Page 9 of Fireline

“And this is the manufacturing room, where our smokejumpers use a variety of materials and sewing machines to create the gear we all use.” Nova swept her arm toward a doorway. She’d showered and changed into a fresh uniform of green pants, khaki Nomex shirt, and thick boots.

An elderly couple craned their necks to see into the room.

Great. A facility tour.

At least it wasn’t his turn. Peopling wasn’t his thing.

Nova, on the other hand, was the perfect person to lead informational tours. Born and raised right here in Jude County, she knew all the locals and the best places for tourists to visit. And okay, even he could be drawn in by the natural charisma she didn’t seem to know she had.

“Because our equipment and gear are specialized to what we do, every smokejumper, man or woman, learns how to sew. Right, Booth?” She turned and flashed a smile, showing her teeth.

His heart did a little double beat before he realized that smile wasn’t for him. Probably, she was putting on a show for the visitors.

Come to think of it, he was pretty sure Nova didn’t even like him.

He must have rubbed her the wrong way, because she seemed to always be angry with him for making suggestions out in the field and trying to help her.

Two could play the nice game. He plastered on a wide grin for their guests and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Yup. I hadn’t seen a sewing machine in person before I began my career as a smokejumper. Now I’m an expert.”

Finally, she gestured to the elderly couple holding hands. “This is Myron and Jan.”

Booth nodded a greeting to the couple. Myron wore loose jeans and a blue flannel. Curly hair bushed out from the sides of his Korean War Veteran ball cap. Jan was a wisp of a woman dressed for running, but he doubted her spindly legs would carry her far. Other than their obvious age, the couple seemed the perfect picture of growing old together.

Too bad Booth would never know what that was like. His love life had fallen apart around the same time his faith had. His ex had ditched him for the nerdy real estate agent that’d sold her a condo. Sure, she’d done the whole it’s not you, it’s me thing. Truth was, she’d gotten close enough to see he was unworthy.

“Myron and Jan are retired. Sold everything to tour America in their RV. They’ve been all over the country together.” Nova’s red ponytail bobbed as she spoke.

“I see.” Why was she telling him this? He’d probably never see these people again.

Nova rocked back on her heels. “Anyway, show these folks something you’ve made.”

So, what, now she was dragging him into the tour?

“Yeah. Sure, boss.” He ducked inside the room and grabbed a pair of yellow pants. “These are our jump pants. They’re puncture resistant so if we land in a tree, a stick won’t poke through.”

Jan gasped. “You land in trees?”

“Not on purpose. Sometimes the terrain is more dangerous than a fire. Trees can fall on us while we’re working. Jumps go off course. Branches can catch our parachute canopy and collapse it as we’re coming down. Then we’re free-falling twenty, thirty, forty feet or more with limbs tearing at our suits. We need all the protection we can get.”

He shot a glance at Nova.

Besides their little hang-up yesterday, they’d jumped in dangerous high winds last week to help a camp of teens during what’d turned into a firestorm.

Their boss, Tucker Newman, had been whipped into the tree line and made a hard landing on a roof. Thanks to his suit, instead of being impaled on a branch, the jump boss had broken his leg. He was out the rest of the season, though, which left leadership high and dry.

With a fire on the edge of out of control.

“What’re those?” Myron pointed to the supply table that ran down the middle of the room.

Booth left the pants on his sewing table and picked up a yellow-and-red striped bag. He handed it to Myron for inspection. “These bags are for our reserve chutes on the plane. We finished assembling them, and later today, they’ll get loaded up with the new chutes.”

Jan touched the sagging skin around her neck. “You mean you make your own parachutes too?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s important that we have the skills to manufacture all our own gear, because it’s extremely specific to our job. We can’t rely on someone else understanding what we do and what we need.” Really, he was practically running this tour now.

“Fascinating.” Myron studied the bag and handed it to his wife.

“Sewing is a tradition we hand down from year to year.” Nova took the bag from Jan and chucked it to Booth. “All the men around here learn to sew. Isn’t that right?”

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