In This Life
Page 2
Through sobs and halting words she told me all of it.
I listened but I didn’t comprehend, not immediately.
I should have anticipated that the most terrible things happen when you’re least likely to see them coming. Fate was one cruel motherfucker and I should have remained ready for another blow. I wasn’t ready for that agony the first time the bastard called ‘fate’ had decimated my life.
I wasn’t ready now either.
I wasn’t fucking ready at all.
The threat was always there in dry seasons. Some clueless camper might flick a cigarette into the thick brush or ignore the campfire warnings to roast some hot dogs because there’s always some jerk that believes rules don’t apply to him. And just like that ten thousand acres of green ponderosa pine would go up in smoke. The mountains were dotted with picturesque towns and cabins all over the place so there was a lot at stake when the alarm went out. Fire crews would spring into instant action to evacuate the threatened areas and they’d work tirelessly until the danger was contained.
Sometimes it wasn’t enough.
Sometimes the combination of wind and flames would thwart the best efforts men could possibly give.
“Kat?”
The voice at the kitchen door was shrill. Three sharp raps on the wood followed.
“Kat, it’s me!”
My stiffened joints complained when I disengaged from the hard wooden chair I’d sunk into when the sky was still dark. I tried to cross the room before my mother banged on the door again and woke everyone up. She was not renowned for her patience.
“Please, hush,” I hissed when I cracked the door.
My mother blinked at me in the mid morning sunlight. “You look awful,” she informed me. Her list of assets had never included tact.
“Sorry, I didn’t prioritize my beauty routine this morning.” I opened the door wider so she could pass the threshold. She brought the acrid smell of smoke with her but that couldn’t be helped. When there was a fire in the nearby mountains the haze and the stink inevitably drifted over Hawk Valley.
My mother made a beeline for the coffee pot, sighed when she found it empty and began noisily filling the carafe from the tap. “There are news trucks and fire teams everywhere,” she said in a tone that implied their presence was ruining her day. “I couldn’t even get my coffee this morning. The line was ten deep at Ed’s.”
“What a bummer,” I mumbled, thinking of all the people who would love to count a ten minute wait for coffee as their biggest problem this morning.
“Yes it was,” she said, not catching my sarcasm.
The coffee machine hissed as it warmed up. I rubbed my eyes, starting to feel the physical effects of last night’s horrors. Mentally I couldn’t do it yet, couldn’t quite absorb the emotional torments to come. There was no end on the horizon. There would be crying and funerals and in time the sheer despair would subside but there would be no end. Just a sad new reality. And an orphaned child.
“Kathleen, are you all right?” My mother sounded concerned now. She really wasn’t heartless. It’s just that sometimes her sensitivity gauge got stuck.
I swiped at a rolling tear on my cheek. “I can’t believe this is all real,” I said.
She nodded and for the first time a look of grief passed over her face. Heather had been her niece after all. She’d been my cousin.
“I know,” she said. “I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be a little bit grateful that cancer took my sister at a young age. But I have to say I’m glad she didn’t live to see the death of her only child.”
I reached over to grab a ceramic mug from the cabinet above the sink. My fingers bypassed the whimsical pastel cup collection and closed around a souvenir mug that displayed a row of lush green pine trees beneath the words Hawk Valley Happiness in red script. There were dozens just like it sold in the Garner Avenue store my cousin Heather owned and operated with her husband, Chris. She’d designed these herself.
After I poured a cup of coffee for my mother I filled one for myself. We both drank our coffees black, one of the very few things we had in common. We sipped from our cups in sad silence as I thought about how different the world had looked twelve hours ago.
The winds had been very strong last night, stirred up by some meteorological collision that probably would have made sense to me back in my academic days. My only concern was that the noise would keep Emma and the baby awake. Luckily my three and a half year old daughter hadn’t inherited my fitful sleeping habits but the baby was another story. He was only four months old and this was his first night away from his parents. He fussed as the wind battered the exterior walls and whistled through the tiny cracks it found. I rocked him for a solid hour before he settled down but I didn’t mind at all. It was nice to feel the warm weight of an infant again. Now that Emma was past the throes of toddlerhood she often refused to be cuddled.
