16. Gone West
Chapter 16
Gone West
I ’m leading the wildland firefighter training for our new crew stationed between Carson City and Reno. Primarily, they’ll be responding to calls from city folk who’re visiting Tahoe, don’t have four-wheel or all-wheel drive, and get stranded. But from time to time, there are real disasters and these guys will be called to the line.
I’ve been there plenty of times, always the one out front, who volunteered to do extra, or the things the others avoided—latrine duty, anyone? My hand would go up. The point was to be disciplined enough to learn. But over time, with that came some bravado because even if I didn’t know what to do, I’d still answer the call. This is why I was surprised Leyton picked me to teach.
A few nights ago, he said he wanted me here because, for some guys, that level of commitment to learning leads to being intuitive. Or they just get stuck being brash boneheads. I guess I’m one of the lucky ones because even though I’ll still be the first to try to mitigate danger, my brazen—some would say cocky—behavior burned up. Extinguished. Could be because I no longer feel like I have something to prove. Truth is, I only care about what a woman down in Hogwash thinks of me.
I missed these mountains, but I miss Honey and Leonie more. I’ll take the muggy air and mosquitos and the bayou if it means I get them too. Even though the crew has me busy, I look forward to our daily text exchanges. Sometimes hourly. We’ve video-called a few times as well.
Honey sends me a daily photo of her and Leonie. I’m not exactly the sentimental type, but this would make for a few pages in a scrapbook. The caption would be about our time apart and then the rest of the photos would be of our happy reunion.
Trust me, I’m counting down the days until I can make silly faces at Leonie and listen to her laugh. Have my morning cup of coffee with Honey, make dinner for us, and watch the transformation at the chateau.
Also, I’m especially excited to kiss Honey again. Her soft yet hungry lips on mine were unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Forget messing up my pulse, I’m a living, breathing five-alarm fire. I’m not sure there’s anything left of the old me and I don’t mind.
It’s odd how I went to Hogwash Holler thinking I’d run the town into the ground in an act of revenge against my ex, to make her look bad and regret all of her life’s decisions. Instead, I potentially got a family out of the deal.
At least, I hope so.
My phone beeps. It’s a few hours later in Louisiana than it is here, so Leonie is probably asleep which means we can talk, er, text.
Honey: I keep hearing things outside. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the crocogator has a posse and they’re partying in the woods.
Me: Lexi and JQ warned me about swamp zombies.
Honey: I just laughed out loud and almost woke up Leonie. Jesse and I made that up to keep everyone away from Shady Lane.
Me: So you could find the treasure?
Honey: We weren’t that dumb. Okay, we were. But I still don’t think it’s there, er, here.
Me: But other people do.
I belatedly realize suggesting that someone is out there might frighten Honey. Then again, nothing scares her. The woman is unshakeable. I wish I weren’t so far away. Even though she’s tough, I like the idea that she’d turn to me for safety and security.
Honey: It’s too early for the Hogwash Hunt.
Me: Pirates aren’t known for following the rules.
Honey: You mean scavenger hunters?
Me: When should we expect them?
Honey: The Hogwash Hunt begins January 2, but more importantly, when can we expect you?
Me: Are you saying you want me?
Our back and forth is usually pretty snappy when Leonie is asleep and I’m off the clock. However, the little texting dots blink for longer than usual, like Honey is trying to figure out how to respond.
Honey: I want reliability.
Honey: I want integrity.
Honey: I want honesty.
Honey: I want your mouth on mine.
Honey: Does that answer your question?
Yes, very much so. I shift slightly, suddenly hot and I clear my throat.
Me: Don’t miss me too much.
Honey: Leonie keeps me distracted. And these noises.
I open a browser window on my phone and look up a security system company in the area, wishing I’d done this sooner. I make a call and pay extra for the technicians to go to the chateau tomorrow.
Me: It’s probably the cat.
Honey: Minou is curled up at the end of the bed.
I’ll admit that I wish I was, even though Honey won’t let me into the bedroom. I’d settle for the couch, with her head on my shoulder or even taking a walk and holding hands.
Me: Workers from SecuriTech will be at the house at eight. I told them to swing by the restaurant to grab the key from you.
