The Eve Tree: A Novel

by Rachel Devenish Ford

  She came slowly back to the forest from the memory of her mother's hair on that pillow and for a long time didn't know what she was looking at until she recognized Jack's hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, unable to shake the sorrow that had settled on her. Her father had died in that bed.

  "Honey? Are you okay?"

  "Yeah." She laughed a shaky laugh. "Yeah. Well, not really, but I'll be fine."

  Todd and Amber stood just ahead, looking anxiously back at them. The forest felt unfriendly and Molly had a strong urge to run away.

  Before she could, she heard heavy footfalls and loud talking. In a moment they could see three people making their way down the path. They emerged from the smoke slowly, as though they were floating. One of the women was short and round, wearing a scarf around her curly black hair. It was Molly's closest neighbor, Athena, a woman Molly had known for most of her life. She was ten years older than Molly. Her parents had immigrated from Greece when she was five, before Molly was born. The two of them hadn't been friends as kids, but they had become close in the ten years since Molly had come back. Molly didn't know who the other two people were.

  Athena was red in the face, stumbling over tree roots, her eyes on the man who was walking beside her. He was thin, reedy with a slightly concave face, wearing jeans and a button down shirt. Molly frowned, looking closer. There was something wrong with the jeans. They were pulled up too high, making him look as though he had rounded hips, like a woman. Were they women's jeans?

  As they drew closer, Molly could hear more of what they were saying.

  "It should have been put out weeks ago!" Athena shouted. The man said something Molly couldn't hear and Athena raised her hands like she was beseeching heaven. She suddenly caught sight of the four of them and pulled them into the argument without missing a beat or losing pitch or intensity.

  "Jack! Molly! Thank God you're here!" she shouted. "The whole thing's gonna torch like a bale of hay in a lightning storm! You've got to talk some sense into this man. No one pays attention to a damn thing I say!"

  The man approached Jack with an awkward smile on his face and the other woman trailed slightly behind him. Athena came and stood beside Molly, who put an arm around her briefly.

  "God, Molly, these people are impossible. Hi, Todd, hi, Amber," she said.

  The kids grinned at her.

  "Chuck Telus," the man said, shaking Jack's hand.

  Molly had to strain to hear him, with Athena's words still ringing in her ears. "State Park Director," the man continued. "This is Sherry Grant from the department. She's assisting me." Sherry looked up and shook hands, looking back at the ground afterward.

  Jack seemed to recover himself.

  "I'm Jack Boscelli," he said. "This is my wife, Molly, and two of my children, Todd and Amber."

  All of them smiled and came close, shaking hands around the circle. This is ridiculous, Molly thought, scowling. What are we doing here?

  "Ahhhh," Chuck said, nodding and inexplicably wiping his hand on his jeans. Molly guessed that they were cinched right at his belly button. She tried to get a glimpse of the label to see what brand they were.

  "Of the O'Leary Ranch, I gather." He smiled smugly. "There was a little confusion there, with the difference between your surname and the name of the ranch. Difficult to keep track." He laughed as though he had made a joke.

  "It belonged to my mother," Molly said.

  "And to her mother before her!" said Athena.

  Jack said, "We didn't want to change the name of the ranch… everyone knows it as the O'Leary ranch."

  Molly's mother had changed the name from the McCarthy Ranch to the O'Leary Ranch as a gesture to her husband. To bring him in, Molly thought, though he worked far away and he never liked ranching. But Molly and Jack had never changed it. Jack didn't seem to need the ownership of name, when he could roam the trails at whim.

  "That's right," Chuck said. "No, no need to apologize. We can handle some confusion around here."

  Molly hadn't been aware that they were apologizing. She tensed and started to say something, but Jack stepped on her foot ever so slightly and she shut her mouth. She turned to look at Athena in disbelief.

  Athena spread her hands and murmured, "I know, I know, that's what I'm telling you. These people are unbelievable."

