Summers of Fire

by Strader, Linda;

  When laughter and recounts of the summer’s adventures paused for a moment, Glenn motioned to me and patted his lap. “Come ’ere, Linda.”

  Everyone grinned at me. I decided what the heck and positioned myself on his knee. My face warmed when he put his arm around me. He then raised a bottle of Jack Daniels in the air. “Now that we know you can work as hard as we do, let’s see if you can drink like us, too!”

  A camera flashed, capturing me on Glenn’s knee, the men with whom I worked side-by-side since May behind us, toasting the camera. I realized, in the end, I’d proved I was just as capable of the work as any of them. I belonged there as much as they did. I already knew I’d be back next summer. They could count on it.

  ELEVEN

  PRESCOTT’S WINTER MORNING chill pinked my cheeks as I jogged down to the high school track to run two miles. It was always hard to get started, but once I hit my second wind, I could get beyond the pain of exertion. On Wednesdays, I stroked a mile in my swim fitness class at Yavapai College. Underneath the glass dome it always felt weird, and cold, to swim while watching drifting snowflakes outside above me.

  My mom bought the Forest Service permit to cut firewood, and we were off. I revved up their chainsaw and cut logs into chunks, which us two tough women dragged back to our Suburban. Not sure what my dad thought of this, but that night a cheery fire warmed our living room.

  Joe called often, which made me uncomfortable for two reasons: phone calls were hard for him; if I didn’t talk, there were awkward silences, and I worried his feelings were stronger than mine. We never discussed the night of my goodbye party, when an intoxicated me brought Joe to my quarters, where we made love. What a careless, thoughtless thing I’d done. I’d stupidly disregarded how he might interpret that. I didn’t want a serious relationship with him, or with anyone, and it was obvious I’d misled him. But because Joe lived so far away, I found it easy to avoid dealing with the complicated mess.

  In mid-December, I applied for my second fire crew position, not for a minute doubting I wanted more. A week later, my older sister, Cindy, came for Christmas. My mom drove us to pick up some last minute gifts.

  Cindy turned from the front seat to say to me, “When are you going to get a real-life job?”

  A real-life job? I thought I had one.

  “It doesn’t take much intelligence to be a firefighter, you know. You should be looking for something else.”

  Tension permeated the car; almost palpable. She thinks firefighters are stupid. Including Glenn, Joe?Furious, but wanting to keep the peace—it was Christmas after all—I kept my mouth shut.

  December 31st, Friday

  Snowed all day. Just beautiful. Another year coming to a close in a half hour. Very strange—how fast time goes by as one gets older. I don’t think I’ll be ready to have 1977 here; but there ain’t too much I can do about it. Goodnight all.

  MID-MARCH, JOE surprised the heck out of me by calling from a motel in Prescott, wanting to see me. For an embarrassing moment, I couldn’t speak. There was no avoiding the elephant in the room now; it had burst through the door and sat down on the couch. I decided I’d have to pay for that alcohol-clouded judgment. He’d come all that way, so I should see him, maybe try to explain …

  But when Joe picked me up for an outing, my heart swelled with affection. It didn’t hurt that he looked incredibly handsome and fit in his Levi jacket and jeans. We hugged, and I ran my fingers through his blond hair, noticing with pleasure he’d let it grow; just because I suggested he do so last summer.

  Cold weather didn’t deter us from hiking to my swimming hole at Wolf Creek. I started a snowball fight, stuffing ice crystals down his shirt, and soon we collapsed in breathless laughter. I said nothing about our relationship. Why spoil the wonderful, carefree day? When he dropped me off that night, I gave him a hug, and from the door, waved goodbye.

  Then, in early April, Glenn called, the sound of his voice warming my heart.

  “I’ve got a position for you at Florida on the fire crew. You interested?”

  Of course I said yes. He’d even better news. “We’re looking to hire early this year. We’ll get back to you with a start date.” After a distinct pause, he said, “I’m glad you’re coming back.”

  Which was better? A job offer, or Glenn saying my return pleased him? Over the winter, I’d worried about how much he remembered, or even worse, didn’t remember, about my goodbye party.

