by Lou Cadle
“I’d hate to take the time, but yeah, I would.”
She looked toward the bedroom. “No. I have to stay here.”
“You’ll regret it if you don’t,” Kelly said.
Becca’s eyes welled fresh tears, but she kept her lips clamped together and didn’t make a sound.
Sierra felt awful for her, but there was nothing she could do, and she hated standing around when she could do nothing to help a bad situation. “I’d better go help them on the road,” she said.
“Wet down our house again, would you?” Kelly asked her. “I need to stay right here. We’re getting close to real labor.”
From what Sierra had seen, she didn’t know if Janine would last through many more hours of this. “Can you do anything to hurry it along?”
“No. Nature takes her own time,” Kelly said. “The Lord gives and takes, for His own reasons.” She glanced at Becca.
Sierra wondered if they’d been talking religion together. Better Kelly or Misha than Sierra, who didn’t have a clue what to say about that. From Kelly and Becca’s faces, from the blood she’d seen, she was feeling not at all optimistic that Janine would make it through the night.
Though maybe none of them would. “I’ll be out on our road, clearing brush and branches,” she said. “Zoe will be with Pilar and Dev on the main road, doing the same. Let me know if you need me.”
Chapter 22
Dev could barely see Zoe in the dark. She was pulling dead weeds out of the cracks in the road, wearing a pair of his mother’s gardening gloves that had seen better days. She had refused to go back to Pilar’s and go to bed. “Everyone else is doing something,” she said, and then yawned hugely.
He figured she was only minutes away from curling up on the road and dropping into sleep when he realized he could see her better. He looked up, saw the orange light in the sky, and his stomach fell straight down into his toes. “Dad?” he said.
His father turned to him and Dev pointed. The color flickered, brighter, then dimmer, then brighter again. “Hellfire,” he said, a curse.
It worked just as well as a description. “I’m going to put Zoe in the Crocker house. It’s safer there.”
Zoe complained, but Dev was having none of it right now. “You can’t mess about with this. Do as I say. Do as your mother says, or Grandpa, or Pilar. Don’t argue and don’t disobey. It’s not the time. Do you understand me?”
Zoe looked at him in shock. He never talked to her like that. I’m becoming my father. He held his hand out. “I love you, Punkin. Let’s get you safe.”
It wouldn’t be entirely safe in the house, but he wanted to know where she was and not have to run around looking for her if and when the fire came upon them. He quizzed her as they walked. “So what do you do if the house catches on fire?”
“Get outside and meet in the orchard.”
“This time, the orchard might be on fire too. So if the house is on fire, the outdoors might be. You need to look and think. Don’t just run in a panic. You understand?”
“I know.”
“Look outside and see which direction is safe. If no one comes for you, walk in that safe direction, and head for one of the roads.” He hated to think of the possibility that his daughter would be out there alone, facing the fire without him. Or that he might be able to do anything but hold her while they both were overtaken by smoke or flames. “If there is any way to get to the main road and walk uphill, that’s the best direction to go. Walk fast and don’t look back.”
“What about you? And Grandma and Grandpa and Sierra?”
“We’ll be fine. We’ll find you, no matter what happens. Probably nothing bad will happen. We’ll keep the houses safe.”
“And the rabbits?”
“Yes, and the chickens too. Except for keeping you safe, that’s my number one priority.” They were at the Crocker house. “Now give me a hug and go inside.”
“Don’t get hurt,” she said, clinging to him.
“You too. You’re precious to me, you know?” He could feel her nod, and the rush of love he felt for her overwhelmed his ability to speak. He clung to her, not wanting to let her go, not ever. Instead of trying for words, he kissed her forehead, turned her around, and gave her a pat on the back to scoot her along. He didn’t believe in God anymore, but he prayed anyway: Please, please, let her be safe.
