A Time to Mend

by Sally John

  Now and then a helicopter whirred overhead, tracking their progress. Once it seemed about to land. It only stirred up a windstorm of ash that swept particles into their eyes and made them cough more.

  “Oh . . .” Lexi groaned.

  Everyone slowed. Claire looked to where Lexi pointed. The park-ing area lay directly before them. There were three burned-out vehicles: the tractor and her and Lexi’s cars. Thinking of the treasures she’d packed in her trunk and backseat, she reached out and slipped her hand into Indio’s.

  They moved on. Moments later the house came into view. It still stood. Black streaks marred the white walls, but it still stood.

  It just didn’t have any windows.

  Indio moaned.

  Eddie spoke. “We’ll go in first.”

  Ben heaved a breath.

  Claire said, “We’re right behind you.”

  His soft smile poured courage into her. Whatever lay ahead, she and her family were not alone.

  The shocks hit her in waves, one scene after another battering at her psyche.

  Charred, twisted, melted, unidentifiable things. Glass, draperies, and blinds gone. Ash where rugs had lain. Buckled floors. The inner courtyard devoid of flowers and plants, furnished with chunks of burnt wicker.

  She ached for her in-laws as they surveyed shadowy room after room. Ben and Indio seemed to shrink before her very eyes. The life they’d known for nearly sixty years had vanished overnight.

  She cried with them as they realized one loss after another. It seemed they had felt total devastation at the sight of her car, with its contents of photos and mementos obviously destroyed. But the pain now deepened beyond measure.

  Alone in the courtyard, Claire hugged herself. Why had this happened? What was the point? Ben and Indio did not deserve this. Something besides the physical had been eradicated. The sense of history was gone . . . of the first Beaumonts forging a home in the wilderness . . . of the generations that followed—good and bad, but still an unbroken thread that held the spirit of the place together.

  “Hallelujah!” Indio’s shout came from the kitchen.

  Claire rushed inside.

  At the far end of the room, her in-laws stood near the blown-out window, silhouetted in the strange light that wasn’t exactly natural light.

  Indio laughed, her hands raised in the air. “God is so good. Take a look at this!”

  Ben hooted. “Ain’t that something?”

  Claire walked toward them and followed their gaze to the side wall.

  Indio’s wall of crosses was completely intact . . . as was the small table alongside it . . . as was the book atop the table.

  Ben reverently lifted the thick, old family Bible with both hands and whispered, “Ain’t that something.”

  Tears now streaming down her face, Indio covered her mouth and whispered, “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh. Blessed be His name. His Word is all we need.”

  Claire wiped her eyes. They would grieve the losses, but in the end they would still trust.

  She wished she had their faith.

  The medics insisted on examining all of them.

  Claire didn’t have the energy to protest and waited her turn on the railroad tie steps on the terrace above the parking area, sipping from a water bottle. Ben and Indio were inside the ambulance; Lexi and Chad and Zak leaned against it.

  Eddie draped a blanket around her and sat down.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “You looked cold.”

  “No. My teeth always chatter like this.”

  He put his face close to hers. “What’s your name?”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m back on duty.” He touched the side of her face. “Tell me your name. Please.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you just went through the worst imaginable night.” He gently took the bottle from her hand, set it aside, and pinched the skin on the back of her hand.

  “Ouch.”

  “Sorry. My technique wanes after such nights. See the skin sticking up? You’re dehydrated.” He gave her the water. “Drink up. Now what’s your name?”

  “Claire. Beaumont. What’s yours?”

  “Edward James. Where do you live?”

  “I told you. And you live in Vista.”

  “Do you feel dizzy?”

  “Floaty. So how come these steps didn’t burn, Edward James?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t know, and let’s not change the subject. Another ambulance will be here in two minutes. You’re first in line. Take another drink.”

  She sipped from the bottle. It hurt to drink. The water trickled down her raw throat.

  “Your family is headed here, too, right behind the ambulance.”

