Propping her right side against his left, she held on to his arm; they made it to the sheds and toward the orange flames and the smoke that threatened to suffocate anyone who approached. Then a figure emerged from the heavy haze and ran up the hill toward them.
“Stop!” It was Lisa.
They stopped.
Tears formed in Maddie’s eyes. Her gaze jerked back to the cottage.
“What happened?” she cried.
“It started a while ago. They don’t know why yet. But about two dozen people are working to shut it down before the wind picks up.”
At which time, Maddie figured, the flames could spread in a direct line to Lisa’s house, the pier, and beyond.
“They don’t want us any closer,” Lisa added. “I’ve been yelled at twice to get out of the way.” She wrapped her arms around her denim dress, hugging herself.
“Are your kids okay?” Maddie asked, her gaze locked on the blaze. “Is anyone hurt?”
“No one’s hurt. Tri-Town ambulance is here just in case. The Tisbury one just got here as a backup. My kids are at camp. I was at work, but the word spread fast. I don’t want the kids here until it’s out. If I don’t pick them up later, a counselor will bring them to her house.” Her words were racing, racing, the way Maddie’s heart was beating.
Lisa rubbed her hands. “I’m going back. I don’t care if I get yelled at.” She ran down the hill, keeping a wide berth around the cottage. Then she went around the corner and vanished into the smog of smoke.
Maddie leaned on her crutches. “I’m glad my grandmother isn’t here to see this.” She thought about the things inside: the family photographs she’d wanted to save; the testaments to so many Wampanoag traditions she’d reserved for the cultural center; the portrait of her great-grandfather. Even the things she’d allocated to be recycled. Together, the collection represented the belongings of nearly ninety years of life. And now it was going up in flames. Cremated, like her grandmother would be.
“Mom?” Rafe asked. “Sit. Please.” He grasped the handles of the wheelchair, moving it closer to her.
She sat. Rafe stood. And they watched. Unable to do anything. But wait.
Then Rafe said, “I’m going around to the front. Maybe I can help.”
Another mom might think that keeping her child safe was more important, might say something like, “We don’t live here, Rafe. We don’t know these people. Let them handle it.” But now that they both knew the island was part of them, it seemed only right for him to want to help. And for her not to stop him. Besides, he was smart. And old enough to make his own decisions.
“Promise me you won’t move?” he asked.
Maddie nodded. “I’ll stay right here.” Not that she had anywhere to go. Or any way to get there. She didn’t add that she also wanted to witness the demise of the cottage—and the end of what might have been a new beginning for Maddie. If she had wanted it.
Having received no negative reaction, Rafe, like Lisa, ran toward the cottage. And Maddie stayed seated, gripping the armrests of the wheelchair, staring at the fire, tears glazing her cheeks as she thought about her mother.
She watched a while longer, until the flames either were diminishing or tricking Maddie into thinking that they were. Then another figure—large and hulking—hiked through the haze and up the hill toward her. And Maddie knew right away that it was Rex.
Chapter 26
“So you’re using the wheelchair?” were Rex’s first words.
“So you’re putting out a fire?” she replied. “And aren’t you a long way from Edgartown?”
He had on tall black boots and a thick fireproof jacket; soot was smeared across his nice face. He carried a firefighter’s helmet. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to answer a question with a question?”
“Should I ask the same of you?” It was not a time for humor, and yet . . .
She sat there, and he stood there, the cottage now smoldering in the background.
Then he looked at her, his face serious. “Are you okay?” “Okay enough.” She held his gaze a moment until he gestured toward the cottage. “I’m so sorry about . . . this, Maddie. But it’s under control now. The worst should be out soon.”
Good news, perhaps.
“It won’t spread?”
“Nope. It shouldn’t.”
