Wildfire

by Allison Martin

  I would be mad, but I know she’s excited and probably nervous. This is more than baseball. It's a team, it's coached by her uncle, and her dad would be there to watch.

  "Are you sure you're okay with this? Comfortable I mean?" The engine of Dad's truck roars to life and the clicks of our seat belts were in sync.

  "Yeah, of course," she says with genuine excitement. "It'll be cool. To play with a team."

  "And you're okay about Jet coaching, and Xan being there?"

  Her nose wrinkles and she thinks hard, like she doesn't quite understand what I mean. Then her face settles back and she tosses her glove in the air.

  "Yup," she replies, her sureness thick in her voice. Her innocence still protected her from the overwhelming complexity of our situation. Then she turns an accusing eye on me.

  "Wait? Are you okay with it?"

  I grip the steering wheel and stare straight ahead as the truck kicks gravel and dust billowing out behind us. Her stare is burning through me but I only shrug.

  Because I have no idea how to articulate to my nine-year-old that I’m terrified. Scared shitless of her knowing Xan, of her falling in love with him and with his family, of her finding out the truth about her parents. How they were young, and dumb, and defiant. That her conception was born of rebellion and infatuation. Of our addiction to each other. I don't want her to know how easy it was to tear us apart, proving that what Xan and I had wasn't real love or passion. It was teenage hormones mixed with forbidden fruit. We were never supposed to be together, which is what drove our desire for each other.

  My mother's notes to my father flash through my mind but I push out all the bad thoughts as fast as I can. Today is about Millie.

  I turn to my daughter as we reach town. "Are you ready?"

  The pure joy that beams from her could sustain me forever.

  Chapter Eleven

  BRIGGS

  The field is behind the school on the North East side of town. As we turn off Main Street I’m hit with memory after memory of my youth. Loitering in front of Patty's, sneaking cigarettes and smoking them in the alley behind the post office, walking along the dirt path that ran parallel to the chain-link fence around the school, sneaking into the trees behind the track to make out with Xan during my fifth period spare.

  The school is small compared to the ones in Surrey. In Raston there’s one school for every grade. Five years old to eighteen, you spent every day of your childhood in this building. A thought that squeezes me with fear. What if Millie wants to stay here? Go to school here?

  Live with Xan.

  My lungs tighten and I park the truck in the parking lot, closing my eyes as soon as it isn't in gear.

  Millie puts a hand on my shoulder. "You okay, Mom?"

  I suck in a long heavy breath that packs down all my fears and tuck them into the back of my mind.

  "I'm fine, Sweetie. Let's get moving so we aren't late for your first practice." I do my best to put on my excited for you voice but I’m not sure it’s working.

  "Okay," Millie says with some skepticism in her voice, but in half a second her easily distracted child brain sees the other kids on the field and she explodes across the parking lot, completely forgetting she's a little shy.

  It’s a beautiful thing to witness.

  "Well, hello to you to," Xan's deep voice rings behind me and I spin to face his tall, toned frame. He holds up a hand as if he’s waving to Millie's back as she runs toward Jet.

  I crossed my arms as if it’ll make me stop noticing how handsome he is with his unshaved face and snug t-shirt over loose jeans.

  "She's excited. Don't take it personally."

  "Too late," Xan grins, his eyes deepening into playful pools of inviting blue like a sun warmed lake hidden deep in the forest.

  Words escape me but the awkward silence doesn't last long when Delilah Ryker jogs toward us in cowboy boots, cut off jean shorts, a tight long-sleeved purple baseball T, and a Raston Wildcat’s softball hat.

  "Briggitte, dah-ling," she drawls trying to sound like my French father, but it comes out New York socialite. I laugh and stepped into her instinctively, a tight hug filled with spicy perfume and memories.

  "How are you, you crazy bitch?" She holds me out at arm’s length. She’s taller than me even though she's five years younger than me. It’s strange to see her all grown up and not her awkward twelve-year-old scrawny frame. I glance over to Millie standing off to the side in a group of young kids, her shyness keeping her from fully jumping in, but her excitement holding her in place, close to Jet who’s shaped like a house next to all the string bean kids.

