Expectant Father (16 page)

She did look at him then, with slender eyebrows raised. “Your instincts could be wrong.”

He shook his head slowly. He wasn’t wrong. She was the woman he’d waited for.

“You think you’re having these feelings because I’m going to have a baby you had a hand in creating,” she whispered.

He swore. “How can someone so smart be so stupid?”

Becca rose stiffly, moving in that careful way she had, less graceful now that she was upset.

Spider made no move to stop her. He wasn’t able to put his feelings for her into words that would convince her. He should have known that nothing with Becca was simple, not even falling in love. “Becca?”

She stopped a few feet away from him, but didn’t turn around. Maybe he’d find the courage to tell her what was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning some other time. Tomorrow loomed as a better choice. For now, he had to know where he stood with her. “Would you say that our situation is hopeless?”

For a moment, she didn’t answer and Spider thought she might turn around.

“Yes.” The single word was drawn out with a sadness that seemed to propel Becca away from him.

“Nothing is hopeless. You know that, don’t you?” He called softly after her, but she didn’t look back.

T
UESDAY MORNING
, Becca entered the IC tent with Julia in tow for the morning’s pre-briefing meeting. Julia was very reserved compared to the day before. Becca had to wonder if there was any hope of salvaging Julia’s career—or her own. It was still dark outside, but Becca had already downloaded the weather report, satellite pictures and fire simulations. She could sense the fire was gathering its resources and even Carl
had admitted that the weather was about to change. She was prepared to argue for a two-pronged defense on the southern ridge. Two lines, not one, because the fire would move south and west with the shifting winds.

“So we pull out our fire shelters….” Aiden was sitting on a desk, telling a story to the support staff, who all clustered about him as if he were a rock star.

Becca could relate. She was drawn to him as well, but she had more reason to resist, even though it felt good knowing he supported her belief that the fire would take the highway. Twice last night he’d told her that there was more between them than the baby. Guys like him, young and unfettered with responsibility, tended to get excited about things and then regain their sanity when the initial thrill passed. Aiden had to be confusing his excitement about the baby with his feelings—let’s face it, it was a healthy dose of residual lust—for her.

The tent door swung open and Sirus strode in behind her. “Let’s get to it people.”

Becca stood next to the table, one hand supporting her lower belly, and began pointing out changes in the fire map since the night before.

“The fire front has expanded.” Becca paused for the usual negative reaction, moans, groans and so on. Instead, people just nodded and waited for her to say more. Aiden’s morale program seemed to be working.

“It’s picking up steam even at night,” Aiden noted. “How many acres would you say it’s burned so far?”

“It’s on pace of about six thousand acres a day, so maybe thirty-six thousand acres so far,” Sirus said. He looked more relaxed this morning than previous mornings.

Someone whistled. Thirty-six thousand acres wasn’t a record, but it was substantial.

“And they still won’t be sending us more resources?” Aiden asked.

Sirus shook his head.

“The fire created vortex winds yesterday afternoon. It’s working against us all the time as it advances through this intricate series of ridges. And all we’re doing is containing it on the northern boundary.” Becca pointed to the area northeast of camp. “As most of you know, according to locals, the winds have a history of shifting with dropping temperatures, and will soon work harder against us.”

“If history repeats itself,” Carl said.

“I’d prefer Becca’s prediction to yours,” Aiden muttered half under his breath.

Becca ignored Carl and nodded in Aiden’s direction. “Assuming the wind shifts, we need to cut off the head of the fire, not just the southern tip, but the western side as well. Here…and here.” She pointed to the key ridge. “It means risking letting the fire spread on the northern flank, but we’ll be stopping its forward progress.” She tapped the map with her pencil. “We can’t delay any longer. By my estimation, this convergence of wind shift, terrain and fire will be more than our resources can handle if we let it get to this point.” Becca tapped the ridge on the map again.

“If the winds shift as the fire reaches this point, even base camp won’t be far enough back for a safe retreat,” Julia added, with a careful look in Becca’s direction.

Becca blinked in surprise, recovered, and gave her assistant a nod of approval.

“That’s a fairly aggressive ground attack. Do we have the manpower for something like that?” someone asked. “I don’t think we have the manpower for something like that.”

“What’s our team status, Pat?” Sirus asked.

“No new teams expected,” Pat, the personnel officer, reported. “In addition to that Washington blaze, state parks are on fire in California. They always get precedence.”

“Air tankers?” Sirus turned to Angus, their sole helicopter pilot.

Angus resettled a baseball cap on top of his long, stringy black locks and shook his head. “Just my bird.” Which could dump water and the fire suppressant, slurry, but not in large enough quantities to make a difference.

