A Time to Mend (24 page)
Claire froze. In her mind’s eye she traced the path of electrical wires from the house, across fields of scrub vegetation, up steep hills and down valleys, through wooded areas. The lines did not run east toward the mountains. They went west, down into Santa Reina.
Why would power from the west be cut off when a fire burned in the east?
Indio grabbed Claire’s hand. “Time for the lanterns and flash-lights. Hallelujah.”
C
laire was not aware of when the wail of sirens reached her. Suddenly they were just there, a distant lament that pulsated in her throat.
She and Indio stumbled through the dark to the kitchen porch where Indio had stashed battery-operated lanterns. Carrying them to light their way, they hurried down the side yard to the barn, the area already lit by the truck headlamps and a number of battery-operated lanterns set around.
Lexi was bent between the big pickup and the horse trailer, dis-connecting the hitch. From the truck bed, Samson yipped and jumped. In the shadows nearby, Ben stood in the corral.
Lexi straightened, calling out, “Papa! Let him go!” She shook her head at Claire and Indio.
Without a word, Indio plodded toward her husband.
“Mom, he’s lost it. He wanted to start the generator to get the power going, and now he wants to put Chester in the trailer. We don’t have time!” The normally soft-spoken girl clearly was losing it herself.
“Lexi, let’s not panic. No one has told us to evacuate. It’s just smoke—”
“Mom! Where do you think the smoke is coming from? We went up to check on things before I yelled to you.” She waved a hand in the direction of the higher ground. “Vallecitos is totally ablaze. The whole rim of Kuphaall Range is on fire. And the wind is doing strange things, going in circles almost.”
“You saw flames?”
“Yeah, so we’ve got to get out of here
now
.” She hurried to the driver’s side of the truck. “I’m driving. Just leave your car.”
Claire’s teeth chattered. Her body felt rooted to the ground. Why hadn’t the sheriff ’s department warned them the fire was racing toward the hacienda? It shouldn’t have been possible for it to travel so far, so quickly.
She saw Indio and Ben hurrying from the corral, hand in hand. Their shoulders seemed newly bent, as if the crushing weight of seventy-plus burden-carrying years had finally descended upon them.
The truck engine revved, and she saw her daughter high up in the driver’s seat, looking smaller and more vulnerable than ever.
Lexi leaned out the window and beckoned to her. “Mom!”
Claire shook her head. “I’ll follow you out.”
The truck had a backseat, so there was plenty of space for all of them plus the cat she was sure already sat on it. But riding in it would mean abandoning the treasures packed in her car. She didn’t care if fire destroyed her car, but she wasn’t about to fail her in-laws again. Preserving their photos and the mementos from BJ’s short life with them seemed the most important thing she could do.
C
laire gripped the steering wheel and drove as close as possible behind the pickup. Lexi’s lead foot bucked it along, the back tires shooting up dirt and gravel, the bed fishtailing. Samson stayed out of sight, probably being tossed around. Poor thing. The horse trailer would have long been flung off to a side of the winding lane by now. It had been a good call on Lexi’s part to unhook it. Poor Ben. Poor Chester. Poor all the horses. Would they find a way out?
“Dear God, help us. Dear God, help us.” Claire’s repetitive prayer leaped out between spurts of breath. It was all she could say.
The Beaumont property consisted of a few hundred acres tucked off the beaten path. Like a pair of huge, protective arms, foothills, mountain ranges, and canyons embraced it. There was only one entrance in . . . which meant only one exit out. It was a long, curvy driveway, a ten-minute trip between house and highway, through rough terrain and quiet woods. At the speed they raced, a few minutes might be shaved off.
“Dear God, help us.”
The lane met the highway. She mapped out the route in her mind. A left-hand turn led to a ranch. They would turn right, toward Santa Reina. Before reaching the town, they would come to Estudillo Corners and turn left. They would go down the hill and thirty minutes later arrive in San Diego. Then they would . . .
Then they would what?
Go to Max’s house?
When had she started thinking of it as Max’s house?
“Dear God, help us.”
The truck disappeared in a swirl of dust around a blind curve. Claire slowed for the bend. As she put her foot again on the gas pedal, she saw the truck’s back red lights brighten and slammed on her own brakes.
Why were they stopping?
