Page 10 of Wild for the Mountain Man
The crunch of tires interrupts the thought. Headlights weave through the trees, pulling into my drive. Her little SUV idles, then shuts off.
She steps out holding a container wrapped in a towel. “I swear I’m not stalking you,” she calls, breath fogging in the cold. “Dad made stew. He said you probably hadn’t eaten yet.”
I rest a hand on the porch post to steady what the universe just tilted. “He’s not wrong. You driving around in the dark for charity?”
“For warmth.” She lifts the container. “And because I owe you.”
I wave her up. “Careful on the steps.”
She climbs the three boards like she’s been here before. I take the pot from her. Lilah’s hands brush mine. “Come inside,” I say, waiting for her. “I appreciate this surprise,” I say, setting it by the stove. “Tell your dad he’s saved me from canned soup.”
She grins, rubs her hands near the fire. “I don’t usually intrude. But the road was clear and … ”
“And you followed it,” I finish for her.
“Guess so.”
“You want to stay long enough to eat your share of that stew?”
Her eyes lift, bright as sparks jumping in the fire. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
I ladle the stew into mismatched bowls, and we eat sitting at the kitchen bar area. I offer her a soda or water and she chooses water. I’m not stingy with the bourbon. It’s just that I want her senses fully aware when she drives back.
The stew is delicious with small potatoes, onions, carrots, and beef. It’s seasoned well.
When she speaks, it’s softer. “Wade, why did you retire so early from the fire department? You’re really not that old.”
“Endurance for risk taking, I guess.” I glance at her. “I had a real close call and lost a buddy that was more experienced than I.”
“I see. Smokejumpers are needed though, aren’t they? Would you do it again if needed?”
“If the mountains needed me, I wouldn’t be able to say no. Caleb’s planning on doing it once he graduates school and undergoes training in Montana. So, in a way … I’m leaving the mountains a legacy to watch over them.”
“That’s a unique way to think of it. Still, you’re so young to be quote unquote retired.”
Lilah looks at me like she’s signaling that I’m not too old for her. I feel it … and I’d love to believe it. But I won’t.”
“Age has a way of making you slow down and look at things differently, with a little more caution. Sometimes, it’s what the wind doesn’t whisper to you. You have to hear what’s not being said.”
She tilts her head. “What’s it not saying tonight?”
“That you should probably head back before the road glazes.”
She doesn’t move. “And if I wait five more minutes?”
“Then it’s saying I’ll probably walk you out myself.”
The corners of her mouth curve, but she doesn’t tease. She just nods, like she knows I’m not pushing her away — just keeping the line where it belongs.
We finish the bowls. I rinse them while she wraps her scarf, then we step outside. The stars have doubled since she arrived.
At her car, she pauses with the door half-open. “Thanks for the company, Wade.”
“Anytime.”
“I’ll send you the next batch of photos tomorrow.”