The tent became silent.

“Have you thought of calling in volunteers to build lines ahead of the fire?” Spider asked.

“Originally, yes,” Sirus said. “But then the fire got ugly.”

Aiden set down his coffee cup. “It’s still one nasty beast, but we’ve got plenty of room for them to build a break near the road as a last defense. We should shift some resources to build what we can at the ridge where Becca thinks we should make our last stand. What do you think, Bec?”

She nodded slowly. “It’s a start. Not near enough to stop the fire if we get an alignment of forces though.” Alignment of the right wind, slope and fuels would cause a deadly blowup they’d have no chance of stopping.

“What’s plan B?” Sirus drummed his fingers on the table.

“Plan B?” Aiden pushed Carl out of the way, moving closer to Becca. “Shifting some crews instead of all of them. You need a plan C.”

Consoling herself that they stood united, Becca resisted touching Aiden, although she longed to.

“Why the hell do we need a plan C? Don’t you see the pattern here? The score is fire ten, us zip.” Aiden referred to the number of days they’d been on the fire. “If the winds shift,
the fire continues, and we’re screwed. We have no defenses to the south.”

“If,”
Carl said quietly, not even giving Aiden the courtesy of looking him in the face. “Sure, a cold front is coming in, but I’m not convinced the winds will shift.”

“That’s a big if,” Sirus said, shaking his head. “With no more manpower and no air support, we can’t risk building so much real estate in front of the fire. And we can’t use civvies that close to the fire.”

“We’ve got to try. The risk increases if we don’t change our tactics.” Becca wasn’t ready to give in. “Even if it’s just a few crews, they could slow it down.”

“Becca, as much as I want to support you, I can’t switch strategies based only on some local Indian legend.” Sirus sounded apologetic. “Every data point we have indicates the fire will advance to the north.”

“Actually, I found some documentation of the wind shifting when the temperature drops in this area on the Internet,” Julia said, making Becca smile and Sirus frown.

“You could change tactics if you believed your Fire Behavior Analyst,” Aiden said in a low voice, giving Sirus a hard stare. “We’re screwed if we don’t do something.”

“Spider.” Sirus looked displeased.

“I won’t let this deteriorate to one-liners.” Becca held up her hands, pleased when Sirus and Aiden looked a bit repentant. “If you won’t consider a dual defense, I strongly recommend protecting the road by building a line on the south side of this ridge. At the rate the fire is moving, if we move four crews from the northern to the southern flank we should be fine to the north and protected to the south.”

The IC staff became uncomfortably quiet.

“When do you think the front will move in? Just give me your best guess,” Aiden demanded of Carl, his patience long gone.

“Two days from now, maybe three,” Carl said, looking flustered before admitting, “I can’t say exactly when. It could stall or speed up at any time.”

“Friday,” someone murmured.

Angus swore. “I bet on Thursday.”

“Three days,” Aiden appealed to the group. “We’ve got three days to do this.”

“It’s too late to build that dual defense with limited manpower. Unless…” Becca glanced at Angus. There was still hope. “We drop slurry on the western and southern flanks of the fire. That would give the crews enough time to build something substantial without putting them at such risk.” She turned to Sirus. “To be on the safe side, do you think we can get volunteers to build a line at the highway?” Normally, roads were considered a natural firebreak, but this highway was quite narrow, barely two lanes.

“I’ll have our public liaison track down some volunteers for the highway.” Sirus frowned. “But I’m not onboard with the dual defense. It’s too risky.”

“Why not?” Becca wouldn’t let it go. “If the wind starts blowing to the south and the fire eats up the east side of that ridge, we’ll lose the valley and the road.”

“I said no. We could lose control of our northern line.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. This is how you make decisions every day?” Aiden was beside himself. “You look at the facts and say screw them? This is so messed up. We’ve got
three days.
”

“Spider, just because something usually happens—like winds shifting when temperatures drop—doesn’t mean it
will
happen. No offense, Becca,” Sirus added.

Aiden slapped his palm on the map. “Look at the map and tell me Becca’s not right.”

Becca laid a hand on his arm, hoping Aiden would regain his composure, then let it drop when she saw Julia looking at her.

“Becca’s predictions are solid, but our main fire strategy takes precedence over something we’re not sure will even happen.” Sirus was firm.

“Carl?” Aiden looked to the meteorologist.

“I can’t help you on this,” the meteorologist said.

“You mean you won’t.” Spider pounded the table with his fist. “That bites!”

“Are you willing to put your life on the line in support of Becca’s theory?” Sirus asked Aiden.