“Oh, dear God.”
Straight ahead, visible above the truck and through the swirling dirt and thickening smoke, flames shot skyward—a wall of fire to the right and to the left. Across the lane. That one entrance in, one exit out.
M
ax stood in his driveway and, with some regret, watched Neva drive off.
In all honesty, a little relief mingled in with the regret. Sure, a pas-sionate frolic would have been sheer ecstasy. Neva’s kisses guaranteed she knew how to please a man.
But if he wanted sex, he could pay for it. Why should he sign up for a complicated relationship? He already had one of those. Becoming intimate with his director of operations would doom him to another one, no doubt about it. He had to work with Neva every day. There’d be no escape when the workday ended. He’d have to really love her to want to go home with her too.
Love? Was that how he felt?
Oh, brother!
Now he was sounding like Claire. How did he
feel
?
Well, he felt like he wanted to hurt Claire, to pay her back.
Was that why he had kissed Neva?
Probably. At least partly. He craved a woman’s touch. Neva was in the right place at the right time and turned him on like a match to dry kindling.
He shuddered.
Close call, Beaumont.
Maybe he should thank God for the fire scare. Without the possi-bility of Claire and his parents showing up at the house, he easily could have succumbed. This way, though, Neva’s departure had been a no-brainer, for him and her.
He weighed the chances of his family showing up. Ben and Indio had stayed at the house with them twice for extended periods—once during the remodeling of the hacienda and once after his dad’s surgery. It was the logical choice for them if they had to evacuate. There was plenty of space for guests.
Would Claire stay too?
Weird thought. The state of limbo was driving him nuts. Which could further explain his infatuation with Neva.
His cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the ID. Jenna. Whew. At least he didn’t have to disentangle himself from Neva before answering. “Hi.”
“Daddy!” Her voice was hysterical. “Santa Reina’s being evacuated!” She burst into tears.
“Jen. Jen. Calm down, honey.”
“Max.” It was Tandy, her tone nearly as distraught as Jenna’s. “The wind shifted. Santa Reina’s in the path now.”
The hacienda lay between Santa Reina and the fire.
A dredging sensation hit Max, a backhoe hollowing out his insides. “Claire?”
“Don’t know. Turn on the news, dirtbag.”
The line went dead.
C
laire rammed the gearshift into Park, flew from the car, and hit the ground running. There was only one thought on her mind: to get to her baby.
“Lexi!”
Her daughter was already out of the truck, hanging on to the open door, facing the nightmare before them. Claire reached her side, and they clutched each other.
“Mommy.” She pointed down the lane.
The world slid into slow motion. Claire felt intense heat as if from a bonfire gone amuck. Her eyes and throat burned with smoke. The scent of burning sage coated her nostrils. Sizzling, snapping, roaring noises filled her ears. Above it all Samson barked.
In light cast from the truck’s headlamps, three figures emerged, moving toward them. One of them waved an arm.
“Hallelujah!” Indio appeared in the truck’s open door, her arm resting on the steering wheel, legs dangling from the high seat. “It’s Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.”
Claire looked again to the figures. They were firefighters in full gear with helmets, face shields, and breathing apparatus in place. Nearing, they moved things aside, revealing their faces.
“Are you okay?” one shouted above the noise.
“Yeah.” Clearly, Lexi fibbed. Claire felt her trembling as much as she was.
“Where does this road lead?”
From the front seat, Ben called out over Indio’s shoulder. “To our house.”
“We’ll have to take the other way out.” He pointed a gloved thumb over his shoulder. “That direction’s blocked.”
“There is no other way.”
“Huh?”
Ben said, “Fire’s behind the house, coming up through a canyon.”
“How far?”
“Five miles.”
The three strangers exchanged glances. The one doing all the talking yelled, “We’ll check it out. Can you give us a lift?”
Ben nodded. “Climb in front here. But let my granddaughter drive. She knows this road like the back of her hand. Been driving since she was ten.” He motioned to Indio to move to the backseat.
Claire’s legs shook so violently she began to sink to the ground.
Lexi held on to her more tightly. “Mom!”
“Ma’am?”
Claire’s view of slow motion spun into warp speed. The next thing she knew, she was sitting in the passenger seat of her car, next to a stranger who drove it. In the dim light of the dashboard, she saw a black smudge on his cheek. The sight of it brought a sudden balance to her blurred vision. Help had arrived. It really had.
