The Family Man

Her eyes filled with tears, which she quickly blinked away.

Tess wanted her mom back. No one knew her favorite cereal was Cocoa Puffs or that she liked red more than pink. Her mom had always made Tess smile. Now she didn’t have anything to smile about.

Tess wanted to go back to the way things were before, when she was just another kid. She used to like lots of things, like watching TV, kicking a ball and making friends. She didn’t do any of those things anymore.

Which made Tess think again about Heidi. They used to laugh together a lot in school and at each other’s houses. Now Tess couldn’t laugh, hadn’t laughed in months. So, what would she say when she saw Heidi?

They continued up Uncle Logan’s driveway. Whizzer put his front paws on the passenger window and scratched. Hannah put the window down an inch and helped hold him up so he could get air. The little dog breathed in deeply several times, pressing his wet nose to the window and wagging his tail as he dreamed of peeing on all those trees. At least, that’s what Tess imagined he was thinking. The darn dog peed on everything. He’d even tried to go on her right after they washed him in the sink in the gas station bathroom.

“This is where your uncle lives?” Thea asked as she shut off the engine. She had her head down so that she could see the huge two-story house in front of them through the windshield. “It’s got trees, and a mountain for a backyard…and friends.”

Tess used to think Uncle Logan’s house was a castle or a mansion. She’d loved pretending that she was a princess or a movie star who lived there with lots of servants. She didn’t have those silly dreams anymore. Bad things didn’t happen to princesses.

“This is where my mom died.” Tess bit her lip, wanting to stay in Thea’s small back seat forever. She didn’t want to be here.

Mrs. Garrett and Heidi climbed out of the SUV. Thea, Hannah and Whizzer jumped out of the Volkswagen. Tess couldn’t move.

“I’ll introduce you to Glen,” Mrs. Garrett said to Thea. “She’s a sweet thing.”

Tess had almost forgotten Aunt Glen was staying with Uncle Logan. She was old. Really old. Tess had heard Uncle Logan complain to her mom last summer that Aunt Glen didn’t have all her bulbs screwed in. It took Tess a couple of days to figure out that Uncle Logan thought Aunt Glen had gone crazy, which was fine with Tess because that meant Tess didn’t have to pretend nothing was wrong when she was around Aunt Glen.

“I check in on Glen a couple of times a day when the guys are on assignment. I’ll feel better that someone’s here with her all the time,” Mrs. Garrett was saying. “I’m sorry we can’t stay. Henry’s got a doctor’s appointment down the mountain in less than an hour, but you’ll be fine. We’ll come by tomorrow morning to check up on you.”

“Hi.” Heidi stepped into the Volkswagen’s open car door. Tess hadn’t seen her walk up.

She managed a strangled “Hi” back, which was followed by a painful silence.

Heidi wasn’t looking at Tess and Tess didn’t dare look Heidi in the eye. She wished she could just disappear under the quilts on the seat next to her, but that would be more embarrassing than not knowing what to say. Hannah had gone inside with the adults, so she was no help. Whizzer was busy running around and peeing on every bush he could see. And so Tess was left trapped in the back seat, unable to move or say a word.

Then Mrs. Garrett raced down the steps, saving Tess from further embarrassment. “Heidi, come on. You can catch up with the twins later.”

“See you,” Heidi called as she left.

Tess slumped over onto the quilts, buried her face in them and tried to stop the tears.

CHAPTER TWO

THE VIEW WAS SPECTACULAR, with snow-covered peaks standing out in sharp contrast against the smoke-softened sunset. One of the things Logan loved about being a Hot Shot was being close to nature. Only he could no longer enjoy it. Logan sat on an icy tree root with his back against the trunk, looking out over the Sun Valley base camp as it settled down for the night.

He had a birthday coming up soon. A birthday he’d be celebrating alone. He’d never been alone. Deb had even been born first. Growing up, she’d been the strong one when things got ugly with their father at home, which was often.

No kid should have to live through what Logan and Deb had. The harsh words. The fear. The bruises.

Shouts of laughter rippled through base camp. A group of firefighters from several different crews had gathered amidst the low tents that dotted the meadow’s snowy landscape. The wind was really blowing now, and this far from the fire line, it stole the breath right out of Logan’s lungs. His watch showed the temperature as twenty-nine degrees. Standing up and moving around would be smart. Too bad Logan wasn’t smart. As hot as he’d been the past few days on the fire line, he was an ice cube now. Which suited him just fine.

