A Time to Mend (23 page)

Ben tugged at the front of his cowboy hat. His eyes were nearly hidden beneath its brim. “Not hungry. Chester’s not either. He knows something’s up.”

“What do you think?”

“That Chester knows what he’s talking about.” Abruptly Ben turned on his heel and strode toward the topless jeep parked outside the barn. He had no intention of eating dinner.

Claire followed. She squinted as the hot wind swirled dirt in her eyes. Temperatures still hovered above ninety.

It had been a long day at the hacienda. Changing linens, sweeping, scrubbing. Having heart-to-heart talks with Indio. Being mom and dad to Lexi. Claire wasn’t all that hungry either.

Ben planted a foot on the running board, swung a long leg over the car door, and plunked himself onto the driver’s seat.

“Can I come?”

He gave her half a nod and started the engine.

Within moments they’d left the barn behind in a cloud of dust. As they shot up a steep incline, Claire hung onto the roll bar above her with one hand, the side of the windshield with the other. No road was in sight, but Ben had worn a distinct path through the dirt and dried grass during the past two days.

They were headed to his lookout on the highest point of the property. Indio had told Claire he’d been driving up there almost hourly to check on the wildfire.

Officials were calling it the Rolando Bluff Fire, after the remote area where they believed lightning had sparked it. The latest news reported nearly fifty thousand acres burned. Most of the area was remote and uninhabited. The one community in the vicinity had been evacuated, as well as some rural residences.

The fire was not under control, though, and only 20 percent was contained.

Ben braked and cut the engine. They got out of the car and began clambering up the dozen or so yards of terrain too vertical and rock strewn even for the jeep.

Claire was not an outdoorsy woman. When Erik was two, she’d let him hike to his heart’s content in the wilderness surrounding his grand-parents’ home. His little legs hadn’t carried him far—just enough that she was not within shouting distance of the house when she saw her first rattlesnake as it slithered very near her toddler’s feet. The next day she began saving money and soon purchased a good pair of leather cowboy boots. Wearing them now, she was glad she always kept them stored at the hacienda along with blue jeans and T-shirts.

Claire said, “I remember climbing here with you and the kids. I think Erik was about sixteen the last time.” She always figured out the timing of events by the age of her eldest. She wondered if it was the same with her in-laws and BJ.

“Yep. The Coyote Bluff Fire. That one came the closest.”

“The sheriff was at the house when we got back down.”

“He’ll let us know if we should evacuate, Claire. Don’t you worry.”

She huffed alongside him. “But you’re worried.”

“Concerned. There’s smoke, and our last good rain was in January. Santa Ana’s been blowing for days. S’posed to let up tonight, but the damage is already done. The whole county is one dried-up box of kindling.”

Worried, concerned, anxious, whatever. Claire wasn’t going to argue semantics. “So what do you think?”

He grunted and climbed the remaining few feet without so much as an audible exhale. Although he seemed fit as a fiddle, he was in a mood, as Indio liked to call it whenever “blast it all” dominated his vocabulary. Or when he quit jobs before they were finished. That afternoon he’d left his big green tractor smack-dab in the middle of the parking area. The grading would not get completed this day.

Claire had always been comfortable to some degree with her reserved father-in-law. He loved his animals and the outdoors and was nothing at all like the dad she’d lived with growing up.

Ben was a thoughtful grandfather too. He never made the kids feel as if they were in his way, no matter what their ages. He had an appreciation for beauty. Before retiring he had been a successful car-penter. His lovely wood creations were everywhere inside and outside the house.

She gazed with him now toward the southeast. Usually the view offered a panorama of jagged mountains the blue-green color of scrub brush. Tonight, though, billowy black smoke encompassed the vista. Although the sky remained blue directly above them, the setting sun to her right could not begin to penetrate the smoke. Two helicopters circled off to one side. The destruction lay on the other side of hills located at least twenty-five miles away, but it was an eerie sight.

He lowered the binoculars. “I think that the wind is good for us, not so good for El Marino and those other communities to the south.” He glanced at her. “For now.”

