Tomorrow had to be better.
“Tara, wake up!”
Her eyelids flickered open. She rolled onto her back and blinked in the twilight.
Angela propped herself up on an elbow. “You were screaming. Scared the shit out of me.”
Tara rested her forearm over her face. “Sorry.”
“What were you dreaming about?”
Tara sighed. “My dad.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” Angela’s lacy, sleep mask hugged her forehead like safety goggles.
“He’s…actually, he’s no longer on the planet.”
“Oh my God.” Angela groped for the lamp switch and light filled the room. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, almost been a year.” Tara rubbed her eyes and watched mosquitoes party on the ceiling.
“It’s never okay to lose your daddy. If you want to talk about it, I don’t mind.” Angela reached for her water bottle and sipped.
Tara rubbed her arm. “No point in reliving it.”
“Hon, if I lost my daddy in the last year, I’d need to unload.” Angela tugged her skimpy night shirt higher on her plentiful chest.
“Not fun to talk about.” Tara fingered the faded, orange bandana around her neck. She had fused into a pathetic glop of grief, guilt, and anger for so long it felt like her new normal.
Angela nodded at her. “Maybe you should take off your neckerchief. You might choke in your sleep.”
“Oh, I never take this off. It was Dad’s. Mom gave it to him for good luck and he wore it on every fire. Now it’s my good luck charm. It protects me.”
Angela looked at her a moment, then rose to refill her water bottle from the tiny bathroom faucet. She returned and plopped on her bunk. “Tell me about your daddy.”
Tara pushed herself up to sit. She plucked her own water bottle from the nightstand between their bunks. She stared at it, unblinking, and picked at the label. The familiar heaviness twisted her chest and her head ached along with it.
“He worked as a city firefighter after fighting fire with the Lolo Interagency Hotshots for thirteen years. He also taught fire science at the University of Montana, where he met my mom. When she died—”
“Oh, you unfortunate thing. You’re an orphan.” Angela gave her a sympathetic look.
“I was in eighth grade when she got ovarian cancer. Before she died, she made my dad promise to quit the hotshot crew to work for the city. So he’d be close to home.” She peeled the label from the bottle and rolled the sticky pieces into balls between her thumb and forefinger.
“I lived with Dad in a log home up Pattee Canyon, outside of Missoula. Last year, there was a late-night storm and lightning hit the trees next to the house. Dad always meant to cut those stupid trees. How ironic is that?” She sipped her water. “Here we were, firefighters, preaching to others about defensible space around homes. One of us should have cut the damn trees.” Tara shook her head.
Angela stayed still, listening.
Tara pressed her fingers to her temples, head pounding. “On Travis’s birthday, we got a hotel room because he lived in shared quarters at the Missoula Smokejumper Base. I wanted to give him a…you know…” She glanced at Angela and raised her brows. “A special birthday present before we got married.”
Angela gave her a knowing look. “I totally get that.”
“Jim called my cell at four in the morning. He said there was a fire and to have Travis drive me to Jim’s house. Told me not to go home. I left Travis at the hotel and drove home.” She shook her head. “Should have listened to Jim.”
Angela blew out air and sat on the edge of Tara’s bed.
Tara took a deep breath. “The neighbors tried to get Dad out, but the fire torched the second story first.” She paused to calm herself. “The fire burned so hot, they only found bone fragments. He just—disappeared.”
“Not your fault. How would you have known?” Angela said softly, placing her hand on Tara’s.
“I should have been home. I could have gotten him out. He’d be alive right now.” Grief still cleaved her heart.
Angela squeezed Tara’s shoulder. “Don’t do that to yourself. All guilt does is make you feel useless.”
“When you lose your parents, you’re stuck in that moment of desertion. I quit firefighting and stayed with a friend until I could get my ducks lined up. Jim Dolan was Dad’s best friend and I badgered him to hire me back on the Missoula fire crew. Like father, like daughter, as Jim always says.”
Angela seemed incredulous. “Shoot, girl! You need to go be a lawyer or a baby panda bear trainer. Anything but a firefighter. Why torture yourself?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Usually is.” Angela handed Tara her water. “Tell me about your dream.”
“It’s always the same. Dad and I run toward each other, but I can never get to him. When Dad was a Lolo Hotshot, everyone on the crew celebrated birthdays and Christmases together. When he died, it all faded away. I want my family back. And I want to make it right for not saving him.”
“Maybe your daddy wasn’t yours to save. I’m sorry, but your desire to be your father’s legacy reeks of self-sacrifice.”
Blood left Tara’s face and she gawped at Angela as if she’d oozed from a wall.
Angela pulled her head back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Ryan said the same thing on the Copper Peak Fire.” The hairs on Tara’s neck prickled.
“You knew him before you came up here?”
“Sort of. I tried to evacuate a homeowner, but I wasn’t fast enough. For some ungodly reason, I couldn’t move. Next thing I knew O’Connor dragged me back. Then by some weird fluke, we were seatmates on the flight up here.” It still blew her away to think of it.
Angela raised her brows. “Has it ever occurred to you that you were meant to be here?”
Tara gave her a dour look. “I can’t imagine why.”
“I believe