  “Here?” Earlier talk indicated they would not be able to get through.

  “Yeah. The roads are opened up. The fire is contained to the north. Santa Reina is out of danger. Anyway . . .” He paused, his face toward the horizon. “Things are going to get crazy now.”

  She studied him. Like the others—and, she imagined, like her-self—his face was smudged, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed in dark circles, his appearance disheveled. Punch-drunk with exhaustion, he laughed one minute and became deathly silent the next.

  His tired eyes returned to her. “Claire, your daughter saved our lives.”

  She nodded.

  “Don’t let her forget that.”

  “Okay.”

  “And you’re alive. Don’t forget that.”

  She frowned, not understanding him.

  “I mean, the past is dead. That memory you saw? It’s over, and you’re a beautiful, intriguing woman with your whole life ahead of you.”

  “O-okay.”

  “You said some things that, well, that made me think— Let’s put it this way. Take care of yourself, and if you need anything at all, I’m there for you.”

  Unsure of what he said, she cleared her throat and probed. “‘There.’ You mean Vista?”

  “Right. Number is in the phone book.”

  She stared back at him for a long moment. “Okay.”

  Lexi whooped.

  Claire gazed down the lane. At the last curve she saw them. An ambulance, lights flashing. Then Max’s car. Behind it, Kevin’s SUV. Dust flew everywhere as they sped closer.

  Lexi yelled and jumped wildly about, waving her blanket-covered arms.

  Claire felt no relief, no joy. Had her heart dried up as well as her throat? Maybe it had dehydrated itself through the night’s long ordeal.

  She didn’t even feel anger toward Max for missing—by his own choice—the worst experience of her life.

  She felt nothing.

  Seventy-two

  Max yanked on the car’s back door handle before Danny braked.

  “Dad!” The car skidded to a halt. “Wait—!”

  Max was out the door. He spotted Lexi, already at Danny’s open door, waving across the car to him.

  “You’re okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mom?”

  Lexi pointed as Danny scooped her into his arms, both laughing, whooping, and hollering.

  Max stumbled across the gravel, straight toward Claire. The scene before him scarcely registered as he rushed past. His father’s face peered through the open doors at the back of an ambulance. From a second ambulance, the one they’d followed in, medics emerged. The hacienda loomed in the desolate landscape, gaping black holes where windows had been.

  Claire sat on the terrace steps, waiflike, engulfed in a blanket, hair matted, tear tracks on her cheeks, eyes wide.

  He collapsed beside her and enfolded her in his arms. “Oh, Claire! Oh, Claire! My sweetheart.” Rocking gently back and forth, he kissed her head, pressed it against his chest, and sobbed. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d never hold you again. Oh, Claire, I am so sorry, so sorry for everything! Please forgive me. Please for-give me.”

  Her body convulsed.

  “Are you hurt?” He tilted
back and caressed her cheek. “Are you all right?”

  Blank, unfocused eyes gazed at him. Her chapped lips parted slightly. “You.” Her whisper rasped. She swallowed with obvious difficulty. “You weren’t there.”

  He pulled her to himself again. “Oh, honey. I am so, so sorry.”

  Another tremor shook her body.

  Dear God. Help me! Help me win her back.

  His prayer sprang out of nowhere. He was at the bottom now, calling on a God he wasn’t sure existed.

  Claire’s tone had revealed no malice, no anger. She’d simply stated the fact that he wasn’t there as she would state the fact that the day was warm. The information made no impact on her whatsoever.

  She wasn’t going to forgive him.

  God was the only answer. If He existed. If He cared.

  Wordlessly, Max held Claire more tightly, swaying back and forth, back and forth . . . just as he’d held the kids when they were little and got hurt . . . as he’d clung to a pillow the night he learned his brother was missing in Vietnam.

  Oh, God!

  “Sir, excuse me. Sir! Please.”

  He looked up and through his tears saw a young woman with a stethoscope around her neck, leaning toward him. Her gloved hand was on his shoulder.