“No!” Becca wanted Aiden to say the word so desperately that she said it out loud for him, even as Aiden said, “Yes.”

Then he added, “If you’re willing to compromise, I’m willing to lead three to four crews in building a southern defense.”

It was dangerous, or at least it would be when the wind shifted. Everyone was looking at Becca, wondering why she didn’t want Aiden to go, and at Aiden, wondering why he wanted to go.

“All right, Spider. Let’s get you back out in the field,” Sirus said.

Her heart sank. She didn’t want him risking his life. Sometime during the last day or so, Becca had fallen in love with Aiden even though she’d tried so hard not to. Somehow, his determination, compassion and energy, as well as his triumph over a difficult childhood, had found a place in her heart that she’d kept guarded for years. But she couldn’t let the feeling go further than this awareness, otherwise she’d be defenseless when Aiden realized that he’d confused physical attrac
tion and excitement at becoming a father with deeper feelings for her.

They stared at each other. Becca wanted to tell him not to do it. If the winds shifted and they were too slow in their defense… A man couldn’t outrun a fire that raged as fast as a speeding freight train.

“It’s the right thing to do, Becca. I have to believe that. I have to believe in you.” Aiden said this last in a gruff voice, his dark eyes determined. “I’ll go.”

“T
HANKS FOR NOTHING
, Spider. Socrates pulled me off the crew and onto Incident Command,” Golden said, catching up to the rest of the Silver Bend Hot Shots as they were filing into the chow line for a predawn breakfast. The fire was getting closer, so fire crews could bed down and eat in base camp before heading out for twelve to sixteen hours of work.

When his announcement rendered the others speechless, Golden filled them in, more than a trace of frustration in his voice. “Socrates thinks I’ll be able to help here. He said something about your moral standards being too high.”

“Sorry,” Spider mumbled. But if he had to do it all again, he would still stand with Becca.

“No, I’m sorry. I should have known it couldn’t be helped.” Golden rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s wanted me in IC for months. Your being here just postponed the inevitable.”

“Hey, just don’t go on any flyby inspections without your shelter,” Logan advised. “The old man tends to forget he’s in a fire zone when they drop him off somewhere to observe.” About a year ago, Logan had been escorting Socrates and three others in IC when they’d been trapped by a blowup, barely escaping being roasted.

“The good news is that Spider will lead the team for the
rest of the fire,” Golden announced, with a tight nod in Spider’s direction, as he obviously tried to shake off his disappointment at being left back at base camp.

Spider exchanged a quick glance with Logan. They were equals and both would have been up for the job.

“I told Golden it was okay with me days ago when we first heard Socrates wanted Golden on IC,” Logan admitted with a grin. “I thought it might be fun to watch you lead for a change.”

Spider felt a surge of pride. He loved being in command. And to receive such an honor with the approval of his friends made it seem more special. Now if he could just stop the fire from sweeping across the highway, maybe he’d prove to Becca that he was more than a two-Sundays-a-month dad. Perhaps she’d be able to see that they had something worth exploring between them.

“It’ll be one big party.” Doc slapped Spider on the back as if they were about to pull something over on a substitute teacher.

With a shake of her head, Victoria moved ahead of them toward a table. The rest of the group followed.

Spider’s bubble burst. He wasn’t the same man he’d been even a few days ago. He was a man to be taken seriously. A man a son could be proud of.

“We’ll miss you up there, Golden,” Spider said as he reached across the table to shake Golden’s hand.

“Not near as much as I’ll miss you. A desk job.” Golden shook his head. “It’s the first sign of old age.”

Spider had always thought that getting married and having kids was a sign of old age, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“No,” Spider said. “The first sign of old age is when you want the desk job.”

“G
OOD TO SEE YOU BACK OUT
in the field.” Roadhouse stopped in front of Aiden. “Water?”

Roadhouse had been assigned hydration duty. With a five-gallon water tank strapped to his back, Roadhouse was the water boy for three teams, filling their canteens and water bottles. It wasn’t work he preferred, and it was hell on his knees, but it was good to have an excuse to talk to his son.

“Did it work?”

“What?” Aiden thrust out an open canteen.

Roadhouse inserted the spout and toggled the switch so that water flowed into his son’s canteen. “My advice…about her.” He finished filling it and handed it back.

“No.”

“Oh.” The letdown was incredibly abrupt. He’d hoped that helping his son would open the door for him to be a part of his life. Fire season was drawing to a close. Soon, he and Aiden would be going their separate ways. Aiden back to Silver Bend and Roadhouse to heaven knew where. Unless…

“Victoria mentioned you’ve been staring at her,” Aiden said, interrupting Roadhouse’s thoughts.

