Wildfire Wedding

by Sowell, Lynette

  “Oh. Meant to tell you. I have a meeting at the station in the morning. D.J. wants to give a fire briefing.”

  She sat up straighter. “But the tuxes—”

  “Will be at the shop and waiting, whenever we're ready to pick them up. I called. Denise said it was fine, Jeff and I can stop by anytime. Your dad's tux, and little Brad's too. We can pick 'em up Friday morning, after everyone's in town.”

  “Ah, okay.”

  “Wasn't that responsible of me?” He grinned at her. That grin always settled her down. His ease was one of the things that attracted her to him the most when they met at freshman Fish Camp in college. But then, you always someone needed to keep track of details. If she'd left the tuxes entirely to him, the guys would be lined up at the shop the morning of the wedding, wishing and hoping the tuxes fit. Or were there at all.

  “Incredibly responsible, Mr. Hansen. You have great potential, I think.”

  “Think, huh?” He leaned closer, their noses almost touching. “I want you to more than think; I want you to know I have great potential.”

  She silenced him with a kiss, which deepened. She nearly forgot they sat on the outdoor deck, on display for anyone who might see.

  “There y'all are!” a female voiced trilled, echoing off the patio's walls.

  Momma?

  Here. Now?

  Krista moved away from Luke. He grinned at her. Nothing seemed to faze him, not even the sight of her mother, in all her bedazzled glory, striding across the deck. Momma glowed, from her sparkling pumps to the denim capris with rows of blue rhinestones accenting the front pockets. The only thing simple about her outfit was the white T-shirt tucked into her capris. A red, white, and blue scarf served as a belt.

  “Mom. . .you're. . .ah, here.” Three days early, no less.

  “I know!” She trotted over to their table, almost knocking her head on the tilted edge of the table's umbrella as she leaned over. “Surprise!”

  Luke stood, as did Krista, who found herself enveloped in an embrace smelling of floral perfume. Strands of her hair caught in one of her mother's large hoop earrings.

  “Ow.” Krista extricated herself hair by hair as her mother laughed, shifting her large tote bag emblazoned with the Texas flag.

  “Oh, it's so good to see you.” Then she turned to face Luke. “And lookit you, all tanned and muscly, ready to wed my eldest daughter on Saturday.”

  Momma flung her arms around Luke, who sported a wry grin as he looked over her shoulder. Momma's right foot popped up, and her pump fell off and hit the deck.

  “Well, I'm pleased as a kitten with cream to catch y'all here. I wanted to sit and have you to myself for a bit before the whole town claims your attention this week.” She set her bag on the patio and pulled up a nearby chair.

  “Good. We, ah, ordered our pizza not long ago, so join us. Please.” Krista had to chuckle over her mother trying to get the pump back on her bare foot. “Where are you staying? Where's Tim?”

  “I got a hotel room—didn't bother canceling it, but phooey on Tim.” Momma shook her head. “I didn't want to tell you, with it being weddin' week and all, but I don't think he's going to make it for Saturday.”

  “Does he have to work? Because if he has to work, I understand. Really.” She patted her mother's hand. Momma grabbed onto it and squeezed.

  “Baby girl, I don't think. . .” She cast a glance downward. “. . .I don't think he and I are going to make it, either.”

  Krista glimpsed tears in her mother's eyes. She put her arm around her shoulders. “Oh, Momma.”

  “You haven't called me that in, forever.”

  “Are you sure you two can't work things out?” She glanced at Luke, with concern etched on his face. “When. . .when did all this happen?”

  “It's been a few months. He's been at his brother's in Irving.” Her mother shrugged, and reached for a napkin on the table. She dabbed her eyes. “I was hopin' we could get things figured out. But he's him, and I'm me. Ain't no way around those two things.”

  “I thought opposites attract, like you told me once.”

  Another shrug from Momma. “Sometimes. But we're not attracting anymore.”

  “I've got one large pepperoni pizza, extra cheese, half black olives, half mushrooms,” Jody announced from the doors leading into the restaurant. “For the bride and groom. Oh—and mother of the bride. Hey, Mrs. Pignetti. I didn't think you were getting here till Friday.” Jody placed the steaming pizza on the table and pulled a wad of folded napkins from her apron.

