by Sally John
“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
Max 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
Mom!” 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.
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.”
Claire 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.
Claire 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.
Fifty-two
Max 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.
Fifty-three
Claire 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 ch
eek. 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.”
Fifty-four
Crazy 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.
