Mel landed the Super Huey on the tarmac next to the Jump Shack.
As the rotors slowed, Zombie waited to greet the jumpers as they shuffled inside. “You boys hear about the smokejumper down south?”
“Yeah.” Ryan leaned his fire pack against his locker. “A Zulie, on an Idaho fire.”
“Tough break.” Zombie’s gruff tone spoke for all of them. “I moved all eight of you to the bottom of the jump list for tomorrow, so you could get some rest.”
Everyone mumbled their thanks.
Ryan had an idea. He strode back to the tarmac to talk to Mel, still perched in his pilot seat finishing paperwork. “Hey bro, think you could shuttle me up to Shackelford Fire camp tomorrow?”
Mel flicked his eyes at him while scribbling his pen on a government aviation form. “Can’t in the morning. Afternoon is open unless I’m called elsewhere.”
“You’re a good man.”
“Don’t let word get around. I have a reputation to uphold.” Mel paused and raised a brow. “Is it the redhead?”
Ryan grinned. “You’re a quick study, Kemosabe.”
“Stands to reason. McGuire was from Missoula and Tara is from Missoula. Figured there might be a correlation.”
“He was her ex-fiancé. Thought I should inform her of his death.” Ryan stared out the windshield at the blinking airport lights, wondering if Tara still have feelings for McGuire.
Mel whistled through his teeth. “Wow. There’s a tough one. Geez Ryno, you’re an upstanding guy. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
Ryan gave him a wry smile. “Me neither. But thanks.”
“Don’t get all mushy on me. Get the hell out of here. I have to put this bird to bed.” Mel rested his clipboard between the seats and flicked switches on the instrument panel.
Ryan exited the helo and waved as Mel lifted off, heading for the helicopter hangar.
He hauled his gear into the Jump Shack and arranged it in his locker. Weariness made him hit the wall as he trudged to the barracks, each step a colossal effort. Hard to believe it was just this morning he had wakened next to Tara.
Had his earlier unease been a premonition about McGuire? He dreaded telling Tara the guy she once intended to marry was dead. If she had married him, she’d be a widow now. Ryan shook his head at the randomness of having worked with McGuire, then falling for the woman he didn’t marry. If Tara’s boss hadn’t sent her to Alaska, Ryan wouldn’t have seen her again.
Life had a way of orchestrating events as if grandly designing the future. He thought of the feather floating aimlessly in the movie, Forrest Gump. How much of his life was pre-determined and how much was chance? He thought back to his being at the right place at the right time in the Montana fire.
Random or not, it’s when I saw her for the first time.
He fell into bed, wishing he could talk to Tara, but cell phone service in a fire base camp was not likely. If they were in the real world, in the off season, he could talk to her whenever he wanted. See her whenever he wanted. Make love to her whenever he wanted. He’d have to work on that.
Chapter 28
Tara crawled into her tent and zipped it closed. Baring her feet, she fingered two blistered toes. She’ll wrap moleskin around them in the morning. Mosquitoes teased with their high-pitched whirs, but she was too tired to care whether they were inside or outside of her tent.
Her thoughts turned to Ryan. She pulled her Nikon from her pack and powered it on, clicking through photos of him on the glacier and of them posing together. She brushed a finger over his image. “Good night, O’Connor,” she whispered.
She powered off the camera and tucked it in her pack, then fluffed her travel pillow and snuggled inside her sleeping bag, falling asleep to the chuff-chuff of helicopters overhead. She dreamed Ryan drifted down in his inflated parachute, yelling at her to get out of the way. He landed on her and she became entangled in his parachute, the blue-and-white nylon twisting around her. When she fought her way out of his chute, he was gone.
The dream jarred her awake and she had to relieve herself. She sighed, not relishing the idea of traipsing the long path to the ladies’ latrine. Groggy, she put on her camp shoes and Nomex pants and padded on the path to the women’s toilet area. The twilight made it easier to navigate the narrow path through dense stands of spruce and birch.
She finished her business and headed back on the trail to Aurora’s camp. A figure strolled toward her. Odd for this time of night—or early morning.
It was Hudson.
Her gut turned sour. She steeled herself and put her chin down to brush past him.
He stopped a few feet in front of her. “Well, well, it’s the queen herself. To what do I owe this honor?” His eyes darkened.
She gave him a pained look. “Not now, Mike. It’s the middle of the flipping night.” Why does it have to be him? She took a short breath and tried to brush past him
He lurched forward, blocking her path. “Exactly. I think you and me could have some fun.”
“Let me pass.” She kept her tone firm and measured as she backed away, her pulse rising.
“I don’t think so.” His smug expression and steely eyes prickled her skin.
She swallowed hard and clenched her teeth. “Get out of my way.”
“You have such a pretty face. What a shame if something were to happen to it.” He leered at her, his eyes fixed on her breasts, accentuated by her tank top.
Her heart knocked. She fought to keep the tremor from her voice. “You are
