Chapter Nineteen
“You’ll have to ask Mom where the camping chairs are. She took them in the divorce, along with both of our E-bikes and that vintage record player I bought years ago when we were visiting friends in London,” said Greg, as he ran his hand through his salt and pepper hair.
Greg was Angel’s father, and he was currently living in an apartment in Newport Beach while her mom was setting up a house in Costa Mesa, a mere seventeen-minute drive from Huntington Beach.
Despite living most of their lives in Tennessee, her parents had moved to Orange County around the same time Angel did.
She always had a feeling the move had played an integral role in their separation.
It had something to do with fresh beach air and getting a new lease on life, or so her father had said when he had mentioned that he wanted a divorce.
At least it had been mutual, although not quite that amicable.
“I tried calling her earlier, but her phone keeps going to voicemail,” said Angel as she lifted her leg until her heel rested on the seat of the dining chair.
They were on a video call. Behind her father, Angel could see a rather sparsely furnished living room.
No rug beneath the coffee table. No cushions on the sofa.
No flowers anywhere or photos on the walls.
A regular bachelor pad for a man in his sixties.
“Why do you want the camping chairs, dear? Are you going camping?”
“I am, and for some reason, I don’t have any camping equipment.
The last time I slept in a tent, I was a teenager.
Do you remember when we went to Elkmont when I was a little kid and I got lost?
You and Mom couldn’t find me anywhere,” chuckled Angel as she remembered the incident that had become one of the favorite stories to relay at every family Thanksgiving.
Even getting completely lost in the park, surrounded by tall eastern hemlock and birch trees, hadn’t affected Angel’s love for camping.
Time was the issue. Or more so, the lack thereof.
At least she was looking rather forward to the trip to Big Bear Lake with Samantha.
Last night, Samantha had dropped by with a big Tupperware container of homemade sweet and sour chicken stir-fry and proposed a camping trip up to the Big Bear Lake area, which apparently was a special place for Samantha.
She had spent summers hiking through San Bernardino National Forest, and roasted marshmallows over crackling campfires, and slept underneath starry skies.
Angel’s first instinct was to find an excuse not to go, but before she could even think of an excuse, she had said yes.
Not only did she have a weekend off, but Angel also wanted to spend time with Samantha.
Over the last three weeks, their time together had become increasingly regular. Coffee before work. A quick bite to eat at the local deli during lunch breaks. Dinner at restaurants or at Samantha’s house and a takeaway night or two at Angel’s place.
And the sex was getting better and hotter despite learning each other’s preferences and the familiarity of each other’s curves and movements.
Every single minute spent with Samantha was easy and comfortable, and Angel had once even found herself accidentally thinking about a life with Samantha.
Getting engaged, possibly skipping over a big wedding, and going straight into having a baby or two.
The thought of a family with Samantha was easy to imagine.
Angel had never considered having a family with any of her previous girlfriends.
“You were only lost for a few hours,” said Greg with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It was nothing serious. We knew we’d find you again. It was just a matter of when.”
“Times have changed,” chuckled Angel. She could only imagine the panic she’d feel if she ever had a kid, and that kid went missing at a campground. It definitely sounded like a mother’s nightmare.
“I guess they have. So, who’s the new love interest, Angel? What did you say her name is again? Sandra? No, it was something else, wasn’t it—”
Angel’s cell phone, which was lying on the table beside the laptop, suddenly vibrated. The caller ID showed the station.
“Dad, I’ve got to go. It’s a work call.”
“Alright, hun,” said Greg cheerily. A grin was making its way onto his face, the same grin he always adopted whenever Angel spoke about work.
Greg was extremely proud of Angel and the work she was doing and always tried to tell everyone he met that his daughter was a hero.
“Be safe. And if you speak to Mom again, tell her she doesn’t need two bikes. Those things are bloody expensive.”
Angel ended the call with her dad and closed the lid of her laptop before pressing her cell phone to her ear. “Angel speaking.”
“It’s Catherine.”
Frowning, Angel asked, “Where’s Rebecca? She’s the one on call, not me. Why on earth are you calling me from the station number, Catherine?”
“Rebecca’s in the bathroom. Never mind that, you’re never going to believe whose house is on fire.”
A very thick, very uncomfortable lump lodged its way into Angel’s throat. “Whose house?” she asked reluctantly, although she already knew the answer. It couldn’t be anyone else.
“Matthew Brinkman. He’s Samantha's neighbor. His roof is on fire, and I can only imagine how that happened.”
The lump worsened, and she felt her throat clog up. Scratching at it, Angel concentrated on the call’s background noise, sirens going off, firefighters yelling instructions, and the lump slowly eased to something more manageable.
“The truck’s ready to go out,” spoke Catherine. “Meet us there. I’ll take your gear.”
It was barely two minutes later when Angel reversed her car out of the driveway and sped toward Samantha’s house.
