Beautiful Sacrifice

by Jamie McGuire

  "The last reported communication with the Estes Park crew was at six o'clock this evening, right about the time the two main fires converged."

  I grabbed my keys before sprinting out to my car. The moment my seat belt clicked, I twisted the key in the ignition and stomped on the gas.

  Less than ten minutes later, Taylor's hotel came into view. I parked and ran inside, immediately seeing Ellison standing with a crowd of firefighters and hotshot crew members from the entire state. She was watching the large flat screen with her mouth covered.

  "Ellie!" I called.

  She ran to hug me, nearly knocking me over. She squeezed me tight, sniffling.

  "I just heard. Any news?" I asked, trying not to panic.

  She released me and shook her head, wiping her nose with a tissue she had tucked in her palm. "Nothing. We arrived just after seven. Tyler drove like a maniac. He's out there with the crews, looking for them."

  I hugged her. "I know they're okay."

  "Because they have to be." She held me at bay, forcing a brave smile. "I heard about the baby. First Maddox grandbaby. Jim's ecstatic."

  My face fell.

  "Oh God. Oh, no. Did you ... are you not pregnant anymore?"

  I stared at her, utterly confused and horrified. She mirrored my expression.

  "You're right," she said. "This isn't the time. Let's go sit. Trex is getting updates every half an hour from his people."

  "His people?"

  Ellison shrugged. "I don't know. He just said his people."

  We sat together on the couch in the lobby, surrounded by firefighters, hotshots, and various officials. As the night wore on, the crowd thinned.

  My eyes felt heavy, and every time I blinked, it seemed more difficult to open them again. The desk clerk brought us coffee and a plate of doughnuts, but neither Ellison nor I touched the food.

  Trex came over, sitting in the chair adjacent to our sofa.

  "Any word?" Ellison asked.

  Trex shook his head, clearly disheartened.

  "What about the rescue team?" I asked.

  "Nothing," Trex said. "I'm sorry. My guys only give visual confirmation, and they haven't seen anyone in an hour. The helos are up with spotlights, but the smoke is making it difficult to see." He glanced back at the desk clerk and then shook his head. "I'm going to call them in ten minutes. I'll let you know the moment I hear anything."

  Ellison nodded, and then her attention was drawn to the entrance.

  Taylor walked in, his skin caked in dirt and soot. He removed his bright blue hard hat, and I stood, my eyes instantly filling with tears.

  I leaned forward, my body half-frozen, half-screaming at me to run to him.

  Ellison jumped out of her seat and rushed past me, throwing her arms around him.

  It wasn't Taylor but Tyler. I'd only felt that much devastation one other time in my life--the moment Olive was pulled from my arms.

  Matching clean streaks ran down Tyler's cheeks as he hugged Ellison, shaking his head.

  "No," I whispered. "No!"

  Tyler rushed over to me. "Taylor's crew was cut off when the fires converged. It's possible that they could have backed themselves into a cave, but ... the temperatures are ... it doesn't look good, Falyn. I tried. They dragged me out. I'm sorry."

  He hugged me, and my hands fell limp at my sides.

  There were no tears, no pain, no waves of emotion. There was nothing.

  And then my knees buckled, and I wailed.

  By morning, Ellison was lying on Tyler's lap, asleep, while he sipped his fourth cup of coffee. His eyes had been glued on the television screen, just like mine.

  Fresh crews came downstairs, ready for a second search-and-rescue mission. Tyler's team had all trudged in and gone upstairs to catch what sleep they could.

  Trex stood at the desk with the woman who had brought us coffee all night. His team had turned in two hours before, waiting until daylight before resuming their air search.

  I stood, and Tyler's eyes followed.

  "I have to go to work," I said. "I can't sit here anymore. I have to stay busy."

  Tyler rubbed the back of his neck, like Taylor would when he was upset or nervous. "I'll let you know the moment I hear something."

  "Are you going back out?" I asked.

  "I'm not sure they'll let me. I might have punched one or two people before they removed me from the area."

  "He's your brother. They'll understand."

  Tyler's eyes glossed over, and his bottom lip trembled. His head fell forward, and Ellison touched his shoulder, whispering words of comfort.

