Facing The Fire

by Barrett, Gail

  “Cade,” she pleaded. She reached out to touch him. “I—”

  He jerked back, stopping her cold.

  Her throat thick, she dropped her hand to her side. “I’m sorry. I wish…I wish we’d talked like this before.”

  But they’d fallen for each other too fast. They hadn’t given their relationship time, hadn’t talked about who they were or what they wanted. Maybe she’d been too young even to know.

  Instead, they’d communicated with their bodies and hearts.

  “We both saw what we wanted to,” he said, his voice quiet. “An illusion.”

  Dread chugged through her belly. “And what was it you wanted to see?” she whispered.

  “A woman who understood me. One who loved me enough to wait.”

  The woman she could never be.

  His jaw rigid, he strode away.

  Chapter 11

  He’d done it again.

  His jaw clenched, his gut churning, Cade strode through the trees up the mountain. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he control himself around Jordan? He should forget their damn marriage and keep it locked in the past. Instead, he kept trying to get closer, probe deeper, to figure out why she’d left.

  As if he didn’t already know.

  Pinecones crunched under his boots. Low branches scratched his face, and he shoved them aside with a scowl. He knew the truth, all right, but he couldn’t shake off the sensation that there was something he still couldn’t see, something she had kept hidden. Some detail that would help it make sense.

  Right. Talk about fantasies. Disgusted, he swatted away another branch. He was pathetic around that woman, like some crazy lemming blinding himself to reality to hurl himself off a cliff.

  It was those eyes that undid him. Those hypnotic eyes of hers pulled at him, sucking him under, making him want to ignore the truth. Convincing him she was the woman he’d once believed.

  He hissed out his breath and glanced back. Her face flushed, Jordan struggled through the dense brush behind him. Devil’s club arched close to her head, its flat leaves trembling as she pushed past.

  And as he watched her climb, his pulse still thundering in his ears, he felt his resentment slip. No matter what she’d done in the past, he had to hand it to her now. He’d never seen anyone try so hard.

  She wasn’t in condition for this trek, wasn’t even equipped with good boots. She had blisters on her feet, scrapes on her legs, and she could barely stand on that ankle. And even from this distance he could see her exhaustion.

  Yet she hadn’t complained even once. Throughout this ordeal she had pulled her weight, determined to keep herself going. She even looked out for the dog.

  And it was hard to hold on to his bitterness when she was so damned nice. It would be easier if she whined or complained, even cried. But instead, she was a great companion. She always had been. Easygoing, good-humored, sexy as hell.

  The kind of woman he wanted to come home to for the rest of his life.

  He shoved that thought away, unwilling to entertain that dangerous yearning. Because no matter how much he wished things were different, he couldn’t alter the past.

  Panting noisily, she closed the distance between them. Then she stopped, propped her hands on her knees, and gasped for breath. Her cheeks were bright, and her dark hair tangled over her shoulders. Dirt smudged her delicate chin.

  But despite her exhaustion, determination gleamed in her eyes, and he couldn’t help but feel impressed. She was a hell of a fighter.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m…fine.”

  “Want some water?”

  Still wheezing, she shook her head, sending dark curls wisping around her flushed face. “No, I’m…all right.”

  He doubted that, but they couldn’t afford to rest yet. They were still miles away from that clearing. Worse yet, sheltered in this valley between the mountains, he couldn’t tell where the fire was heading.

  And that made him damned nervous.

  “Hold on.” He dropped his PG bag to the ground and pulled his radio from the outside pocket. Ignoring the sharp pain lancing his shoulder, he straightened and keyed the mike.

  Nothing happened.

  He blinked, checked the switch, and tried again. Still nothing. Dread slinked through his gut. Hell, this was all they needed.

  “What’s wrong?” Jordan asked, her voice high.

  “Looks like the batteries died.” His jaw rigid, he jammed the radio back in his bag and pulled out his compass.