He stared back down at camp. For tactical purposes, NIFC had brought in portable toilets, a large canvas tent for Incident Command, and Jose’s Taco Truck, which had the best tacos in the Northwest, or so their signs proclaimed. Base camp provided firefighters with some of the amenities they didn’t have nearby. Camps didn’t get much more minimalist than this one, though.

Golden leaned his shoulder against a pine tree a few feet away from Logan, following the direction of his gaze. “Only the finest cuisine for our firefighters.”

“Breakfast burritos aren’t so bad.” At least the food was hot.

Golden rubbed his stomach as if it was empty. “It takes a lot of tacos to fill a man’s belly at the end of the day.”

Logan couldn’t argue with that. He shrugged deeper into his down jacket and thought longingly of a hot shower. Smoke and sweat had combined to form a sticky layer on Logan’s skin. NIFC hadn’t deemed the Sun Valley burn of a long enough duration to pay a vendor for portable shower stalls.

“How are you doing, Logan?”

Uh-oh. Logan shifted on the root. Even though they were best friends, Jackson and Logan tended to call each other by their Hot Shot names unless it was a social occasion or they felt the need to speak on a personal level, as Golden did now. And as he’d done over the past few days when Logan had lost his temper.

“I’m fine, Jackson.” Which was so far from the truth that the words nearly echoed in the hollow area once occupied by Logan’s heart.

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

Logan sucked on his cheek to keep from saying anything.

“I need you out there one hundred percent. What I don’t need is you and Aiden going head-to-head every time I give an order. It’s not good for safety or team morale.”

Jackson knelt down until he could look Logan in the eye. “This is going to be a tough year on the crews as it is. Two other states set early controlled burns that blew over the line. We were fortunate that we contained ours with less than a ten-acre loss. California and Colorado weren’t so lucky.”

Logan perked up. He could talk about work. Work was his savior. “They lose anything other than tree husks? Was anyone injured? Did any structures get burned?”

“No. We were lucky this time. But public opinion is against us, budgets are tight and I don’t want any mistakes on my team.” His jaw had that firm set to it that warned, “Mess with me and you’ll be in for a world of hurt.”

Relieved that the crews were okay, Logan gave a jerky nod to indicate he understood, that he would try harder to toe the line. Then he waited for Jackson to go away.

He didn’t.

“I know that losing Deb hit you hard, but you have to snap out of this.”

“Is that an order?” Something bitter climbed up Logan’s throat. He told himself it was just bad tacos, not the fact that his best friend since high school was disappointed in him. “Or am I missing something?”

Jackson shook his head. “You know what I miss? I miss my right-hand man. I miss my friend. There are a lot of us that miss you, buddy. You might want to think about that while you’re checking out that sunset.”

Logan would like nothing more than to do just that.

Only thing was, he didn’t know how to find that person Jackson referred to—the man he used to be.

STANDING IN LOGAN’S driveway later, Thea breathed deeply. The green scent of fir and pine filled the air. The dark green and brown colors set against the dusting of snow on the ground were calming. This part of Idaho was breathtakingly beautiful, so different from the skyscrapers of Seattle.

She could forget her goals up here, set aside the dream of earning a degree that would put her at the top of her field as her mother had done. Here she could listen to her little inner voice, the one that occasionally piped up at the oddest times with a twenty-seven-year-old’s desire for a family, a white picket fence and PTA meetings.

She let herself stare at Logan’s house just a little longer before she went back inside. It was a perfect house, straight off a Christmas card. The big log home was blanketed in snow, with smoke curling out of the two-story brick chimney. Part of Thea longed for the storybook life that had to go along with living in such a house. But she’d promised her mother when she was ten—right before her mother left—that she’d make something of herself.

Thea retreated to the kitchen and sank into a spindle-backed chair that felt unsteady enough to be an antique, her notes in piles next to her laptop, her study plan tacked to the wall. She needed to be reviewing her advanced technology notes. She should have reviewed them two days ago. She swung her foot, causing a ripple from the bells she’d attached to her shoes. According to her grandmother, vibrant noise was supposed to keep her spirits up, because the light notes reminded her to believe in sunshine and happily-ever-afters, of dreams being achieved. The sound didn’t help. She couldn’t focus on her studies.

The kitchen table was adorned with a deep brown crocheted doily. The hardwood floor was dark wood, as were the cabinets, and the countertop was brown tile with brown grout. Brown. Dark. Corners. Even the coffeemaker was made of black plastic.

The effect of the room was downright depressing, not at all the homey atmosphere the exterior of the house promised. Thea needed to dive into her notes, but she couldn’t concentrate in this gloomy environment. She pushed back her chair.