Page 3 of Protect

The handsome face of Superintendent Xander Macomb catches my eye on the TV, standing in the ‘black’—the already burned aftermath of the forest—just as the sun is starting to set behind him. He’s holding his phone up for his interview wearing headphones as his crew moves about behind him in the background. I can’t help but scan the group of men—all powerful, muscular, and fit. They wear olive green pants, and yellow long-sleeved shirts, boots, helmets, and they’re filthy from head to toe.

I look away quickly, berating myself for even searching forhimin the first place. The reporter starts to ask Xander a question via video call just before I pick up the remote control to change the channel.

Nothing against Xander, he’s a kind man who worked well with my dad and brother but hearing all about the deadly fire feels like too much for me when I have to put my best smile on and face the rowdy Saturday night crowd.

“Hey, Vivi. You look pretty,” my mom, Mae, whispers as she comes through my front door. Bless her and the fact that she knew she needed to whisper.

She kicks her sandals off and sets her purse down on the bench in my entryway.

“So do you,” I say, offering her a squeeze. My mom looks a lot like me—only older, of course. Her hair is still long, and dark. At almost sixty she’s still in great shape, probably because she never sits still. My dad likes to say the devil shakes in his boots when my mom’s feet hit the floor in the morning.

“Still not used to driving around the corner to visit. It’s sure a lot nicer to pop in the truck and only be a few blocks away from my babies.”

I smile at her. “I’m loving that too.”

I’ve lived in Seattle, an hour and a half away for the last five years, and I’ve barely come home. My parents mostly came to us. My almost ex-husband,DoctorTroy Stafford and I have been separated for over a year. At first, I was determined to keep Hollie near him, but with his hectic schedule, Troy was the first one to agree that I needed to be near my family again. I needed a better support system, and he promised to make the trip on his days off to see Hollie. The only problem with that is he’s hell bent on making Department Head and barely has any R&R time.

It took a couple months to get it all sorted out but now, after being back for a month I know it was the right choice, even though Troy hasn’t really been keeping up his end of the bargain. He’s only seen Hollie once this month. I’m hoping that will change as more time goes on. In the meantime, I’m adjusting to life back home, knowing I’ll have to face the ghosts that wait for me here.

One living and one dead.

I pull the most comfortable pair of black boots I own onto my feet and follow my mom into my kitchen. As she flicks a light on, I remember.

Dishes. Shit. I forgot to do those.

My mom says nothing about the mess in the sink and rummages through my otherwise tidy space, pulling open the white cabinets and refrigerator, making a little cracker and cheese platter on my butcher block island.

“I don’t know how late I’ll be,” I tell her as I move to the sink so I can at least rinse said dishes. “Depends on this crowd tonight.”

Last weekend my parents ended up staying over in my spare bedroom.

“Where’s dad anyway? I thought he was keeping you company tonight?” I pop a cracker from her platter into my mouth, before starting to fill the sink with hot soapy water.

“Stop messing with the dishes, I’ve got them, and your dad is in the truck on the phone catching up with Xander. He didn’t want to wake Hollie. He’ll be in in a minute.”

I nod, fighting the urge to ask, shutting off the tap once the sink is filled. But my need outweighs my pride. Just like it does every damn time.

“Everything okay with the crew?” I ask as casually as possible, pulling a glossy pink lipstick out of my pocket. I use the microwave over my stove as a makeshift mirror, casting a glance at my mom over my shoulder. She smiles ruefully, knowing what my question really means.

“Yeah, baby,everyoneis okay.”

She turns back to her platter as I blot my lips with a tissue. I let out the breath I was holding as I waited for her answer.

PRESENT

Somewhere southwest of Spokane, WA

Pinafore Creek Wildfire.

Most people get up every single day and go to a job they hate. Day in and day out, just dreading that 7 a.m. alarm. Maybe they’re living for the weekend, living for their holidays, trying to make their husband or wife happy, all the while never really knowing true fulfillment, or what their purpose is.

I get why they do it. There’s comfort in the expected. It’s safe. Not to mention, the need to make a good living, pay for their kids’ soccer, their dance lessons, the newest video game, that fancy car in the driveway.

But living that rat race?

Shit sounds like my worst nightmare. Give me my old pick-up truck, some vintage vinyl in my simple house, and the rush of being dropped right into the center of nature’s biggest bonfire with the task of figuring out a way to shift its course.

It’s not predictable. It’s not safe, but I know without a doubt that it’s my purpose. There’s no bigger adrenaline rush on earth and I get paid to do it every single day.

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