  Jordan raised her hand to her throat.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. He kept his voice even so she wouldn’t worry. “They already know where to meet us.”

  “But how are we doing on time?”

  “Great.” As long as they flew the rest of the way. He checked the compass, relieved that they hadn’t veered off course, then shoved it into his pocket.

  “Look,” he continued calmly. “There’s a lookout ridge just after we get out of this valley. It’s probably another hundred yards. If you think you can make it

  that far, we’ll wait and take a rest then.”

  “I told you, I’m fine.”

  “Good.” He swung the bag back over his shoulder and, once he was sure she was ready, headed off at a steady pace. He’d spotted the ridge earlier that morning, back on the opposite peak. He hoped they could survey the fire from there, especially now that they’d lost radio contact.

  Because he sure as hell didn’t want to walk into a trap.

  And these were perfect blowup conditions. The steep slopes and high winds would increase the speed of the fire. And if that blaze switched paths, tunneling through the valley and igniting below them, they could never escape.

  His throat clenched tight, and a cold chill snaked up his spine. He’d seen the videos, completed the training. Knew all about Mann Gulch and Storm King Mountain, when smokejumpers in conditions just like these had found themselves entrapped. They’d streamed up the mountain, dazed and panicked, trying desperately to outrun the flames, sprinting frantically for their lives. A race they were destined to lose.

  And the same thing could happen to them here.

  His nerves tighter than a parachute’s shroud lines, he rammed his worries to the back of his mind, where they wouldn’t distract him from the task at hand. Instead, he focused on slugging up the steep slope toward the ridge so he could find the best way to safety.

  But his body protested with every step. His skull banged beneath his hard hat. The dull ache pulsing his shoulder now racked him with piercing pain. And if he felt this lousy, he couldn’t imagine how Jordan kept up.

  He glanced back, and regret surged through his chest. He wished he could help her more. If his damn shoulder would cooperate, he’d carry her over the mountain. She didn’t weigh much more than a loaded pack.

  Too bad she didn’t have crutches. He frowned, wondering why that hadn’t occurred to him before. This deep in the forest, he could easily find a walking stick.

  He kept an eye out for likely branches as he continued hiking. He had plenty to choose from. It had been decades since a fire had burned through, leaving the area choked with deadfall and brush. Which made the forest ripe for a massive fire, especially in these drought conditions. One good spark, either from lightning or a drifting ember, would ignite the entire peak.

  Which didn’t help their chances of escape.

  He finally spotted a downed branch that looked the right width. He swung the bags off his shoulder, used his foot as leverage to break off the smaller side shoots, then hefted it in his hand. “This should work.”

  “For what?”

  “A walking stick.” He turned and handed it back. “Maybe you can take some weight off that ankle.”

  “Oh.” A slow smile spread over her face, lighting her eyes to a golden brown. “I should have thought of that myself. Thank you.”

  Their eyes held, and for a moment, his world careened to a halt. His breath backed up in
his chest, and every nerve seemed to stretch.

  He forced himself to inhale. It was only a stick, for God’s sake. He hadn’t done anything special. But that smile of hers had the most amazing effect on him, making him feel as if he’d conquered the world.

  Still feeling off balance, he picked up the bags and resumed hiking. She’d always had that effect on him. She’d made him feel whole, valued, as if he were really worthwhile.

  Just like smokejumping did. It was the only place he’d found validation, where he could do everything right.

  And he’d do this right, too. He’d get them safely off this mountain.

  Focusing back on that goal, he angled steadily across the steep slope, skirting jagged stobs and bushes. A small animal dove into a stand of huckleberry as he passed, rustling through the dense brush and shaking the leaves. Yards later, the trees thinned out, and he turned again to check her progress.

  “This is great,” she told him as she hobbled up. “Just what I—”

  The dog abruptly stopped. The leash went taut and she stumbled, staggering to regain her balance. She thrust out the stick to break her fall just as Cade leaped back and grabbed her.