“Who?”

“Victoria. The Queen.” Aiden gestured to the redheaded woman on his fire crew. “She says you give her funny looks. You aren’t thinking of hitting on her, are you?”

Roadhouse squinted as he looked at the woman. “Her? She reminds me of someone, that’s all.”

“Not another lover.” Aiden’s expression turned to one of disgust.

“No. She’s the spittin’ image of Jeremiah Hackett.”

Aiden took a swig of water, looking more curious than disgusted now. “Who?”

“Jeremiah Hackett. A Hot Shot. Old school. Way before your time.”

Aiden hesitated, glancing over at the woman. “Did he ever serve on Silver Bend?”

“Yeah. Same as me for awhile.”

“Is he alive?”

“Last I heard, but he could have been run over by a bus or something since then.” Roadhouse wanted to smile. They were having a regular chat, like two civilized relatives.

“Would you recognize him if you saw a picture of him?”

Roadhouse paused. “He looks like her. What do I need a picture for?”

“Never mind.” Aiden bent back to his task.

Roadhouse felt his chance slipping away. “Are you going to winter in Silver Bend again this year?” he blurted.

Aiden didn’t turn around. “It’s where I live.”

“It’s a nice town. Thought I might check it out this winter.” Roadhouse tried to be casual, when in reality, so much hinged on Aiden’s response.

Aiden’s voice was flat and unwelcoming. “Why? What could possibly draw you there?”

“Well, I—”

Aiden wasn’t through driving him away. “It’s not as if you have family or anything in Silver Bend. I don’t have family there.”

“But—”

Turning slightly, Aiden lowered his voice. “Don’t you dare say it. Family is about sacrifice and emotional support, two things you know nothing about.”

It took Roadhouse a few seconds to say what he’d been
wanting to say to Aiden for years. “Give me a chance, son.” He swallowed thickly. “I’d like the chance to do those things. I know I can never make up for your childhood but I’d like the opportunity to start fresh.”

When Aiden didn’t answer, Roadhouse walked away with a lump so large in his throat he could barely breathe. He didn’t notice that Aiden had stopped working and was watching him walk away.

“Y
OU LOOK LIKE YOU COULD USE
some company.”

Becca glanced up from her turkey-casserole dinner to find an old firefighter standing on the other side of the picnic table with a plate of food. She didn’t much feel like company, having been worrying about Aiden all day, but the older man’s smile seemed genial enough, so she nodded. In her experience, most firefighters just wanted someone to listen to them, so she probably wouldn’t be asked to provide much to the conversation.

It wasn’t until he took his helmet off that she realized he was the firefighter that had been staring at Victoria the first day they’d met.

“Roadhouse.” He offered his hand.

Not sure if she should stay or leave, Becca made sure his hand was clean before she shook it. “Rebecca Thomas.”

“It’s been a long fire season,” he noted before taking a bite of his casserole. He also had two thin white-bread sandwiches stacked in front of him, along with a big pile of mustard potato salad, a cluster of grapes and a small package of cookies. Despite the amount of food on his plate, he was gaunt.

“Longer than most years,” Becca agreed. “I work mostly in California. Are you Montana crew?”

“I picked up an open slot on a private crew in Montana a
couple of months ago, but I spent years working in the Southwest. The fire season is long there.” There was something about his eyes that seemed familiar, a deep loneliness. “Makes the off time of winter go faster.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

Before she could stop herself, Becca wondered what Aiden did during the winter. Was he like some of the younger Hot Shots who took on seasonal jobs at ski resorts during the cold months? Or did he just take the time off?

“I saw you talking to a friend of mine the other day,” Roadhouse said, interrupting her musings.

The baby kicked her bladder, as if in warning.

“A guy named Aiden Rodas,” he continued. “He’s a good guy, don’t you think?”

She’d been expecting him to say something about Victoria. She’d feared he’d say or do something weird. Caught off guard, she hesitated. “I… I barely know him.”

“He’s an assistant super on the Silver Bend Hot Shots.”

Not knowing what to say, Becca took a bite of her casserole.

“I’ve known him since before he was a rookie,” Roadhouse went on. “He’s a good kid….” He gave her a strange look and corrected himself. “Er…man. He hangs around with a good group of guys. And he’s reliable.”

Something cold and uncomfortable gripped Becca’s stomach. “You sound as if you’re trying to convince me of something.”

He picked up a fork. “Naw. I mean, maybe I am. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression about him.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Roadhouse was trying to look innocent and not really succeeding. There was something about his eyes, shifting to the side beneath slim silver brows, that indicated he was uncomfortable with her question.

