how at that one fire, if it wasn’t for the reading and smart command at headquarters, your crew would’ve been square in the middle of a firestorm.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And how that one commander ordered you to run through a
wall of flame because he knew it was your only way out, and you had to trust him. And then later you discovered that he had saved your life with that crazy order.”

“Reyne! Stop! Okay, I admit it, sometimes you people in the command center give us orders that make a whole lot of sense. But that’s a small percentage of our time. A lot more of it is spent playing Frisbee or Hacky Sack in the camps, waiting for the order to put out the fire.”

“It takes time and coordination—”

“I know. Listen, Reyne.” He stopped and grabbed her arms as they neared his “new” parked truck, which was waiting for them at the base of the mountain. Reyne hoped it would start. It wasn’t close to being in perfect shape yet.

“I know what you do is important,” Logan said. “I didn’t mean to put a bee in your bonnet. But you have to admit that the system can get a bit bureaucratic at times.”

“I suppose so.” She was feeling irrationally irritated by his words. But his complaints were common; she had heard them hundreds of times before and voiced them a few times herself. What was really eating at her?

Then it hit her. Fire season was coming fast. The man in front of her, the man for whom she had just proclaimed her love, would be spending most of the summer away from her. And it promised to be a “good fire season” from the looks of it.

“Come on, God,” she muttered heavenward, pulling open the cab door after throwing her pack in the back. “A little rain would be great about now.”

D
id you remember to put mustard in the potato salad?” Reyne asked Logan absently as they pulled up in front of the Morgans’ ranch house one Saturday night in early June.

The three couples had been trading off houses, each taking a Saturday evening to entertain the others. They would typically eat and then play cards until the wee hours, often laughing until tears came to their eyes. But Reyne hadn’t felt much like laughing this past week, and now she felt her stomach clench in its familiar tight knot as Logan slapped a hand against his forehead.

“Oh man! I forgot. I’m sorry, I was thinking about that call today. I guess things in Colorado are reaching a peak—”

“Logan! You forgot? I told you at least three times!” She got out of the truck and slammed the door, so angry she was shaking.

What is this?
she asked herself. Even at that point she knew that it was about more than the missing mustard.

He pulled her to a stop as she stalked toward the front steps of the house. “Reyne! What’s going on? You’re this ticked because I forgot some dumb mustard? We can add it now! I’m sure Beth has—”

Reyne shook off his hand. “It’s not the potato salad!” she said. “Don’t you see?” Pain overwhelmed her, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Logan, it’s almost over! This whole, wonderful, romantic time is about to disintegrate!”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, enunciating each word as if willing control into his voice.

“It’s June already,” she said. “We haven’t had a drop of rain in months, the fires are already rolling, and you’re going to get the call to go out any day now. So how are we supposed to keep our relationship intact with you gallivanting all around fighting fires and me moving from place to place with the Service?” She paced back and forth, feeling unreasonable, but unable to curb her angst. “We’ll be lucky to see one another by September.”

“Reyne,” he began, rubbing his hands over his face and then through his hair. “You knew what I was about all along. You know I love fighting fire. I thought you had coped with things. Figured ’em out. I didn’t think you would’ve started up with me if things weren’t straight in your heart.” He moved toward her as if to take her in his arms, but she moved away.

“No. Don’t, Logan.” She held the potato salad between them like a shield. “Obviously, it wasn’t straight in my head.” Reyne looked up to see Matt open the front door and wave at them. She forced a smile and waved. “We’ll be right there!”

Reyne moved back toward the truck a little, gathering courage for the words she had been working on all week. It was better to get them out now than fret over them for another seven days. Her words were rushed, urgent. “Logan, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t you think about interviewing for that full-time fire management position with the BLM? Many of us end up on the front lines part of the time anyway. Why not do that and get out of the line of fire for at least part of the time? You’d still be in the game.”

Logan’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “You want me to become part of the bureaucracy?”

“Now, Logan, I—”

“No,” he shook his head. He moved toward Reyne and took the salad from her, placing it firmly on the hood of his truck. Oddly, she felt defenseless without it. “Reyne, you know that I love what I do. I
love
it. I’m excited to go in there and fight the dragon again. You have to believe that I’ll be okay. That I’ll do my best to make wise choices.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with wise choices. You could be the wisest firefighter around and still get killed. I’ve seen it, Logan. And I know you. You’ll get caught somewhere being a hero. It won’t be your foolish choice that will take you down. It will be someone else’s that you try and fix.”

“Reyne, you gotta put more trust in me.”

“I do! I do trust you! I just said it. It’s like not being afraid of you driving—it’s all the drunk drivers that make it scary. You’ll be out there with your crews—half of them are green! Someone’s going to make a mistake!”

Logan sighed heavily and, without warning, took her in his arms. She struggled, feeling angry, but he wouldn’t release her. Reyne was horrified as tears came unbidden and she succumbed to his embrace. Logan simply held her, stroking her hair. Then he whispered, “It’s gonna be okay.”

She wiped her eyes and nose. Her words were barely more than a whisper. “I’m so afraid, Logan. I’m so afraid that I’ll lose you. I love you too much.”