He couldn’t see her here—the glow in the sky wasn’t reaching this far yet—but he waited until he heard the door open and slam. Then he trotted down to the neighborhood road to tell them he was seeing the glow of the fire, and to tell Sierra that Zoe was in her house, just in case something happened and he wasn’t able to get to his daughter.
In the fading light of a solar lantern, most of the neighborhood was at work clearing the brush overhanging the dirt road. Dev wondered if all this effort was going to do them any good. The fire could leap across this gap, no problem at all. “Hey, guys,” he said.
“Dev,” Sierra said. “Where’s Zoe?”
“I put her to bed in your house. If something happens, don’t forget she’s in there.”
“Are you sure she’s going to stay put?”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“She didn’t say anything about Lily, did she?”
“No. Why?”
Sierra said, “She was worried about her earlier. I don’t want her wandering off trying to find the dog again.”
“Again?”
Sierra waved off the question. “How’s it going on the main road?”
“We have it pretty clear. Swept it of all debris, and Zoe pulled up all the weeds growing up for, I don’t know, an eighth-of-a-mile stretch.”
“I wish there was a passing lane right by us,” Rod said.
“When you all get a second, turn off the lantern,” Dev said.
Curt said, “I’m ready to switch jobs anyway.” He leaned briefly on his ax as if it were a cane, and then handed it over to Rod.
Emily had the lantern in hand and raised her eyebrows as she looked around.
Sierra said, “We’re ready. Turn it off.”
In the dark, the glow from the fire was barely visible in the direction of Dev’s house. “See it?” he said.
“Shit,” Curt said. “It really is coming.”
“Afraid so.”
Rod said, “You have an idea how far it is?”
“No. I can’t hear anything, so it’s not right on top of us yet.”
“I can smell smoke,” Curt said. “I guess I have been right along, but it might be getting stronger. Any ashes falling? Anything like that?”
“No. Will there be?” Dev asked.
“I imagine so. Fire creates its own weather, so there should be a wind right ahead of it. I’ve only been in one.”
Sierra said, “I didn’t know that.”
“Just at the edges. I was a kid. We were under a voluntary evacuation order, and we evacuated. We parked at a high lookout and watched it. They were getting it contained. You know, helicopters and planes and all that. Fire crews from four states. We were in scrubland, and it was easier to fight there. Also, the Interstate helped stop it.”
Rod said, “That sounds positive. Maybe our road will do the same for us.”
Sierra said, “It’s on our side of the road.”
“Oh,” Rod said.
Dev said, “I’m not sure the road will help us. Not with all those tall trees.”
“We should wet down our houses again, before things get crazy,” Curt said.
“I’ll tell Joan,” Rod said, adding, “Be right back, Em.” And he took off.
Emily turned the lantern back on. The glow in the sky wasn’t as noticeable now, but it was still there, now that you knew what to look for.
“I’d better do it at our place, shed and house both,” Dev said.
“If she’s still awake, I’ll warn Zoe before I spray ours down,” Sierra said, and she took off too.
“You all take care,” Dev said. “If it starts to really go to hell, the
car is in our driveway. Show up there. That’s our meeting place for evacuating.” And he went back to deal with preparing the only home he’d ever known for what now seemed to be the inevitable wildfire sweeping through their neighborhood.
Chapter 23
When the fire came, it came fast.
Sierra was back on the road, clearing brush, and she heard something like an explosion. “What the—?” she said.
Curt stopped and mopped his face. “It was a tree. A green one, and the sap heated up. Burst it.”
“I’m scared.”
“We’re all scared,” he said.
Rod said, “Damned straight.”
“I need to go check on Zoe,” Sierra said. “I’m sorry, but I won’t feel okay until I know she’s okay.”
“Maybe we should give this up,” Rod said. “I feel like I should be at the house, hose in hand.”
“That’s smart,” Curt said. “Everybody remember, if it looks like we’re losing the fight, just get out. Get to the car, and we’ll run.”
