Kavan furrowed his brow and gave his coworker a second glance. He pulled up to his desk and booted up the computer. Reaching in his top desk drawer, Kavan retrieved the new software CD. “You okay, Rick?”
“Sure. Fine.” He smiled. “Seems the fire safety booth was a success.”
Kavan nodded. “The kids loved it. And. . .” He leaned back and arched his brow at Rick. “I had the prettiest assistant in White Birch.”
Rick chuckled and consented with a nod. “Anything going on between you two?”
He didn’t mean to, but Kavan sighed. “Just friends.”
❧
On his way home that night, Kavan took a detour to the fire tower. He wanted to resume the refurbishment project, but as long as the matter of the budget remained unresolved, he felt shackled. Climbing the old stairs to the top, Kavan gazed out over the White Mountains. He took the steps near the top two at a time.
He pushed open the trapdoor of the tower floor and climbed inside. He leaned out the tower window, and with a loud voice he hollered, “Good evening, Lord. Evening, White Mountains.”
He closed his eyes and breathed in the night mountain air. Fresh and clean. . . He stopped. His eyes popped open and scanned the horizon. Kavan took another deep breath.
He smelled smoke.
In one quick motion, he found the tower’s stored binoculars and lifted them to his eyes. To the west, along the ridge, dark smoke billowed above the trees.
His heartbeat quickened.
Fire!
❧
Closing the kitchen door, Elizabeth turned and kissed Grandma on the cheek, then snatched a warm cookie from the cooling rack.
“How was your day?” Grandma asked.
“Wonderful.” Elizabeth dashed to the stairs. “Gotta change for Sinclair’s. Be down in a minute.”
She hummed as she changed her clothes and wrapped her long curls into a ponytail. She grabbed a makeup brush and touched up her foundation and cheek color before heading back downstairs.
Since her unburdening with Jesus last night, she felt renewed. If coming to White Birch for the summer produced nothing more than reconnecting with her friend Jesus, it was well worth it. She regretted her time in college where she dismissed the tugging of the Holy Spirit on her heart. She wouldn’t make the same mistake in graduate school.
In the kitchen, Grandpa sat at the table with a stack of cookies and a tall glass of milk in front of him. He reached for the first cookie from the stack.
Elizabeth stopped and stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” He winked at his wife.
“Your cholesterol must be ridiculous.”
Grandma waved her spatula in the air. “He’s healthier than men half his age. Got a hollow leg, that one. Never could seem to fill him up.”
Elizabeth opened the fridge door and pulled out a packet of turkey and a slice of cheese. Grabbing the mayonnaise and mustard, she went to the counter to make a sandwich.
“While you’re making that sandwich, Bethy, mind if I talk to you?” Grandpa asked. He picked up another cookie.
“Sure, Grandpa.” Elizabeth peeked at him over her shoulder. She took two pieces of bread from the wrapper and set them on a paper towel.
“I got some of those lunch-size chips for you today,” Grandma interjected. “They’re in the pantry.”
“Yum. . . Thanks, Grandma.”
“I want to talk about grad-u-ate school.” He reclined comfortably in his chair at the kitchen table.
Elizabeth laughed at his inflection. “What about grad-u-ate school?”
“Why are you going?”
A cold chill ran down her spine. At the same time, she felt a hot flash burn her cheeks. He sounds like Kavan.
“It’s my destiny, Grandpa. You know that. Dad, Mom, and I have talked about it since I was twelve.”
Grandpa motioned for her to sit by him. Grandma finished making her sandwich.
“I’ve been praying for you, Bethy. I’m not sure this is the time for you to go to graduate school. You have a fine degree in electrical engineering. I happen to know that Creager Electronics is hiring electrical engineers.”
Why is he bringing this up? Her insides trembled as if she were cold. “Don’t tell me you pulled a string for me at Creager, Grandpa. I’m going to grad school.”
“Did you know I went to Harvard after the war?”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Harvard? No, you didn’t.”
“I did.” Grandpa confirmed with a slight nod, picking up a third cookie.
