Chapter 14
Ryder woke late Saturday afternoon with Fred and Ginger peering at him from the foot of the bed.
“I know, I know,” he said. “Who’s the old dog now?” Laughing, he reached to scratch their ears. “The fire was pretty bad, guys. Ate up a lot of the Wade Reed area.”
Careful of his back and knee, Ryder showered, then, in shorts and T-shirt, brewed a cup of coffee while he fed the dogs, then stepped onto the deck, gazing toward the burn.
His place was surrounded by green as if a fire hadn’t ravaged a good section of the Cheatham WMA. As far as he knew, no park guests were caught in the blaze. No agents, firefighters, or volunteers had been lost.
He’d dreamed about the fire, leading his men into the thick of it and never escaping. He woke up every time, sweating and panicked.
Rick was a newlywed. Chet had kids in high school. He volunteered for the Rock Mill Hill football team. Pyle and his wife had just had a baby. Thompson was his parents’ only child.
At one point, he schlepped to the kitchen for a glass of water, the midafternoon sun filling the room with gold. He was safe. The men were safe. And Elizabeth’s voice echoed in his head.
Thank God. Thank God.
Finding that old firebreak had been nothing short of a miracle. So yes, thank God. Thank God.
Back in bed, he fell into a sound sleep until the rich hues of the early evening flooded his room.
Thank God.
Ryder finished his coffee in his rocking chair, building a mental list of things to check, like the fire tower and how to write up his report. Yet really, all he wanted was a quiet night at home, a steak from his grill, a funny movie, and Elizabeth curled on the sofa next to him.
He wanted to smell the perfume of her hair and skin over the phantom scent of charred pine that lingered with him.
Setting aside his coffee cup, he tossed the ball for the dogs, and when they were panting and exercised, he headed back inside to scout the fridge and cupboards for something resembling breakfast. Nothing. He really needed to drop a couple hundred dollars at Cooper’s.
His third—or was it fourth?—nanny had taught him to make a mean omelet, but it required eggs, which he didn’t have. The idea of an omelet from Ella’s Diner, with the best home fries ever and a side of pancakes, made his stomach rumble. But…
Ryder glanced at his watch. It was almost six. Good chance Elizabeth was working.
“Your old man made a fool of himself, y’all.
” Fred and Ginger listened with heads tilted, eyebrows twitching.
“Told her I loved her. Yes sirree. Told her I loved…oh, but even worse. Told her she loved me too.” Fred barked.
“I know, rookie move. Never tell a girl how she feels. My nanny, Isobel—you didn’t know her, but she told me to never tell a woman how she felt.
” Ryder pointed to Fred. “So listen up.” At which time Ginger chimed in with a sharp bark.
“Yeah, I knew you two understood every word.”
Still, the question remained. Did he go to the diner for a late breakfast-dinner or opt for a premade soup and sandwich at Java Jane’s?
By the end of his driveway, he knew the answer: Ella’s. He had to see her. Undo the words from his weary, smoke-filled brain. He’d claim he didn’t really know what he was saying. He’d apologize and be done with it.
He was about to turn toward River Road when it hit him. The fire tower sat right in the middle of last night’s blaze. Oh, be there. Please be there. He headed left, finding the narrow road leading to the old tower, the landscape as he feared: charred, crumbling trees and burnt fields.
He broke through the rubble into a bowl filled with a July sunset to see the tower standing defiantly strong.
“No way.” He jumped out of his truck and climbed the stairs, half expecting the remaining unrepaired steps to crumble, but they were intact. At the top, in the cab, he scanned the view before him.
Three hundred and sixty degrees of burnt woods, yet the fire tower stood. He could still smell the smoke and burnt embers. It would be spring and beyond before life would bloom again.
Yet the fire tower stood.
Ryder laughed, feeling a touch of the Divine. “I don’t know how You did it or why, but…thank God,” he said. “Thank God.”
Now he had to go to the diner. Elizabeth would never believe it.
“Everyone, a cheer for a hometown hero. He saved his men from the fire last night.”
Elizabeth looked through the service window as Tina’s voice sounded through the diner.
Ella’s patrons erupted with shouts and applause.
“Lucy, on the house for Ryder the rest of the summer. What can I get you to start, Ryder? How about my Hungry Man Meatloaf platter?” Tina escorted him to her “premium” booth—the one she saved for special guests—in the front corner by the window. “Best seat in the house.”
Ryder responded with something Elizabeth couldn’t hear, but when Tina handed him a copy of the Hearts Bend Tribune, she guessed he didn’t know he was the headline.
Wildlife Officer Ryder Donovan
Saves the Lives of His Men
She watched as he read, shifting in the booth, shaking his head, handing the paper back to Tina, saying something that looked like, “I’m no hero.”
Elizabeth set up an order of club sandwiches for table three, then turned to D’Angelo. “Can you watch the window for me? I’ll be right back.”
Ever since Ryder’s declaration of love, she’d wrestled with what to say when she saw him again. Wrestled with her own feelings. Did she love him? In that way?
Now that he was here, she might as well face it head-on. After all, as a future Wharton graduate, she should be bold, strong, and able to finesse uncomfortable situations.
“Hey,” she said, standing by his booth.
“Hey.” He slid out of the booth to greet her. He glanced out the large front window, then at her, dead on. Brown eyes to blue eyes. “Look, about what I said at the command post…”
“It’s okay.” She waved off his apology. “You were jacked up from the fire, and your emotions were running high. I know you didn’t mean it. So no harm, no foul.”
“I didn’t mean it?” The tone in his voice hardened. “I came here to apologize for telling you how you feel. For that, I am sorry. But don’t tell me how I feel, Elizabeth. What if I did mean it?”