“I know, Reyne, I know. I love you too. But this is what I do.” He paused and kissed her head. “I’ll think about the management position. I will. But you have to accept that this is my life for now. Maybe always. And you have to decide if you can deal with it long-term.”

She backed away and wiped her eyes, then nodded. “I know,” she murmured. “I’m working on that.”

She did work at it all weekend, but by Monday, Reyne’s stomach still felt tied in knots. When Logan called to tell her that his group had been activated under their Forest Service subcontract and was heading out to fight their first fire outside of Denver, she was barely civil.

He didn’t call her again for days. By Friday, she was nearly out of her mind with worry. She had been monitoring the ICS reports coming out of Colorado and knew the eighty-thousand-acre brush fire was nearly out of control.

Hating it, but unable to stop herself, Reyne sent an e-mail message to Thomas Wagner at the Denver command center, asking how the Elk Horn crews were faring. The response came in ten minutes. The crews had been on five consecutive patrols through the week, apparently desiring field experience and getting their share. The smokejumpers had parachuted into remote regions and combated five separate fronts that threatened to break loose. Even the small groundpounder crew had proven themselves, digging fire line day after day. Many had hailed the rookie team as one of the best they had seen.

Then came the personal inquiry. “Why the sudden interest, Oldre? Are you really interested in a certain hometown boy?”

She had to nip this one in the bud. “Many people in town ask me what is happening. I told them I’d ask,” she typed in. A half-truth. A couple of people had asked.

“Uh-huh,” came Thomas’s reply. She rolled her eyes as she read it. A defensive statement now would read as clearly as an affirmative answer. The fire camp would be abuzz, and Logan would not be pleased. The teasing would be merciless.

“Thanks for the information, Thomas. I’ll inform the mothers.”

“And the girlfriends,” came his reply. He was not fooled by her evasiveness. “Why don’t you come down here and join us?” the message went on. “We could use the help.”

“From what I see on my screens, you’re doing fine,” she typed in. “Oldre out.”

Logan called that evening. His voice sounded tired, yet wary. “Reyne, I hear you’re checking up on me.”

It stung that they were his first words. “I’ve been keeping track, Logan. It’s part of my job. I’m supposed to keep an eye on all crews in the States. And so what if I checked up? I haven’t heard from you all week!”

“Reyne, you know how it is.” She could hear the exasperation in his voice. “Five consecutive duties. We’ve been sleeping on ridges, maybe three hours a night, and hiking out. They dropped in cargo rations on one particularly fun day. I haven’t exactly been in a motel room ignoring the phone beside me.”

Reyne closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She visualized him at the base camp, in a temporary phone booth, with firefighters in line behind him waiting to make their own calls. She remembered the exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I was … worried.”

“I know,” he said, sounding a million miles away. “I’ve missed you. I think about you all the time.”

She smiled. “That’s good to hear. I thought you’d be concentrating so much on your first fire of the season that there’d be no room left in your head for me.”

“Not a chance, Oldre. You’ve captured my heart.” She grinned wider as she heard the men behind him giving Logan a hard time. “Listen, Reyne. I’m not keeping us a secret. Wagner was onto us anyway after your e-mail. Is that okay with you?”

“It’s fine. I thought you’d be the one to object.”

“Object to being known as the one who gets to call Reyne Oldre the love of his life? No way! I’ll be the folk hero of all the fire camps. In fact, I’ve been bragging about it already. My chest is so big, they have to get a new tent for me ’cause I ripped the first one coming in last night.”

She laughed, visualizing that scenario. “I’m glad you feel that way, Logan. It’s so good to hear your voice. I’m sorry I let you get out of here without a proper send-off. I … I just get so worried.”

“I know, babe. Listen, why don’t you come down? Wagner said they were swamped and could use you. Said he’d name-request you from dispatch, if necessary.”

“Yeah. I just don’t want to come down unless they really do need me. I don’t think I should use a professional excuse to see my man, as much as I want to.”

“Gotcha. Well, I suppose they’ll call you and order you down when the need arises.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” They stood there, silent on either end, done with their conversation but reluctant to sever their connection.

“Well, the guys want a piece of this phone line,” he said at last. “I love you, Reyne. And I am being careful.”

“I know, Logan. And I’m working on this fear thing.”

“Good. I’ll call you again as soon as I can.”

“I’ll look forward to it. Good-bye.” Reyne hung up quickly then, unable to stand teetering on the edge any longer. She stood there for a long time, just staring at the phone and thinking.

T
he next morning Reyne opened the door to welcome her friends but stopped short, her smile fading fast. Rachel was physically helping Beth from the Jeep. Reyne ran to help.

“What’s wrong, Beth?” she asked anxiously. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s get settled inside, and I’ll tell you all about it,” Beth said wearily, placing her other arm around Reyne. Always tiny, she seemed almost weightless now.

The two women got her inside. Rachel’s face was drawn and gray, almost as pale as Beth’s.

With shaking hands Reyne poured the mugs of coffee and rushed into the living room. “What is it, Beth? What’s going on? You shouldn’t have made yourself come over if you were so sick. Did you go to the doctor?”