Ignite

by Emma Renshaw

  A boy ran by us as we prepared to battle the fire. He was yelling, and the sleeve of his shirt was on fire as he flapped it around. Evan tackled him to the ground, smothering the flames with his turnout gear.

  Theo patted me on the back. “Buckle in, rookie. It’s going to be a hard and long night.”

  I nodded and put on my helmet, ready to follow orders. I took a deep breath, cleared away my thoughts about what was happening in front of me, and focused on my fire training.

  “Help! Help! Help!” a girl screamed over and over.

  “Firefighter, call out,” I yelled, trying to pin the location.

  “Help!” I turned to my right and crouched down low, lifting my arm to shield myself from the brightness of the flames. It would take hours to put out, and the first priority was survivors or anyone trapped. If this structure fell fast enough, we’d certainly have people pinned, injured by the fallen limbs, and even dead. As it was, half of it had collapsed and a raging fire had started taking over the grass, creeping to the edges of the field, chasing the people running away.

  A girl was kneeling startlingly close to fire. “Get away from there!” I yelled.

  “My friend,” she cried. “She’s still alive. She’s still alive, but she passed out. Please, please help her.”

  I ran to her side and peeked through a pile of logs that was smoldering but hadn’t ignited yet. The branches and logs were dry as bone. The fire was moving closer, and if I didn’t move the pinned girl in time, she would go up in flames in seconds. I could smell the beer soaking her clothes.

  “I’ll do everything I can,” I said to the girl still crouched next to me. “But you need to get out of here. Run to the opposite clearing, the firefighters will direct you where to go.”

  “She’s still alive,” she muttered as tears streamed down her face, making tracks through the soot. She was staring at the spot where she had pointed, but I don’t think she was really seeing anything anymore. “Allison and Macy are dead. I don’t know where Declan is.”

  She was lost to her own world. I had no idea who these people she was talking about were. I shook her shoulder. “Go! I’ll be able to help her more if I’m not concerned for you too. Go. You’ll be more help to her if you go.”

  She got to her feet, looking back one last time, and ran for the cleared area where survivors had gathered. I held the radio on my shoulder. “Backup needed for an extraction on the south side of the bonfire.”

  I cleared branches as fast as I could and heaved the log from the girl’s chest. She was still pinned by a log lying across her pelvis and knees. She was out cold, but her heartbeat remained steady. Wild red hair was splayed around her face, and her pale skin was covered with debris, soot, and ash.

  None of the guys had showed up, which I knew was a risk. There were only so many of us, and we had already called for backup from nearby towns. I wrapped my arms around a log and lifted with my knees. My arms and back were quaking with the effort. Once it was lifted, I pushed it with my chest until it cleared her body and fell to the ground. The furthest edge caught on fire, and I knew my time was limited.

  I did the same with the final log and radioed for the EMTs. She had been pinned under there, and I couldn’t move her on my own without a c-collar and board. She could have spinal injuries or a crushed pelvis. If I tried to lift or drag her, she could end up paralyzed or dead.

  Her breathing startled, and I leaned over her, looking into her green eyes. The exact shade of a field of clovers. They looked around frantically. “We’re getting you out of here,” I said.

  “My friends,” she said, trying to turn her neck. I put my hands on either side of her neck to stabilize her. She wasn’t screaming in pain, but she may have been in shock or had so much adrenaline pumping through her that it hadn’t set in yet.

  “You can’t move. EMTs are on their way. I…I don’t know about your friends. There was a blond girl that led me to where you are. Do you know where you are? What’s your name?”

  “Z-Z-Zoe.” She nodded and tears flooded her eyes as a sob racked her chest.

  “Don’t move your head, sweetheart.”

  “It was my portrait. It was my portrait. It was too big. It was me. It’s my fault.”

  “What was you?” I asked, but the EMTs arrived and I backed up as they checked her over. They placed the c-collar on her neck, but her clover-green eyes found me as she was loaded onto a stretcher.