“You are full of surprises.” Elizabeth smiled.
“But you know, Bethy, I had no business being at Harvard. I didn’t have any scholarly interest. I was just doing it because my pride wanted a Harvard diploma hanging on my wall. After all, I’d been to war. I was a man.” Grandpa tapped his fist on his chest. “But deep down I knew I wanted to take over your great-grandpa’s business here in White Birch.”
Grandma said in a small voice, “My father promised us his mill business, which your grandpa grew into Lambert’s Furniture.”
Elizabeth turned to her grandpa. “What happened?”
He swallowed a bite of cookie, gazed toward his wife, and recounted. “We had no car, very little money. One snowy morning, I skipped classes, pretending to be sick. I told Betty I’d study at home.” He paused, shifting his gaze to Elizabeth.
“Your grandma was pregnant with your aunt Barbara and had to go to work while I slept until noon. That evening I looked out the window to see my pregnant wife walking home from work in the falling snow, carrying a sack of groceries. She slipped on the ice and nearly fell. A passerby caught her arm and steadied her.”
“How come I never heard this story before?” Elizabeth wanted to know. She glanced from her grandpa to her grandma and back again.
Grandpa shrugged and finished his story. “That night, the Lord spoke to me out of I Peter, 5.” Grandpa quoted the verse. “ ‘Young men, in the same way be submissive to those who are older. All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” ’ ”
A flush warmed Elizabeth’s neck and face. “What’s your point, Grandpa?” She peeked at her watch.
“I love you, Beth. But I believe your pride is causing you to pursue the advanced degree. Do you really want to study nuclear engineering?”
She pushed back her chair and stood. “It’s a prestigious, lucrative field, Grandpa. And it’s very open to women.”
“Electrical engineering is a lucrative career, too. Also, open to women.”
“I’m going to grad school,” Elizabeth said between clenched teeth.
“You sound like me sixty years ago when I wanted to go to Harvard. No advice of my father’s or Betty’s would change my mind. Then I see my wife, carrying my child, working harder than I was at keeping us together.” Grandpa bowed his head and softened his voice. “It humbles me still.”
Elizabeth rested her hands on the back of the chair. “You make my point. That’s why I’m not about to get into a relationship until I’m finished with school.”
“Wise decision,” Grandpa countered. “However, my challenge to you, Beth, is not about Kavan or marriage, but your purpose in going to grad school. Pray; ask the Lord to reveal the secrets of your heart.”
Elizabeth regarded him without saying a word. She loved and respected him too much to ignore his words. “I have to go to work.”
“Pray about what I said,” Grandpa said.
She grabbed her purse and started for the door. “I’ll pray, but I promise you, I’m going to grad school.”
❧
On the drive to Sinclair’s, Elizabeth replayed the kitchen conversation, churning over Grandpa’s words, searching for any truth to his challenge.
“Lord, is he right? I’ve planned on going to grad school for so long, I can’t imagine not going. Everyone expects me to go. Mom, Dad, and Jonathan. . .my friends.
But what is Your plan for my life?”
Before she resolved the issue in her mind and with the Lord, she arrived at Sinclair’s. Elizabeth zipped into the large parking lot and dashed inside.
“Sorry I’m late, Joann.”
Her boss followed her to the time clock. “No problem. Just relieve Molly at the service desk. Everything okay?”
Elizabeth paused, then looked her boss in the eyes. “I’m not sure. Grandpa thinks I don’t really know why I’m going to grad school. That I have no purpose for going.”
“Ha, I’ve been saying that since the moment I met you.”
Elizabeth held up her hand and rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”
She headed toward the front counter. Joann followed, reminding her to count down the afternoon tills and refill the candy racks by the cash register. Suddenly a blaring siren filled Elizabeth’s ears. “What is that?” she asked, halting in the middle of the aisle.
Concern covered Joann’s face. “Fire siren, calling all the volunteers.”
Several men rushed past them out of the store.
