Page 42 of Smoke and Fire
Although I had no reason to believe that Dahlia would send a second video, hope still flared within.
The next evening we returned to fire camp, grabbed dinner, and retreated to our pads to crash. I rinsed off with a rag and some water from a bottle, satisfying myself with the quick spit bath while others dropped onto their mats, half asleep.
Twelve hours digging line, with a few breaks for food or weather checks, left me another weary wreck. My hands had almost gone numb after half the day on the chainsaw, then half the day swamping—pulling tree branches and other wreckage away.
Updates on the fire weren’t promising, either.
Continued growth pushed the fire to the east, closer to the highway. Winds made it hard to create a fire line. Another hotshot crew had just arrived to dig line and stop the fire from going north. Meanwhile, we stayed south to protect Pineville, anticipating that a flank of fire could race toward town. A few cabins had been evacuated in the close hills, and volunteers set up sprinklers around houses and cut down brush to prepare.
With all that going on, Pineville remained at the forefront of my mind. My thoughts drifted to Dahlia during the day more than I’d actually like to admit. Even if it was just to myself.
Once I finished wolfing down an extra protein bar, I settled on my pad, grateful to stop moving for more than a few minutes. My phone brightened to life. Each muscle in my arm protested while I rubbed them out, but it gave me something to do while I waited.
Less than a minute after the phone booted up, one measly bar of reception appeared. What felt like an eternity later, a notification showed on the screen.
1 new text message.
Relief spread through me as I tapped on Dahlia’s message and a video downloaded. Once it finished, I held the phone close so I could hear, then hit the play button.
A grainy picture emerged at first, eventually settling into something clear. Dahlia stood at the reservoir. No wind down there. The breeze had been a steady twenty miles per hour in the hills all day. The lake was a calm blue band behind her. She sat on a camp chair, aviator sunglasses swamping half her face.
As usual, she had a huge smile.
“Hey again! Just wanted to shoot you a quick update. Got bored at the trailer so I came to the lake to put my feet in the water. My mom does it with the ocean, so it feels like home. Anyway, I finished the fifth book just a few minutes ago. Loved it. How do you come up with these ideas?”
She threw a happily exasperated hand in the air.
“I’ve never been into romance novels, but you’ve swept me away. I’ve already started the sixth and activated my local Lizbeth to discuss. Don’t worry—I’m acting like an avid fan. I won’t tell her I’m working for Jess.”
I leaned back and set my spine against a tree. Already the video was halfway done. She pixelated again as the phone tried to catch up. Seconds later, her voice cleared and her usual bright face filled the screen.
“Emails are steady and fine. I’m still not able to answer a ton, but I’ve been building a notebook of your past answers so I can mimic those. I still sign it off as my name and tell people that I work for you so they don’t think it’s you responding. I’d hate for anyone to feel lied to. Some people have written back. Your readers are really quite kind.”
Awesome.
Better than I could have ever hoped for, at any rate. The emails weren’t stacking up in a horrible manner now, which massively decreased pressure.
“Anyway.” She sighed. I imagined her gaze trailed out behind the phone. A crinkle appeared at the top of her nose, between her eyes. I wanted to reach over and smooth it away with my thumb. Then kiss those lips she kept worrying with her teeth.
“Any updates on your side of the fire?” she asked. “Good news, I hope? Like you’re going to snuff this sucker out and get a long break?”
She cracked up. I smiled in response, unable to help myself.
“Someone came into the coffee shop yesterday and said it was 4% contained. What the heck does that mean and how can it be only 4%?”
She trilled another laugh. I loved it when she made herself laugh.
“Be safe out there. Take care of yourself, Bastian. I’ve got things under control here.”
The video ended with another smile, and my stomach lurched.
To make sure I didn’t miss anything, I watched it again. To build my courage to respond, I watched it a third time. Then, to avoid the inevitable awkwardness of trying to figure out what to say, I watched it a fourth time.
Finally, I swept aside my crippling analysis and forced myself to respond.
Bastian:Great update. Thanks for all the hard work.
The text sent, and I immediately hung my head.Thanks for all the hard work.Could I get any more lame?