As she rounded the corner onto Ellis Street, Angel could see a plume of smoke billowing into the late morning sky and neighbors gathering on the sidewalk.
Flames were already dancing dangerously close to the roof of the house next door to Samantha’s.
When Angel pulled up at the curb, grateful that the firetruck was already there, she leaped from her car.
With her firefighter instincts kicking into overdrive, she ran toward Catherine, who was waiting for her.
“What’s the situation?”
“Apparently, your girlfriend’s fire staff is the situation.
She somehow lost control of it and the burning staff ended up on her neighbor’s roof.
” While Catherine was explaining what was going on, Angel was donning her gear.
“A perimeter’s been set up and Frankie and Mitch are busy getting the hose. ”
“Where’s Samantha?” asked Angel. She desperately needed to know that Samantha was safe, that she was out of harm’s way. Even though Angel was livid, she still cared about Samantha and wanted to make sure that she was at least alright. Her guilt was probably eating her alive.
“Forget about her now,” snapped Catherine. “This is work. You have a job to do, and you need to put her out of your head. She’s the one who fucked up. This is her fault. Now let’s get this fire down before it hops a house.”
As painful as it sounded coming out of Catherine’s mouth, Angel knew it was true. Samantha was dangerous and irresponsible, and she deliberately ignored Angel’s warning about fire dancing. It was her fault.
“LET’S GO!” shouted Frankie and waved Angel over.
Rushing to his side, Angel grabbed the hose and together they dashed toward the house.
It was hot. The heat on her face was worse than standing too close to a barbecue grill and when Frankie spoke again, his voice was barely audible through his mask.
All she could hear was incoherent mumbling.
Tempted to look for Samantha, but knowing it was a bad idea, Angel tried to put Samantha’s face out of her mind and instead shouted, “LET’S HIT IT WITH EVERYTHING WE’VE GOT!
” She waved her hand up as a signal. A moment later, a torrent of water suddenly arced through the air, crashing into the flames with the force of a tsunami.
The powerful stream of water slowly but surely doused the fire, pushing the flames back as Angel and Frankie moved closer and closer to the house.
It took a few good minutes for the flames to sizzle out completely.
By the time it did, Angel was both exhausted and exhilarated.
It was a consequence of adrenaline pumping and her heart beating rapidly in her chest. At least the house was still standing.
Just a scorched and blackened roof and some damage to the sidewall, but otherwise it was still mostly intact.
At least Matty was safe and sound.
Angel found him standing on the sidewalk, on the other side of Samantha’s low-lying wall. His arms were up, his hands interlaced behind his head, and he looked to be crying. Or maybe the tears running down his cheeks and his bloodshot eyes were from the smoke. Or both.
“Mitch and I are heading into the house to check if there’s anything going on inside that needs our attention,” said Frankie.
“Keep your gear on,” instructed Angel at the same moment Frankie was removing his helmet. He always hated his hair getting flattened.
Watching Frankie rush to Mitch and out of sight, she scanned the crowd for Samantha. Not that it was hard. Her red hair immediately caught Angel’s attention. She was standing on her deck, her gaze locked on the charred roof, a severely miserable look on her face.
Angel’s heart shattered for Samantha. She wanted to run to Samantha and hold her tight and kiss her and tell her that everything was going to be fine, that accidents happened, and people made mistakes. But deep down, Angel knew it wasn’t fine.
Samantha was well aware of the risks involved in that silly hobby of hers. It was reckless and foolish, and Angel had warned her several times already. Enough was enough. Either Samantha didn’t care about Angel enough to listen to her advice, or she was too selfish to care.
Whatever was going on between Angel and Samantha had to come to an end.
It didn’t matter that Angel was falling in love with Samantha.
It didn’t matter that she could easily imagine a life with her.
Samantha would just end up disappointing her in some way or another, and Angel had already had enough disappointments in her life.
It was best to end it now. Best she cut the frayed thread of hope before it unraveled completely.
It had to be done.
When Samantha spotted Angel, her fisted hands relaxed and her eyes widened, even though Angel was sure her eyes were already at their capacity. Before Angel could run away or busy herself with something, Samantha darted across the lawn toward her.
“Oh my gosh, Angel. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was doing the helix and the next minute, the staff was out of my hand and on Matty’s—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Samantha.” Angel cut her off.
Her tone was cool and collected, but hiding underneath the icy cold fa?ade, she was breaking down into a hundred miserable pieces.
“I’ve warned you about the dangers of fire dancing.
You’re reckless, Samantha, and you’re a danger to your neighborhood.
I can’t associate myself with someone who purposefully endangers the lives around her. ”
Samantha’s jaw slackened and her eyes teared up, changing the honey brown of her irises a shade lighter, a shade closer to gold. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest as if she was doing her very best to protect her heart and muttered softly, “What are… what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that we’re done, Samantha. Please don’t call me again.”