When Heather had asked me if I’d watch baby Colin for the night so she and Chris could enjoy a romantic anniversary at their cabin up in the mountains I didn’t hesitate to accept. She’d almost changed her mind and brought him along but Chris laughed, called her a hovering mama bear and the two of them left for their anniversary trip alone.
Colin was finally asleep when I settled him in the portable crib in Emma’s room and that’s when I heard the first of the sirens. They could have been from anything. A car accident. A downed power line. I didn’t dwell on them. Just as I was about to leave the room Colin released a sharp cry and I lingered in the doorway for a moment to see if he was waking up but he simply shifted and fell asleep once more.
Hours later I was awakened by a hysterical call from Chris’s sister, Jane. She was the longtime girlfriend of the local fire chief so she’d heard the news first. The fire had moved quickly and mercilessly, swallowing entire acres in mere moments before a sudden burst of rain hushed its fury, not extinguishing it completely but giving the crews a chance to battle back. The first responders on the scene had the grim task of checking the half dozen cabins that had been engulfed. Only one was occupied. There would still need to be a formal identification of the bodies but everyone knew that cabin had belonged to the Ryan family for generations. And Jane confirmed to the authorities that her brother and his wife had driven up there yesterday evening.
Now I couldn’t stop thinking about that lone shrill cry from Colin. I wondered if that was the moment his parents found themselves surrounded by fire. And I wondered if one of the tragic mysteries of the universe had occurred, if his infant mind somehow knew what had happened miles away up in the mountains.
“Mommy?” Emma padded into the kitchen like a sleepy angel in her pale blue nightgown.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I said, holding out my hand to her.
She remained where she was, staring at me solemnly. She was old enough to have permanent memories of last night, of being awakened by the sound of sobbing adults.
“You’re crying,” she said.
“Come here, my pretty girl,” my mother said and crouched down with her arms open. Emma glanced at me once and went to her grandmother.
Emma allowed herself to be lifted into my mother’s lap. She yawned and said, “Colin’s making noises.”
“He’s awake?” I asked.
She nodded. “He’s making noises.”
I had thought I would hear him if he cried. I set down my coffee cup. “I’ll go see.”
I listened but I didn’t comprehend, not immediately.
I should have anticipated that the most terrible things happen when you’re least likely to see them coming. Fate was one cruel motherfucker and I should have remained ready for another blow. I wasn’t ready for that agony the first time the bastard called ‘fate’ had decimated my life.
I wasn’t ready now either.
I wasn’t fucking ready at all.
The threat was always there in dry seasons. Some clueless camper might flick a cigarette into the thick brush or ignore the campfire warnings to roast some hot dogs because there’s always some jerk that believes rules don’t apply to him. And just like that ten thousand acres of green ponderosa pine would go up in smoke. The mountains were dotted with picturesque towns and cabins all over the place so there was a lot at stake when the alarm went out. Fire crews would spring into instant action to evacuate the threatened areas and they’d work tirelessly until the danger was contained.
Sometimes it wasn’t enough.
Sometimes the combination of wind and flames would thwart the best efforts men could possibly give.
“Kat?”
The voice at the kitchen door was shrill. Three sharp raps on the wood followed.
“Kat, it’s me!”
My stiffened joints complained when I disengaged from the hard wooden chair I’d sunk into when the sky was still dark. I tried to cross the room before my mother banged on the door again and woke everyone up. She was not renowned for her patience.
“Please, hush,” I hissed when I cracked the door.
My mother blinked at me in the mid morning sunlight. “You look awful,” she informed me. Her list of assets had never included tact.
“Sorry, I didn’t prioritize my beauty routine this morning.” I opened the door wider so she could pass the threshold. She brought the acrid smell of smoke with her but that couldn’t be helped. When there was a fire in the nearby mountains the haze and the stink inevitably drifted over Hawk Valley.
My mother made a beeline for the coffee pot, sighed when she found it empty and began noisily filling the carafe from the tap. “There are news trucks and fire teams everywhere,” she said in a tone that implied their presence was ruining her day. “I couldn’t even get my coffee this morning. The line was ten deep at Ed’s.”
“What a bummer,” I mumbled, thinking of all the people who would love to count a ten minute wait for coffee as their biggest problem this morning.
