by Liz Isaacson
“Hey, Dad.” Brennan stared out the windshield at the huge field to the west of the recreation center. It was the last time he’d have to mow it this season, and he was grateful for that.
Actually, it might have just been the last time he mowed that field, period.
“What’s up, bud?”
Brennan heard the whir of a saw in the background. “Dad, do you have time to talk?”
“Yeah, sure.” The saw sound faded, and Brennan decided to just blurt everything out.
“I don’t want to work for A Jack of All Trades anymore,” he said, his voice scratching against his throat. “I want to go to college and get a degree in landscape architecture.”
The silence on the other end of the line made Brennan’s lungs pinch.
“Dad? You still there?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are you? Maybe I should come over and we can talk.”
“I’m out at the Robinson build. I should be done here in about an hour. I’ll call Mom and see if she wants to cook or go out. Sound good?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“I’ll let you know.” His father hung up, leaving Brennan just as unsettled as he had been before. He was done for the day, so he headed home and spent the time until dinner researching colleges in California that offered the landscape architecture degree. Frustration coiled through him as his list of links swelled.
He had no idea where in California Cora would even be. Sure, she was out in the Thompson Creek Fire right now, but where would she be housed? Where would she live?
Brennan didn’t know, but he needed to feel like he was doing something, so he compiled his list and saved it before heading across the river and over to his parents’ house.
The scent of smoked sausage filled the air outside the front door, and Brennan took a moment to appreciate all he had in his life. He’d had a great childhood. Lots of siblings to play with, and doting grandparents, and a backyard that was as big as a park. He’d never wondered if he’d have enough money or not, and he’d never gone without something he wanted.
Until now. Until Cora.
Buoyed up by his decision, he pushed into the house to find his mom singing in the kitchen the way she normally did when she’d had a great day. Of course, she thought any day where she got to cook was amazing.
His dad’s lower voice joined his mom’s, and Brennan leaned against the corner of the wall to watch them work together to finish the meal. They displayed such love for each other. Sure, he knew they didn’t always get along, but he could also plainly see how well they fit together.
The song ended, and he applauded, startling them both. “There he is,” his mom said, rushing forward, her carefree singing in the past now. She embraced Brennan and trailed her fingernails down the side of his face. “You want to quit?”
“Let’s eat first,” his dad said, casting an unreadable look at Brennan. He dished up a platter of rice and beans and set it on the table with the rest of the soft shell taco ingredients.
Brennan sat in Berlin’s chair and started assembling a burrito. “So I’m in love with Cora Wesley, and she just got a job as a hotshot in California. I want to go be with her.”
His mother’s smile couldn’t have been any wider. “In love with her? That’s wonderful, sweetheart.” She patted his hand like he was a five-year-old and had just said something cute.
“What about this landscape architecture?” his dad asked.
“It’s something I’ve always been interested in,” Brennan said. “But college never seemed to be an option for me, and I didn’t realize until recently how much I want to go. Do something on my own.” He finished rolling his burrito and glanced at his dad. “Not that I’m not grateful for the job, the work, all of it. It’s been great. I just….” He searched for the right words and couldn’t quite find them.
“You just want something different,” his dad said.
“Yes and no,” Brennan said. “I don’t really want to leave Brush Creek. But what I want to do means I can’t stay here.”
“We’ll be short-staffed without you,” his dad said. “You take care of two huge contracts.”
“I know.” Brennan nodded and lifted his burrito to his mouth. After taking a huge bite to give himself time to think, he weighed some options. He swallowed and said, “You could hire someone, Dad. There are plenty of men who would love to work for you.”
“It’s a family business.” His father waved Brennan’s suggestion away like he was swatting a fly.
“I think Brennan should go,” his mom said quietly, bringing Dad’s neck around in whiplash-like fashion.
“Quincey.”
“He should follow his heart.” She beamed at Brennan again. “He’s in love with her, and her job is taking her somewhere else.” She lifted her chin and looked right into his father’s eyes. “I think he should be able to go if he needs to. No guilt.”
“I can stay and help whoever you hire,” Brennan said. “I can wait another month before I go.” College classes had already started for the fall anyway. He wouldn’t be able to start until January, so he had almost two months to spare.
His father’s shoulders deflated and he nodded. “All right. I’ll start asking around tomorrow.”
Brennan couldn’t help the whoop that came from him. “Thanks, Dad.” He’d just finished his burrito when his phone rang. His heart catapulted to the back of his throat, anticipating that it could be Cora.
Don’t be dumb, he told himself. She’d said she wouldn’t have her phone.
The number on the screen was a California number, and something inside him urged him to take the call. He stood from the table and said, “Excuse me,” as he swiped to open the call. “Hello?”
“Hello, this is Doctor Simon Wilson. I’m a general care physician at the USC Verdugo Hills Hospital in Glendale, California. A woman named Cora Wesley was brought in and you’re the emergency contact in her phone. To whom am I speaking?”
Brennan’s heart flopped around inside his chest like a sputtering balloon. “Brennan Fuller,” he said.
“Are you married to Miss Wesley?”
“No, sir.”
