Page 78 of Smoke and Fire
My curiosity soared.
Bastian stared straight ahead, unblinking. Sensing a need for silence, I kept my lips together. My mind spun with possibilities. His Dad, perhaps? There were so many pictures of him in the frames. No, there had been a young woman there, too.
Finally, Bastian drew in a deep breath and looked at me. “Sorry, just . . . mentally prepping myself for what I’ll find in there.”
“Take your time.”
“My sister, Inessa, lives here.”
His gaze returned to the brick wall. Tension returned to his entire body, but it was hard to read. Was he afraid? Nervous? Didn’t want to be here? A summation of all three, maybe? I couldn’t tell.
“My parents adopted both of us. Inessa first when she was a few months old. She was born with Down’s syndrome. Her birth mother left her at a fire station because she couldn’t handle a special needs kid. Not only was Inessa born into tough circumstances, but she also had heart problems, amongst other things. She's ten years older than me.”
My eyes widened.
"Wow."
“Years later, they adopted me when I was a baby. My birth father walked away from my birth mom, leaving her alone to raise me. She was only seventeen, so she gave me up for adoption.”
“Do you know her?”
He nodded vaguely. “We meet up at Christmas sometimes. She calls, writes, and sends me a birthday present every year. We’re friends.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah. My adopted parents, whom I think of as my real parents, struggled with infertility for years. Then Inessa came along, and then me. A year after they brought me into the family, my adopted Mom was diagnosed with cancer. She died six months later.”
“Oh.”
The startled word flew out of me. Bastian didn’t seem to hear it, and I was grateful that he kept going. My quick math meant he would have been just under two years old when he lost his mother. Probably didn't even remember her.
“Dad took care of me and Inessa. When I was old enough, I helped. Inessa's medical conditions have always been significant. She’s almost forty now, and we were told she may not make it that far. Her heart is weak. She was born with a ventricular defect that was fixed around three months old, but she’s always struggled ever since with her lungs, her blood sugar, and her thyroid.” He shook his head. “She’s been getting worse recently and it’s so hard to watch.”
A beat of quiet followed his revelation. I attempted to soak up all he’d revealed, startled. Inessa was the girl in the pictures that I’d seen at his house, then. It had been obvious he had some people in his life, but I hadn’t known where they were.
“I see.”
“My father—we’ll see him next—declined in health the past couple of years. Right before last fire season, Dad had to live somewhere else. I couldn't take care of him anymore. Inessa and I did fine together until her health became worse. When fire season started last year, I had to bring her here."
His words thickened a little, and he swallowed. Something burdened his voice now, and it sounded like guilt.
“This is where she lives?” I asked.
“Yes. We tried everything before we went to a full time place like this. Respite care. Other facilities. Daytime programs. But I couldn’t make it work with my fire job and have it be safe for her. She's just too sick. She's been living here since the beginning of last summer.”
He glanced at the building again.
“It’s a wonderful place. They take excellent care of her. They provide her with activities and help me to speak with her as much as I can. It’s home for her now. Her home. Her place. Her people. She loves that. She’s thrived amidst her medical challenges. I had planned for her to stay here only during fire season, but she asked to stay full time last fall. I couldn't tell her no.”
“That’s a tough situation, Bastian.”
I reached over and put a hand on his arm. He didn’t flinch, but I couldn’t tell whether he welcomed the touch or not. He still hadn’t looked at me. By sheer willpower, I didn’t move my hand away.
“Yes, it is hard,” he said. “This sort of facility costs a lot of money, which is why I stayed in wildland fire. With high-fire years, I could rake in overtime, make money, and live out of Dad’s house. His mortgage isn't that high and I've almost paid it off. The problem is that Dad's care facility is just as expensive as Inessa’s.”
The puzzle pieces shunted together.
“They are the reason you need Jess?” I asked.