  I knew in that moment I would never forget Zoe. She was my first real save. She had hair that screamed of a wildness and eyes that were soothing. Even with soot, ash, and death surrounding her, she was beautiful. I knew without all the wreckage around her, she would be magnificent.

  “Okay, okay. I’ve got it.” I spun on the stool to face the hospital bed, turned my HVFD cap backward, and leaned on my knees. My lips tugged up on one side. “Are you ready?”

  Zoe stared at me. Those green eyes refused to let me go. They’d haunted my dreams and nightmares since the night of the fire two weeks ago. In my dreams, they haunted me because I didn’t know her. In my nightmares, they haunted me because I never made it on time and stood by helplessly and watched the flames swallow her whole as she stared at me.

  The station had gone to the hospital after the fire, checking on the survivors. Everyone except me knew someone who had died. It was a small town, and the connections were everywhere. It’d rocked the station and the town.

  After that first visit, I kept stopping by to check on Zoe. She had multiple broken bones and needed surgery to reset them. For now, she was bedbound.

  The first time I came into the room, after we shot the shit for a while, I asked her about the portrait she’d spoken of the night of the fire. Then she had to be sedated, because she freaked out and reinjured herself.

  She didn’t want to let me back into the room, but I swore I’d never bring it up again. And I wouldn’t. I’d take that question to the damn grave. Instead I asked her other questions. Anything to see if I could find a hint of life in her eyes. She closed off if I asked anything too personal, so I searched for something that would keep her talking.

  I knew she’d lost two of her best friends and the other was deep in mourning for their best friends and her boyfriend. Zoe’s aunt was here every day, but I’d never seen Zoe’s parents and they were another off-limits topic. I’d follow her set of unwritten rules. For now.

  I didn’t want her to fade away and, for some reason, I felt I couldn’t allow it. Like it was up to me, a stranger, to not let her fade.

  Zoe licked her full lips. “What is it?” She tried to play it like she was exasperated with me, but I saw the flicker of a smile.

  “This is the one,” I promised. “The one question that will stump you.”

  “You’re not that good. None of your questions stump me.”

  I’d asked her everything from “what ifs” to “would you rathers” to her favorite ice cream flavor. She had an answer for everything. All of it. I was determined to stump her. It hadn’t happened yet, but it would.

  “Which is bigger, Florida or England?”

  “Florida.”

  I collapsed against the wall behind me. “How do you do it?”

  She shrugged, hiding the smile that I knew down to my fucking bones wanted to come out. “I watch trivia shows with my aunt. If she ever went on one, she’d make a killing. She knows something about everything, and she passed that knowledge on to me. Besides, I’m not as indecisive as you, so all your ‘would you rather’ questions are easy.”

  “Hello, Ridge,” Georgia said. She moved into the room, went to Zoe’s bed, and kissed her on the forehead. “Sorry it took me so long, peach.”

  “Peach?” I asked.

  “I’m Georgia and she’s my peach. Georgia peach.”

  “That’s adorable,” I said and winked at Zoe. Pink stained her cheeks, and her attention shifted to her aunt, who looked from me to Zoe and back to me. I didn’t want to wear out my welcome. With every visit, I worri
ed Zoe would tell me not to come back. “I’ll stump you tomorrow, Zoe.”

  I turned and waved over my shoulder, trying to force myself not to look back again.

  “Bye, Ridge.”

  I stopped mid-stride. There was something in her voice that was different from every other time she’d said “see you later.” I turned and stared at her. She licked her lips and lied. Only I didn’t know it was a lie then. “See you tomorrow.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  When I went the next day, she was gone from the hospital and, I’d soon find out, gone from Hawk Valley.

  1

  Zoe

  I’d pulled over to the side of the county road an hour ago. Four people had stopped, asking if I needed any help. I waved them along. My rental car was just fine. In perfect working order, actually. It was me that needed help, and I wasn’t sure jumper cables would do the trick.