  “Thought I'd get here a few days early, to give Krista a hand.” Momma's eyes held a faint shade of pink.

  “Well, it's good to see you. How's things up in Grapevine?”

  “Doin' just great. It's been a good year so far at my shop.” Her mother beamed as she pulled a paper plate from the stack on the table.

  Krista's heart hurt as she watched her mother put on a brave face. She didn't know what to do to help, and truthfully, maybe she'd have known things weren't doing well for her mother and stepdad.

  Jody picked up the ticket, used her pen and drew a diagonal line across the bill. “It's on the house, y'all. Enjoy.”

  “Jody. . .” Krista shook her head.

  “It's an early gift.”

  “Well, thank you.” She smiled at the woman who owned the best pizza place at Settler Lake. Like many Texans, Jody was a transplant, the daughter of retired military veterans who decided to make Texas their permanent home. She'd lived there for most of her life, except during her younger years when her parents traveled from post to post. Krista couldn't imagine living anywhere else, either.

  Luke said the blessing over the meal, and Momma immediately launched into peppering Krista with questions about the cake, flowers, music, if the bridesmaids dresses all fit right and the “voluptuous” one wasn't falling out the front of her dress because that was just plain tacky, and if they had a ride to the airport for Sunday afternoon.

  Krista's head swam as she answered one question after another. She'd planned the answers to all these questions and knew she'd already answered them for her mother before.

  “Ladies, pardon me, but I'm digging in. Krista, here's a plate.” Luke slid a plate toward her with one hand and picked up a slice of cheesy goodness with the other.

  “Thanks, Luke.”

  “You're such a thoughtful man,” Momma commented around a bite of her pizza. “So kind and gentlemanly. Some men just dig in and start stuffing their faces without so much as a do-you-want-any.”

  “I do my best.” He glanced at Krista and winked. Those eyes of his. They'd attracted her to him in the first place, so long ago. Faint tiny lines from time spent in the sun crinkled their corners.

  “I'm so hungry; I'm glad we got a large.” Krista savored the taste of the warm cheese, the tang of pepperoni and earthiness of mushrooms.

  “But your dress,” her mother began.

  Krista swallowed. “What about my dress?”

  “All that salt, you'll be taking on water like a sponge. I know it's a tad late to gain weight before the wedding, but surely water weight, and bloating. . .” Momma waved her own slice of pizza in the air.

  “I'll be fine.” She bit her lip instead of her pizza slice. Not fifteen minutes, and she was already gritting her teeth. Help me, Lord. She's my mother. I need to honor her. I know she means well, but—

  Few people like a parent could make you feel like an awkward nine year old again. And ready to scream.

  “Looks like we've got a party here,” a male voice announced.

  Jeff? Wasn't he supposed to be relaxing at the house after his flight from L.A.?

  “Hey, man, pull up a chair.” Luke nudged the seat on his other side. “How'd you get here?”

  “Borrowed your bicycle.”

  “Ah, okay.”

  “Nice bike lanes here in your city, and the countryside. I'm impressed.” Jeff studied the pizza. “I might take a ride or two up in the hills while I'm here.”


  “Go right ahead. I'll be off work after Thursday.” Luke nodded at a paper plate. “Help yourself to some pizza, too.”

  Jeff. And her mother. Both here at once. And now, Momma, sitting there chewing her bite of pizza and shooting Jeff a glare with laser sharpness.

  Luke's phone began to buzz and skitter across the table. They had an unwritten rule about no phones during time together like this, with only one exception: fire.

  He picked up the phone. “It's D.J.”

  Krista bit her lip. Her mother was saying something about how Saturday, everything was going to be perfect, and how nothing and no one—with a glance at Jeff—would stop Krista from having her day.

  Luke furrowed his brows. She'd seen that look before, anytime he went to work a fire.

  He ended the call. “I need to go. Grass fire, north side of town. It shouldn't take long to get it under control.”

  Krista nodded. “Let me know when you're done. If you need anything, I'll drive it out there.”

