Chapter 10
Reva climbed from her car, taking in the early morning sunlight as it spilled over the Tetons in the distance, their jagged peaks piercing the sky like spires of a cathedral. She could live to be one hundred and never tire of the beauty of this area.
She pulled a hard hat from the back seat of her Escalade and secured it to her head. Clutching rolled-up architectural plans under her arm, she made her way to the building site where pine-covered acreage would soon transform into the heartbeat of Thunder Mountain, the new community center.
The air was crisp and filled with the smell of freshly cut pine trees tinged with the earthy scent of fresh dirt. In the distance, a bulldozer rumbled into action its blade pushing topsoil aside with effortless might, carving a path through the meadow.
Reva approached the group of architects and contractors gathered around a makeshift table littered with blueprints and site maps. “Good morning, everyone,” she said, her voice steady and clear. “Today, we lay the groundwork for not just a building, but our town’s future. Let’s make sure we’re all aligned on the vision and schedule.”
Constructing a community center represented a bold endeavor for their modest town, serving as a powerful testament to their deep-seated commitment to fostering connections among its residents.
Alex, the lead architect from the firm in Cheyenne, unrolled the main blueprint across the table, anchoring the corners with stones. “This is the comprehensive layout of the community center, incorporating your early thoughts, Mayor.” He pointed to the detailed sketches. “We’ve designed it to be not only functional but a symbol of the community of Thunder Mountain and what makes your town unique.”
Reva leaned in, tracing the lines of the blueprint with her finger. “I see we have a large central hall, meeting rooms, and what’s this area here?” She tapped a section of the plans. “That’s the community garden space you suggested,” Alex explained, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “We’ll place the garden benches here and here.” He pointed. “With the fountain right here.”
The scent of fresh coffee mingled with the morning air as a contractor holding a steaming mug piped in, “We started site excavation yesterday. It’s crucial we stick to the timeline to ensure we meet our deadline of completion, especially if you hope to open on schedule.” His tone was pragmatic, underscoring his dedication to the project.
Reva nodded, absorbing every detail. “And the materials, are we still on track for sourcing locally as much as possible?”
Alex nodded. “Yes, Mayor. We’re coordinating with local suppliers for timber and stone. And we’re open to hiring from the community.”
She nodded, satisfied. “That’s perfect. I’ll coordinate through my office if you like.”
Their discussion continued, covering everything from energy-efficient lighting to accessible design, punctuated by the soft rustling of the plans as Alex flipped through page after page while highlighting the concepts captured in their work.
As the meeting concluded, the group stood together, surveying the empty lot, now alive with the potential of what was to come.
“I’m thrilled with these plans,” Reva said. The clinking of coffee cups filled the air as her gaze swept over the faces around her. “Let’s build something that will stand as a cornerstone of our community for generations.”
With a final nod of agreement, the team dispersed, leaving Reva standing on the site, the plans in her hand no longer just paper, but the blueprint of a dream about to be realized. The sound of departing vehicles and the whispering breeze through the pines followed her to her car.
Sitting in the driver’s seat with the door open, Reva replaced mud-covered boots with heels and prepared to head to the courthouse. She had a brief hearing and then planned to pick up Carlene and drive her to her doctor’s appointment, as promised.
Her hand reached for the ignition button when the distant wail of sirens sliced through the calm morning air, instantly knotting her stomach with concern. The siren’s cry was not just a sound but a signal that someone in her community was in distress.
Her brows furrowed in worry as she instinctively reached for her phone to check for any emergency alerts or messages. Even as she sat there, momentarily stalled by the piercing sounds, her mind raced through potential scenarios, calculating her next steps and the resources that might be needed.
Was it a fire? An accident?
Her phone rang, and she immediately took the call from the town deputy. “Fleet, what have we got?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.
“An accident north of town. I’m on my way.”
“I’ll meet you there,” she said, silently lifting a prayer for the people involved.
Reva threw her SUV into gear and spun her vehicle around. As she raced towards the source of the sirens, the scene outside her car windows shifted to the familiar businesses lining Main Street where townspeople were gathered on the wooden sidewalks, their faces etched with shared concern and turning their attention to the commotion.
She pressed her foot down on the gas pedal. Soon, vibrant, green meadows marked the transition to the more rugged outskirts north of Thunder Mountain, the tranquility disrupted by flashing lights in the far distance.
The further she drove, the more pronounced the sense of emergency became, with the road narrowing and the dense canopy of pine trees giving way to an open stretch where the accident had unfolded. Ahead, the chaos of flashing lights, emergency vehicles, and the first responders moving with purposeful speed painted a stark contrast against the serene backdrop of the Teton Mountains, their presence a silent witness to the unfolding drama below.
As Reva’s vehicle skidded to a halt at the edge of the crash scene, she jumped out wishing she had not changed into heels. Her heart pounded in her chest as she surveyed the scene before her, a maelstrom of activity—paramedics from the hospital in Jackson darting between twisted metal, firefighters cutting through the wreckage, and police officers cordoning off the area. The air was thick with the smell of gasoline, the sound of urgent shouts of the first responders, and the hiss of extinguishing flames.
“Mayor, it’s bad.” A grim-faced police officer approached her, his voice heavy with sorrow. “We’ve got fatalities. The license plates…they’re not from around here.”
His words hung in the air as Reva’s gaze swept the scene, her heart sinking with each detail—pieces of twisted metal and glass littering the pavement, skid marks on the highway, a lone shoe—until it landed on a sight that clenched her heart in a vise.
Fleet Southcott stood by the side of the road, holding a tiny toddler in his arms. The child, miraculously unscathed but bewildered, clung to the officer, a stark image of innocence amidst chaos.
Reva’s throat tightened, tears stinging her eyes as she moved closer, her role as mayor momentarily eclipsed by her humanity. “Is…is the child all right?” she managed to ask, her voice barely a whisper, as the reality of the situation—a family torn apart, a life spared while others were lost—washed over her.
Fleet nodded, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Yes, Reva. But it looks like this little tyke lost everyone.”
The impact of his statement hit her as Reva stood amidst the echoes of lost lives, barely able to breathe in the wake of the unfolding tragedy. Such a random, senseless situation—a poignant reminder of the fragility of life and the indiscriminate nature of fate.
Suddenly the tiny toddler reached for her with chubby outstretched arms the color of her own—a silent plea for comfort.
Instinct kicked in and Reva lifted the little boy from Fleet’s arms and held him tightly against her chest. “Shhh…everything is going to be okay,” she murmured, making a promise that sounded hollow as the words escaped her lips.
At that moment, the heavy weight of the tragedy burrowed deep inside her bones along with an unwavering duty not just to reassure but to protect and advocate for this tiny survivor in a world that had just ripped everything from him.
Reva leaned her cheek against the soft black coils of the baby boy’s hair, silently vowing to spare no effort to turn her promise into reality.
She leaned down and picked up the single shoe on the pavement, a woman’s shoe.
“I give you my word,” she whispered.