  The Welcome to Hawk Valley sign mocked me. My aunt mocked me. I turned my gaze heavenward and I knew, I freaking knew, that she had that sly grin on her face. The one she got when she was right and got her way. She’d gotten her way this time. I was about to cross over into the town that I’d sworn I’d never go back to.

  I rubbed the ache in my chest with my fist. It’d been one month without Aunt Georgia. Actually, thirty-six days, five hours, and some odd minutes. I’d known this day was coming, I’d thought I had prepared myself for my life without her, but nothing could’ve prepared me for a world without her light. I’d had the last couple of years to come to terms with what her ALS diagnosis meant for the future. With each agonizing decline and setback, I’d had time to accept the fact that someday, in the too-near future, I would be without her.

  Tears pricked my eyes. Again. If I started crying right now, it would be my third crying jag within the hour I’d been standing here leaning against the modest rental sedan. My arms were crossed over my chest, and I was pouting. I knew I was pouting. I knew I was throwing it way back to my angsty teenage years by refusing to cross the town line. I was just a few feet shy, and I couldn’t seem to drive or walk over it.

  I had to do it though. It was at Georgia’s request. She’d always loved Hawk Valley. Her and my mother’s family had been here for generations. The Boswells were known. Or we had been before we all skedaddled out of town. My parents because they chose to leave and me because fear, guilt, and anguish had consumed me with every breath.

  Georgia had only left because of me and how much she loved me. I could return and spread her ashes because of how much I loved her. I wasn’t staying longer than I had to though. Two days. Max.

  A 1950s Ford truck, as shiny and pristine as the day it rolled off the line, curved around the bend and slowed to a stop in front of me. The older woman in the passenger seat cranked down the window. “Did you find yourself in a spot of trouble, honey?”

  “I’m okay,” I assured them. “I’m waiting for something. Thank you so much for stopping, it’s really kind of you.”

  She nodded as her husband leaned over the bench seat, ducking down to look out the window at me. He took off his cowboy hat and placed it between them. “The side of the road is dangerous. Be safe out here, ya hear?”

  “I will, thank you.” I raised my hand in a wave as they easily crossed over the town line. They made it look so simple. It wasn’t for me though. All my nightmares started here, in this peaceful little town where everyone always had a smile and a kind thing to say.

  I slid into the rental car, pressed the start button, and gripped the steering wheel at the ten-and-two position. “Two days,” I whispered to myself.

  I glanced at the passenger’s seat, where my aunt’s urn was buckled in. It was a simple urn; she had chosen one of the cheapest. She had never been one for flash or glamour. And, after her death, she only wanted one thing—for her ashes to be spread in the place she loved most: Hawk Valley.

  I could do this for her. I would do this for her. I kept my eyes straight forward as I passed through town and drove down Main. I didn’t swivel my head to see if it was all still the same; I blocked it out. I couldn’t tell you if the light poles had flower boxes now, that we were approaching spring, or if there were banners hanging advertising the town’s Easter egg hunt. I didn’t know if the sub shop was still there or if the old married couple had finally closed the doors to their little dessert heaven. I kept facing forward, avoiding everything. I was happy that I’d found an inn that hadn’t existed when I lived here. I hoped that while I was there I could pretend I wasn’t here.

  I followed the GPS to Castle Rock Inn and drove up the winding hill until I found the main lodge. I parked next to a truck, grabbed my purse, and angled out of the car.

  The aroma of cinnamon sugar greeted me as soon as I stepped over the threshold. A plate of cookies was on the desk, and my mouth started watering from just looking at them.

  “Hey, darlin’.” The woman standing at the front desk had deep brown hair, twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck, with curled strands framing her face. The deep laugh lines in her cheeks instantly made me smile and feel at peace.

  “Hi,” I said, stepping forward, taking one last glance at the cookies. They were so perfectly shaped and fluffy they almost seemed fake. Was that a thing? Instead of wax lemons in a bowl, wax cookies?

  “Here.” The woman handed me a napkin with the inn’s logo stamped on the front. “Take a cookie or two, or however many will make your heart smile.”

