by Hope Malory
Brenner shrugged. “That would be amazing, but I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“You can frame some, and I’ll take them to my gift shop at work if you’re sincere about selling them. I thought I might expand and include some local arts and crafts.”
“You would do that? Awesome.” Brenner turned the subject back to Will. “Beasley tells me you’re a firefighter. The news reported wildfires cropping up in the Appalachians because of the drought. Do you ever fight wildfires?”
“Yes. That’s what most of my work involves.”
“He’s a smokejumper,” Beasley added.
Brenner’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you kidding me? Beasley didn’t tell me you were a hero. Promise you’ll tell me about it sometime this week.”
~ ~ ~
From her driveway, Beasley turned onto West Jackson Street and took a left on Main Street, passing a school she had attended, the Eli Jacobs Elementary School named after the first principal. The shop owners decorated their entrances for the holidays. She showed him the library she frequented; Miss Mary’s Bakery, which had the best apple turnovers around; Mandy’s Flowers, owned by a former high school classmate; and her friend Mia’s Yellow Butterfly Café. They passed Janelle’s Beauty Salon and Smokies Grill before turning into the parking lot at Beasley’s Gardens. Gravel crunched beneath the wheels as they approached the entrance. She unlocked the door and escorted Will around the offices before taking him to the lots.
“First class. This is a more extensive operation than I expected.”
“In season, when we’re at full capacity, work is hectic. I took a major hit when my accountant embezzled the money, but I expect everything will return to normal in the spring. I’m proud of this place.” She didn’t divulge the severity of her financial difficulties.
From there, she traveled a mile north to Collins Road, past Pete’s Pies and Ace Hardware, and pointed out her alma mater, Hatcher County High. When they arrived at the foothills, they parked and wandered around.
She swept her arm through the air. “The mountains are my domain. I’m familiar with almost every inch. Maybe we can hike tomorrow, and I’ll show you some of my favorite areas.” He was smiling at her and staring. “What are you staring at?”
“I love to watch you when you’re excited about something. Your eyes are so expressive. I’m glad I’m here.”
Her pulse raced. “So am I.” He looks like he wants to kiss me. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss him senseless, but she promised herself she would keep their connection on a friendship level.
On the way to the house, she detoured on Apple Grove Road to show him Brenner’s dance studio. When they entered the house, she found a note from Brenner.
Out with Tony. Will be late. Made dinner for you. Have fun. B2
She walked to the stove and opened the lid to the huge pot. “Brenner is with Tony, but she made chili and a pan of cornbread before she left. I hope you like southern cooking.”
“What’s not to like? You guys are spoiling me.”
After dinner, Will helped her with the dishes and built a fire. They talked and laughed until after one o’clock.
She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling and daydreaming about Will. Her stomach knotted when she fantasized about him, knowing he was in the next room. What would it be like if we were in the same bed? Heat surged through her as she imagined them making love. Trying to push the thought out of her mind, she replayed every detail of the day. He’s easy to talk to, and we’re compatible. We’re good for each other. What an exciting life we could build together. If only.
The morning sunlight streamed through the window and woke her from a sound sleep. She yawned and stretched, taking her time to get out of bed. The house was quiet. She slipped into her thick, ankle-length terrycloth robe, slid her feet into fuzzy slippers, and padded down the stairs, smiling and humming.
Will came in while she stirred grated cheese into an egg mixture.
“Morning. Did I wake you?”
“No, but a barking dog did. A noise down here alerted me you were up.”
“I’m making omelets. I remembered you ordered them when we went to breakfast together.”
“They’re my favorite. What can I do to help?”
“Appreciate the offer, but there’s not much left to do. You have time to shower and dress while I finish them.”
After he went back upstairs, she chopped ham and vegetables for the omelets. When she heard him getting out of the shower, she turned the gas on and poured the mixture into the skillet.
She placed a bowl of fresh fruit on the counter and slid the omelets on the plates as he shuffled back into the kitchen and stood beside her. His hair still damp from the shower; his clean-shaven face; his male scent; and his muscular body unmistakable under the knit shirt, caused her pulse to thrum. She dared not speak or look at him, or else he might guess what she was thinking. Instead, she turned and took the plates to the table.
With sleepy eyes and bed hair, Brenner ambled in wearing zebra-print flannel pajamas.
“Good morning. The chili last night was delicious,” Will said.
Brenner threw up her hand, mumbled something incoherent, and splashed coffee into her cup.
Beasley whispered, “Brenner doesn’t talk until after she’s had her coffee.”
Will nodded, took a bite of the omelet, and gave her a thumbs-up.
After breakfast, she took less than twenty minutes to shower and put on her royal-blue zip-front turtleneck and black hiking pants. She grabbed a pair of ski gloves and her down jacket and bounded downstairs.
“That was fast.”
“I’m low-maintenance.”
His eyes scanned her body and focused on her best attribute.
