Force of Nature

by Kim Baldwin

  “Gable, your hair!”

  Gable took off her hard hat and ran a hand through her hair. She’d lost a fair amount in back, and it was singed to crew-cut length just behind her left ear.

  “You both okay?” came Carl’s voice from above them. They pulled reluctantly apart, heads nodding in unison.

  “Yeah, we’re all right. Everyone else?”

  “Yup. All accounted for.” Carl’s face was almost unrecognizable under a thick layer of dirt and soot and sweat. “That was one I don’t want to repeat. We better get moving as soon as we can.”

  They made it down the other side of the hill and were relieved by firefighters from a neighboring county. The fire claimed four homes before it was finally contained, but no one was injured.

  “Stay with me tonight?” Erin said as they were dropped off at the township fire department.

  Gable smiled. “I’d like that.”

  They had fallen into a routine in the weeks since they became lovers. Gable spent two or three nights a week at Erin’s, and Erin spent two or three nights a week at her place. Earl Grey spent the night when Erin did, and now had a litter box, toys, and a hammock bed at both homes.

  The first couple of weeks, they’d spent every night together. But once school started, they were apart one or two nights a week so that Erin could do her lesson plans and correct schoolwork without interruption. Try as she might, if Gable was present, she said she rarely got anything done.

  Tonight was to have been one of those schoolwork nights, so Gable was especially pleased she would not be sleeping alone. Her bed was too big and lonely without Erin, and after their brush with death, she needed the reassurance of her lover’s body beside her.

  They took a quick shower together when they got to Erin’s place, and climbed into bed beneath her fluffy down comforter, too exhausted to eat, too weary to do anything but cuddle.

  “I bet we’re sore tomorrow,” Erin said drowsily.

  “That’s a pretty safe wager, I think.” Gable spooned Erin in their familiar way; her front to Erin’s back. She loved the way Erin’s smaller body fit within the curve of her larger frame, totally enfolded in her arms.

  “That was scary today. Thanks for picking me up.”

  “We all watch out for each other,” Gable said. “I was afraid too.” She kissed the back of Erin’s neck and hugged her closer.

  “You make me feel safe,” Erin whispered. “From the moment we met, you’ve been my hero, you know.”

  “I want to always be there for you, Erin,” she murmured. “Always and forever. You mean everything in the world to me. Everything.”

  Gable could feel Erin stiffen slightly. Shit. You and your big mouth. She had been extremely careful not to say anything that might make Erin feel pressured about their future. But she was tired, and unguarded, and feeling particularly emotional so soon after their harrowing escape.

  “What you said.” Erin’s voice was so soft Gable barely heard it, though their heads were nestled beside each other.

  “Mmm?”

  “Ditto, for me.”

  Gable’s heart swelled, and tears came to her eyes. She kissed Erin’s neck again, and her lover relaxed into her arms. They were soon fast asleep.

  *

  Gable lay awake in bed the next night, unable to get comfortable without Erin next to her and powerless to stop the images of the wildfire that had been replaying in her mind all day. She ran her hand through her hair, still unaccustomed to the length. She’d kept it fairly short for many years, but not this short. It was shorn in the back, to even out the section of hair that had been burned in the wildfire.

  They had been very lucky—or very blessed—to have escaped both the tornado and the fire on the hillside. And Gable knew there likely would be more close calls for them as volunteers in the fire service. She had accepted that risk for herself when she decided to join the squad. But the thought of anything happening to Erin scared the living hell out of her. Terrified her far worse than any threat to her own life.

  Like Erin’s crystal vase, the fire had been a jarring reminder of the fragility of life, the capriciousness of nature. Gable knew all too well how quickly and unexpectedly loved ones could be taken from you. She ached to tell Erin how much she loved her. Needed her. How much she wanted them to share their lives for the rest of their lives. If anything were to happen to either of them, Gable wanted Erin to know exactly how much she meant to her.

