“It is. Don’t do anything, son.”
Dennis did not answer.
29
Larry awoke to the smell of gasoline. In his dreams, Marjorie was saying it was good they had updated to an electric car, because she really hated this smell. Larry had never bought an electric car in his life—he knew it would garner ribbing from his colleagues, though now he wasn’t sure why—and this comment puzzled him greatly. He turned over in bed and sat right up.
It was outside. There was a flicker of light outside his windows. A fire.
He jumped out of bed and ran to the guest room. In moments, he had Amanda standing, without even knowing how. The flames were climbing the cabin walls around them, shining through the windows.
Amanda blinked, still half asleep in the flickering light, and then she was awake.
“La—”
“Move,” he said, and grabbed her hand, only dimly aware she was dressed in yoga pants and a sleeping shirt. They ran into the living room, where the flames illuminated the dead fireplace. The fire was growing quickly but not quickly enough, Larry thought. Whoever had set it hadn’t thought about the wet conditions. Even with an accelerant, the fire was finding the damp cabin hard to catch. The soft duff onthe forest floor caught with little blazes that turned to char that Larry could smell.
Amanda reached for the front door. Larry looked at the closed windows.
“Hold on!” he yelled.
He ran to the kitchen sink, turning on the cold-water tap. “Amanda!” he screamed, and when she turned around, he sprayed her. She turned in the cold water, gasping, understanding intuitively what he was doing. When she was soaking wet, he doused himself, then soaked a dish towel. He threw it over her wet hair.
“Careful,” he said, and then reached for the front door.
He opened it with a yank, the hot doorknob burning his hand. The flames roared into the room. Larry knew in that moment that all his belongings might be destroyed, and he looked over his shoulder at the urn on the mantel, realizing it was too late to get it.
“Now!” he yelled.
They ran through the open door. The flames leapt around them but seemed to retreat from their wet clothes. Outside, Larry spun Amanda around, using his hands to put out any fires. There were none. He slapped his own head, afraid of what little hair he had left burning.
They turned to look at the cabin. All the walls were on fire now, and the fire was licking over the mossy roof. This went up with a blaze. The woods began to catch, the fire burning resentfully at the fresh pine trees.
“We have to let someone know.”
They both looked down. Both were in socks.
“Do you have your phone?”
She shook her head.
He backed away from the flames. A burning shingle fell, and in the forest, a dead bush went up like a torch. The air was filled with the smell of burning moss.
In town, Gertrude smelled the fire first. She went to wake Aspire, and called the fire station, then the constable. Flashing lights filled the sky. They reflected over the ocean, which was indifferent. The sea lions, back on their rock, watched the burning hill, the fire reflected in their small, black, interested eyes.
The fire stopped at the cemetery. The sand there smoldered. By then the sun was coming up, and the fire trucks had arrived, pumping seawater with vast fat lines flung in the water. The burnt hill looked like a naked black sore against the fresh green of the forest. The fire had burned downward, toward the coast, which was odd, the constable said, because usually, the winds would push it inland. They had been lucky the night had been so quiet. The other homes on the dune were spared, and so were Larry’s and Amanda’s cars.
The locals turned out, as they did for any disaster. The fisherman brought a pair of boots and an old oilskin for Larry. Others donated other clothes. The firefighters were able to salvage Larry’s wallet from the ruins, and the urn with his wife’s ashes. Most of his clothes, along with Amanda’s parka and all the clothes in her backpack, had been ruined by the smoke and water. Amanda’s driver’s license was smudged and half melted.
The bear tooth, in its glass case, was scorched but okay. Their phones, plugged in in the kitchen to charge, had fallen under a table and been protected from the worst of the flames and wet.
Larry and Amanda stood by their cars, looking at what remained of the cabin. The burnt trees dripped salt water. A faint rain began falling, and then it turned into a heavier rain, putting out any remaining stragglers, the fire chief said.
Everyone went home, except for Amanda and Larry, who were given free rooms at the hotel until Larry could figure out what to do.
In her room, Amanda took a deep breath, and made the call. Shefigured her parents might hear about the fire—for all she knew, her mother was watching any news coming from Eagle Cove.
Her mother answered.
