28. Smoke
28
SMOKE
I swallow deeply as I take in the very first page.
No one to blame.
Cleared.
And a refusal to accept my resignation without contact.
That I need to call my boss.
That they’re worried about me.
A number for a therapist.
It feels like a forgiveness I’m not entirely certain I’m entitled to.
It doesn’t come with the whoosh of relief, because I don’t agree with their findings.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Quinn says, throwing her arms around my neck.
She kisses my cheek soundly.
“We should celebrate.”
I place a hand over her joined ones, leaving them there just so I can stroke her smooth skin.
“Sugar, I know why you’re happy for me, but I can’t forget men died. That isn’t something I’d feel comfortable celebrating.”
She sighs and kisses my cheek again, more softly this time.
“I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me. I just…I’m relieved for you. It must be a relief.”
I shake my head.
“Not exactly. I still feel like I let them down.” I flick over to the attachment that includes weather-pattern data.
I can see how quickly the winds grew in strength and changed direction.
Even as I see the evidence in swirls and lines, I can’t shake the feeling I could have done better.
“I don’t know who made this decision,” Quinn says, snaking one of her hands from beneath mine to tap the paper, “but my guess is they were a group of your peers, or more experienced leaders who were once what you are now, and some independent people who have possibly nothing to do with the fire service. And they don’t think you could have done anything differently.”
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the sofa.
“You know, there are plenty of people in the fire service who don’t like smoke jumpers.”
“Well, that’s silly. You’re heroes.” Quinn snuggles against me, resting her head against my neck.
“They think we’re arrogant, that we think we know fires better than they do. And that we get too frustrated by the bureaucracy that grounds us at the start of the fire.”
“That’s silly too.”
I chuckle.
“Not really. We can be. I pride myself on being the one who can get closest, fastest. And I do think I can read fires better than they do, because we operate right in front of it. We see it up close and personal, when it’s at its very worst.”
I open one eye and look down at the top of Quinn’s head.
There’s a comfort in having her here with me as I process this.
Without her, I’d probably have thrown the whole thing into a bonfire in the yard.
“You’re just continuing to prove my point that you’re a hero.”
I shrug.
“People argue that climate change isn’t real. But we get called out earlier every year, and the seasons are lasting longer. Fires are burning so much hotter. Everything is bone dry. And this season? Man, it’s been one of the worst fire seasons I can remember. You know what a thunderstorm cell is?”
Quinn shakes her head.
“Not really.”
“It’s the building block of a good storm. Has to have an updraft and downdraft of air currents that swirl in a loop. Picking up humidity off the river. Building up electric charges to discharge. Those things are ready to discharge lightning into all that tinder. And you’ve never seen so many of them as we had this summer.”
My fingers drift into her hair, and I let the soft silky threads flop through them.
“You want to know what one of the worst fucking enemies in a fire beyond the wind is?”
“What’s that?” She presses a sweet kiss to my neck.
“Pinecones. Those little fuckers sit on the ground all the way through winter, minding their own business. But find them completely dried out in summer in the middle of a fire and they take off, rolling down the hill like they’re making a bid for freedom or some shit. They’re on fire, rolling, setting fire to the shit they touch. Hate the fucking things. There’re no pinecones on the Christmas tree at the clubhouse because I swear those things give me PTSD.”
It’s easy to joke about PTSD when I’m grappling with the real thing.
“I’ll make sure we don’t have any,” she says.
And there’s a certain buoyancy in my chest at the thought she might still be here in December.
“I can’t stop thinking about all the possible scenarios and the decisions I made, Quinn. The fire was a beast from the day it sparked in the worst possible terrain. A steep hillside with fallen trees everywhere, making it unsafe. And even when those trunks were down, we had to climb over them. They’d form a fucking bridge between trees that we’d have to chop through. Sweaty, backbreaking work, digging a line downhill. There were a couple of small ridges that made it impossible to see what was around the proverbial corner. Should I have sent someone over the ridge to play spotter? Did I not read the weather, the temperature, the humidity, the wind speed and direction right?”
Quinn rises so she can see my face.
“Did I ever tell you that the day Melody disappeared, she’d been particularly nice to me? She gave me this sweater of hers that I loved. It made me feel so grown up when I wore it. One of my friends came over, and I was wearing it because I was super excited to show her. And then, Melody came into my room to ask if I wanted to watch a movie with her. She’d never really wanted to watch things I enjoyed before, and I wanted to, but my friend was already there, so I said no. And she disappeared that night. I was crushed when I grew out of the damn sweater, and I wondered if something different would have happened if I’d watched something with her, like a Sliding Doors moment.”
“What’s a sliding doors moment?” Quinn sits up so fast, she almost crushes my balls.
“Jesus, watch the goods, sugar.”
Quinn grins.