  Maybe I can tell her. Maybe if I just don’t hit her with too much at once. Start with I love you and see how it goes. I know she loves me back, don’t I? She admitted as much last night, didn’t she? Gable sighed. Tell her. And tell her soon. Don’t let something else happen. She hoped she was making the right decision. Now she just had to wait for the right opportunity. Or maybe create one.

  Not certain how Erin would react, Gable decided not to make a big deal out of it. Better to keep it low-key. But she wanted it to be special. A moment to look back on. A memorable setting.

  The best option, she decided, was right outside her window. The trees were at the peak of autumnal color. A brilliant array of fiery tones, nearly every shade imaginable in the spectrum from deep scarlet to brilliant orange to iridescent yellow, cast against the varied green palette of pines and hemlocks. A blaze of color carpeting the forest floor, and surrounding her on all sides. The evenings were cool, but not cold yet. Exactly the right time for a campfire, in the big fire bowl she had dug in a clearing near her house.

  She and Erin both lived where they lived because they wanted to be close to nature, and nature was certainly putting on an amazing display for them. It’s perfect.

  *

  The following Saturday afternoon, Gable spent more than an hour laying the fire, erecting a carefully built teepee of twigs—matchstick-sized tinder in the interior graduating to larger and larger branches—and then the whole structure surrounded by a square framework of split logs. It was a work of art unto itself, and Erin, watching the construction from a nearby lawn chair with a goblet of merlot in her hand, nodded approvingly when it was finished.

  “It’s lovely. Seems almost a shame to light it.”

  “Old habits die hard.” Gable shrugged. “I can’t build a fire unless it’s a one-matcher.”

  “One-matcher?”

  “Camp Fire Girls take a lot of pride in building a fire that will catch with just one match. Watch.” Gable struck an Ohio Blue Tip wooden match against the side of its box and carefully inserted it into the narrow opening she’d left in the teepee, away from the wind.

  The tiny flame caught the tight bundle of dry hemlock twigs in the center of the teepee and the fire spread quickly upward. Soon they had a roaring fire.

  Erin sucked in a deep breath. “Mmm. I love the smell of wood smoke.”

  “I’ve always been fascinated by fires,” Gable said, taking a lawn chair beside Erin’s and poking at the conflagration with a long stick. “I love building them, lighting them, watching them. Kind of ironic I now put them out!” She smiled and sighed contentedly. “I can sit by a campfire for hours.”

  “This was a nice idea,” Erin agreed. “It’s so pretty out here.”

  Gable reached for her wineglass, which she’d set on a makeshift table made out of a tree round, set on its end. “I think autumn is my favorite time of year, though spring runs a close second, with all the wild flowers and the baby animals running about.”

  Erin nodded. “I had two raccoons coming by regularly with their babies. They were so adorable, scampering up trees whenever something scared them. Oh! And the baby birds when they fledge and are fed by their parents. People who live their entire lives in a big city don’t know what they’re missing.”

  “There’s a line in Walden Pond where Thoreau says something like…‘I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately. To see if I couldn’t learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.’ I like that. I think when you live in the woods you ar
e somehow closer to the heartbeat of life.”

  “Nicely put,” Erin said, reaching out to take Gable’s hand in hers. “I’m so glad I’m here. With you. That we found each other.”

  Gable lifted Erin’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “Me too. I can’t remember ever being this happy.”

  A comfortable quiet settled over them as they enjoyed the fire and the autumn foliage, and a sky painted with the bright pinkish red of an approaching twilight. Gable fed the fire with split oak logs until they had a deep bed of hardwood coals. She buried two potatoes wrapped in foil into the embers and let them bake. When they were nearly done, she set up a grill over the fire bowl and cooked two rib eye steaks to medium rare.

  “Quite the campfire cook you are,” Erin commented as she dressed her potato with butter and sour cream. “Why does food cooked outdoors always taste better?”

  “Wait until dessert. Have you ever had a banana boat?”

  “Don’t think so. What’s that?”