From her post at the service desk, Elizabeth watched as men and women rushed in and out. Finally, she asked one of them, “Where is the fire?”
“Up on Pine Knoll Mountain. The rangers are fighting it now, but volunteers are being called in.” He paid for his purchase and hurried away.
Kavan!
Throughout the night, news trickled into the store about the fire. Many believed it had been contained, but none of the rangers or volunteer firefighters had emerged.
Elizabeth could not stop thinking about Kavan. She called his house and cell phone. No answer. She prayed for the Lord to protect him, but her heartbeat pounded with concern for him like the ticking of the clock.
“Go,” Joann finally said an hour before Elizabeth’s shift ended.
“Go?”
“Go to the command center. See if he’s okay.”
Elizabeth hustled around the counter and darted toward the time clock.
“Keep me posted,” Joann called after her.
“I will. I will.”
She ran to clock out and grab her backpack.
❧
Somehow, in the chaos, she found Jeff. With his help, Elizabeth made her way to the fire’s command center. She parked her VW out of the way and stood on the perimeter of the activity. In the distance, she could see the fire burning along the ridge, trees flaming like matchsticks.
The mountainside was engulfed in flames. Fire billowed up from the surface and danced across the treetops.
“Kavan!” a uniformed ranger communicated with the firefighters over a large, handheld radio.
From her vantage point, Elizabeth tried to spot Kavan among the men at the command center, hoping to see him safe in the crowd. But there was no sign of him. He’s on that ridge; I just know it. Her heart hurt with anxiety.
Thirteen
Kavan trailed the firefighters working along the ridge, flanking the fading fire, beating out hot spots. A chain saw dangled from one hand. He anchored a pickax with the other. Grateful for the cool night air and the valiant efforts of the firefighters, he believed the blaze to be contained. The knot in his stomach loosened slightly.
The radio strapped to his side crackled and clicked. Kavan tilted his ear toward the sound. “The wind is picking up, Kavan,” the operations officer, Steve Mayer, warned over the radio.
Kavan peered over his shoulder, scanning the area he and the other firefighters had just covered. From the service road where they’d been dropped off to the point where they now stood, the embers burned low. “Steve, what does it look like from down there?”
“Fire is burning along the bottom of the ridge, but it’s dying down.”
“We’re still fighting hot spots,” Kavan reported.
“Watch the wind,” Steve warned again.
The knot in Kavan’s middle tightened. “Copy. I’ll keep an eye out. Over.”
The radio fell silent. Kavan hiked up the ridge, picking at hot spots, watching the progress of the other eight firefighters as they climbed higher. He could feel the wind gusting through the trees.
“Lord, calm the wind.” He watched Rick beat out another burning patch.
Ash fluttered in the air, and the smell of smoke permeated Kavan’s nostrils. The wind knocked against him.
Up ahead, hot spots still ignited. Behind him, the burned area smoldered with dying embers. So far there existed no threat of the fire igniting again. Vigilant, Kavan stepped forward.
“What’s the word, Kavan?” Chet, one of the firefighters asked, pausing to wait for his leader.
“Strong wind gust. Stay alert.”
The firefighter nodded and went back to work. Several of the others beat out a spot fire.
Kavan worked the draw between the two ridges, climbing upward while swinging his pickax. The labor made the muscles in his shoulders ache, and the knee he’d injured chasing the poachers throbbed with pain.
More than seven hours had passed since he’d first spotted the smoke. He and his crew had worked tirelessly since the initial fire siren, breaking briefly just after dark to eat and rest. Kavan aimed his flashlight at his watch.
Midnight.
A picture of Elizabeth flashed through his weary thoughts. It seemed like forever since he’d seen her.
Kavan peered over his shoulder again, down the ridge. The smell of smoke intensified. Embers floated in the wind, and it alarmed him. Kavan made a quick assessment of the area, plotting an escape route, just in case those embers landed on fresh kindling. The men on the ridge were in his charge.
In the next minute, Steve called over the radio. “Team three, be advised the wind is picking up. Teams one and two are coming in. Over.”