“We have the boxes packed in my car.” Although her in-laws didn’t display family photos, they had plenty of albums and, most important, a small trunk full of BJ mementos.

He nodded. “Thank you for helping out today.”

“I’m glad you called me.”

He squinted toward the wildfire. “I’m not good at asking for help. Max gets that foolishness from me. We’re a lot alike. Can’t ask for help. Get tunnel vision. Think we know what’s what. That’s why we always butt heads.” He paused. “It’s a healthy thing for you to tell him what’s what. Healthy for both of you. No matter what happens, you needed to say it, and he needed to hear it.”

Claire’s throat closed up. Ben and Indio Beaumont still loved her! More like adopted parents than the proverbial vexations, her in-laws still loved her. They thought she had made right choices! They didn’t blame her!

For one fleeting moment, the world was a beautiful, comforting place to be.

M
ax, please talk to your dad.” Claire sat in the dark, on the porch step outside the kitchen. It wasn’t the best for privacy, but it was the farthest she could go and still be able to use the house cordless phone. Cell phone signals were nonexistent up in the hills.

“I’m not talking to my dad. It wouldn’t matter diddly-squat what I might say to him. His mind’s made up.”

“That’s just it. I’m not sure it is. He’s not his usual confident self. I think if it weren’t for the horses, we’d leave.”

“You and Lexi don’t have to stay.”

Claire propped her chin in her hand and looked up at the stars. Why was it their daughter understood what Max didn’t? No one had to call and convince Lexi to come. She arrived that afternoon and worked in the gardens, fully intending to remain with Nana and Papa to help in any way she could—even if that only meant hang-ing out at the hacienda, keeping them company.

Claire said, “We do have to stay. They’re pushing eighty, and right now they are, understandably, a little concerned.”

“Suit yourself. Oh. Sorry.” His sarcastic tone undercut the apology. “That’s the cold fish talking.”

Claire wanted to throw the phone at the large trunk of a nearby sycamore tree. She resisted the urge. Now that she had Max on the line, she wanted to finish the conversation.

He said, “The warm fish says the fire is 20 percent contained, and that was before the wind died down. Santa Reina is in no danger.”

“I know.” Ben refused to turn off the television or radio. They blared in the kitchen and the barn.

“Then what’s the problem?” Max said.

“I have no clue! That’s why I want you to talk to your dad!”

“Calm down. You don’t want to work yourself into a tizzy just because two old people are unnerved by a fire going the other direction.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Why else did you call except for me to tell you what to do?”

Why had she called?

Claire slid her hand up from her chin until it covered her mouth.

No, she hadn’t called to ask him what to do. She knew what to do. Either let the eight horses go and then drive down to the city—or trust in the current conditions that indicated all was safe for the Santa Reina area, including the Hacienda Hideaway.

No, she hadn’t called so Max could tell her what to do.

She lowered her hand and her voice. It sank to a whisper. “I called because I wanted you to take care of me.”

“Then I say stay put. Save Dad from having to round up his horses tomorrow or the next day.”

“I meant
here
, Max. I meant I wanted you here to make me feel safe. I wanted you to hold me. I wanted to hear you say you love me and that everything will be okay. I wanted . . . Oh . . .” Why bother to say it again? She wanted him there beside her, to be part of her life. “You know what? There is no such thing as a warm fish. Fish are cold-blooded.”

“That’s all—”

The line went dead.

And then she smelled smoke.

Fifty

M
ax punched the Off button on the cordless. Hanging up on him must give Claire a sense of power. She kept doing it.

“Are they all right?”

He turned to see Neva walking across the patio. “They can see smoke. It’s the other side of the hills and blowing away from them, but they’re goosey.”

She stopped beside him next to the pool. “Why don’t they just leave?”

“It gets complicated. There are horses, chickens, Willow the cat and Samson the old golden retriever. A houseful of things. My mom learned from Grandma Beaumont to keep important documents and photos packed and in a front closet. Those are probably already in the car.” He wondered if the large family photo from Jenna’s wed-ding was off the wall. His mother liked that one. “The dog’s rug is in the truck.”

“The what?”

“Samson won’t jump in the truck bed unless his rug is in it.”