  He bent to give her a kiss before he left them.

  #

  Luke's pulse raced as he pulled out of the parking lot. He'd only taken enough time to ensure his gear was in the back of the truck, and he drove straight to the volunteer fire station.

  A few other volunteers arrived on the scene just as he did. Suiting up, in boots and gear. Checking of tools, equipment.

  D.J. was in the garage bay, along with several others of the crew, starting up the two brush trucks.

  “We've gotta go, gotta go!” D.J. called out as they all took their seats. “Hansen, you're with me.”

  Luke climbed into the cab of the truck and they roared out of the garage.

  “It's on Donny Bixby's land—he's not sure how it started, but it got out of control and he called right away,” D.J. explained over the sound of the engine. “He and his neighbors are working on it. Only a dozen acres right now, but the wind speed's low.”

  “Gotcha.” Luke nodded. Was the guy trying to do his own controlled burn of undergrowth, despite the county wide burn ban? Normally during unrestricted burning times, the only deterrent would be the wind. Never surprised him, though, when somebody didn't think the law applied to them, or they could “handle it.” He didn't know for sure, and the most important thing right now was getting that fire contained as quickly as possible, no matter how it started.

  Lights flashing, the two brush trucks, sirens wailing, headed out of Settler Lake and into the open countryside.

  As far as Bixby's place was from town, there were no fire hydrants. Luke didn't know if Bixby had any water supply besides a well or stock tank.

  “Bixby got any tank water?”

  D.J. shook his head. “Not enough. One of the reasons he called us. He can't pump enough to get this under control.”

  In addition to bringing tanks of water, they also had good old muscles and shovels to dig fire breaks. Fire breaks would be ideal—as long as the wind didn't pick up too much. If they needed water, another community's department would be on standby, ready to help them.

  Right now, the trees and cedar bushes they passed remained nearly motionless.

  Smoke rose above the next low hill. They were nearly at the Bixby ranch.

  Luke focused on what lay ahead of them. Normally, he didn't have a problem leaving Krista. She knew the deal and accepted his volunteer firefighter status. She kept active in the ladies' auxiliary and would join them at the Bixbys if needed, providing food and drink. But maybe this fire would be an easy one to contain and extinguish.

  Now, what he'd left behind at the restaurant? Luke wasn't too sure how that would all play out. The Lord knew he'd made a mess a few years back with Krista. They'd reconciled and put the past behind him. Vonda Schmidt, his mother-in-law to be, had gone from hating him to tolerating him. He'd determined long ago—as had Krista—not to let any of Vonda's barbs cause a rift between them.

  “So, you about ready for the big day?” D.J. asked.

  “I'm past ready. Krista's pretty well moved all her stuff into the house now,” he replied, then followed up with, “but she's staying with Nana Schmidt until Saturday.”

  “You don't have to explain yourself to me. Kinda nice, hearing about some young folks saving all the fireworks for their wedding night. Lotsa young'uns cheapen it by hoppin' into bed, willy-nilly, no commitment. Well, we were doin' the same thing back in the day, when I was younger. That don't make it right.”

  Oh, he and Krista had had fireworks before—in the past. But that was past. With them renewing their relationship, they both determined to honor God and save physical intimacy until their wedding night, even if that idea seemed old-fashioned to some. That didn't mean Luke didn't remember. . .

  All he did was nod at D.J.'s comment. “Times really haven't changed much, have they?”

  “Nope.”

  They both fell silent as D.J. downshifted and turned the vehicle, pulling into the long driveway flanked by live oak trees.

  The scent of burning cedar and other brush came in through the truck's vents. And the scent of fire. Even a small fire could turn deadly, and this one was no different.

  For the next several hours, Luke only thought of chopping down brush, digging a fire break, and helping hose down the area with the bit of water they'd brought with them. Another set of volunteers came—this time from over in Turnersville. Nobody got paid for this, and nobody expected to.

  They were all neighbors helping neighbors. They learned as they went. Luke had learned from his own father, who'd worked for decades as a firefighter until they lost him to a heart attack. Now, D.J. was his mentor.