  "Really, I'm glad you're here," Chuck went on, smiling at Sherry, which she didn't catch because she was still staring at the ground. "Sherry can fill you in on the state of the fire."

  "The fire of the State," Molly said, but quietly. Todd snorted and Jack gave her a warning look.

  Sherry cleared her throat, then looked at them all tentatively.

  "We've been following the progress of this fire, and the good news is that we're relatively sure it's doing nothing but good here. The old growth is containing it, and as you can see, it is a small and controlled fire, clearing these woods of debris that could cause larger fires in the future…"

  "We aren't in the second grade!" Molly said.

  Sherry stopped her recitation and returned to gazing at the forest floor. Jack put a hand on Molly's arm.

  "What my wife means to say is that we understand the current fire suppression methods. We're not sure that they'll be enough."

  "These trees are fire resistant," Chuck interjected. "There's nothing to burn here, the fuel layers are deep and damp and you can see as we stand here how slowly this fire is moving."

  "But…" Jack said.

  "If it gets to the second growth..." Molly said.

  "What about if it crosses the ridge?" Athena asked. "Second growth firs, redwood, pines? The oaks? The buildings?" Her voice rose in pitch again.

  "We're confident it won't get that far," Chuck said. "A fire like this has never left the old growth before. These trees are giants. Look at this fire. We have no embers, no trees torching."

  They stood staring at him with tense faces.

  "Absolutely nothing to worry about." He wiped imaginary dust off of his hands and hooked his fingers into his belt loops, above his hipbones. "Well. Sherry? Shall we? My wife is waiting. This has been a doozy to sort out, and we're working way after hours. Haven't had a day off in weeks, but today I promised to make it to an uncle's birthday with her." He extended his hand again. "I'm really glad we ran into you here," he said.

  Jack didn't move to take his hand. Molly was awestruck. This guy was thinking in terms of days off or birthday parties. The rest of them were thinking about disaster, about destroyed trees or homes.

  "And dozer lines?" Jack asked. "Are you making any? Do you have a way to bring trucks in, just in case? Will there be a fire line in the park?"

  Chuck sighed, dropped his hand. "Well, you know that there are regulations in the Park." They nodded. "Have you heard of MIST? Minimum Impact Suppression Tactics?"

  "Minimum impact on the fire?" Molly asked.

  "That's what I'm saying!" Athena broke in. "That's what it comes down to! Those helicopters spraying drops of water for an hour a day couldn't put out a blaze on a rat's ass, and the fire has been moving forward every day."

  Chuck ignored them.

  "Minimum impact to the environment," he enunciated clearly.

  "No dozers," Jack said. Chuck met his gaze. "Minimum impact means no dozers."

  "No dozers," the Director agreed. "We can't bring a dozer into a State Park."

  Molly stood looking back and forth at the two of them. She turned to look at Todd and found him watching her. Amber was digging her toe into the dirt, frowning. Molly felt like she would scream if somebody didn't say something, do something. But they all said goodnight and Chuck and Sherry casually walked away. They disappeared quickly between the trees, and as Molly looked at the orange flames beyond the clearing, she had the impression that she was dreaming, as though she had made Chuck and Sherry up. The air was heavy with heat. The fire crackled quietly in the distance.

  "What does it mean, Dad?" Amber asked as they all trudged towards the parking lot. "This MIST
thing?"

  "No dozers means no fire lines," Jack said. "It means they have less access, they can only fight on foot, and they can't make a break to keep the fire back."

  "It means your ranch is going to burn," said Athena, who was bustling on ahead. Molly stopped in her tracks and stared at the short curvy figure of Athena from the back.

  "Athena!" she said, shocked.

  Athena turned around to look at Molly with hard, sad eyes.

  "What?" she said. "It's true. If they don't get some dozers in there and make a clear line immediately, you are going to see Maximum Impact. You're going to lose a lot of trees, and if I'm unlucky, I will too. I'm telling all of you, you can't leave these guys alone. They're not making decisions based on what's good for you, you need to jump into this thing, because any day now, that fire's going to come visiting, and those guys'll be standing around, scratching their asses, wondering what hit them. And they won't take the blame, either. No matter how stupid these Rangers are, they never admit they're at fault."