Honey: You’re having a security system installed?
Me: Since Flap and Jack are all the way on the other side of the country, I can’t be your bodyguard, so yeah.
Honey: Are you calling your arm muscles Flap and Jack? I think we can do better than that.
Me: Flapjack? Better than Pan and Cake ... or we could just go with hotcakes.
I add the winking face. I can’t help it, even though I take Honey and Leonie’s safety seriously, I’m smiling because this woman just gets me. And I get her.
Me: Yep. Flap and Jack miss you. They want to make sure you’re safe until they can hold you in their arms again.
Honey: Are you saying you want me?
My grin grows and one of the guys across the room snickers as if he knows I’m messaging someone special. Can’t let them see my soft side, so I go outside onto the deck overlooking Carson Spur, part of the Sierra Nevada range, dotted with evergreen stubble as it slopes gently toward meadowlands.
I flip through a few of the recent photos of Leonie and get to some that include Honey. My heart melts as I look at the baby with her bright blue eyes. But my pulse picks up the pace and goes wild when I look at Honey with her steady yet sparkling gaze. The woman has known mischief and isn’t afraid to stand up for herself?—or stand by the people she loves, namely her little girl. She’s strong, thoughtful, and resilient, and the kind of woman a guy would never regret.
There is no other way to answer her question so I keep it simple.
Me: Yes, I want you.
Me: I want you bad.
It only gets worse as the days that we’re apart turn into weeks. Thanksgiving is an over-the-top affair at the fire crew school house with a fried turkey, a roasted turkey, and a smoked turkey, plus all the fixings. However, someone forgot to add the marshmallows to the sweet potatoes. I think it’s a crime, and among the guys, a serious debate ensues. I’ll have to ask Honey her take, leaving me longing to be around the table in Hogwash with her and Leonie.
Leyton makes us go around and tell everyone something we’re thankful for. Following his cue, I keep it short and tell the guys I appreciate this opportunity to teach them and see them grow as firefighters.
The part I keep to myself is that I’m grateful that in the divorce settlement with my ex-wife, I inherited a town. I see so much potential there from the quaint main street to making everything at the end of Shady Lane into a home and a historic site where visitors can enjoy the old legends rather than leaving the place in ruin in search of treasure.
In my downtime, when I’m not connecting with Honey or hiking, I’ve been researching the history of Cameron Parish, Hogwash, and the Hunt in particular.
I wonder if there is a way to call it off while commemorating it at the same time. Then again, I don’t think anyone will give up hope on discovering Tickle’s Tokens until they’re all recovered.
Before I left, JQ confided in me. He said since I own the town, I ought to know. The Tokens are real. He and Lexi found one ... and some other stuff. I’m pretty sure they’re behind funding the refurbishment of the community center and swimming pool.
Teaching Leonie to swim—and water safety, of course, we deal with a lot of that in my profession—makes me grin. Also, I wouldn’t object to seeing Honey in a bathing suit.
My phone beeps as if she’s reading my mind, but it’s a message from one of the parish administrators about the updated plat for the estate property. Some years ago, someone petitioned for the land to be split, possibly for development. As it stands, the estate, cemetery, and another section which looks like it includes two other structures remain intact. The Fort is state property, but the Tickle Estate, which hadn’t been assigned to anyone until I came along, has access and other rights. However, numerous people over the years laid claim to being a descendent.
Thankfully, they were denied.
If we can find the tokens, we can turn the scavenger hunters into civilized guests. Maybe Hogwash could become a vacation destination—one of those quaint coastal towns featured on social media. I love the idea of Honey and Leonie—maybe more kids—someday filling those rooms, but it would also make a good boutique hotel. The Fort could be a point of interest and we could open the area up with a waterfront for airboat rides. I’m getting ahead of myself, but the idea and inspiration won’t quit.
When I get back to Hogwash, I plan to tell Honey. However, I haven’t figured out how to convince her the Tokens are real without betraying JQ.
Then again, she and I shouldn’t keep secrets. I know Honey still has a few.
It’s December first, and my countdown is officially on. I’ll be leaving here on December twenty-first and driving east each day until I run out of gas—figuratively speaking.
My phone beeps.