“Brother?”
“I’m her boyfriend,” he said. “She has family in Vernal.”
“If you aren’t her relations, I can’t give you personal information, but perhaps you could pass a message onto the family. We’re swamped with the fire so close, and short-staffed….”
“Of course,” Brennan blurted. “I can pass on a message.”
“Great.” The relief in Doctor Wilson’s voice was palpable. “She was brought in by one of the hotshot medical crews. She’s been hit with a blunt, burning object, and she’s here in the hospital, unconscious. We need someone here who can make decisions on her behalf.”
Brennan could barely think. No, he couldn’t make decisions on her behalf. But he needed to get to California as fast as possible.
“I’ll call her mother,” he managed to rasp out of his dry throat. “Thank you for calling.”
He turned back to the kitchen, where his parents sat watching him. “Cora’s been hurt.” He strode to the counter, where he’d tossed his wallet. “I’m going to California.”
“What?” His mother stood, her chair scraping the tile. “Right now?”
“Right now,” he said. “I’ll stop at home and pack a few things. Get a ticket. Call her mom….” He listed the things he needed to do, then mentally went over it again.
He left his parents in their kitchen and drove ten over the speed limit back to his house. Within a half an hour, he’d packed and booked an airplane ticket out of Salt Lake for the following morning. As he set his truck west to make the four-hour drive to the airport, he realized he didn’t have her mother’s number. Or Helene’s. Or Cora’s father’s. He couldn’t make medical decisions for her, and they’d want to know about her injury.
His stomach twisted at the very thought of making medical decisions. That had to be s
ome serious stuff, and he wondered what had hit Cora.
“Lord,” he said out loud. “Please.” His throat tightened, but he pushed on. “I’m begging you. Protect her. Help her heal. Bless her to not sustain anything too serious from this injury.”
A sense of calmness entered him, eradicating his half-pieced together thoughts. He picked up his phone and said, “Call Wren Fuller,” realizing he needed to change his sister’s last name now that she’d married Tate.
“Hey,” she said. “What’s up, you?”
“I can’t really explain everything right now,” he said in a rush as he approached the top of the hill. There was a dead spot for cell reception on the other side. “But I need you to get a couple of phone numbers for me.”
“I can do that. Who?”
He searched his brain for Cora’s parent’s names. “Laura Wesley,” he said. “Or Chris Wesley. They live in Vernal.”
“I’ll text you the numbers. Where are you?”
“On my way to get Cora back,” he said, a very final note of determination in his voice.
Chapter Thirteen
A very odd noise existed inside Cora’s mind. It was steady, and strong, and annoying. She tried to open her eyes, tried to figure out where she was. Her eyelids seemed sewn shut as a new sound registered in her ears.
A voice.
A voice she knew.
And pressure on her fingers. She squeezed back, and the voice yelped. The annoying, steady sound increased, and she knew what it was: a heart monitor.
Monitoring her heart.
Everything returned to her memory in a whoosh of sound, light, and pain. Her eyes flew open, searching for the man the voice belonged to.
“Brennan,” she said, her throat rusty and making his name sound like a frog had spoken it.
“Hey, baby.” He bent over her, both of his hands clasping hers. “There you are.” He reached up and brushed her hair off her forehead.
“What—?” She tried to sit up, but her head felt woozy and soft. “Whoa.”
“Don’t move,” he said. “Your mom’s getting the nurse.”
Her mom. The pounding in Cora’s head only intensified. Not only would she have to endure snide remarks about her life, but she’d surely get a verbal berating on her career choice too.
The door in the corner opened and two nurses and her mother came through it. “Hello, Cora,” one woman said as she looked at the heart monitor and back to Cora’s face. “I’m Betsy. How are you feeling?”
“My head hurts.”
“I bet it does.” Betsy nodded to the other woman, who left.
“Do you remember what happened?”
Cora sighed, the flaming debris flying at her all over again. “Yeah.”
“Well, you broke your nose,” Betsy said. “And you’ve got a skull fracture along your right eyebrow there. There’s not a whole lot we can do about either of those but make you comfortable until they heal.”
The other nurse returned, and Betsy swiveled toward her. “So Dina’s got another thousand of ibuprofen, and we’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.”
“What about my crew?” she asked.
Betsy’s face blanked, and she glanced at Brennan. “Crew?”
“I’ll tell her,” Brennan said, flashing the nurse a brilliant smile that made Cora wonder how on earth she thought she could leave him behind in Brush Creek. And for what? To saw through logs, haul off undergrowth, and get hit in the face when the fire started spitting out debris?
She waited until Betsy and Dina left, then she blurted, “I’m so sorry, Brennan.”
He sat in the chair he’d been in earlier and smiled. “It’s fine.”
“How did you know?”
“Apparently, I’m your emergency contact in your phone. The doctor here called me after the medical team from the Forest Service brought you in.”
Cora let her head fall back to the pillow, the worst edge of pain already easing from the drugs Dina had put right into her veins. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she didn’t want to let them fall. She wouldn’t be weak, not now, not when she’d come this far.