“I just realized, we’re gonna be able to watch romantic movies. Honestly, the Christmas ones are peak baker-heroine season.”
“Think I’d rather suck my own cock.”
“Please watch them with me. We can make it a tradition.” She looks so fucking hopeful.
“Maybe one, so pick well.” And I’ll find all the different ways I can distract her while we’re watching.
Maybe I could get her a remote-controlled vibrator that I switch on during every baking scene.
“What’s your view on toys in the bedroom?”
“I’m a big fan of the few I’ve tried.”
I nod.
“Now, tell me what a sliding doors moment is.”
“You can’t just ask me about sex toys and then move on like you didn’t say anything.”
I tap the end of her nose.
“I can. And I did. Now that I know you like them, we’ll use them. Now. Sliding. Doors.”
“It’s from a movie, but the whole premise is that your life can take two different paths based on an inconsequential moment. In the movie, it was whether she made it onto the Tube, a subway train system in London, or not. How something that small could matter. In my case, I wonder what would have happened if I’d said yes. Like, what if it had meant we ran late to have dinner, which meant the lights in the house were on later, which means someone standing outside watching might have gotten bored and left?”
I shake my head.
“But you can’t think like that. Because who knows how long the person would have waited? Or maybe they’d come back the day after when you and Melody were home alone and taken both of you. You can’t second-guess”—Quinn raises an eyebrow—“what would have happened if…” My words trail off.
“Smart-ass.”
“Sometimes there’s no reason, Smoke. Shitty things happen. And it’s interesting to me that you can see my situation as different to your own, such that you can empathize with me, but not with yourself.”
I put my palm to her cheek and lower her back against me.
I need the pressure of her, the warmth of her, resting there.
“You were a thirteen-year-old child. I was a grown-ass man.”
“Age is irrelevant. It might help to talk to someone who really knows how to deal with things like this. You need to do what you have to do to make peace with it, Ro.”
Ro.
Who knew the absence of three letters would feel so special?
“There’s a number in this letter. I’ll call it. And I’m going to try harder to give myself some grace, I promise. Maybe it’s worth acknowledging that I did my best, as opposed to celebrating, that. You wanna go put on a pretty dress and come out for dinner with me?”
Quinn grins.
“Yes, I would love to.”
I help her to her feet.
“Then go get ready. You’ve got one hour.”
“You know, a girl could fall really hard for you,” she says with a smile.
But she’s gone before I respond.
With a smile on my face and an easing in my chest, I pick up the letter and read through it again.
And I study it in detail.
Then, I open the messages from my friend and boss, Michael Goodall.
Me: Sorry I’ve been MIA.
It was a lot. The report helps.
Thanks for standing by me.
Michael: Can I expect that call anytime soon?
Me: Tomorrow.
Michael: Good.
Don’t make me hunt you down.
I was one step away from getting on a plane to come see you.
Me: On my word.
I shower, then read the letter a third time.
When I’ve done that, I see if I can figure out why the water pressure in the kitchen tap seems low and then oil the hinge on the pantry door.
But all the time killing is worth it when Quinn walks into the kitchen looking like a million bucks in a pretty and soft denim dress.
“My nicest things are still above the bakery. I just brought what I needed for work.” She looks at the food mixer and dishes, and wooden blocks, a China platter.
“Every time I came back, it felt like baking things took the majority of my trunk space.”
After skirting the kitchen island, I hold the back of her neck and kiss her.
“First, you look beautiful. It’s less about the clothes and more about you in them. Although, I do like the access you give me.” I roll the hem of her skirt up and slide my hands down her panties over her ass.
“And two, we can bring some more of your things over to my place, so you have everything you need.”
“Like, move in?” she asks.
I kiss her, perhaps to chase away the tiny pinprick of fear I feel at the uncertainty in her tone.
“Is that too fast?”
“Not for you and me, no. But I think I need to try being back in the bakery by myself. Just to prove to myself I’m not scared anymore.”
I let out a breath.
“That makes sense. But we’re gonna get you even better security than we already had installed, different locks, make it like Fort Knox. And I’m going to get you a gun, and I’m going to make a temporary range out back so I can teach you.”
Quinn smiles.
“Okay.”
“And you’re going to let me track where you are when you’re there. Not because I want to spy on you, but because I want to know where you are if anything happens.”
“Okay.”
Fuck, her smile is going to be the death of me.
“And we’re going to go over various exit and extraction plans, so if?—”
Her finger on my lip shuts me up.
“I got it. You’re going to do everything both of us need to make me feel safe.”
“Damn right I am. I want you here in one piece at Christmastime. I can’t deal with anything less. And I have an idea. Let’s sleep there tonight. We can drop Bones off and then go eat. Maybe it will be easier if you get used to sleeping there with me, first.”