  GLENN HAD AWAKENED me at one o’clock after the party broke up, tapping on my window and calling my name. What horrible timing: Joe was in bed with me.

  “What should I do?” I whispered. Joe didn’t reply. I staggered out of bed, steadying myself with a hand against the wall. I slipped on a robe and padded barefoot to the door. I invited Glenn in, and we sat on the couch, our shoulders touching. He reached out and ran his hand through my hair. Tingles ran down my spine.

  “How come you look so different with your hair down?” His hands grasped mine. “I think the world of you, you know. I really like you.”

  Instant sobriety. My thoughts darted around in zigzags. This was Glenn? My supervisor; the man who had stood up for me last summer? The man I felt something for, but dismissed as admiration? For certain I’d never thought he had feelings for me. I wasn’t appalled or disgusted. He was a fine person and I respected him. Now I worried that he might find out Joe was in my bedroom. I suggested we go outside.

  There, he put his arms around me. “You’re all a guy could ever want.”

  Enthralled by his declaration, I let him kiss me, his mouth tasting of whiskey and cigarettes. Glenn rambled for fifteen minutes, then left. Perfect timing. I dashed into the bathroom and vomited until I thought I’d die. Joe handed me a wet washcloth, and I pressed its coolness to my face. He helped me to bed, where I passed out. When I awoke, Joe had gone. Now late morning, waiting for my parents to pick me up, I nursed a headache the size of the Grand Canyon and a raw stomach, but not yet grasping all that had happened the night before.

  But this current phone conversation with Glenn didn’t give me any clue that he remembered telling me how he felt. Had he told me the truth? Or was it the alcohol talking? Our twenty year age difference didn’t bother me, but did it bother him?

  WHEN MY DAD heard of the job offer, he gave me “the” lecture: That I had no business working in a “man’s job.” That I needed to go get myself a “real” career. In our previous arguments, I’d acquiesced or sulked. In my father’s world, no one had the right to contradict him, least of all his daughter. But this time, I stood my ground. This was my life and I wanted to fight fires. We argued for ten minutes, until I shut myself in my room to put an end to it. My mom knocked on my door, sat down next to me on the bed, and apologized for my dad’s stubbornness.

  “I’ll worry,” she said, her arm wrapped around me. “But I want you to do what makes you happy.”

  That night at the dinner table, I told my dad I wanted to buy a car.

  He buttered a slice of bread. “Do you have enough money?”

  “I’ve got twelve hundred dollars in the bank.” My life’s savings.

  First thing in the morning, my dad called a local used car dealer. Two cars were available in my price range. The minute I saw the blue 1971 Toyota Corona station wagon, I wanted it. A friend insisted I name it, so I chose “Skyler.”

  The first thing I did was give my “baby” a wash and wax. I was buffing it out when I began to feel dizzy. Then my throat hurt. Within an hour I had a hundred-and-two degree fever. And wouldn’t you know it, that’s when the Nogales District called, telling me to report in three days. How could I manage that? I ached so much it hurt to lift my head off the pillow. When I could, I packed a little, slept a little, then packed a little more. Good thing earlier I’d completed the test for my “Red Card,” the required proof of my fitness level. No way could I pass it when this sick.

  On the morning of departure, still miserable, I placed a sheet of plywood in the back for the saggy
mattresses at Florida, and everything else on top, clear up to the roof. Behind the seat I tucked in two cans of motor oil for my not-so-perfect car. I didn’t care, though. It was all mine, and painted my favorite color. I slammed the hatchback and congratulated myself. Everything fit.

  TWELVE

  Summer of 1977: Florida Work Center,

  Santa Rita Mountains, Southern Arizona

  I EXPERIENCED A pleasant coming-home feeling as I drove over the rattling cattle guard rails and entered the Florida complex in late afternoon. Feeling its magical spell once again, I realized that I’d missed this place. Raised high on a pole in front of the office, the American flag flapped gently in the breeze. I parked and stopped in to pick up a key. Eric sat at his desk.

  “Hey, Linda! Welcome back.”

  “Good to be here,” I croaked, coughing long and hard.

  “Cripes, you sound awful,” he said.