  In the truck everyone was silent, settling into their seats with the dull clicks of seat belts being fastened. Jack turned the truck on and needlessly adjusted his rearview mirror. Molly watched him, then moved the air conditioning vent so it blew straight at her face. As the air cooled, she breathed a sigh.

  "Well?" she said. "Do you think she's right?" Jack pulled away from the trees, turning the truck toward the road. They passed some of the giants, the trees that were as wide as the truck Jack was driving.

  "She could be."

  "What's your guess, Jack?"

  "Don't know what to think. I don't have the history that you and others have with the rangers. I don't know how much they can see."

  "Athena doesn't trust them," Molly said. Jack snorted.

  "That's an understatement."

  From behind Molly's seat, Todd said, "Athena seems to be in Grandma's camp."

  "What do you mean?" she asked, swiveling her neck and shoulders to look at him. His legs were folded up in the small space, wrists resting on his thighs. Amber beside him looked out her window. Light was illuminating the blond hair falling against her face. She had her arms crossed over her stomach.

  "She probably thinks we need to make our own line," Todd said.

  "Well, that's not going to happen."

  Amber moved suddenly. "Mom? Maybe we should consider what they've been saying."

  Molly turned around to face the front. Her neck was pinching her.

  "Consider it…"

  "Maybe we should bring a CAT down and make our own line."

  "I don't think so." Molly bit her thumbnail and watched the undulation of the hills as they came out of the deep forest and curved around beside it, a valley falling open on their left.

  "Why do you think you know better than Grandma and Athena?"

  "Amber," Todd said.

  "No, I'm just wondering."

  "We're going to stick with what CalFire says, that's all," Jack said. "Nobody's trying to say that they know more than anyone else, it's just the way we've decided to go."

  "Is there a point when you'll decide you were wrong?" Amber asked.

  "Drop it, Amber." Molly said.

  Jack turned down the road that led to their gate and the familiar shapes of trees Molly had known all her life began swooping past. Everything was so different in this smoke! The landscape was changed.

  Catherine's shadow would never really leave her. She'd always be the tiny, less capable one beside her giant mother. Even her children thought so.

  "Athena's pretty emotional," Molly said.

  "What?" Jack said.

  "Athena. She may be a little over the top right now. It's possible that CalFire and the rangers know more than she thinks they do." Maybe it was wishful thinking. "It is their job after all."

  "Still," said Amber. "It's a good idea to keep an eye on them, don't you think?"

  "I don't know if it will do any good," Jack said. "But we'll have to, because CalFire will be bringing trucks in any minute. Oh, and we need to move the goats today."

  "I know," Molly said.

  "Should we start on that right away? All hands on deck?"

  "I need to check in on Gerard, see where he's at. Then I need to get the milk in bottles and we'll be set."

  "Molly, really?"

  "What am I supposed to do? Throw the milk out?"

  Jack sighed, downshifting as they drove up the last, steep hill.

  "Well, okay. But after a couple of hours I'm going to show up and start hauling goats away, so if you want to be involved you need to get a move on."

  "Way to be heavy-handed, Dad," Todd said from the back.

  "I didn't ask you," Jack said, smiling. Molly let a small smile creep onto her face, testing out the way it felt. It felt better than the way she'd been holding her face lately, iron hard and fierce.

  "Gerard!"

  "In here."

  She poked her head through the doorway of the milking pen and saw him sweeping the floor under the benches.

  "The goats are done?"

  "All set a couple hours ago. I would've gone home, but Jack said you needed help with moving them."

  "Yeah, we do. Sorry we took so long, we ran into the State Parks guy down there."

  "Oh? What's he like?"

  Molly shrugged. "He likes the sound of his own voice. One of those types." She had a brainstorm, and stomped one foot. "Hey! I know, Gerard. Why don't you start loading the goats up while I get the milk done."