Kavan didn’t like the eerie feel of the wind, either. “Ten-four. Send the pickup. We’ll work our way down to the service road. Over.”
“Truck is on its way. Over.”
Relief popped inside of him when Steve radioed that the truck was on its way. Kavan instructed his team to sweep the area and head for the pick-up location.
The firefighters beat out hot spots while traversing toward the meeting point. Kavan’s stomach rumbled with hunger. One of the men told a joke and had them all laughing just as Steve radioed again.
“Team three! Kavan!” Steve sounded panicked. “The access road is blocked. The wind ignited the fire. It’s jumped to the trees. Get out of there! Over.”
Kavan whipped around and ran to the top of the crevasse. The orange glow of fire and swirling smoke filled the horizon. Wind gusts funneled up the ridge. It was only a matter of time before the entire area would be consumed by fire.
“Crown fire! Run!” Kavan shouted, adrenaline driving him toward the top of the ridge.
❧
Elizabeth hustled with the other volunteers at the command post, serving sandwiches and water to tired firefighters. A friend of her grandmother’s had spotted her and enlisted her aid. Elizabeth welcomed the distraction. Concern for Kavan had her insides twisted into nervous knots.
She watched the men in charge from the edge of activity, listening as the man referred to as the operations officer directed the fire-fighting teams.
She lifted her head when she heard him bellow Kavan’s name into the small black radio. Her heartbeat seemed to stop for a moment. Making herself small, she inched along the perimeter of the command post, yearning to hear more.
“Kavan, are you there?”
Elizabeth waited for the buzz of Kavan’s voice over the radio, but no response came.
“Team three, come in! Kavan,” the man shouted.
When the radio remained silent, she heard him whisper, “Come on, Man, where are you?”
Elizabeth’s knees buckled, but she caught herself. Kavan, oh, Kavan, be all right. Please! Jesus, Jesus. . .
The hair on her arms stood up, and a prickly feeling ran down her back.
“Get the helicopter up,” the commander ordered.
Yes, do that, Elizabeth thought. Find them. Please.
She closed her eyes to pray, but a jolt caused her to open them. The operations officer stood before her.
“Can I help you?”
She swallowed and said in a shallow tone, “I’m a volunteer and, um, a friend of Kavan Donovan’s.”
He looked into her eyes. “He’ll be all right. Smart one, that Kavan.”
“Yes, I know.” She slipped back into the shadows, using every ounce of faith to fuel the power of her prayers. “Jesus, my Friend, hear my prayer. Protect Your friends up on that ridge. Kavan loves You. Let him know You are with him now. You are good, and I trust You.”
Hours passed. Elizabeth continued to pray as she worked along with the other volunteers. She could hear the dialogue between the man who spoke to her and the helicopter pilot.
“Any sign of them? Over.”
“None,” the pilot answered.
Glancing overhead, Elizabeth watched the helicopter circle the ridge, the enormous spotlight floating over the fading flames as two other teams fought the fire.
“Scan the bottom of the ridge. Surely they ran down the other side.”
“Ten-four.”
Biting the inside of her lip, Elizabeth strained to hear the pilot’s response. It felt like an eternity passed before he came back over the radio.
“No sign.”
When the commander sighed and dropped his head, despair snapped at Elizabeth. Tears blurred her vision. She remembered stories about wildfires and how their intense heat and fast-moving blaze could easily overtake a man.
From behind, a strong hand gripped her shoulders. “How are you holding up?” a familiar voice asked.
Elizabeth turned to meet the tender expression of her grandpa. “Not sure. Oh, Grandpa. . .” Her voice broke.
Grandpa embraced her. “The Lord knows what’s going on. Let’s keep praying. I believe it’s going to be okay.”
Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder and prayed with him in silent unison. Finally, she stepped back and took a deep breath, smoothing her curls. Weary, but peaceful, she wondered aloud, “What time is it?”
“A little after midnight.”
Gazing toward the ridge, she said, “He has to be okay, Grandpa. He has to be.”
Lambert's Pride Page 10