  “Yeah … I’m still recovering from the flu.”

  Eric’s face scrunched up in a grimace. “Well, that’s no fun … Say, did you hear we’re not a ranger station anymore? District decided since the ranger works in Nogales, not Florida, it misleads the public into thinking there’s a ranger here. We’re called the Florida Work Center now.”

  I rolled my eyes. Ridiculous. “Oh, good grief. The public thinks everyone who works for the Forest Service is a ranger, so what difference does it make?”

  Eric broke into laughter. “Glenn thinks the new name makes Florida sound like a prison camp.”

  I smiled. “You mean it isn’t?”

  Eric grinned and handed over a key. “You’ve got the place next to Glenn.”

  Although smaller than last year’s quarters, I didn’t mind. I claimed the one bedroom. Jodi would stay in the private, enclosed porch. Like Jodi, many of the crew were attending college and wouldn’t start until May. I felt privileged to arrive before most everyone else.

  As soon as I unpacked, I called Joe from the office phone. He reminded me that he was still camping out on trail assignment. We had a comfortable conversation, and I figured he’d visit whenever he could.

  Because they’d hired me early, I’d have to deal with winter still gripping the mountains. After a full day of hiring paperwork, I joined Pete to work the steep, rugged Florida Trail, with deep snow lingering on north facing slopes. Not yet recovered, hiking winded me, exacerbating a cough fierce enough to hack out a lung. To make things worse, no sun appeared on north slopes this time of year. My toes were frozen, my hands were numb. That afternoon it spit snow flurries. I tried imagining a blistering hot day, hoping it would help, but it didn’t. I stopped to rest, but it was way too cold to sit for more than a few minutes. I’d have to keep moving, or I’d turn into Frosty the Snowman. It didn’t help that just like last year, conversations with Pete came out forced and awkward. What a relief to finish the trail and put an end to cold feet and the cold shoulder.

  I spent the next day working with Tom. Always good-natured, Tom was high on my “who I like to work with” list.

  “Linda, I’m going to try my hand at wiring the new emergency lights for the tanker. Can’t be that hard.” Tom grinned through his long black mustache, brown eyes sparkling. “Maybe you can coach me along?”

  “Me? Ha! You’re too funny. I know nothing about wiring.” But heck, if he could teach me, that’d be great.

  Tom leaned inside the engine compartment, talking his way through the process. “Let’s see … red to red, black to black. Logical, right?” He turned to me for confirmation.

  I shrugged. “Sure, makes sense to me.”

  Startled by a puff of acrid smoke and flying sparks, we looked at each other and burst out laughing. After some head-scratching, Tom figured out his mistake. One more attempt, and the tanker’s lights were up and running. Ecstatic, his success became my success. Tom said I shouldn’t worry about making mistakes. That’s how I’d learn new things.

  On Joe’s day off, I wondered why he hadn’t come over or called. Earlier, he’d offered to change my car’s oil, something that I usually did myself. But I thought, heck, that’d be nice, so I’d taken him up on it. I figured I must have misunderstood. Maybe he had other things to do. However, to make good on his offer, Joe showed up late that day. After he finished, he returned my car keys. I invited him in for iced tea.

  “No thanks,” he said, turning to leave.

  Now I knew something was up. When I pried, he admitted that after leaving Prescott, he thought he’d made a mistake in coming to see me. He got the impression that I didn’t want him there. In horror, I realized he must have picked up on my initial hesitation. Here I thought I’d hidden it so well. Before Joe came to Prescott, I’d regretted what happened. Not anymore. What did I feel now? Well, close to him, still attracted to him, but in love? I wasn’t sure. I’d no idea where we stood, or where we were going, if anywhere. I just hoped we could at least still talk.

  At work the next day, I helped with fire prep. I knew the drill. Like going through the decade-old boxes of C-rats to toss out the many bulging cans. Anything with tomato sauce went first: Botulism. Tools were sharpened, chainsaws were tuned. Shipments of supplies needed to be sorted and stored.