Emily’s only response was a long coughing fit.
It made Sierra have to cough too. Power of suggestion, she supposed.
Yeah, that and all the damned smoke in the air.
“Be careful, all of you,” she said. She let her gaze linger on Curt. They still hadn’t talked about what had happened between them. Other priorities. She only hoped they lived to have that talk. Right now, that didn’t seem certain. “I love all you guys,” she said. “Seriously, no one get yourself hurt.”
DEV HEARD THE SCREAM inside the house and ran for the front door. The smoke was thick here, and he’d had a terrible vision of the fire sneaking in and setting the house aflame, but that wasn’t the case.
He pushed through the front door, which was reluctant to budge, and into the house, which was hot and still. All the windows had been shut, and a towel had been rolled up and put at the front door, which is why it had fought him. He replaced the towel with a jab of his foot and sped to the hall. Misha exited Zoe’s room, shut the door, and leaned her head against the hallway wall, her posture the very picture of exhaustion.
“What is it?” Dev said.
“She’s dead. She bled to death,” Misha said.
“I’m sorry. Was that her screaming?”
“Becca. I have to go get her out of there. Kelly wants to get the baby out of the body. She says it has a tiny chance.”
“How will it get fed?”
“We have something figured out. I need to stay with Becca. Distract her, keep her out of there. Maybe you can help your mom?”
“Me?” Dev said.
She walked close to him and lowered her voice. “You’ve dressed animals. You can do this.”
God, maybe he could. But he really didn’t want to.
Then he thought of his mother, in there alone, wanting to do the best she could, and he felt ashamed of his fear. “Take Becca outside. Give her the hose and tell her to keep an eye out for flames.”
“Are there any?” Misha said, wide-eyed.
“There’s flecks of stuff floating down. Some of it’s glowing. Any of it could start a fire at any second. Maybe having a job to do will help her. I don’t know.”
“Shit. Damn. I should be home.”
“Rod and Joan and Emily have it under control.”
“I guess,” she said, gnawing at her lower lip. And then her attitude turned on a dime. “Right. I’ll get Becca outside and keep an eye on her. You help your mother.”
Dev backed off while Misha guided a crying Becca out of the sickroom and through the kitchen. Only when he heard the back door close did he enter Zoe’s room. “Mom? What can I do to help?”
His mother was blood-spattered. “Wash your hands, quick. Wash them good.”
When he returned thirty seconds later, his mother was sawing into the dead woman. On the mattress was the still form of the woman, her abdomen still distended, her thighs spread and coated with blood. Dev forced himself not to reel back from the sight. It was just a body now, not a person.
“Stretch this skin for me.” His mother had a scalpel in hand, which she’d always had in her first aid kit, but which hadn’t gotten much use over the years. “Here,” she said, making room for him at the bedside. “And sort of keep the baby where it is with your other hand while I make the incision.”
What happened in the next five minutes would haunt Dev for a lifetime. His mother didn’t have to be neat, but she did have to be fast. She cut into the belly like a pro, and more blood oozed out. But not a lot. The woman’s heart was no longer pumping. Dev had to pull back the cooling skin with his bare hands, and his mother reached in and pulled out a baby and a long umbilicus.
The scent of blood was metallic, overwhelming.
A boy. That fact registered, and then his mother laid the baby on its dead mother’s chest and cleared its mouth and nose with her finger.
“It’s not breathing,” Dev said.
“He will,” his mother muttered, and she began, with only two fingers, to push on the baby’s tiny chest. When that didn’t work, she grabbed it by the heels and lifted it off its mother. “Clear the mouth again for me,” she said.
Dev wished his hands were cleaner—there was still dirt caked in around the nails—but did as he was told. His mother slapped the baby’s back lightly, and then again somewhat harder, and then it made a sound, a mewling sound. His mother followed that up with a harder slap, and more mucus squirted out around Dev’s hand. He wiped it on the bloody sheet, and then the baby began to cry—weak-sounding, but alive.