“Yes it was,” she said, not catching my sarcasm.
The coffee machine hissed as it warmed up. I rubbed my eyes, starting to feel the physical effects of last night’s horrors. Mentally I couldn’t do it yet, couldn’t quite absorb the emotional torments to come. There was no end on the horizon. There would be crying and funerals and in time the sheer despair would subside but there would be no end. Just a sad new reality. And an orphaned child.
“Kathleen, are you all right?” My mother sounded concerned now. She really wasn’t heartless. It’s just that sometimes her sensitivity gauge got stuck.
I swiped at a rolling tear on my cheek. “I can’t believe this is all real,” I said.
She nodded and for the first time a look of grief passed over her face. Heather had been her niece after all. She’d been my cousin.
“I know,” she said. “I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be a little bit grateful that cancer took my sister at a young age. But I have to say I’m glad she didn’t live to see the death of her only child.”
I reached over to grab a ceramic mug from the cabinet above the sink. My fingers bypassed the whimsical pastel cup collection and closed around a souvenir mug that displayed a row of lush green pine trees beneath the words Hawk Valley Happiness in red script. There were dozens just like it sold in the Garner Avenue store my cousin Heather owned and operated with her husband, Chris. She’d designed these herself.
After I poured a cup of coffee for my mother I filled one for myself. We both drank our coffees black, one of the very few things we had in common. We sipped from our cups in sad silence as I thought about how different the world had looked twelve hours ago.
The winds had been very strong last night, stirred up by some meteorological collision that probably would have made sense to me back in my academic days. My only concern was that the noise would keep Emma and the baby awake. Luckily my three and a half year old daughter hadn’t inherited my fitful sleeping habits but the baby was another story. He was only four months old and this was his first night away from his parents. He fussed as the wind battered the exterior walls and whistled through the tiny cracks it found. I rocked him for a solid hour before he settled down but I didn’t mind at all. It was nice to feel the warm weight of an infant again. Now that Emma was past the throes of toddlerhood she often refused to be cuddled.
When Heather had asked me if I’d watch baby Colin for the night so she and Chris could enjoy a romantic anniversary at their cabin up in the mountains I didn’t hesitate to accept. She’d almost changed her mind and brought him along but Chris laughed, called her a hovering mama bear and the two of them left for their anniversary trip alone.
Colin was finally asleep when I settled him in the portable crib in Emma’s room and that’s when I heard the first of the sirens. They could have been from anything. A car accident. A downed power line. I didn’t dwell on them. Just as I was about to leave the room Colin released a sharp cry and I lingered in the doorway for a moment to see if he was waking up but he simply shifted and fell asleep once more.
Hours later I was awakened by a hysterical call from Chris’s sister, Jane. She was the longtime girlfriend of the local fire chief so she’d heard the news first. The fire had moved quickly and mercilessly, swallowing entire acres in mere moments before a sudden burst of rain hushed its fury, not extinguishing it completely but giving the crews a chance to battle back. The first responders on the scene had the grim task of checking the half dozen cabins that had been engulfed. Only one was occupied. There would still need to be a formal identification of the bodies but everyone knew that cabin had belonged to the Ryan family for generations. And Jane confirmed to the authorities that her brother and his wife had driven up there yesterday evening.
Now I couldn’t stop thinking about that lone shrill cry from Colin. I wondered if that was the moment his parents found themselves surrounded by fire. And I wondered if one of the tragic mysteries of the universe had occurred, if his infant mind somehow knew what had happened miles away up in the mountains.
“Mommy?” Emma padded into the kitchen like a sleepy angel in her pale blue nightgown.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I said, holding out my hand to her.
She remained where she was, staring at me solemnly. She was old enough to have permanent memories of last night, of being awakened by the sound of sobbing adults.
“You’re crying,” she said.
“Come here, my pretty girl,” my mother said and crouched down with her arms open. Emma glanced at me once and went to her grandmother.
Emma allowed herself to be lifted into my mother’s lap. She yawned and said, “Colin’s making noises.”
“He’s awake?” I asked.
She nodded. “He’s making noises.”
I had thought I would hear him if he cried. I set down my coffee cup. “I’ll go see.”