  “You cut a little trough in a banana, and insert marshmallows and pieces of chocolate. Then you wrap it in foil and cook it in the coals until everything melts together.”

  “Anything with chocolate in it, I’m pretty much guaranteed going to like it.”

  After they'd eaten, Gable took their plates inside the house and returned with a blanket. She spread it out on the ground near the fire, up against a low log bench she had built for visiting nieces and nephews.

  As she gazed down at Erin as she approached her chair, Gable’s heart stopped in her chest. “God, you’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

  Erin smiled up at her, the firelight casting a soft warmth over her skin and accentuating the blond highlights in her hair.

  And you get more beautiful every day. Gable held out her hand. “I want to sit with you,” she said.

  Erin allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and led to the blanket. Gable sat with her back against the bench and settled Erin between her legs, leaning against her chest. Wrapping her arms around Erin’s waist, she slipped one hand beneath her sweatshirt and T-shirt, and gently caressed the warm soft skin of her abdomen. “Mmm. That’s better,” she sighed, resting her head on Erin’s shoulder.

  “I’ll say,” Erin agreed, relaxing back into her embrace.

  They stared into the fire and listened to the night noises: the who-cooks-for-yoooou lament of a barred owl calling for a mate, the sharp shriek of a nighthawk. The rustle of leaves from the dark forest beyond the fire that told them a deer or some other denizen of the night was watching them.

  Now or never. Gable took a deep breath. “You’re precious to me, you know,” she whispered, her lips inches from Erin’s ear.

  Erin sighed, and caressed the arms enfolding her. “Same back atcha,” she replied in a low voice.

  Gable steeled her nerve. Her heart was racing. She wondered whether Erin could feel it, they were pressed so closely together. “Erin, I…I want you to know…” her voice broke. “I just want you know that I love you. With all my heart.” She held her breath.

  Erin was silent for a very long time. Finally she turned her head slightly, so that she could plant a gentle kiss on Gable’s cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  It wasn’t exactly the response Gable had hoped for, but she was relieved her declaration hadn’t made Erin pull away. She seemed contented, even if she hadn't replied in kind.

  Give it time, she told herself. Just give it time.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gable sat on her couch with her feet up, sipping coffee and staring out of her large picture window. Chickadees and goldfinches, woodpeckers and nuthatches darted back and forth from the trees to the feeders positioned about the yard and beneath the long overhang of eaves. A half dozen squirrels and a lone chipmunk scurried about, busily gathering acorns. The first snows of winter would be on them before they knew it.

  Yet another reminder of the impermanence of all living things.

  The changing of the seasons made Gable feel restless. She dreamed about the day when she and Erin would spend no more nights apart—the day they would share everything: one bed, one home, one plan for the future. And she wanted that day to be soon.

  Gable was glad she’d told Erin she loved her, though Erin had made no reference to her declaration in the three weeks since. She felt more at peace with herself now that Erin knew the full measure of how she felt. And Gable was optimistic that Erin returned her feelings, even if she hadn’t articulated them beyond her Ditto for me admission the night after they escaped the forest fire.

  For Erin showed her how much she cared in a myriad of thoughtful ways. In the romantic dinners she labored over, in the small notes she stuck into her pockets, and especially in the ways she touched her when they made love, and responded to her touch.

  “Mind if I join you?” Erin yawned loudly from the bedroom doorway.

  Gable glanced around. Her heart melted at the sight of her lover.

  Erin’s hair was sleep-tousled, and she looked even more delicately petite than usual, swallowed whole by Gable’s plush fleece bathrobe. Earl Grey was perched on one shoulder.

  When he spotted a new furry mouse Gable had given him the night before, he jumped down and set off on a hunting expedition. He pounced on the toy and batted it high into the air, purring loudly as it rattled.

  Gable smiled and patted the couch beside her. “You’re up early.”

  Erin settled next to her and kissed her on the cheek. “Very funny.”

  “Well, nine thirty is pretty early for you,” Gable teased. “Want some coffee?”

