Page 143 of The Fire Line

“Of sandwiches?”

“And fruit. People need to eat.”

Apparently that was how Harris’s mother handled an evacuation. She took the part she understood and expanded it until everyone she loved could survive several days beside a highway.

“Don’t encourage her,” Harris said behind him.

Della turned. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Had lunch.”

“What?”

Harris appeared to weigh the consequences of lying to his mother during a wildfire. “Sandwich.”

Della looked at Jay.

He lifted both hands. “I was not present for the alleged sandwich.”

“Traitor,” Harris muttered.

Della handed him one wrapped in foil. Harris accepted it, and Jay left the camera down. Some moments could remain useful without becoming material.

Later, he found Harris and Evan loading a portable water tank into a pickup. Evan’s phone rang while he tightened the first strap. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately.

“Hey.” Evan’s voice changed—not softer, exactly, but less divided. “We’re all right. No, that’s not true. We’re moving everything.”

He listened, eyes on the smoke.

“Elise, I know.”

Another pause.

“Yes. I heard you. Twenty minutes.”

Harris glanced over.

Evan closed his eyes briefly. “Ma’s packing food.”

Whatever Elise said made his mouth tighten. “I know. I’m working on it.”

He listened a moment longer.

“Keep the girls there. I’ll get her out.”

Another pause.

“I love you too.”

He put the phone away and reached for the ratchet again.

Harris looked at him. “Twenty minutes?”

Evan sighed. “Apparently if Ma’s still here after that, Elise is coming back for her herself.”

Jay looked at Evan.

He shrugged. “I married a terrifying woman.”