  I made my way out to the parking lot, moving in slow motion.

  The drive to the Bucksaw was a blur. I had no thoughts. I didn't cry. Everything was automatic--breathing, braking, turning.

  My parking spot was taken, so I parked elsewhere, but by the time I stepped onto the tiles of the dining area, I had forgotten where.

  I shuffled across the floor in the same clothes I'd worn the day before, my apron still tied around my waist.

  "Dear Jesus," Phaedra said, rushing over and hooking her arm behind me. She escorted me to the kitchen. "Any word?"

  Kirby burst through the swinging doors, covering her mouth when she saw me. Chuck, Hector, and Pete stopped what they were doing and stared.

  "Nothing. They forced Tyler to ... they called off the search just after midnight. They headed out again this morning."

  "Falyn," Kirby said, "have you slept?"

  I shook my head.

  "All right. Kirby, there's a bottle of pills in my bag, point five milligrams. Bring it upstairs. C'mon, baby girl, you've got to sleep."

  I slinked out of Phaedra's grip. "I can't. I have to work. I have to stay busy."

  Chuck shook his head. "Honey, you're in no state to wait tables."

  "Then Kirby and I can trade for the day." I pleaded with Kirby with my eyes.

  Kirby waited for Phaedra's approval.

  "Falyn--" Phaedra began.

  "Please!" I screamed, closing my eyes. "Please. Just let me work. I can't go upstairs and lie in that bed alone, knowing he's out there somewhere."

  Chuck nodded to his wife, and then she dipped her head.

  "All right. Kirby, you're on server duty. I'll help."

  Kirby pushed through the double doors, going straight over to the tables. I tended to the hostess station, bussing tables and cleaning the floor between customers.

  A family came in--a father with tattoo sleeves on both arms, the mother with no tattoos, and two girls and a boy, all three kids under six. The youngest, maybe six months, was snuggled against his mother in a Boba Wrap as he slept, and I choked back the unexpected emotions that seeing him induced.

  I seated them at the back table where Taylor had been seated for the last two months and handed them menus. "Kirby will be your server this morning. Enjoy."

  I froze when I recognized the man standing by the hostess station as Taylor. Covered in thick mud, he was still wearing all his gear, including his pack and hard hat. The creases next to his eyes were the only skin on his face not covered with soot.

  I covered my mouth, stifling a sob.

  He took a step, removing his hat. "They said you waited all night at the hotel."

  I couldn't respond. I knew if I opened my mouth, all I would be able to do was bawl.

  "Is it true?" he asked, his eyes glossing over. He fidgeted with his helmet.

  Everyone in the room was staring at the filthy man who reeked of campfire, and then they all looked at me.

  As soon as I nodded, my legs gave way, and I fell to my knees, my hand still cupped over my trembling lips.

  Taylor rushed to the floor, falling onto his knees, too.

  He touched my cheeks, and I hugged him, pulling him to me, grasping at his clothes like he might be taken away from me at any moment. I let the sob break free, my cries filling the cafe.

  He held me as long as I needed, allowing me to hug him as tightly as I wanted. His
coat and pack were hard to navigate around, but I didn't pay attention to that. I just grabbed whatever my hands landed on and pulled him against me.

  "Baby," he whispered, looking down at me. He wiped my face, probably smudged from the layers of ash on his skin and clothes. "I'm okay. I'm here."

  "Does Tyler know?"

  "Yeah. He's the one who told me you were at the hotel. Who knew he would be such a big fucking baby when it came to me?" He smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

  "Where have you been?" I asked, shivering uncontrollably.

  "We holed up. Let it run over us. Used our fire shelters. Finally crawled out this morning."

  I hugged him again and then pressed my mouth on his, not caring that his skin was black with thick soot. He wrapped his arms around me, and everyone in the Bucksaw let out a collective sigh of relief and sentiment.

  When I finally let him go, his eyes sparked. "Christ, woman. If I'd known I'd have to have a near-death experience to get your attention, I would have jumped into a fire months ago."

  "Don't say that," I said, shaking my head, tears blurring my vision. "Where are Dalton and Zeke? Are they okay?"