  "I'm good," I answer Del but she’s already striding down the grass slope toward the field. Xan falls into step with me and together we followed her.

  "She was determined to come. She really wants to meet Millie." He tucks his hands in his pockets, his nerves flowing off him. His desperation is kind of sweet.

  "That's fine. Millie is pretty pumped about the exponential growth in aunts and uncles," I say, smiling at my own joke. I have no brothers or sisters. My mother is dead, and my father forced me to choose between my baby and him, which we all know how that ended up.

  The light tone of the joke falters for only a moment but Xan catches it.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, watching his feet as we walk through the manicured grass.

  “Yeah,” I say, then sigh because even after all this time Xan knows I’m lying. He gives me the same disbelieving headshake as he did when I was sixteen and broke up with him, telling him I didn’t love him. He absorbed me through dark lashes with ocean wave eyes and his thick lips pressed together to pull his dimple into his left cheek.

  “You absolutely do love me,” he had said tipping my chin, so I was forced to look at him. “You can’t hide your heart from me, babe, so why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”

  “Honestly?” I sigh as I watched Del shake Millie’s hand while my daughter is awestruck by doppelgänger.

  “Always the truth, Briggs,” Xan replies.

  I push all my nerves out on a big breath and steel myself to the truth.

  “I don’t want to share her,” I say and Xan’s expression flips to shock. I quickly keep going. “It’s been me and Millie for ten years. No one else. She’s all I have and now I have to share her with you and with all your family. Even my dad is showing more interest in her now. Not seeing her the reason for all our family trouble.”

  Tears burn my eyes and I quickly swipe at them as if threatening them to never reveal themselves. I laugh incredulously at my own confession.

  “God, I’m the worst. What kind of psycho mother am I?”

  “One that wants to keep her child protected.” Xan’s tone is flat, and we sit down in the grass next to each other. Del helped Jet with the warmups and Millie looks over her shoulder waving and smiling like the happiest kid in the world. So completely oblivious to the chaos that brought her here.

  “Believe me, I get what you’re feeling.” Xan waves to Millie and leans back, bracing himself with his hands. His face shadowed and more memories swirl around us.

  Him showing up to our creek, his sister Tabby on his hip and he would kiss me quietly and I would know. We never talked about it, he never mentioned it, but protecting Tabby was a mission for all the Ryker siblings. Del fought back, Pris had an iron will. Tabby was too sensitive to be a Ryker. And some nights—the particularly bad ones, I presumed—either Xan or Jet would take her out of the house. We would lie with her in the box of the truck under piles of warm blankets and find shapes in the stars until she’d fall asleep. Then Xan and I would sit on the end of the box and talk. Sometimes those were my favorite nights.

  “I’m glad she gets to though,” I add and Xan shifts uncomfortably. “I’m glad she gets a chance to know you.”

  Silence falls between us and there’s nothing awkward or uncomfortable about it. There never was. Millie is the only other person in the world I can be happily silent with.

>   It takes maybe ten minutes before Xan to jump up and start arguing with Jet about drills. Del throws her arms out in exasperation and stalks over to me, plopping down beside me.

  “Those two.” She shakes her head.

  “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” I reply.

  “Right? They are the most pig-headed men I’ve ever met.” She kicks off her boots and digs her brightly painted toes in the grass. Del has always been the girl-y Ryker. Other than softball, everything was about fashion and boys and celebrity gossip. It was annoying when she was little, but she apparently didn’t grow out of it. Her make up is perfect, her hair is expertly colored, and her fake nails glitter in the sun as she plucks a blade of grass.

  “It sucks to have brothers who love and protect you,” I tease and Del leans over bumping my shoulder with hers.

  “See? You get it.” Del grins, watching Xan as he talks to Millie with a hand on her shoulder and excitement in his posture. “She’s so beautiful.”