  “Sorry, sir. We need to examine her.”

  Max released his hold on Claire and wiped his eyes. “She’s all right, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she should be just fine. She hiked all the way out of there. But we want to check her vitals.” She knelt before Claire. “Hi, there. My name’s Annie. What’s yours?”

  She blinked, that dazed expression still on her face. “Claire.”

  “Nice to meet you, Claire. Can you walk to the ambulance? We parked it right here, three steps away. Hold on to my arm.”

  Wiping tears from his own cheeks, Max watched them move away and stood to follow. His legs wobbled, and he grasped the rail to steady himself.

  “She’ll be fine.” A nearby voice surprised him.

  He turned and saw a man standing a few feet away, his face smudgy like Claire’s. A fireman.

  “She’s dehydrated,” the man said. “I kept trying to get her to drink more, but . . .” He shrugged.

  “Who are you?”

  “Eddie.” He stepped to him and thrust his hand forward. “You must be Max.”

  Max shook the hand, confused.

  “I’m one of the firefighters who was with your family,” the man explained.

  “The three missing guys!”

  Eddie smiled in a tired way. “Yeah.”

  Max grabbed his hand again and shook it heartily. “Thank you for saving them!”

  “No, thank you. It was your Lexi who saved us.”

  “Lexi? What did she do?”

  “Let her tell you about it. You’re one lucky man to have such a family.” The tall, lean firefighter straightened and spoke toward an approaching medic. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

  As he limped away, Max sought out Lexi. She was in the middle of a group hug, surrounded by Jenna, Erik, and Danny. The four of them laughed and danced like a group of silly toddlers. Kevin knelt beside Samson, grinning as the dog licked his face.

  Max lumbered over to them, desperately longing to laugh and dance and hug the dog.

  Danny spotted him and moved aside.

  Max enveloped Lexi in a bear hug. “My baby. My baby.”

  She embraced him silently.

  “Hey.” He held her at arm’s length. “I heard you’re the hero.”

  Lexi smiled. “Heroine.”

  Max tucked a long strand of her hair behind an ear. “Heroine. I’m so proud of you.”

  “All I did was take us to the back entrance into the gold mine. We spent the night in there.”

  “The back—” He laughed. “No way. How did you know about that?”

  Words gushed from his youngest, the most reserved of his four. He saw a sparkle in her green-brown eyes as she described the long ordeal. She clung to him, her face animated, first with joy and then, after a time, with fear.

  When the tears began, he pulled her close again.

  I should have been there.

  Hugs and smiles and tears continued to be exchanged among them all. The kids crowded at the rear of one ambulance. Claire was inside of it, out of sight. Max went to the other ambulance to greet his parents.

  To his chagrin, they appeared more shaken and feeble than he imagined. Considering their age and what they’d been through, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. But still, he thought, overnight? Ben and Indio Beaumont were not frail people. His mother liked to think of herself as a squaw in the image of her grandmother, a robust woman who’d worked until the day she died at the age of one hundred and three. His dad boasted about his rugged stock inherited via some Brit named John Beaumont, who sailed to the new world in 1635. Not to mention the great-great-grandfather who’d clawed his way through rock into a gold mine and built the estate out of nothing. Pioneers, every last one of them.

  “Dad.” Max embraced his father.

  “Max.” Ben’s voice caught. “Max. We made it.”

  “You made it.” He leaned back to look at him. “How are you?”

  “Okay. They want your mom in the hospital, just for observation. She’s hooked up to an IV. Dehydration. Her blood pressure’s gone haywire.”

  “How about yours?”

  “Just great.” His smile faltered. “Got the sap snuffed clean out of me, though.”

  Max drew his dad to himself again and squeezed.

  I should have been there.

  Claire was gone. His family was gone.

  Panic wrenched Max around in a circle. He spotted the kids moving toward the house, Erik bringing up the rear.

  “Erik!”

  He turned.

  Max held his hands out in a gesture of helplessness.

  His son jerked a thumb toward the second ambulance. “She’s still in there.”