Honey: I have good news. Well, more of a surprise.
Before I can read the next message, Leyton and the others snag my attention. I have to get out to the field for the practical hands-on portion of the program. My phone vibrates a few more times while I review rangeland fire mitigation tactics with the students. I try not to let curiosity about the message distract me.
Maybe Leonie got her first tooth—Honey says she senses teething even though it’s a little on the early side. At night, I’ve been reading chapters in “It’s a Baby’s World: We Just Live in It.” The inch-thick tome is about what to expect from conception to twenty-four months.
Or maybe Honey perfected the apple tart she’s been working on from Eloise Tickle’s cookbook. She’s mentioned updating the Laughing Gator Grille menu in the new year. Her pancakes are the best I’ve ever had even though I won’t give her the pleasure of calling them anything but flapjacks.
Could be that Mrs. Halfpenny realized her dog requires batteries or Molly is finally pronouncing crème br?lée properly.
When one of the students answers a question I pose about evergreen sap’s flammability, I realize Honey must’ve gotten a Christmas tree.
At lunchtime, I finally have a chance to see what Honey has to say and the message string is long on her side. The most recent one demands to know whether I consider Die Hard a Christmas movie.
I go outside and call her directly.
“What’s going on?”
She answers on the second to last ring. “I can’t talk much right now. Jesse is here investigating. It doesn’t look like anything was taken except for a bunch of biscuits.”
“Slow down. Last I heard, you wanted to know my thoughts on Die Hard. Obviously, it’s a Christmas movie.”
“But since then, someone broke into the Laughing Gator Grille and made a mess of my Christmas decorations.” Her voice is strained.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course. This is me we’re talking about.” True. Had she been at the restaurant, she’d have fought them off with a frying pan.
“Any idea who or why?”
“Swamp zombies?” she says thinly.
A rash of heat breaks out across my skin because I’m here and she’s there, and there’s not a thing I can do. Honey is strong but rattled and I hate that.
Thinking fast, I say, “I’ll have SecuriTech outfit the restaurant by the end of the week.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Careful with those words, Honey,” I say, my voice sharper than I mean because if she dares to try to push me away when it comes to her safety, I will mow down Hogwash and anyone who so much as touches a hair on her head—or a potato in her restaurant.
“I thought maybe it could’ve been Roxy and Sawyer again, given the fact they were behind the stolen rotating root beer mug. But Jesse thinks it has something to do with the Hunt.”
I nod, recalling our conversation a few weeks ago when she heard noises outside the chateau.
“Could be early bird scavengers.”
“Well, they’d better watch out ... no one has found Chick Jagger. If I’m not mistaken, the mayor is a bird and the crocogator is on the loose.”
She laughs faintly.
“Is Leonie okay?”
“She’s with Lexi today.”
“How about you?” I ask to give her a chance to lean on me if she needs to.
“You know me.”
“What was your good news from earlier?” I ask, following up with an apology for not being able to reply.
“I think I’ll let it be a surprise.”
I eye my truck parked in the gravel lot, eager for the next three weeks to fly by.
Thankfully, they do without incident—well, there was Couger in the kitchen with the squash souffle. Thankfully, we’re equipped with fire extinguishers, fire blankets, and baking soda in a pinch. Kids, do not try this at home.
They call him Couger because he’s the youngest on the team, yet the older ladies seem to love him anytime we go to town. Fitting he’d make souffle which seems like it would be a hit with the silver-haired set. No offense to anyone. I found a couple of grays on my head the other day.
Eggs remind me of chickens which makes me think of Hogwash’s supposed mayor. As the owner of the town, according to parish statutes, I’m not eligible to take on that role, but that begs the question: How was a rooster voted in?
Maybe his hens lay golden eggs.
It’s then I know what I’m going to get Leonie and Honey for Christmas.
The last time we video call before I hit the road, I tease her with hints about my gifts. Her expression falters and I remember she’s not great at receiving things from other people. But this one, she’ll love.
“Well, I still have a surprise for you when you get back. Bring an appetite.”
“Oh, I will ... and not just for flapjacks.” I wink and then end the call because the truck is gassed up and I’m bound and determined to get to Hogwash by Christmas.