  I laugh out loud, attracting attention from other parents sitting in the grass a short distance away. They’ve been staring at us since we got here. Word has spread around town of my return and the new Ryker scandal. I just don’t care. I can’t.

  “Del, she’s almost identical to you.”

  Del sticks her tongue out at me. “You know what I mean.”

  “Thank you. Being her mom is my whole world.”

  The air thickens around us and I don’t realize the effect of my words until Del lets out a big breath and tucks her feet back in her boots, leaving me sitting stunned on the ground. She heads in the direction of the bathrooms—a small brick building with a couple stalls off the far end of the school field.

  I’ve obviously offended her, but if I remember anything about Delilah Ryker it’s that she has two emotions—delightfully bubbly, or viciously angry.

  Jet gives the girls a water break and Millie crashes to the ground beside me.

  “You having fun?”

  “Mom, there’s a game this Saturday. Jet said I could play. But it’s in Morleau, not here. Can I go? Can I play?” Her words all topple out on heavy breaths. Her cheeks are red from running and her eyes sparkle in a way that makes it clear that my only option is to say yes.

  “Sure, sweetheart. Of course, you can. I can take you.”

  Her face falls and she glances at the field to Jet, still in heated talks with Xan.

  “Um, well. The team is going. On a bus. I sort of, um” she frowns as she thinks of how to let me down lightly and I realize that she’s never had to ask to go somewhere without me. It’s a first for her. Her first trip out. Exciting for her. A kick to the gut for me.

  “Oh right,” I pat her leg. “Of course, they’d take a bus. Silly me.”

  My heart breaks at the thought that my little girl wasn’t little anymore. To be happy and sad at the exact same time—to be proud and disappointed—is too jarring for me and I stand, dusting off my pants.

  “I’m going to go get my water bottle from the car, okay?” I say and Millie nods, jumping up and heading back to the field.

  Del’s back, and she feels more stable. She holds out her shirt, rubbing at a red stain along the bottom hem, seemingly trying to glare it out.

  She startles when she bumps into me. “Oh, hey. Where are you going?”

  “To my truck,” I say, and she falls in step with me.

  “So how long are you planning on staying?” she asks like a left hook I’m not expecting. I take some time to think about her question.

  “I’m not going to take her away from Xan,” I answer and Del scowls.

  “That’s not what I was asking,” she defends herself like only Del can. Always on the defense.

  “Isn’t it?” I challenge her and a flash of anger burns like alcohol in a pan but it’s out as fast as it flares up. The question is passive aggressive, and I know passive aggressive. I speak it fluently. She wants to know if I’m going to bolt and take Millie with me never to return to Raston again.

  Admittedly, it’s tempting.

  The thought of staying forever makes my body go cold and stiff and my heart beat wildly like an animal caught in a trap.

  “It’s going to take a while for me to get the house ready for sale. My dad’s in a cast for six more weeks then has rehab. There’s a lot to do. I’ll be here for the summer for sure. And of course, Xan will be consulted before I make any decisions. I’m just trying to get through a day at a time.”

  Del seems content with my answer but her expression twists into one of shock. I follow her gaze to my dad’s truck. Scrawled across the windshield in thick red letters it says: FUCK YOU LYING BITCH

  The only thing working on my body is my eyelids, because blinking is all I manage to do.

  “Well, that’s rude,” Del says but I only blink in response. Her full red lips pout in disappointment. A red stain on the bottom of her shirt.

  “What the fuck?” Xan’s voice sounds and I jump clear out of my skin. “Who did this?”

  Xan spins in a circle, his shoulders tense and ready to lash out.

  “Someone probably isn’t happy I’m back in town,” I finally said, finding my voice and Xan’s still scanning the surroundings, those absorbent eyes taking in every detail. I frantically look around. If I’ve been found again, then I’ll have to leave. Please let this be an old high school mean girl or one of the mom’s who’ve been staring at me and whispering all practice.