  “That might be the whole plate,” I joked and returned her smile.

  She waved a hand. “There’s plenty more where that came from. My daughter, Delilah, is the chef and she loves to whip up some decadent treats. Her boyfriend just came back to town, and she’s made so many treats, just to spoil him. He can’t eat them all. He’s proposing tonight, so I’m sure the kitchen will be filled with all his favorites for the next few days.”

  I chuckled and grabbed two cookies off the plate and placed them on the napkin.

  “Are you checking in or here for lunch, dear?”

  “Checking in. Zoe Boswell. I rented a private cabin.”

  “Wonderful. I’m Gayle Moreland. My husband and I own the inn. I have one of our best cabins available, it’s private while still being located near anything you would need. There’s a back deck that is a dream to drink your coffee on while you enjoy the view of the lake below.”

  “That sounds perfect,” I said. I felt like I’d stepped into a different world, one where the town I had avoided felt safe again. “Thank you, Gayle.”

  She pulled out a map, marking where I would need to go. “Many residents leave their cars in the lot and use one of the golf carts to get back and forth, they’re free for use.”

  I nodded and followed her finger as she showed me where everything was located. They had a big piece of property, and no one would even know I was here. I’d be able to get in and out of town quickly. And, more importantly, unnoticed.

  “The dining room is open from 6:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. On the weekends there’s live music and dancing out on the lawn. I see you’re only with us for two days, but let me know if you want a little more time. Those views really are good for the soul. There will be space if you want it. We’re at the slow time, after spring break but before the summer.”

  I smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Gayle. The two days will be good though. This is a gorgeous place.”

  “Thank you. Have a great stay, and holler if you need anything at all, hon.”

  I grabbed the information she handed over, the key, and the cookies as I headed back toward the parking lot. I stood there debating whether I wanted to leave the car and take one of the golf carts. I hadn’t planned on doing that, but I’d missed them while I was coming in. They were decked out like real cars. There was an old truck, a vintage Mustang, and an army Jeep.

  I placed everything on the bench of the golf cart shaped like a vintage Mustang and went to my car to grab the rest of my belongings.

  It only took one trek. I didn�
��t have much, a small bag with enough clothes to last a few days, including a dress Aunt Georgia had bought me with peaches all over it. And, of course, the urn.

  “You would’ve loved this place,” I whispered before I started the golf cart. “I know you would’ve chosen the vintage Mustang too, and cruised around this property with your hair flipping in the wind.”

  I closed my eyes to keep the tears at bay. I’d cried a lot. I’d cried when she got the diagnosis of ALS. I’d cried as each symptom came on faster than the last. I’d cried with every hurdle and speed bump, terrified that this would be it. I’d cried myself to sleep every night when every breath was painful for her. I’d hold it in all day and crumble by myself at night. And I’d cried every day since she died.

  I rubbed my chest, it ached so badly. I released a few breaths and continued on my way, with my chin up and a smile on my face, never taking the sunshine for granted. Just as Georgia had taught me.

  The phone rang and rang and rang. It shouldn’t have surprised me that my mom didn’t answer. My hope that my parents would keep their word this time hadn’t been quashed quite yet. They’d promised.

  They had made so many promises over the years that they hadn’t kept. They got the best deal on a private yacht sailing around the Mediterranean Coast, so there was no way they could see me play in the state finals. They ran into a friend in Monaco, so they couldn’t fly in when I had my appendix removed. They couldn’t pass up Christmas in New York; they had insisted if I had an overnight layover there, I would’ve understood why they didn’t make it home. At least they’d made it stateside that time.

  Wasn’t the death of my mom’s sister different though? She’d cried with me on the phone when I rang with the news. Two weeks ago, when we picked a date to spread her ashes, they swore they wouldn’t miss this for anything. My mom cried and said she had to be there for her only sister.

  I hadn’t heard from them since though. I’d called and emailed with my travel plans, and I hadn’t heard a peep.