“I think you said you couldn’t wait to tell me all about your first fire.” He put both his hands around hers again and lifted her wrist to his lips.
She marveled at him. At the handsome lines in his face. His easy forgiveness. His solid, silent strength.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Surprise danced across his face, melting into pure adoration. “I love you, too, Cora.” He tipped forward, his lips touching hers for the briefest of moments.
Her mom cleared her throat and said, “I’ll go get you…something to drink.” She high-tailed it out of the room, the kindest thing Cora thought she’d ever done for her.
Cora looked back at Brennan, that same brilliant tether that had locked them together at the karaoke bar still present. Stronger. Better. She hoped their relationship would always be this exciting, and new, and wonderful.
“So tell me about the fire.”
She shook her head. “It was a fire. We need to talk about what we’re going to do now.”
He quirked one eyebrow and gave her half a smile. “What we’re going to do now is get married.”
Cora choked, sending the heart monitor into a frenzy. Brennan chuckled. “I mean, not right away, of course. But I’ve already talked to my parents, and I’m going to be moving to California by Christmas.” He bent toward her again, his eyes closing as he touched his forehead to hers.
A tiny slice of pain radiated behind her right eye, but he was soft and gentle in his touch, and the ache settled into nothing. “When I met you that first time, I knew we’d be together. I knew I’d follow you wherever you went. I knew I’d stay with you for a long time.”
“You did?” Cora’s voice squeaked and those darn tears squeezed out of her closed eyes.
“I sure did.” He swept his lips behind her ear and whispered, “I’m in love with you, and I want to marry you, and I’m going to go to school while you fight fires. How does that sound?”
“Amazing,” she breathed.
“So, where should I be looking for housing and a place to go to school?”
She opened her eyes, and he drew back. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Where do you live?”
“I didn’t have to get a place. I stayed in the hotshots barracks and then we were out in the wilderness. I was back for one day—again in the barracks—and then we were on our way to the Thompson Creek Fire.”
He nodded, seemingly undeterred. “Do you think you’ll be able to stay on your crew?”
She felt helpless and ridiculous when she said, “I have no idea.”
Brennan searched her face as if looking for something that would tell him what to do. He finally said, “All right. Well, here’s what I’m going to do. You’re on the Del Rosa Crew right now, right?”
“Yes.”
“They’re located here in Southern California. I’m going to find somewhere to live that’s very close to the university where I’ll be going, and we can work from there.”
Cora had no idea what to say. She knew he needed a place to live. Needed something to do that felt worthwhile to him. Needed a plan of action so he could do something. And since she didn’t have any of those things to give him, she smiled. “I love you.”
He grinned. “I kinda like you too.”
“I’ll start praying I get on the Del Rosa Crew permanently,” she said.
“I’ll do that too.” He stood, releasing her hands and letting a sigh sift through his lips. “I’ll go rescue your mom from the vending machine. I’m sure she wants to talk to you.”
Cora groaned, which made Brennan laugh somehow. “Don’t worry. She’s been really nice while we’ve been here together.”
“How long have you guys been here?”
“Just a few hours,” he said. “You’ve only been asleep for, oh, sixteen hours or so.” He lifted his hand in a wave and dis
appeared through the doorway.
Cora sat very still, trying to work things out in her head. Brush Creek was a healthy four-hour drive to the airport. He and her mother must’ve driven for most of the night and boarded the first plane to Los Angeles to be by her bedside when she woke up.
A rush of appreciation filled her, and those pesky tears pricked at her again. When her mom opened the door and peered cautiously inside, Cora let them fall. Her mother rushed forward and said, “Oh, don’t cry, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Cora got out of the hospital the next day. She re-joined her crew in the Angeles National Forest with a bandage on her nose, which Gil said looked “hard-core” and “tough.” He put her right to work, and this time, their crew was on the tail end of the fire.
The mask she’d been given was, of course, too big, and she sucked in to keep it flush against her face. The backend of a fire was filled with smoke and the last thing she needed was another trip to the hospital.
She worked with a different purpose now. Number one, her job was to find any remaining hotspots and put them out completely. Number two, she needed to find out what her future with this crew would be. She owed it to Brennan to have more answers for him than she’d had in the hospital.
He’d returned to Utah last night, along with her mother. Their visit, though a bit embarrassing, had added a glow to her life that Cora hadn’t felt in years. She prayed that she would be good enough to earn a permanent spot on the Del Rosa Crew, and that she could have everything she wanted. The job. The man. The family.
The Thompson Creek Fire was contained the next day, and the crew returned to their work camp in San Bernardino. After showering and plugging in her phone, she got up the courage to go talk to Gil, the Superintendent of the Crew.
“Hey, can I steal you for a sec?” she asked when she found him in the main room with several other men.
“Sure thing.” The bear of a man got up and followed her outside, which was blessedly smoke-free. “How’s the face?”
“It’s fine,” she said, reaching up to touch her eyebrow. If she ran her fingers along it, she could feel an indentation where her skull had been chipped. “Doesn’t hurt.” She drew in a deep breath. “Thanks for making sure the burns wouldn’t be scarring on my face.”