Suppressing a smile, she said, “Let’s hit the trails.”
Chapter 22
Will found himself unable to stop staring at Beasley. Her understated beauty and lithe body captivated him. Last night, during their conversations, she had impressed him with her intelligence, business acumen, and giving nature. Granted, she was opinionated and impulsive. Yet, she was vibrant and warmhearted as well. They had so many interests in common. And those mesmerizing eyes. If he scripted the perfect lady for himself, she would be a match. Why, then, couldn’t they be together? The distance between them remained an issue, and he didn’t have a viable solution.
~ ~ ~
These were her special mountains, and now she was sharing them with Will. The Smokies attracted masses of people throughout the year. Wildflowers bloomed profusely in the spring. Summer was the time for picnics, hikers, and water sports enthusiasts, who traversed the rivers and streams that snaked through the mountains. Fall meant multicolored hillsides with splashes of reds, yellows, and oranges. Even in the winter, the trees, with their leaf-stripped limbs, displayed their own splendor. Leaves crunched underfoot, and shadows and sunlight filtered through the barren branches. How tragic that wildfires wreaked havoc in other sections of the mountain range.
They stopped at an overlook. Overcast skies and low clouds shrouded the snowcapped peaks. A cardinal flew past them and landed on one of the few remaining mounds of snow still intact from last week’s snowfall. The red bird which contrasted against the white background, signaled everything would work out as it should.
As if reading her thoughts, he said, “You look peaceful.” His breath frosted in front of him.
“The mountains are my refuge. This is where I come to decompress. Here, no problems exist. In this place, everything is possible.”
Will hesitated before he spoke. “Is it possible we might make a relationship work? For my part, I want us to try.”
“You can’t imagine how many times I’ve asked myself that question, but I can’t think how.”
“We�
��re so right for each other.”
“Yes, we are. I could picture us as a couple under different circumstances. In time, one or both of us would realize the futility of a long-distance relationship and end up heartbroken.”
“The distance doesn’t have to be a barrier. What if you moved to California?”
He doesn’t understand. He wants me to make all the concessions and move to his home, but he isn’t willing to consider the idea of moving here. “Why would I want to move?”
“Casey and I are there, and California has mountains. We can be happy.”
“I’m happy in Azalea Valley. Why can’t you move here?” Sure, his job is on the West Coast, but firefighters work everywhere. “Finding employment as a firefighter would be much simpler than for me to sell and start over somewhere else. My life is here. I’m not leaving.”
“Smokejumper, not firefighter. You are the same headstrong person I thought you were when we first met.”
“Me? What about you?” Her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth.
“Sorry I said that. No point in arguing about this. I just want you to know where I stand.”
They hiked back in silence.
~ ~ ~
He woke up in the middle of the night, thinking about their argument. He bolted upright. With startling clarity, he recognized the words that came out of his mouth were the words his dad would have said. Will expected her to bow to his needs and wishes by suggesting she move to California. Then he lashed out at her when she didn’t agree. I refuse to be like Dad.
After seeing Azalea Valley, he understood her desire to live here. It was a cool town that reminded him of Truckee. Beasley’s Gardens was a much bigger operation than he had imagined. Obviously, she wouldn’t want to leave it.
At that moment, he realized he had work to do on his own attitude.
~ ~ ~
The following evening, Blake rapped on the door and then let himself in. “Hey, it’s me.”
Brenner called out, “We’re in the kitchen.”
As soon as Blake walked in, Will stood and stuck his hand out. “Hi Blake. I’m Will.”
Blake shook his hand. “Yeah, I’ve heard a little about you from these two. Beasley told me you’re a smokejumper. I want to hear all about it.” He hugged his sisters, snatched a brownie from the platter on the counter, and opened the refrigerator and withdrew a bottle of water.
Brenner chimed in. “So do I. Let’s go to the living room.”
Beasley laughed. “You two don’t waste any time, do you?”
Blake grabbed the brownies. “What’s the point in that?”
No sooner than they sat, Brenner asked, “When did you start smokejumping?”
“My first jump was two summers ago during my rookie season.”
“We don’t know too much about your profession. Tell us about the training,” Blake said.
“All of us are experienced firefighters and many of us were hotshots.” At Brenner’s raised eyebrows, he explained. “A hotshot is firefighting crew who trains like we do and performs similar duties except for the jumps. Before our first assignment, we went through a five-week course designed to show who can think on their feet and act without delay. The trainers weed out those who can’t push through when they’re hurt, hungry, dehydrated, or sleep deprived, all in remote areas with fire around them. Almost half in my class quit before the first week was over.”
Brenner sat with her chin balanced on her palm and her eyes glued to Will. “So, what happens on an actual jump?”