  The nearly 70-year-old Army veteran showed no signs of slowing down today, either, as he worked alongside the others. Luke hoped to have half the guy's energy when he was the same age.

  At last, with twilight descending on them, the fire—which burned almost ten acres—was nothing more than a smoldering mass of charred fields and brush. As always, the thrill of pride swept through Luke as he surveyed the area. They'd conquered the fire, today.

  “We done good, we done good,” D.J. announced to the crew.

  Mrs. Bixby greeted them with a tray of cold drinks in the ranch yard. “I don't know what we would've done if y'all hadn't gotten here so quickly.”

  Don Bixby echoed his wife's sentiment, his face sweaty and smudged with earth. He'd been right there with them, trying to keep the fire from approaching any of his outbuildings and pastures.

  “We're glad we were able to help,” Luke said, picking up a glass of lemonade. His stomach growled. He'd barely eaten half a slice of pizza before getting called away. Krista hadn't made it out to the Bixbys, but neither had any of the rest of the auxiliary. She probably had her hands full with her mother, and last-minute details. And, her mother.

  They left the Bixbys, with D.J. promising to come by and survey the area to check for any hot spots in the morning. Nobody offered an explanation about how the fire started, but the sheriff's department had been there, noting a round metal barrel of smoldering trash on a corner of the property. Luke had a feeling the Bixbys would likely be cited for breaking the law.

  But he was thankful things hadn't turned worse because of someone's foolishness. God's grace at work, keeping them from the fire this time.

  He arrived home after dark to find Jeff kicked back in the den, watching some television. The ten o'clock local news had just clicked on.

  “Welcome back,” Jeff said, rising from where he'd draped himself on the couch. “Got some pizza on the counter. Krista sent the rest of it home with me and I ordered an extra large pepperoni to go.”

  “Thanks.” He headed straight for the refrigerator for a bottled water. “How'd you get it all home?”

  “Krista gave me a ride, toted your bike in the trunk.”

  “Ah.” He unscrewed the bottle's lid and took a sip. Of course, she did. Krista was kind. She was like that; no matter her personal feelings about someone, it wouldn't deter her from showing conside
ration to them. Maybe she'd done it for Luke; and that made him love her all the more.

  He'd had misgivings about asking Jeff, at one time his closest friend from college, to be his best man. They'd been through a lot, those years. While Luke had his own struggles to make his faith his own, Jeff had drifted away from it. Yet, their friendship still remained easy to pick up not quite two years ago. Then, when deciding on a best man and groomsmen, Jeff had been his choice for best man.

  He'd asked Krista what she'd thought about his selection. She'd suggested Barry, one of the other volunteer fire fighters who also attended their church. Barry was a groomsman, his son their ringbearer. But no, not the best man.

  Jeff joined him in the kitchen and pulled a can of Dr Pepper from the fridge. “Man, you’re really taking the plunge.” Jeff popped the top. “You left all we had in Southern Cal and came back to this.” Lightning flickered in the kitchen windows.

  Luke grinned. He pulled a slice of pizza, straight from the plate. “Yeah, I sure did.” And he could hardly wait.

  “I’ve done it twice, and I’m much wiser and poorer man.” Jeff ambled to the den, a few steps down from the sprawling kitchen. “Marriage is highly overrated, and there are plenty of desperate women in the world who just want to date and have a good time. No strings attached.”

  “But you're giving your stamp of approval on mine?”

  Jeff set his drink down on the coffee table. “Hey, this is your decision. . .for you. And I'm glad you and Krista worked things out. I fully support you two as a couple. I'm just sayin', it's not for me.”

  “Okay. Good. But I didn't realize you'd remarried after Carrie.”

  He nodded. “Megan. It only lasted six months.”

  Jeff clicked on the TV and changed the channel to HGTV. “Hey, have you seen Reilly and Kincaid—they're on a contracting show. Remember when? They were just starting out when you left Cali.”

  Luke gazed across the breakfast bar toward the den. “You don't say.” The two home builders faced the camera, talking about the high-end kitchen Reilly had designed and Kincaid had built. Luke found a plate for his pizza, stacked two slices on it, then joined Jeff on the couch.