“Do you remember how to hold a baby?” his mother said.
“I think so,” Dev said.
“There’s a fresh towel on the floor. Wrap him up and hang on to him.”
“Mom, how is it going to be fed? With its mother dead?”
“We’ve been working on that.”
“How?” Dev was befuddled.
“I’ve had Becca on a breast pump. She’s starting to produce milk.”
“She’s not pregnant.” He was entirely confused.
“Nor has she ever been, so I wasn’t sure it’d work. But it did.”
“How?”
“I’ve read it’ll work with men, even. You just keep pumping at the breast and it eventually starts producing milk.”
“Really?” Then it registered what she’d said. “With men?”
“I’ve never tried it, but yes, I read that it’d work.”
“Wow.” Then the wonder of that new fact faded when he remembered what was happening outside the walls of their house. “Mom, the fire is close. What do you want to do with the body?”
“I should stitch her up. Clean her off.”
“Maybe when we get through tonight. Do you want Becca to have the baby?” The baby had settled down in his arms. It looked really good, not red-faced like Zoe had been. “It’s quiet. Is that okay?”
“I hope so. And I don’t know that Becca will want her right now.”
“What about feeding it?”
“There’s some milk in a glass jar in the fridge, if it comes to that. But it doesn’t need to eat right this second. Let’s give poor Becca a moment to grieve. As long as he starts nursing within an hour or two, it’ll be okay.”
“It’ll take longer than a moment for her to get over losing Janine.” He had turned away and was shielding the baby from the sight of its dead mother with his body, which was probably not necessary, but it helped him to not have to look at it either. The sight had made him a bit queasy.
“I know. And I hope it doesn’t prejudice her against the baby.”
“It’s awfully cute. Healthy-looking. And not very dark-skinned.”
“It’s possible he’ll get darker. But Janine isn’t—wasn’t—very dark-skinned, and the father was white.”
“She was raped.” It wasn’t quite a question.
“Yes.”
“And she didn’t try to get rid of it?”
“She said she would have i
f she knew how. She asked me if there were herbs that would have done it.”
“Are there?”
“A few, yeah. Okay, I want to clean her up.”
“I need to get outside. I mean, I’d happily hold the baby all night on any other night, but there’s a fire headed our way.”
“I can smell it.”
“It’s bad outside. Hard not to cough.”
“What timing,” she said. “I have a needle and thread here somewhere. Oh, there it is. This is going to be sloppy, I’m afraid. Have Misha look after the baby if Becca won’t.” Then, as if to herself, she said, “Maybe I should have done something differently.”
“You did great, Ma,” he said. “No one else could have done better.”
“I hope I did. I live in fear of waking up in a week and thinking of something I should have tried.”
“You did your best. Don’t ever think anything else. She was lucky to have you.”
His mother was sewing up the incision. “I didn’t do her much good.”
Dev said, “The baby is alive. That’s something.”
“It is something. It’s a lousy trade from Becca’s point of view, but God’s ways are mysterious. One life is gone, and a new life took her place.”
He could hear how sad she was. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“I don’t lose many patients.”
“No, I guess you don’t. Payson was the last time.”
“I hope this is the last time ever.” She finished the grizzly job and stood, then staggered.
Dev’s arms were full of baby, or he would have reached out to steady her. “Are you okay?”
“Tired.”
“Rest. Lie down for a half-hour.”
“With a fire coming?”
“I’d rather have you ready to run if we need to.”
“I’ll take ten minutes. Don’t let me fall asleep.”
Dev was left alone with the dead woman and her baby, who was dozing off. The little face was perfect. Two eyes, and a button nose, and a tiny mouth. He realized his daughter would love to see the baby, to hold it. He’d love nothing more than to show her the baby and teach her how to hold it and to sit on the porch with her, explaining how she was that tiny once upon a time.