  Taylor smiled, his teeth gleaming white against his dark face. "Everyone made it out. They're back at the hotel. I came straight over when Ellie told me you'd waited up with them."

  Chuck and Phaedra approached, both relieved and happy to see Taylor.

  "Take him upstairs, Falyn. Get him cleaned up, so we can make him some breakfast. I'm sure he's half-starved," Phaedra said.

  Taylor stood, bringing me with him. "Yes, ma'am," he said, pulling me toward the stairs.

  I followed him, still in shock.

  When we stepped inside the loft, I closed the door behind me, leaning my back against it. It didn't seem real. All night, I'd thought he was dead, mulling over the idea of truly losing him forever. Now, he was standing a few feet from me, and although the circumstances hadn't changed, everything was different.

  "Can you hand me a trash bag? A big one," Taylor said, careful to stand on the tiles in the entrance.

  I went to the cabinet under the sink and pulled a large black trash bag from its cardboard box. I shook it out before handing it to him.

  Taylor dropped his pack into the sack, and it crashed to the floor. He peeled off his yellow jacket, and then he bent over at the waist to unfasten his boots before pulling them off. Each time he removed a piece of his protective clothing, he'd put it inside the bag.

  When he was done, he held the bag closed at the top. "Don't want your place smelling like smoke."

  I shook my head. "I don't care."

  He grinned. "You will. It doesn't go away for a while. And the black is hard to get out of the carpet. Trust me." Down to his boxer briefs, he tied up the sack and set it outside the door in the hall. "I'm going to take a shower," he said.

  I chuckled. Now that he was undressed, his skin was only dirty from the neck up.

  He padded into the bathroom, and I heard the shower come on. I covered my mouth, stifling an unexpected sob. He was okay. He was alive and in my bathroom. I thought about what Kirby had said--about the sacrifices he was willing to make and how atrocious I was behaving when it was time for me to take a risk.

  I knocked on the open bathroom door, the steam billowing out from above the curtain. The mirror was fogging. Everything was blurry again.

  "Taylor?"

  "Just wait," he said. "I know what you're going to say. I know what happened last night doesn't change anything. But I've got your fucking attention. I want to talk."

  "About what?" I asked.

  The faucet shut off, and as Taylor opened the curtain, I grabbed a clean towel from the rack and handed it to him. He dried his face, patted down his chest and arms, and then wrapped the towel around his middle.

  "You're not doing this. We love each other. That hasn't changed," he said.

  "How? How can you still love me? If I deserved it before, I definitely don't now," I said, exasperated.

  He shrugged. "I just love you. I don't stop to question whether or not you're worthy. But you can't keep forcing me to make choices that aren't mine."

  I had burned him twice. Anyone else would have walked away by now, but he still loved me.

  "You're right. You're absolutely right. I know I said I wasn't scared of you. But I lied. I tried not to fall in love with you, but I didn't want to try too hard. Now, we're here, and every time I try to do the right thing, it's wrong. I hurt you, just like I knew I would."

  He took a step toward me, interlacing his fingers with mine. He grazed his lips along my cheek until his mouth was whispering against my ear, "No one could have been prepared for this scenario. I don't blame you. I don't want an apology. I just want you to stop the bullshit, Ivy League. You're smart, but you're not always smarter than me."

  I looked up at him, the corners of my mouth curling up.

  "We've got a baby on the way," he said.

  "You have a baby on the way."

  "No, this is our baby. You have said from the beginning that this was all happening exactly the way it was supposed to. You can't pick and choose. It's either fate, or it's not."

  "What if she changes her mind? What if she comes back?"

  "Then we adjust. We don't fall apart."

  My eyes filled with tears. "I'm afraid. That's a lot to ask."

  "I'm not asking." He held the back of my neck and kissed me, tightly closing his eyes, as if it were painful. He held my cheeks and looked straight into my eyes. "You've walked away from me twice, Falyn. I go back to Estes in a couple of months. I'm going to be a dad in December. I'm fucking terrified. But I love you, and that surpasses fear."

  Even after months of being apart, being in his arms felt normal, as if it had always been and would always be. I couldn't break his heart again even if it meant being brokenhearted later. I didn't know anymore what the right thing to do was. I just knew that I loved him, and he loved me, too. That was worth all the pain before and all the pain to come.