Neva smiled. “Did you go through many scenarios like that?”

“A few. The place is too remote. You know, you have a beguiling smile.”

She touched his arm.

Her smile wasn’t the only thing that beguiled. A clingy, low-cut black dress accentuated her softness.

“Are they all right?”

Max heard the question but let his mind wander elsewhere. For more than thirty years, Neva Martínez-Rhodes had been there at his side. Sure, he’d noticed her attractiveness, personality-wise as well as those feminine curves. He even counted on that luscious package to attract clients—and it did. Which meant, he supposed, that he kept her filed under “Business.”

Wasn’t that what he had told Claire?

It was true. He had noticed Neva, but he had not
noticed
her.

Until now.

Any out-of-office time they spent together revolved around work.

Until now.

During the long day of meetings, their usual banter had taken on a different tone. Or maybe it was different only to him. Maybe it had been there all along.

She offered to bring dinner to his house. His acceptance had been immediate.

And now she was there for his taking. That was made abundantly clear. She’d shown up on his doorstep in that dress, her hair loose to her shoulders, wearing perfume that must have required a special license to buy. He hardly noticed what they ate.

“Are they all right?” she asked again.

“Probably not.” He set the phone on the table. “They’ll come here. Dogs aren’t allowed in Lexi’s apartment complex.”

She stepped into his waiting arms. “I’ll settle for a good-night kiss, then. What’s another few days after thirty years?”

He looked into her dark eyes. Had she really been waiting until he was available?

Her body against his felt much smaller than Claire’s. Her lips were fuller. As he met them with his own, he allowed himself a lingering moment to imagine what it would be like to spend the night with this very attractive, very feisty woman.

Fifty-one

M
om!” Lexi’s scream ripped through the night’s stillness. “Mom!”

Already panicked at the scent of smoke, Claire raced into the house and through the kitchen, following the shouts. They led her back outdoors again and into the courtyard. One glance registered everything: Lexi and the dog ran to the open end of the courtyard, toward the barns. Indio hurried the other way and into the front entry-way. She was going to the car, a cumbersome picture frame under her arm.

“Indio!” Claire caught up and relieved her of the family photo that had hung on her kitchen wall.

“Thanks, Claire. The wind shifted. God is good. Hallelujah.”

“What?”

Indio’s off-centered smile and bright eyes gave her a slightly wild look as they rushed out into the front yard. “He’s here, you know. The wind shifted, and now the fire is heading toward us, lickety-split. Phone line is dead. What can we do except skedaddle and ask Him for help?”

If she didn’t know better, Claire would have sworn the woman was demented. On second thought, maybe she was. “Whatever. Where’s Ben and Lexi?”

“Releasing the horses. The only important thing left to pack is that picture.” She pointed to the frame bouncing against Claire’s leg.

“Okay, we’re all right. We take it one step at a time. No need to panic. There’s still plenty of time. It’s still miles away. This is just smoke.”

Just smoke . . . Then she noticed in the spotlights a flutter of something. Moths?

No. It was ash. Ashes were falling like a fine, dry snow.

Indio coughed, a hacking noise, as if the smoke had settled into her lungs. “The wind shifted
and
picked up speed. It’ll do that, you know.”

Claire opened a car door, leaned inside, and began rearranging the boxes on the seat. If she wedged the picture behind them, it would be safe. Though then it might block her view out the rear window.

From behind her, Indio said, “Dry as this year’s been, the fire could reach Vallecitos Canyon and burn through it quick as a wink.”

Claire stilled her hands on a box. Vallecitos Canyon? Hacienda guests who went horseback riding could make it to the canyon and back before lunch.

“Claire, we’d better go help Ben. He’s bound and determined to get Chester in the trailer—”

“What!” Claire whacked her head, scrambling from the car. “Ouch! Indio, we can’t take the horse trailer!”

“He’s already hitched it up to the truck.”

Abruptly the front yard went black, as if someone had doused the spotlights. Claire looked at the house. It was completely dark as well. Not even a star twinkled above. Only a feeble patch of light spilled out from the car’s interior.