  “Oh, bless you. Yes, please.”

  Gable went to the kitchen and poured herself another cup—black, and doctored Erin’s the way she liked it.

  “What time did you get up?” Erin gratefully accepted the steaming mug, curling her hands around it to warm them.

  “Oh, a while ago.”

  “That means a couple of hours at least. I’ll never understand why you get up at the crack of dawn when you don’t have to.” Erin yawned again, and stretched like a contented cat.

  “I’m a morning person, I guess. I love this time of day, when everything is just waking up. Seeing what critters are out and about. Going over in my head what I’m going to do that day.”

  “I prefer to remain in bed every single solitary second I can.” Erin rested her head against Gable’s shoulder. “Although it would be eminently more fun if you lingered there with me.” She sighed a long, dramatic sigh, which got her a poke in the ribs from Gable.

  “I know what happens when I linger in bed with you. We never leave the bedroom all day.”

  “And you’re complaining about that?” Erin pulled back to look at her with mock horror.

  Gable laughed. “Never.” She put her arm around Erin and nuzzled her neck. “Although sometimes I need a little recovery time, like after last night. By the way, have I told you lately how incredible you are in bed?”

  “Same back atcha, Hot Stuff.” Erin closed her eyes and arched her neck to encourage Gable’s gentle kisses.

  She took advantage of the invitation, and kissed, licked and nipped her way from Erin’s earlobe, down her neck, along her collarbone, to the valley between her breasts.

  “Mmm, that feels soooo nice,” Erin said in a low throaty voice, running her hand through Gable’s hair. “Are you sure you don’t want to linger a while in that big ol’ comfy bed of yours?”

  Gable worked her way back up to Erin’s neck, and then her cheek, and finally, kissed her softly on the lips. “Well, I might could be persuaded…” she drawled slowly in the rich Southern accent she’d had as a child. “You are impossible to resist.” She dipped her head to nuzzle again at Erin’s neck. “We just have to remember to give ourselves plenty of time to get ready for the wedding this afternoon.” Two of their friends from the squad were getting married, and all the firefighters had been invited.

  Gable felt Erin stiffen. She drew back to look at her, but Erin wouldn’t
meet her eyes.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, Gable. I’m not going.”

  “Not going? Why not?”

  “I’m just not.” Erin shrugged. “I’m not into weddings.”

  “But it’s not going to be a long service. Or a big one. They only invited their families and a few friends. We can skip the reception if you like.”

  “You can go, Gable,” Erin said, still not looking her. “Just tell Billy and Therese I didn’t feel well.”

  “I don’t really want to lie to them, Erin,” Gable said. “Why didn’t you tell them…and me, earlier, that you didn’t want to go? It doesn’t sound like this is something you only decided this morning.”

  “I just don’t want to go. It’s not that big a deal,” Erin snapped, clearly annoyed. She got to her feet. “I’m going to take a shower and get dressed. I’ve got some errands to run today.”

  “Erin, wait…” Gable started to protest, mystified by the sudden chill in the air. What just happened? But Erin was gone, back into the bedroom without a look back.

  The atmosphere thawed only slightly when Erin reemerged fifteen minutes later, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She found Gable in the kitchen, stacking pancakes on a plate.

  The table was set for two.

  “Got time for breakfast?” Gable asked gently. She hoped she could get Erin to talk about what was going on—explain why she was suddenly acting so distant.

  Erin paused in the doorway as if considering her answer. After a long moment, she came up and gave her a hug and a halfhearted smile. “That’s very sweet of you, but I better run. Have fun. I’ll call you later.” She gave Gable a peck on the cheek and left the room. Gable followed as far as the doorway.

  “C’mon, Earl. Time to hit the road,” Erin called to the cat, who was sprawled on his hammock by the window.

  Earl Grey remained where he was, staring at Erin to make sure she knew he had heard her just fine, and preferred to stay where he was. Erin marched over to him and picked him up.