Melinda Curtis - Expectant Father

He just never sent them.

He wanted his parental rights back. Forget that Aiden was thirty, Roadhouse wanted to be a part of his life. Ever since his mother-in-law had died, he’d made an effort to be on teams that operated in or near Idaho. He’d told Aiden about his other two children in Vegas, hoping the truth would bring them closer, only to have Aiden seem to resent him even more. Still, he wouldn’t give up.

But he could tell by the set of Aiden’s expression that now wasn’t the time for bonding, so he let Aiden walk away, back into camp, alone with his thoughts.

Roadhouse headed to the rise where he’d talked to Sirus earlier. He squatted on the ground beneath the generators, heedless of the noise created by the machinery. From this point, he could see the various areas where fire crews were bedded down for the night and the tents off to the right of the IC and base-camp staff tents. Behind him was a harsh medley of sound—the washers and dryers chugging away in the laundry trailer, metal grinding on metal as Pulaskis, chain-saws and shovels were sharpened for another day of work—battling to be heard over the hum of generators.

Rummaging in his pack, Roadhouse pulled out a plastic bag stuffed with dog-eared letters. Carefully, he sorted through the envelopes until he found one in particular, pulling it out as gently as if it were a precious piece of antique glass. He withdrew the folded paper from the envelope and started reading the scrawled handwriting slowly, as if every word weren’t already etched in his memory.

Aiden,

We saved a family from the fire today. Their little boy had dark eyes, like yours. It made me wonder how you’re doing. Are you behaving for Abuelita? Are you riding the red bike I got you for Christmas? If you were here, I’d ask you to play catch. I’d show you off to my friends and then tuck you into a sleeping bag under the stars. The stars are so close up here at night that you can almost touch them. If you were here, things would be different.

He’d scribbled “Love, Dad” as illegibly as he could beneath the brief missive. It was the way he signed all of his letters, as if he weren’t sure he deserved the title or the right to express the sentiment after all the mistakes he’d made.

Ignoring the ache in his knees that had become as painful as the emptiness in his heart, Roadhouse continued to stare at the paper and dwell on the lost opportunities of his youth. He’d never thought he’d end up like this—alone, having nearly outlived his usefulness and with no place to go. He doubted he’d be able to pass the stringent physical exams next year. The time had come to retire.

Too soon.

Someone laughed across the compound. Roadhouse looked up in time to see Aiden take off his boots and slide into his sleeping bag on the ground. Weather permitting, Hot Shots slept out under the stars. Tents took time to pack and space to transport, not to mention they were stifling in the heat. Roadhouse tilted his gaze up to the sky, where only a few stars peeked through the blanket of smoke.

He’d seen Aiden walking with the pregnant Fire Behavior Analyst. It was unlikely that Aiden saw any action from the woman. But he had been with her. And now he was upset.

Looking down on base camp, Roadhouse wondered what that might mean.

A flicker of hope ignited in his chest.

“COME ON, QUEEN, LET’S SEE what you’ve got,” Spider challenged his new charge as they clawed a hand line out of the mountainside the next afternoon, trying not to think about his meeting with Becca the night before.

The Silver Bend Hot Shots had been ordered to build a firebreak on the safer western boundary of the fire, this time with the aid of two other Hot Shot crews. Once it was done, they’d burn the area from their line to the advancing fire, halting its progress in this direction. “Or are you a little princess with nothing left to give?”

Victoria hacked at the ground with her Pulaski with a fervor that would leave her running on empty in another twenty minutes. The heat and unyielding ground would take the steam out of her arms quickly.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got enough juice to clear a path to that ridge,” Victoria assured him, although her voice lacked the conviction to inspire confidence.

“We’ll see.” Spider glanced over to the ridge. Smoke rose in deceptive puffs, as if the fire were gasping its last breath. Spider wasn’t fooled. Becca was just as deceptive, and every time he thought of her carrying his child, he had the same sense of doom he felt when working on this fire.

The blaze was stalled a half mile to the north. Spider knew it was just teasing them, waiting for the right moment to roar back to life. In which case, Spider and his team, including Victoria, had to be ready to make for safe ground.

Where was the safe ground with Becca?

Victoria was at the front of a group of five Silver Bend Hot Shots hacking away on the bushes and tree roots in their path. The ridge was still a good hundred yards ahead of them, beyond a thick stand of pine trees. Leading the team, Chainsaw cut trees out of their way while Golden kept lookout. Behind them, five of the crew dug away what was left of the roots and brush with shovels, and five raked the debris with McCloeds, a compact, sturdy rake. Logan brought up the rear, raking any missed debris out of the way.

They operated efficiently when everyone pulled their weight. Spider was going to make sure Victoria understood this, otherwise she’d have to quit.

“Don’t let him beat you, Queenie,” someone encouraged from the back of the line.

Eyeing the group, Spider walked uphill until he stood next to Golden.

“If this is your new way of keeping their spirits up…man.” Golden shook his head, and then continued quietly. “Don’t break her. We need her. I don’t want to get classified ‘ineffective’ because we can’t field a full crew, and be sent home early. This is my last shot at overtime this season, and I don’t want to come home without a full wallet. Lighten up.”

Under the burden of his discovery about Becca, Spider found it impossible to be upbeat. He didn’t want to be a father. He wasn’t the fatherly type. Being a father meant the end of…of…the life he loved. More than anything, he wanted to hear Becca say that the baby she was carrying wasn’t his. And if she said otherwise…well, he’d do what had to be done, whatever that was. He just wasn’t ready to think about that yet.

He looked over to where Victoria worked. Keeping her and the others on the crew safe was what was important. Distractions, like the possibility of fatherhood and deceitful, beautiful women, had no place out here. “I don’t want Victoria to snap either. She’ll either bend or break. If she can’t cut it, so be it. I’m not going to go easy on her.”

“I never took you for such an ass.” Golden had a way of staring at you that made you want to confess all your secrets and sins.

“Yeah.” Spider forced a grin on his face and kept his sins to himself. “You just thought I was an everyday, ordinary ass. But I’m not going to let her slide just because the season’s nearly over and I’m not going to let her assume her performance is acceptable. You know out here that one screw up multiplies until the entire team is at risk.”

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