A passing patron patted Ryder on the shoulder. “Good work saving those boys.”
“I didn’t really save them. I just found a way…” He exhaled. “Thank you, Mr. Patricoff.”
“I’m not trying to tell you how you feel,” Elizabeth said, stepping closer, lowering her voice to keep this conversation between them.
People were probably already texting Granny or Will or Julie something like Elizabeth is talking to Ryder at Ella’s.
“I only meant you’d just survived a big fire and—”
“And I had smoke on the brain, sure, but I wasn’t that out of it. I knew what I was saying.” She stepped back as Ryder defended his position. “So I’m sorry I told you how you felt. About loving me. Also, I came to tell you the fire tower survived. I thought you’d want to know.”
“The tower survived? Didn’t that whole area burn?”
“Yep. Everywhere you look is burnt, except that old fire tower survived.”
“Oh my goodness, that’s…incredible.”
“Or a miracle.” She noticed his shoulders relaxing, but his voice remained stiff. “Sometimes things that should’ve died survive.” He returned to his seat. “Glad we cleared things up, Elizabeth.”
Wait a second. Nothing was cleared up. And he couldn’t end the conversation with “I knew what I was saying” hanging between them.
He loved her? For real?
“Here you go, our hero.” Tina set down a Hungry Man Meatloaf and large sweet tea as he tossed Elizabeth a final glance and reached for his ringing phone.
“Yes, sir…” he said, listening more than talking.
Elizabeth glanced toward the kitchen. She should relieve D’Angelo, but if she lost this moment to ask Ryder to expound on his comment, and thus settle her own confusion, she’d have to live with the swirl in her middle whenever he came around.
Or bring up the subject again, and that was always awkward.
Especially because she didn’t want to encourage him.
“When?” Ryder said. “Um, yeah, I guess so, but not just me, right? The others too.” He unwrapped his napkin roll and scooped a bite of buttery mashed potatoes. “Travis, we were just doing our job. It’s why we get the big bucks. What? Are you serious? No, I didn’t order that lumber.”
When he hung up, Elizabeth sat in the booth. “Another rough conversation with the boss?”
“The mayor wants to honor us, especially me for getting my guys out.”
“You don’t seem happy about it.” She pointed to the pile of peas on his plate. “You like peas? I hate peas. Mom used to serve them just to make me try food I didn’t like.”
“Peas are fine. Everything’s fine.” He sat back and looked her in the eye.
“I’m not big on hero worship. Plus, Travis is still convinced I am buying expensive lumber for the fire tower but using it for my own house.
” He took a long drink of tea. “Is there any way Dorsey can see when the order was placed and from where?”
“I’ll ask.” She sighed as some of her inner turmoil faded. “Look, sorry I tried to tell you how you felt.”
“It’s okay,” Ryder said. “I think we’re getting our signals crossed. Just friends, right?” He took up his fork, focusing on a thick cut of meatloaf stuffed with onions and topped with a tangy tomato sauce.
“Oh, okay, well, glad we had our little chat.”
On her way back to the kitchen, Elizabeth revisited the moment she saw him walking out of the woods, and nothing about it felt like “just friends.” When he looked down at her, she yearned. Yearned. Like some soppy heroine in a novel.
“Thanks, D’Angelo,” she said, taking over at the window, peeking out at Ryder. Nope, nothing about their relationship felt like “just friends.” It felt like love.
“Did you hear about the celebration?” Pops said when Elizabeth came home from the diner late Saturday night.
“What are you still doing up?” She set her backpack on the floor and sank into an overstuffed club chair. Working two jobs tuckered her out.
“Reading. Waiting on you. How’re you feeling? Long night, long day. Did you hear what I said about the celebration?”
“Ryder was in the diner when his boss called to tell him. Guess he’s the star of the show.”
“Is it true you ran into his arms when he came out of the fire?” Granny appeared from the kitchen with a plate of homemade buttered toast and a cup of hot tea for Elizabeth. She sat next to Pops with a sly grin.
“Is nothing sacred in this town?” Elizabeth sighed and took a bite of toast. “My friend survived a big blaze. What was I supposed to do? Shake his hand?”
“Have you thought any more about what I told you?” Pops said.
“No.” Elizabeth buried any other replies with a sip of tea. “Why is everyone trying to redesign my life? I’m not interested in love right now. End of story.”
“Your pride is tougher than I thought. I’m going to double my prayers.”
“God is not interested in my love life, Pops.” Elizabeth laughed and waved a piece of toast at him. “I’m heading up. Going for a long soak in a hot tub.”
“Church in the morning,” Pops called as she dashed upstairs. “I’ll stop at Java Jane’s on the way.”
In her room, she closed the door with a looming sense of dread. She set her tea and plate of remaining toast on the desk. What was bothering her? Ryder? The way he backed off his confession? Was it Wharton? Lying to everyone about being wait-listed? Lying to herself about her feelings for Ryder?
Pulling out her phone, she checked her email. Nothing. Of course they’d not notify her on a weekend.
Sitting back, Elizabeth considered the shortsightedness of only applying to one grad school.
She was tired from only five hours of sleep.
If she wasn’t careful, she’d get sick again.
Yet everything felt off. She just had to get back to the mindset she had while fighting Epstein–Barr and regaining her health.
Graduating from MIT and Wharton were her motivations.
If she had a plan, her health issues didn’t seem so in command.
Wharton may not have emailed, but her little brother Jonathan sent a quick note telling her tales of his summer antics as a camp counselor in Wisconsin. Elizabeth smiled through the stories, then hit reply, writing one short sentence.
“I think I’m falling in love with Ryder Donovan.” Then she clicked delete and headed for that long soak in a hot tub.