  “Thanks.” Wincing, she steadied herself against him.

  The contact jolted along his nerves, and he tightened his grip on her waist. She felt soft and warm, and way too good in his arms.

  “Are you all right?” he murmured.

  “I’m fine. He just caught me by surprise.” Her lips curved into a grimace. “But I’m glad I had the stick. I would have fallen without it.”

  “Yeah.” His gaze met hers. The air seemed suddenly thick, and he could barely pull it into his lungs.

  She stepped away, her cheeks flushed, and he reluctantly released her. Then she looked at the dog, tugged on the leash, and huffed. “What’s wrong? What are you doing, silly? Come on.”

  She pulled again, but the dog sat down and lifted his nose.

  She planted her hands on her hips. “He won’t budge. I guess he must be tired.”

  “Maybe.” He watched the dog scent the air. And maybe he smelled something they didn’t.

  Unease chilled his gut. Even with his better nose, that dog shouldn’t smell the smoke yet. Unless the fire had jumped the river and pushed the front over that mountain. Or the wind had shifted early and the fire was heading their way.

  Which meant they had to get out of here fast.

  “Come on,” he said to the dog, his tone brusque. “Let’s go.”

  With a little whine, Dusty rose and trotted forward.

  “Well, that’s interesting,” Jordan said. “He wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Cade grunted, more concerned about the fire than the dog’s behavior. He moved quickly back into the lead, staying alert for signs of the blaze. He heard an air tanker rumble in the distance. Dropping more mud, he hoped.

  Then the pine branches creaked overhead, and a warm breeze fanned his face. Relieved, he glanced up at the swaying treetops. That wind meant they’d made it

  out of the valley. They couldn’t be far from the ridge.

  But then another gust blew past, trailing the faint smell of smoke, and his pulse slammed to a halt. The dog was right. That fire was closer than he’d expected.

  “Cade?” Jordan said, her voice pitched high. “Do you smell that?”

  “We’re doing fine,” he called back. “It’s just drifting smoke.”

  Which shouldn’t be anywhere near them right now. It was still too damned early. That wind should blow north until tonight.

  He balled his good hand into a fist, wishing to God he could see that fire. He hated hiking through this forest blind.

  Because if he’d learned anything in his years of smokejumping, it was to trust his instincts. And right now, every nerve in his body urged him to get to that clearing fast.

  But Jordan couldn’t move any quicker. Even hiking this slowly, the woman had clearly reached her limit.

  Hoping to shorten the route, he slanted directly up the steep slope. But then her pace fell off even further, forcing him to drop back. Her breathing sawed in the mountain air.

  “I’m sorry,” she wheezed when she’d caught up. “I know I’m holding you back.”

  “You’re doing great.”

  “Hardly.” She shot him a skeptical look. “I can’t believe you do this for a living. You’re in incredible shape.”

  “You get used to it. And it’s not always so rough.” He decided it wouldn’t hurt to keep talking. It might take her mind off her pain and help her get to the ridge.

  And keep him from worrying about that fire.

  “The first couple days on a fire can be hard,” he said as they continued walking. “The goal is to contain it fast, before it spreads. So that first night nobody sleeps. We automatically push through until morning.”

  “That must be tough.”

  “Yeah, but everyone expects it. And strong coffee helps.”

  Despite her fatigue, she shot him a smile, a genuine one that played along the edges of her mouth and lit up her eyes. He grinned back. She’d always shuddered at the sludge he’d brewed.

  “After that, it depends on the fire and how long we stay out there. The fire lies down at night when the wind dies, so that gives us a few hours to rest.”

  “That’s still not much.”

  “You get used to it.” And after a while, it became a way of life. Crawling into his hootch near dawn, filthy and exhausted, his arm muscles trembling, his lungs burning from choking back smoke.

  Lying under the moaning pine trees, his body spent, too tired even to doze. Listening to the fire crackling around him and the hypnotic wail of the wind.

