We’re interrupted by an alarm sounding at the fire station. I can hear some of the other firefighters, whom he talks of often, telling him to stop being such a teenager and hang up the phone. I laugh and tell him to go play a hero as long as they need him.
Cuddling up on the big fluffy chair with Smokie, I doze off for a little while. I dream of a thousand afternoons just like this. Drawing and writing my stories, maybe even creating new characters to go on their own adventures. Laughing with Pace between calls while he's at the fire station. Nights sitting with him by the fireplace, talking in the dark, making love.
“It's too hot,” I murmur as I stir, smelling the smoke from the fireplace. It is way too hot in here now. Hot and loud. What is that?
Slowly, I come to, hearing Smokie’s booming barks as I slide across the hardwood floor. What is happening? Blinking fast to clear the fog, I cough. Smoke? Why am I…. why is the dog dragging me across the floor? It's so hot in here. What is going on, what have I done?
“Smokie, calm down girl. What's wrong?”
Clouds of smoke fill the small front room of the cabin.Fire? Is there a fire somewhere? My chest burns as a coughing fit overtakes me. Smokie drags me to the door. Coming to my senses, I pull the door open and let her rush out, with me fast on her furry heels.
Rain still pours down from the gray skies, coming down in powerful a wall of ice-cold drops. I shudder in the boxers and tank top I borrowed from Pace's dresser this morning. Taking a moment to catch my breath as I inhale cool, crisp air, I try to figure out what just happened. How was there a fire? Was it just smoke from the fireplace where I started a fire earlier?
“What did I do?”
Backing up from the cabin, I am swamped with guilt. With shock. What have I done? Did I start a fire in the cabin of a man who lost everything he knew to a fire? Jesus what is wrong with me? I tell the dog to wait for me before I turn back to rush inside, hoping she listens.
Coughing as I duck back inside, I glance towards the fireplace. That fire I stoked to life with so much effort earlier is out. Just orange cinders remain, a slow trickle of smoke wafting from hearth. Frowning, I cover my mouth as more smoke billows out. Then I see it. Jesus, so much for being good at baking. The entire stove is smoking, some flames licking out from the oven doors.
Rushing towards the kitchen, I grab the bowl I mixed those cookies in earlier. Filling it with water, I cough and sputter as I pull open the door of the oven. It burns my hand, and I shout, almost dumping the bowl. I catch it in time and toss it at the tiny fire flickering inside the oven.
“You cannot come back from this. It could have been anything else.Anythingelse besides a damn fire. What were you thinking? Whatcanyou get right, Pipes? Nothing. Right when you've gotten all you could ever want, you literally set it on fire.This was a bad idea. Bad idea.”
Once I have the fire out, I set to cleaning up the mess. No matter how I scrub or what pretty things I spray, the smell of smoke clings to the air. It fills the entire cabin. I've ruined this place. Ruined the one place he could come feel safe. The first place I’ve felt at home since leaving True Ridge. How could I have done this? How could I be so reckless?
With the cabin still smelling of smoke, I take Smokie for a quick walk. I linger in the woods, claiming a last few moments of peace. I take my time getting back because I have to go. Before he gets back. No more nights by the fireplace or lying in bed listening to the rain pouring outside. As if confirming this, the rain slows until it stops altogether.
“Thanks for the sign, I appreciate it. I will be on my way, don't you worry. I can't be here with him.”
After changing, I write a note I hate having to write. I tell him how good this time with him has been. The best time. How I am so glad I took a chance I was not brave enough to take before he found me in that tree. Before he saved me. Because he did, save me. Then, I go.
I guess I won’t be able to save the mountain man after all.
Chapter Nine
Pace
Where there is smoke, there is fire. Being a fireman, I know that is not always true.
Sometimes the smoke is all that is left of a fire. Wispy plumes of smoke where something once stood. Where lives were lived and memories were made. It clings to walls and skin. It permeates all it touches. It cannot easily be washed off or scrubbed away.
If it could be, this would be easier. If I could scrub the words from the note she left me, this might not be so hard. Wash off her sweet scent that has clung to me all day. I cannot wash out the smell of her, the impression of her in the bed, her spot in the big chair by the fireplace.
“Why would she run off on me, Smokie?” I mutter to the dog.
Sitting on the front porch as rain pours down once again, I hold the note in my hand. It’s just a few lines. Just enough to wreck everything. I read it again as my faithful dog sits close to provide her support. The minute I got home just before dusk, I knew something was wrong. I am not sure how I knew she was gone before I even set foot inside the cabin.
Pace,
I had to go. I made a mistake coming up here. I write those stories about my adventurous alter ego Bettie Buttons but…in real life, I have tried nothing, done nothing, seen nothing remotely close. I am a coward. I thought I could hide up in this cabin with you and start living my own adventures but…then I woke up. I made a huge mistake, Pace. I am so sorry. I cannot tell you what this time with you has meant tome. Thank you for saving me, even if it was just from a wild rabbit. Truth is, you saved me from myself.
Goodbye, Pace.
Balling the note up, I start to toss it in the garbage, but I can’t. Because what does she mean she made a mistake? We’re not a mistake. This time she’s been up here with me, both of us using the storm as an excuse to stay hidden away together, has been the best time of my life. I told her just a few hours ago that I was coming home to her tonight, so what went wrong?
“We’re not a mistake. Our relationship is no mistake. Guess I have to go find her and let her know, huh Smoke?” I whisper to the dog who thumps her tail because yes, we need to get Piper back here.
Coming home to the empty cabin never bothered me before. I had the dog, I had peace and quiet that I loved. Now, it feels completely empty. Too quiet. Nothing has changed beside her presence being there. Now that it is gone, it feels wholly wrong in the cabin.