“Why are you so concerned that I have the right impression of him?” She was getting goose bumps now.

“Well, I…you know…”

“I’d like the truth, or you can take that plate and eat elsewhere,” Becca stated coolly, even though her palms had started to sweat. When had she become such a heartless witch?

When she’d decided her baby needed protection. And if her reputation was ruined, she’d have a hard time working in fire, much less landing a management position with NIFC in Boise.

Roadhouse stared at her for what seemed like a full minute, then he looked over each shoulder as if concerned that someone might hear him, finally whispering to her, “I’m his father.” He blew out a breath. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to tell somebody that.” Then he looked suggestively at Becca’s tummy. As if he knew she carried his grandchild.

The cold knot in Becca’s belly spread through her veins until her hands and face felt numb.

“Holy crap.” Roadhouse jumped up and raced around the table. “Don’t pass out on me now. Aiden would skin me alive.”

“I’m fine,” Becca protested, but Roadhouse had already encouraged her to turn sideways and bend over, crowding the baby, crowding her lungs. “I just need a drink of water.”

“Humor me, missy, and count to ten.”

“Then will you let me up?” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see them attracting attention. Her image as the woman who could keep up with any man was quickly being dismantled.

“Then we’ll see if you have any color in your cheeks.” He kept one hand pressed down between her shoulder blades, even as he knelt awkwardly next to her.

“I can’t believe he told you about me. About the baby,” Becca mumbled, eyeing him between sips of water when he finally let her up.

Roadhouse rubbed his gray-stubbled cheeks. “He didn’t tell me anything. I just know my son, is all. I can’t wait to see the little booger.”

“He didn’t tell me you were working this fire.” Becca wondered if Aiden would have. Irrationally, she was upset that he hadn’t.

“We’re not exactly on good terms right now.” Roadhouse’s smile was rueful, as if the situation was more painful than he wanted to admit. “You know how it is sometimes between fathers and sons.”

Having come from a loving family with open channels of communication, Becca didn’t know, but she nodded numbly anyway.

“He’s a good kid. He really is. You should see him out on the fire line. He just whips those men along. And when they get tired, he’s the first to make a joke to lighten their spirits.” Pride rang in his words.

Becca couldn’t resist asking about Aiden’s childhood, which he’d painted as being incredibly bleak.

“It wasn’t all roses for the kid, I’m sorry to say. Some of that was my fault. He was…” Roadhouse looked up at the smoke-laced sky while he gathered his thoughts. “He was a handful, always moving, couldn’t sit still in church to save his life. He rode his bike everywhere. And friends…man, he had a lot of friends. I couldn’t keep up with them all.” And then Roadhouse grinned, the expression as impish as Aiden’s.

She couldn’t help but smile at the love Roadhouse obviously had for his son. Becca could almost picture Aiden at
age eight or ten—a huge grin on his little face, pedaling his bicycle past the other boys, charming the minister out of punishing him for being a wiggle-worm in church. That grin of his had probably saved Aiden’s sorry butt many a time.

“And that kid was so determined. Once he set his mind to it, there was no stopping him.”

“I can see that,” Becca said, loosening up for the first time all day.

“W
HY DON’T WE JUST COYOTE OUT
? All this back and forth to base camp is cutting into my sleep time,” Doc groused, voicing what many of them had to be thinking—if they went
coyote out,
as Hot Shots called camping out in the field, life would be better all around. At this point, the fire was so close to base camp that it made no sense to spend their time off in the field.

“You like hot food and showers, don’t you?” Spider leaned forward so that Doc could hear him, which was dangerous considering they were in the back of a truck bouncing down the rutted fire road on the precipice of a mountain at a speed that made even Spider nervous.

“The days just seem really short is all.” Doc shrugged.

Lately, Doc was too gung ho for Spider’s taste, which was saying a lot, since Spider was usually the gung ho one.

Maybe Spider was getting old. Or maybe it was unexpected fear that he wouldn’t live to see his kid’s birthday. He couldn’t pinpoint any one reason he’d become a nervous Nellie.

The truck came to an abrupt halt in the staging area of base camp, sending everyone slamming into everyone else’s shoulders. Spider was crushed by Chainsaw, sending air whooshing out of his lungs. Several curses went up. With a dark look, Doc jumped out of the back of the truck and headed with
purposeful strides to the truck driver—some pimply-faced teen who seemed more concerned with speed than safety.

Victoria hopped off the truck before Spider. She scanned what she could see of the camp before picking up her gear and heading to the small area of base camp the Silver Bend Hot Shots had claimed as their own. Spider bet she was looking for Becca.