She gulped for air and coughed at the smoke she’d already swallowed.
“Ma’am, why don’t you put your seatbelt on?”
Automatically she reached for it. Through the side window, in the blackness of night and smoke, she saw a pine tree perfectly outlined in fire.
“Seatbelt?” Her laugh bordered on hysterical. At least she recognized it, though. That must mean she was still on the controlled side of hysteria. But then, what did she know?
“Are you all right?”
Claire turned to him. “I’m just fine! We’re driving through a wildfire, going to a house that’s surrounded by fire on three sides, with a canyon on the fourth that’s impassible in broad daylight, and I’m supposed to put on my seatbelt?”
He flashed a grin at her. “Yes, ma’am. Safety first.”
“Oh, dear God.”
Dear God.
Yes. Dear God.
He had sent help. She and Lexi weren’t standing down the lane, petrified, watching the fire burn toward them. There was a fireman sitting next to her, and two more with her family in the truck. Indio had recognized them right away. That was Indio, and Claire knew she could trust her.
“So,” she said, “are you Shadrach, Meshach, or Abednego?”
He chuckled. “The name’s Eddie.”
C
razy with fear, Jenna stood in front of Tandy’s television set and watched her brother, the cool TV news anchorman, fall apart on camera.
“Get him off the set!” Jenna shouted.
Beside her, Tandy said, “He’s okay, Jen. Look, they’re panning away from him.”
“Why doesn’t he get out of his seat? And that idiot, Felicia! With that idiotic smile on her face! What’s that supposed to convey? Empathy? Fifty thousand acres have burned, and she’s grinning?”
“Shh.” Tandy gave her a one-armed hug. “Shh. It’s okay.”
At last Erik’s shoulder disappeared from view on the screen. Moments before, he and his coanchor, Felicia, had been doing a special update, talking about the Rolando Bluff Fire. About the fifty thousand acres. About the mere 20 percent that was under control. About the sudden wind shift.
And then the “This just in” from her brother. He listened to his earpiece, ad-libbing . . . and, in that honeyed, professional tone of his, informed viewers their reporter and cameraman were rushing to the scene.
And then he said, “Apparently a second fire is now burning to the north. Officials are concerned that it could converge with the original fire—What’s that? Yes. Yes. All right. The sheriff ’s department is ordering all residents of Santa Reina and surrounding areas to evacuate immediately. This is not voluntary. I repeat, all residents of Santa—”
And then no more words came out of his mouth. He just froze, his lips parted, his head cocked to one side, his hazel eyes gazing straight at the camera.
The idiot Felicia, to her credit, filled in his blank. She asked him if that was correct, that all residents were to evacuate Santa Reina and the surrounding area. Erik didn’t reply. His eyes didn’t even twitch. Jenna knew her brother. In his mind he was projecting the fire’s movement. A Santa Reina evacuation meant it was traveling through Hacienda Hideaway land.
Jenna had called her grandparents’ house but gotten no response. She called her mom’s cell, knowing full well that cell never functioned up in the hills. She had to talk to her dad. Speed dial. What was his—Her thumb missed the keypad. “Oh, God. I can’t think straight.”
Where was Danny? They should go find Erik. They should—
Her phone jingled. Danny’s name appeared on the ID screen.
“Danny!” She shouted his name into the mouthpiece, but there was no answer.
The phone rang at her ear again.
Tandy took if from her. “Let me answer, hon. Sit down. I’ll talk to him.”
Jenna sank onto the couch. A rushing noise filled her head. The room spun.
They were all burning up. Her mom. Her baby sister. Her grandma. Her grandpa.
She opened her mouth in agony. No sound escaped.
The very worst fire San Diego County had seen in years was roar-ing toward them. Surrounding them. Maybe it already had.
Excruciating pain shot through her stomach, a knife stabbing over and over. She curled into a tight fetal ball. “Oh, God, please don’t let them die. Please!”
“Honey?”
Jenna became aware of Tandy sitting beside her, rubbing her arm.
“Honey, I talked to Danny. He’s going to pick up Erik at the studio and head toward Santa Reina. Your dad’s meeting them at that park on Poway Road.”