  Glenn had been away my first week, but he greeted me now with his eyes and a rare, full smile radiating happiness. To see me? I searched his face for some kind of special acknowledgement, but it wasn’t there. Until that moment, I hadn’t realize I’d been waiting for affirmation. Deeply disappointed, my thoughts turned dark. For all I knew, he’d lied to me last October. Heck, he probably did.

  Down to business, Glenn announced that everyone must attend a weeklong “pow-wow” at a Tucson hotel. I didn’t give a hoot about the team-building meeting, but a week at the Santa Rita Hotel sounded nice. Away from the office, I also thought I’d have a chance to talk to Glenn alone. Call it what it was—an obsession—but I had to know if he really meant what he said that night. When the room cleared, I found the courage to ask Glenn if we could talk soon. He said okay. Again no sign if he knew what it was about, nor did he ask.

  In the hotel lobby, Glenn took me aside, and asked what I wanted to talk about. Nervous, I checked to make sure no one could overhear. It was hard to begin, but I asked him if he remembered coming to my house after the party last year.

  With eyes lowered, he removed his hat and ran his hand through thinning hair. “Mostly, but I was pretty drunk. A lot of what I said I don’t remember.” Just as Glenn was getting to what he did remember, we were interrupted.

  Disappointed, and feeling I’d missed my only chance, I walked back to my room, where I plopped onto the bed. What was wrong with me? I had to let this thing with Glenn go. Someone knocked on my door. Glenn? No—it was Joe, wanting to talk, I assumed. But he had little to say, in fact, nothing to say. So we sat in silence. Why had he come? Last summer Joe had said he loved me. I didn’t understand why he’d now taken a step back. I started to feel annoyed and angry. If he wanted me, then he’d have to fight for me. Other men were interested in me, and I, in them. And what about those confusing feelings I had for Glenn? If I ignored them, would they go away? I didn’t believe so. Despite the stern lecture telling myself that Glenn was over twenty years older than me, as well as my supervisor, each time I saw him, my heart leapt, and my hands trembled. I couldn’t deny that my existence seemed to revolve around his mere presence.

  EASTER SUNDAY FELL on my regular workday. No one forewarned me about what to expect, maybe because they worried I’d call in sick. Easter in Madera Canyon delivered a different crowd not seen there any other time of the year. The peaceful canyon turned into Yellowstone National Park. On Memorial Day weekend. Times ten.

  Fire Prevention Tech Robert and I cruised an overflowing picnic area. Where no tables were available, families had spread out blankets. Did people really think it was fun to be elbow-to-elbow in nature? I didn’t get this. Robert placed warning citations on the double-parked vehicles lining the main road. Those people didn’t know how luck
y they were to get off with just a warning. Robert didn’t believe in writing actual tickets. Poor, peaceful Madera Creek endured hordes of screaming kids, who trampled tender riparian plants. Robert calmly warned them to stay on existing paths. We carried large garbage sacks, filling them with dozens of soda and beer cans found floating in the water. Already I noticed forgotten Easter eggs tucked in tree crotches, under bushes, and in boulder crevices, but Robert said to leave them just in case kids hadn’t found them yet. He hated to spoil the egg hunt, but admitted the forgotten ones would sure stink in a few days. This guy kept his cool the whole time. My head hurt when I got home that night like I’d tackled a shopping mall the day after Thanksgiving.

  Monday, first in the office, I sat anticipating Glenn walking in the door. A truck pulled up, and I listened to his boots strike the wood floor. He glanced and nodded at me, hung his Stetson on the coat rack, and walked over to get coffee. Within moments, I started to shake, his presence charging me like an electric current. No man had ever affected me this way. No man had ever attracted me so strongly. I fantasized that we would sleep together, but worried that if it happened, he would lose respect for me, and I for him. Would it be better if we stayed away from each other? I dismissed that thought because I didn’t like my answer. The arrival of crew members sent the day into motion.

  Later, after work, I hung around the office, talking with the guys. There was no reason to rush home to an empty house. Glenn came in, smiled, nodded at me, and sat down at his desk. When the others departed, a wide-open opportunity for me to talk to Glenn presented itself. I could pick up where we’d left off at the hotel. But should I? What if he didn’t share my feelings? Would I end up hurt and disillusioned? I decided to take the risk. I sat down in front of him to find out.