  “This is a kids baseball practice,” Xan continues, suddenly zeroing in on Del.

  He grabs her shirt pointing to the stain. “What’s this?”

  “Xan,” I start, falling back into the same space I occupied as a teenager. Saving Xan from himself. “Don’t.”

  Del takes a moment before the accusation settles and she yanks her shirt back. “Screw you, dude. I didn’t do that.”

  “It’s something you’ve done before,” he says, and the siblings square off and desperation fills me to the brink. I step between them, forcing distance.

  “You guys. Don’t let Millie see you do this.” A sweep of our surrounds shows us completely alone. No one has noticed.

  Del fishes through her bag and throws the tube of sticky red lip gloss at her brother.

  “It’s not even the same color.” She stomps off down the road and I scoop up the tube. It was liquid, not a stick and the tiny little applicator would have taken thirty years for her to do it.

  “She didn’t do it, Xan.” I say, not bothering to hide my disappointment. Obviously, his hero complex is still going strong. Maybe even stronger than it was as kids.

  I hold the lipstick up to the windshield. “It’s not the same color.”

  Xan flickers between the tube and the words, his jaw tight and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “It looks like the same color to me.”

  I roll my eyes at him and yank open the door to the truck.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Briggs.” He grips the door to stop me from closing it.

  Anger flares through my whole body, setting me alight with fury. I slip down from the truck, put both hands on his chest and shove him backward. He stumbles slightly and his features twist in shock.

  “Listen to me,” I start, jabbing him in the chest with my finger. “I’m not sixteen anymore. This shit doesn’t fly. You will never speak to me like that ever again, understood?”

  His cheeks flush and the anger vanishes from his eyes. He appears shamed and sheepish, but I don’t let up.

  “I’ve been on my own for ten years, Xan. I don’t need you to protect me. What I do need from you is to go back to the field. Tell our daughter that I needed to run some errands and then bring her home to me when practice is done. Consider it your first test as a responsible father.”

  I jump back in the truck and slam the door, feeling a rush of exhilaration at speaking up for myself. Ten years ago, I would have melted in his arms and let him shield me from everything the world threw at me.

  The truc
k roars to life and I roll down the window. “You’ll bring her home?”

  He nods. “Can I take her for pizza with the team first?” His voice is hesitant and airy like a child who’d been scolded.

  “She needs to be home before dark.”

  I shift the truck into gear and drive away leaning sharply to the left to see the road through the letters.

  Up the road, I slow down beside Del and give her an I’m sorry your brother is a douche eye roll so she jumps into the truck.

  “I need a car wash,” I say and Del shakes her head.

  “Go to the bar. We have that industrial grease soap. Lipstick doesn’t come off worth shit.”

  I give her a knowing grin and she matches my expression.

  “I didn’t do this,” she says with force and crosses her arms. “But Nancy Cartwrite? That dumb bitch had it coming.”

  I shake my head and drive as fast as I can to the lonely hotel parked at the end of main street looking like it should have been quarantined about thirty years ago. But you never take away the only bar in a small town. That would be cause for revolt.

  Chapter Twelve

  BRIGGS

  “So, are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Del asks leaning against the truck with a beer in one hand and a french fry in the other. She nods to the nasty words I scrub off with boiling hot soapy water.

  “Honestly, I have no clue. I’m thinking someone in town is pissed I came home. Does Xan have any crazy ex-girlfriends?”

  I have a sinking feeling that I know what this is about but maybe fate will hand me a miracle and make it an angry ex.

  Del laughs and takes a swig of her beer.

  “What does that mean?” I pause, throwing my rag in the bucket and wiping my forehead with my arm.

  “You’re Xan’s only crazy ex-girlfriend.” She snaps my jaw shut with her perfectly manicured fingernail. “It’s true. Not a single one since you.”

  “That can’t be right,” I say blushing at the memories of a young man with a very active sex drive. Xan was a physical being. I only had to look at him a certain way and he was ready to go. There’s no way he didn’t date.