  And with that exhaustion, in those moments of weakness, the loneliness came creeping back, the vulnerability. The thoughts of Jordan.

  When he was too damned tired to fight off the truth anymore. When his anger slipped, and he yielded to that soul-wrenching need. That longing for what he could never have.

  The wish that she’d loved him enough to wait.

  And despite it all, night after night, he found himself aching for her, wanting her, wondering what he could have done to make her stay.

  Another gust of smoke drifted by, and he shook himself back to the present. He glanced at her, and saw she was now limping badly. Her face was furrowed in concentration, and lines of pain etched her brow. That ankle had to hurt like hell, but she still persevered.

  And suddenly, he knew that the next time he lay alone in the darkness, he’d picture her like this. He’d remember her spirit, her strength, her determination.

  But willpower alone wouldn’t get her up this mountain. He had to keep her mind off the pain. “Once we get the fire contained, the work gets easier,” he said.

  “How? You still have to pack out your stuff.”

  “Yeah, but that’s easier than fighting the fire.”

  “Right.” Her tone told him she wasn’t fooled.

  “And we don’t always pack it out. Sometimes, if we’ve got a lot of equipment, they do a long-line gear retrieval. That’s when a helicopter comes by and picks it up with a net.

  “And if the season’s really busy, they even fly us out. So we can get back on the jump list and be ready for another fire.”

  “But not normally.”

  “No, usually once the fire’s out, we pack up our gear and hike to the nearest road. We leave a couple of people behind to cold-trail the fire.” A fire could look as though it was out, but still smolder for weeks. So they had to go through on their hands and knees, digging out stumps, making sure it was out.

  She wiped her forehead on her sleeve and wheezed in a breath. “I remember. You always stayed behind to do that.”

  “Choice from the top, boned from the bottom.”

  “Meaning?”

  “That I didn’t have a choice. I had to stay. You’re not always first on the list.”

  She blinked. “Oh, I thought…”

  “What? That I didn’t wa
nt to come home?”

  “Well, I…”

  A stark stab of bitterness jolted his chest. Hell. “How could you think that?” Didn’t she know him at all?

  “I’m sorry, I—” She cringed. “Oh, God. I assumed you were like my father, living for your job. I…I should have asked.”

  “Yeah.”

  And maybe he should have explained.

  That thought caught him off guard, and he frowned. He’d figured she understood his world and what he did. But what if she really hadn’t?

  He thought about what she’d said before. That they hadn’t talked much when they were married. She was right. They hadn’t explained themselves. He hadn’t thought it mattered.

  But apparently, he’d been wrong. And suddenly, he needed to redeem himself, to make her understand. Even after all this time.

  He stopped. Her dark eyes rose to meet his. “Look, Jordan.” He rubbed the nape of his neck. “I like my job. I always have. But just so you know, I didn’t want to leave you back then. I wasn’t trying to get away.”

  “I know.” Her dark gaze softened. And suddenly, he saw the vulnerability in those beautiful eyes, the doubt.

  And he felt like the worst kind of fool. She hadn’t understood. Not enough. And that explained so much. Her loneliness. The tears. The fights.

  Feeling guilty, he reached out and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I felt lonely, too,” he admitted, his voice gruff. “I thought about you all the time. And I always wanted to come home to you.”

  “Cade, I…” Her voice trembled. Her dark eyes stayed on his. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I guess I needed to hear that.”

  “Yeah.” And suddenly, deep in his gut, the tension eased. And the long years of bitterness began to unfurl.

  He should have told her back then. It might have made a difference. Or maybe not. He would never know.

  And it didn’t change anything now. She still didn’t want a smokejumper, and he wouldn’t give up his job. But at least they’d settled something, put some closure on the past. And maybe regained some trust.

  His throat felt thick, his head dizzy. Then a whiff of smoke drifted past on the breeze and he pulled his gaze away. “We need to keep moving.”