  Max blew out a breath and walked to the vehicle. Through the opened back doors, he peered inside.

  Claire lay on a stretcher, covered with a blanket. The medic named Annie held her wrist. The fireman named Eddie held her other one.

  Max climbed inside. Claire’s eyes were shut. Her jacket was off and her bare arms exposed. A blood pressure cuff was attached to one, the line from an IV drip bag to the other.

  “Hi,” Max said.

  Eddie looked up. “Hey, Max.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He exchanged a glance with Annie. She said, “She’ll be fine. Won’t you, Claire?”

  His wife murmured something through dry, colorless lips.

  “Right.” Annie gestured with her head at Eddie.

  He moved toward Max, indicating they should get out of the vehicle. Once on the ground, they stepped away from it.

  Eddie said, “She’ll be fine.”

  “I heard that already. What’s wrong?”

  “She’s in shock, most likely from dehydration. I know she didn’t drink much through the night. She couldn’t this morning; the water ran out early. We had fruit, but she didn’t eat. Another reason she would have lost more fluid than the rest of us is because she vomited.”

  Max closed his eyes briefly.

  “I don’t know if tears can be measured, but she cried enough to fill . . .” Eddie cleared his throat. “She’ll be fine.”

  Max felt the backhoe again, digging, digging, digging away at his stomach. He locked his knees in place before he keeled over. This stranger knew what Claire had or hadn’t eaten and drunk. He’d seen her be sick. He’d seen her cry so much, he questioned if shed tears could pull excessive fluid from the body that was lying spaced-out on a stretcher.

  “She’ll be fine,” Eddie repeated.

  “Will be. What about now? How is she right now?”

  “Well, she’s conscious, but exhausted. Nobody slept, of course. The hike just about wasted one of my guys, and he runs marathons. Your parents are in amazing shap
e.” Eddie took a deep breath. “Her blood pressure’s too low, her heart rate too high. The IV will help. They’ll transport her to the hospital. The doctor will want to keep her there until she’s stabilized. I should have made sure she drank. I should have noticed her condition sooner.”

  “No, it was my job.” Max shook his head. “I should have been there.”

  For his parents. For his daughter. For his wife . . . I should have been there.

  And yet he hadn’t been.

  Seventy-three

  The Beaumonts filled up a large section of the emer-gency room. Claire observed them from her bed. They were a noisy bunch, moving in and out of exam rooms, milling about in the aisle.

  Hospital personnel kept saying, “Excuse me,” to Erik, Danny, and Kevin. Max and Jenna gave thinly disguised suggestions in their usual “I’m in charge” voices. Ben kept talking about the Passover to anyone within earshot. Lexi asked every nurse she saw about the three fire-fighters. Indio reminded her of their true names: Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.

  Claire wished she could slip back into her fog.

  Events up at the hacienda remained a blur. Her last clear picture was of Indio’s intact wall of crosses. She’d sat on the steps, talked with Eddie, and felt reality slowly slide away. She vaguely remembered her kids peering into the ambulance, calling out to her, crowd-ing and buzzing like a swarm of bees. Claire tried to reassure them not to worry by emitting a croaky “I’m fine!” until Annie, the kind paramedic, shooed them off. Claire immediately succumbed to that floating sensation she had described to Eddie. Details of the ride down the hill and entry into the hospital were all lost in a haze.

  Now, slowly, she had emerged from the fog.

  The doctor proclaimed that Lexi and Ben had passed inspection and could go, but he insisted Claire and Indio remain overnight for observation.

  Indio protested. She wanted to stay with Ben. The doctor rattled off her vitals, explaining how precious few points she was from kicking the bucket. He further described how her insides were shriveling up like peaches in a dehydrator. Then he made a sucking noise, his mouth pursed and wrinkled.

  Kevin, Erik, and Danny thought the guy was pretty funny. Lexi turned her back on him and convinced Indio that they would all take care of Papa at the house. Her words put Indio at ease.