  "Okay. I'm in."

  He leaned back, scanning my entire face. "You're in? Which part?"

  "Estes Park, the baby--all of it."

  A cautious small smile touched his lips. "When?"

  "When you go back, I'll go with you."

  "Falyn."

  "Yeah?"

  "I'm having trouble believing you."

  "I know. But I promise."

  "I have a condition."

  I sighed a breath of relief, waiting for whatever he was going to throw my way. "Okay. Name it."

  His mouth pulled to the side. "Marry me."

  My lips parted, and my breath caught.

  Taylor leaned down, touching his thumb to my chin, tilting his head. "Say yes," he whispered against my lips.

  "I ... this is not a good time to be making life-changing decisions. We just experienced a traumatic event. I thought you were dead."

  "I almost was," he said. He sucked on my bottom lip.

  My breath faltered. "When?" I asked, stumbling over the word.

  "Why wait?" he said, his voice low and smooth.

  He left a trail of kisses from the corner of my mouth to the skin just beneath my ear while reaching around to where my apron was tied in a knot. With two tugs, it came loose and fell to the floor. He backed me up to the door, placing his palms on the peeling white paint on each side of my head.

  "Do you love me?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "See? It's not hard. Just say yes. Say you'll marry me."

  I swallowed hard. "I can't."

  I reached behind me for the knob before twisting and ducking under his arm. I escaped to the living room, crossing my arms over my middle.

  Taylor came out of the bathroom, stopping at the kitchen bar. "You can't?"

  I shook my head, pressing my lips together.

  "You can't right now or can't at all?" he said. Waiting for my answer was torture for him.

  "You're throwing a lot at me all at once. I give you
an inch, and you go balls out."

  Taylor relaxed a bit, and he breathed out a laugh. "Okay. That's fair."

  "I might run away, but you don't know when to quit."

  His happiness vanished. "I'm not quitting on you. As long as you love me, I'm going to keep fighting."

  "Well," I said, "we're definitely good at that."

  He took a step toward me. "I didn't know I wanted it until I said it. But I said it, and now, I want it."

  "To get married?" I asked.

  He nodded.

  "Didn't you hear what I said?"

  "Fuck it," he said, shrugging. "Who cares what the logistics are or what your college psych books said or what happened last night? I fucking love you. I want you to be my wife. I want you to have my last name."

  A small smile touched my lips. "You do have a pretty great last name."

  "Falyn Maddox," he said, each syllable full of admiration and love.

  I frowned. "That doesn't sound so great."

  He slowly made his way to where I stood, wrapping his arms around me. "I have never exactly fantasized about proposing to a girl, but I damn sure never thought I'd have to beg." He thought about that for a moment and then knelt.

  "Oh no, please get up."

  "Falyn Fairchild, you are a stubborn woman. You have the mouth of a sailor. You buck every rule anyone lays upon you, and you've broken my heart. Twice."

  "This is a terrible proposal," I said.

  "Everything that's happened since we met has led to this moment. There is only one woman I've loved before you, and there will never be another after you."

  "Unless it's a girl," I said.

  Taylor blanched and then stood. "You think it could be a girl?"

  "There is a fifty percent chance."

  He rubbed the back of his neck, walked away from me, and came back. "I can't have a daughter. I'll kill someone."

  I chuckled. "You're right. You do need me--at the very least, for an alibi."

  "I'd feel a lot better about it if we made it official."

  "I'm not going anywhere."

  His face twisted. "You've said that before."

  I blew out a breath, feeling like the truth had just punched me in the chest. "I guess neither one of us keeps our promises."

  "There is one promise I know I'll keep," he said.

  I leaned over, tenderly cupping his face in my hands. "Ask me again."

  He blinked. "What?"

  "Ask me again."

  His eyes glossed over, and he took my hand in both of his. "Will you marry me?"

  "Yes."

  "Yeah?" he said, beaming.

  He crashed into me, kissing every inch of my face. Then his lips landed on my mouth, moving slowly. When he finally released me, he shook his head in disbelief. "You're serious? You're gonna marry me?"