“At the command post, an incident commander calls together an incident management team. Wall maps plaster the walls of the operations room in our Redding location. Someone flags every fire in the region on a map. When a call comes in for a going fire, one in progress that covers several acres in an inaccessible area, we throw on our jumpsuits, our pockets bulging with prepacked gear, and race to the aircraft. Within minutes after the siren sounds, we’re airborne. The spotter evaluates the situation from the air: the size of the fire, the terrain, the wind, and how fast the fire is moving and in what direction. He picks a landmark near the fire, and when the pilot throttles back to drop speed, the spotter signals us to jump. We jump in pairs a few seconds apart.”
Blake asked about the equipment.
“Our suits can sometimes weigh over a hundred pounds with all our gear, but some of the equipment is dropped in a cargo box with its own small parachute. They hold everything we need to be self-sufficient for at least two days: hand tools, first aid kits, sleeping bags, water, food, and chain saws. We carry a small gear bag containing water, gloves, a hardhat, and personal belongings. Let-down ropes are stashed in the leg pocket of our suits. We dig fire lines, perform burnouts, set backfires, and fell trees to clear away anything flammable, all requiring specialized equipment.”
“I didn’t know it was this complicated,” Brenner said. “How many jumpers go to a fire?”
“On most fires there are up to eight of us, but they can call in other reinforcements as necessary. There are only about five hundred jumpers nationwide.”
“This is fascinating,” Brenner said. “You have to be crazy fit to do all that. How do these fires start if they are in remote areas?”
“Sometimes an electrical storm ignites a series of small blazes. In dry areas with a buildup of unburned debris, the fire can become huge.”
“You downplay it,” Beasley said, “but your job is extremely dangerous.”
“It can be.”
Will’s apparent discomfort combined with her own expression of mounting fear likely prompted Blake to change the subject. “What do you guys do when you’re not out on a fire?”
Will gave Blake a grateful look before he answered. “Working out is a big part of it. We’re required to maintain a certain level of physical fitness. We check and recheck the gear, pack cargo boxes, and inspect, repair, and repack parachutes. Continued training consists of practicing the basics: emergency procedures, parachute landings, aircraft exiting, let-down procedures, and tree climbing. During inactive periods, we may be assigned to projects off the base such as prescribed burning, trail maintenance, forest rehabilitation, or serve as a specialist with other agencies. We live, eat, and train together. Now, enough about me. I want to learn more about you guys.”
Beasley smiled thinking how well he fit in with her family. She watched them laugh and tease each other and envisioned years of family occasions with Will present.
~ ~ ~
Beasley experienced a deep sense of disappointment when she woke up the morning of Will’s departure. The week had flown by. He was someone she could laugh with, confide in, and rely on. She respected him for his integrity and appreciated his honesty. He raised her spirits when she stressed about the decline in her business. Any time spent with him was marvelous, except for the moment in the mountains when he had grumbled about her suggestion that he could move to Azalea Valley. But he apologized the next day, and he admitted he had things to work on. What did he mean by that?
Up to this point, she had resisted falling in love with him, but she feared she was moving in that direction. Was she deluding herself? Did she love him now? Why is life so complicated? Other people have their happily ever after. Why can’t I?
The sound of movement in the adjacent room led her to assume he was awake and packing. She tiptoed to his room and tapped on the door before opening it. With a smile pasted on her face and a forced cheerful tone, she asked, “Do you need some help?”
Sorrow reflected in his eyes, and his shoulders drooped. His monotone voice conveyed his state of mind matched hers. “No. I’m almost finished.”
After he turned away and resumed packing, she eased out. The heaviness in her lungs persisted as she dressed, and it grew worse at breakfast.
On their drive to the airport,
her head swam and lungs constricted. She fought for each breath. Neither said more than a few words. There was nothing left to say.
At the airport, Will wrapped his arms around her and held her. She felt his heartbeat and his warm breath on her neck. He whispered in her ear, “Baby, I will miss the hell out of you.”
Her throat tightened, making speech difficult. “Letting you go is hard.” She squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying. Despite her efforts, her eyes became blurry with tears. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek.
“Promise me you’ll come to California as soon as you can.”
“Word of honor. Will you come to Tennessee again?” Her voice was thick with emotion.
“This week with you has been the best. Yes, I’ll be back.”
He kissed her, long and slow, before walking away.
~ ~ ~
Work had helped fill the emptiness she felt inside since he left. The advertising paid off at Beasley’s Gardens, and transactions remained brisk all week. The increase would boost her profit margin and prevent her from thinking about how much she ached for Will. Millie brought her a plate of cookies she had baked that morning. “Thought this might help.”
“Help what?”
“Keep your mind off Will.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes. You’ve been forgetful, you moped around all week, and you were bitchy to the staff and abrasive to some of the customers.”
“I’m sorry. I miss him so much. Millie, I think I may be falling in love with him, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“From all appearances, you’re already there.”
“No, I can’t be. It won’t work. I can’t leave Azalea Valley.”
“What’s holding you here?”