  "Sure." He swept a pile of debris onto the dustpan and shook it out over the trash can. "Should I go to the house and get some help?"

  "Do you need help?"

  "You want me to round all these goats onto the trailer by myself while your kids are sitting right over there?"

  "Ha. I guess that's silly."

  She had, in fact, wanted the two of them to finish it before anyone else could help. He shook his head and ambled out the door and over the gravel toward the house.

  Molly muttered to herself as she poured milk into the huge pots and turned the burners on. She pulled a funnel from a drawer and a box of glass bottles from a large steel shelf and began funneling raw milk into bottles, slapping yellow labels on them when they were full. Squatting, she rocked back onto her heels for a second, shocked into awareness of the anxiety that was coursing through her. Her whole body felt tense, like she might rocket off into space. Where had all this come from?

  She worked at calming herself, the way she'd learned over the years, singing while she poured, focusing on the milk splashing into the bottle, the white against the dark of the granite counter. The bottles had been through the dishwasher and they were so clean. She looked up and swore.

  One pot of milk was overflowing, and milk bubbled and browned on the burner. She rushed to turn it off, but the pot was shellacked with milk. A mess. Her whole life was a mess, a large, burning, pooping, milky mess.

  She left the pot to cool and started washing the other ones, her hands slowing as she stared down to the valley through the window. The washed-out gold of the grasses on the hills floated in front of her eyes, draping around her mind like a blanket. She was still so tired. She finished scrubbing the pots, rinsing them and turning them upside down over a towel on the counter. She swiped at the counter with a damp cloth then draped it over the faucet, turning to leave the room. The milk was bottled and ready for Gerard to deliver. Jack couldn't ask much more of her than that.

  She stood at the doorway, looking over the yard and over at her tired garden, unsure of what to do. The leaves in the nearest oak tree rustled in a strong breeze, and Molly looked at them with concern. Wind spread fire. She heard something more. Vehicles were approaching.

  She stepped out onto the grass and waited. The sun on her was like a hammer on an anvil, trying to drive her into the ground, reshaping her. She could smell smoke and the scent of her own anxiety. Squinting, she rolled her neck, trying to get her shoulders to let go. They were like iron.


  When she reached the halfway point between the barn and the house she looked up to see an inordinate number of trucks floating in the distance for too many minutes. They were on the top road, getting close to the place where the three roads met. Heat shimmered from their hoods and the haze and red together was tiring to her hot eyes. As they came they brought something that floated in the air with them, hovering between them and swirling around them. What kind of fire prevention was this? But these things were coming from the opposite direction as well and the caravan of red didn't cease as she opened her hand and caught something that looked like a petal. When she looked at it and saw what it was, her knees stopped holding her and she sat down hard in the dirt.

  Almost instantly Gerard opened the kitchen door to the house and ran toward her, with Amber trailing behind him. He bent down to her as she struggled to catch her breath, his voice coming from a far away place.

  "Molly! Molly, what happened? Are you okay?"

  "Mom!"

  They were asking the wrong questions, facing the wrong way. She opened her mouth to answer and a shrill sound left her, like the bell for fire drills they used to have in school. The tiny students always walked so slowly when they should have been allowed to run. They lined up neatly when they should have been fleeing.

  "Ashes!" she said. "Ashes." She saw their faces close like fists, and knew that they didn't understand. It was too late to run, but she got up and started off anyway.

  EIGHT

  Jack had hauled all the hay out of his truck and now there were little flecks of alfalfa all over the bed, everything that had shivered away from the bales as Jack had lifted them. He usually brought a broom along to sweep it into the feed troughs, but now he couldn't find it. Living with Molly was like living with the tide; she swept detritus along behind her, depositing it where she wanted. He was sweating already, but still he jumped back onto the truck bed, gathering the pieces of hay out of the corners with his hands, slowly scooping the piles toward the edge of the truck so he could push them off where the cattle could get them. The grass was so dry this year, they could barely graze at all.