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“About five months into the pregnancy, when they realized I was quite serious about all of this. At that point, Dad had a long talk with Mom, and told her I wasn’t ruining everything I’d worked for—I was building on it. That seemed to turn her, and ever since, they’ve been the best grandparents I could ask for.”
“I’m glad to hear it. They’ve always been such nice people. It’s weird to think of them not wanting to become grandparents.”
I smile. “I think it was more about them not wanting me to throw my entire college education away after we had all worked so hard for it.”
“But you were the one who did all the work in college. Not them.”
“They didn’t, but they were the ones who got me to go to college in the first place. I went through a bit of a wild streak in high school, and it took them staying on top of me to get me to calm down. If they hadn’t put up with my teenage rebellion bullshit, I wouldn’t have stepped foot in a university.”
“Guess we have that to look forward to with the kids, huh?”
“Yeah. And obviously, it doesn’t stop with teenagers…”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“Owen’s father…like I said, it all sounded so romantic that night. Exploring the world, I mean. Running to the ends of the Earth, just for self-improvement or whatever. He was obviously not mature enough to be a dad. Even if I could have reached out to him, it would have been pointless. I had gushed on about being a teacher and how much I loved kids, and he said he didn’t know how to be around kids or something.”
“In all fairness to him, I didn’t think I’d be comfortable around kids when you helped me get the nanny job with Cormac, remember?”
I laugh. “True enough. Doesn’t matter now. He’s out there somewhere, and I am here. Oh, and I’m late. Let’s get moving.”
Chapter Seven-Everett
Hard to hear the crunch of my own footsteps with the helmet on, but somehow, I hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. It’s like this at every wildfire, even with those that are mostly contained like this one.
The rush is always there, forcing me to be present. Fire is the least predictable natural wonder, and it doesn’t play fair. There’s no time to be contemplative when you’re dropped near the flames. Only time to act. You only have the moment. Because in a flash, you could be gone.
There is nothing like it.
Becoming a smokejumper has been the best choice I’ve ever made. It’s perfect for an adrenaline junkie like me who wants the rush, but also wants to live. That’s why base jumping, skydiving, ice climbing, and bouldering were never really my thing. Too much risk. But smoke jumping is not only a risk, but it’s a reward, too, because I’m helping.
My crew has saved countless forests, homes, and livelihoods, all at great personal risk. And it’s not just the fire, or the smoke, or the falling trees that can get us. Helicopter crashes, poison ivy, snakes, yellow jackets, and frightened animals all pose a threat. But people are the biggest threat.
Between those refusing to evacuate to gender reveal parties gone amok, human beings are the worst part of the job. Though, I imagine they are the worst part of any job. Their impact on the world is undeniable. There used to be fire seasons. Now, there are fire years. Wildfires and all their dangers have become a regular occurrence around the world—thanks, climate change—so now, smokejumpers are even more in demand.
Maybe I should thank them for the job security.
Here in Vermont’s Victory Forest, though, it’s suspected to be a natural wildfire. I have my doubts. It’s been a frigid but dry winter, and campers have been coming out due to the lack of snow. My captain says it wasn’t a campfire gone out of control, but I don’t know. I have my suspicions.
Between Burke and the Umpire Mountains the last of the fire burned, so that’s where they dropped us hours ago. Now, with things no longer smoldering, I am ready to call it. Seems everyone else is, too.
Cotton shouts, “Back to camp,” and gives the round-up signal. The hike is two hours of grunting and breathing in the soot on our sweaty faces. No matter the temperature outside, you always sweat while doing this job. Carrying ninety pounds of gear into a fire will do that.
The encampment isn’t much. Just a few weatherproof tents to get us set up with medical care, if needed, and a place to sleep, if things got out of control. When I check my phone, there’s a voicemail from my brother Beau. Odd. But then, he was never one much for texting.
His official-sounding speech patterns always trip me out. “I’m sure you’re rather busy, so I’ll keep this brief. I have requested your presence at Mother’s birthday party. It’s to be a formal affair, with dinner and dancing, and though I’m sure you loathe to attend such a thing, being that you’re the favorite, it would be a shame if you could not make it. I will hold the party at our family home on Saturday night. Tell me you’ll be there.”
I chuckle and roll my eyes, which earns a quizzical look from Miranda, one of my crewmates. “My brother…he’s an odd one.”
I play her the message, and she laughs. “Why does he sound almost British?”
“Couldn’t say. Though, now that I think about it, we had a British nanny when he was eight or nine. Beyond that, who knows?”
“Pretty sure we’ll have Saturday off if you want to attend the party.”
“I’ll check with Cap. Wish me luck.”
She huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Good luck with that.”
