Melinda Curtis - Getting Married Again

“Man, I hope you know what you’re doing,” Logan said, shaking his head.

A ranger stepped out of the station and scanned the crowd of Hot Shots until he found Logan. “You guys got lucky. They’re using a local crew for Bighorn. They say you can stand down.”

Curses and groans filled the air. The Hot Shots were clearly disappointed. The men began picking up their belongings and lugging them back to their barracks.

Rookie grinned at Jackson as he walked by. “Maybe we’ll get one tomorrow,” he said.

“That kid’s too young to be out here,” Jackson grumbled to Logan.

Logan didn’t look up from gathering his gear. “He’s twenty, as old as you and I were when we started.”

“You make sure you watch out for him.”

“He’s been out here for months. He’ll be okay.” Logan stared at Jackson. “Maybe it’s you I should be watching out for.”

Jackson frowned and glanced at his boots. He could feel Logan waiting to hear what was bugging him. Logan could wait all day; Jackson wasn’t going to say a word. He clamped his lips tighter together, willing his mind to see the green vibrant trees before him and not the burning giants of Siberia.

“You know, you and Lex are something else.” Logan sighed. “Stubborn as a pair of mules. Can’t you just tell me a joke or something? I could use a little levity about now.”

“Why? Are you that bummed out about missing the Bighorn fire? Because that rookie is right. There probably will be another one tomorrow.”

“No.” Logan chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It’s Deb. She’s not…she’s…she’s dying.” These last words came out and lay between them in a strangled, raw heap.

Deb. Logan’s twin sister. To say they were close was an understatement. An abusive, drunken father had driven the siblings to a near-psychic connection. Without Deb, Logan would be left with no one.

“How? Why?” Jackson put a hand on Logan’s shoulder when it seemed his questions might crack Logan’s composure. “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that.”

Logan bowed his head.

Crap. Tell him something amusing, anything.

“Uh…hey, did I tell you that Russian customs confiscated my stash of toilet paper?”

Eyes still cast to the ground, Logan rubbed his nose, so he missed Jackson rolling his eyes. Jackson couldn’t believe he was going to tell Logan about this.

“Yeah, they swiped my twelve double rolls of Charmin. They claimed it was contraband.”

Logan drew a labored breath. The guy must be going through hell.

“You never go anywhere without your Charmin.”

Jackson patted Logan none too gently on the back, hoping it would help him regain his equilibrium. “T.P. has many uses beyond what it’s sold for. Remember that time I bandaged Whitey’s blistered hands with it? Or when I used it to start a fire when we were back-burning in Wyoming?”

“I find it hard to believe—” Logan looked up with a weak grin “—that you only brought twelve rolls when you were scheduled to be there a year. What did the mighty Golden do without his handy-dandy Charmin?”

“I bought six copies of the newspaper every week.”

Logan’s grin broadened. “Russia was quite an experience for you, man.”

“It’s good to be back in the States.” It would be better to be home with Lexie.

JACKSON’S TRUCK BOUNCED over ruts in the dirt and gravel road that wound between tall pines on what had been his and Lex’s property. Tossed about as if in white water, Jackson was reminded of how much Lexie hated the ruts. It was the first thing she fixed outside after the spring runoff. Only, she hadn’t gotten around to fixing them this year.

He could offer one big guess as to why she hadn’t. Their baby.

Jackson drove out of the grove and onto the main property. There was nothing like the sight of home—a red barn that had seen better days and, up on the hill, a small ranch house painted bright green. A dog barked somewhere and Heidi ran toward his truck, ponytail flying out behind her as she raced through the knee-high grass.

“Dad!” she cried, waving. The smile cracking her face was as broad as his.

Jackson parked in the middle of the drive and jumped out of the truck to catch her hurtling herself at him. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of hugging his little girl.

“I have so much to tell you.” Heidi looped an arm around his waist, tugging him up toward the house.

“You have all the time in the world, Runt. I’m home.” Jackson’s throat tightened on the words. How he wished that were true. He held his daughter close. He could just picture himself walking up the hill and having Lexie run down to meet him halfway, throwing herself into his arms with the same enthusiasm Heidi had shown.

Jackson glanced up toward the house and took a deep breath. Heidi still loved him. He would make things right with Lex.

“We’ve been so busy.” Ever the drama queen, Heidi hopped a few steps ahead of Jackson to command his complete attention. She held up her forefinger. “First, the most major of bummers. Our VCR is broken, so no movies all summer.”

Heidi popped up a second finger. “Then there’s Rufus the Re-pro-bate, as Mom calls him.”

Rufus was the chocolate Lab that Jackson had bought Heidi the week before he left for Russia. The scrappy puppy had been all belly, with big soulful eyes and soft fur. Jackson had picked the pup out of the litter because he admired his spunk.

“Rufus is a bad dog,” Heidi proclaimed in an ominous tone. “He chases gophers, which is good. But he doesn’t catch them, which is bad. He leaves lots of gigantic holes in the yard.”

Jackson reached over, rubbed Heidi’s shoulder, and tried not to think about Lexie’s reaction to a dog demolishing her precious backyard. Lexie had worked her fingers to the bone making that forty-by-sixty-foot plot resemble a well-groomed yard like most of their friends in Boise had. Jackson didn’t understand it. They lived in the middle of the National Forest, not a suburb. Who needed tamed, trim grass and shrubs?

Heidi held up a third finger. “And who could forget Marmy.”

“Who?”

“The orange-and-white kitten you gave us with Rufus. Mom called her Marmalade, but now we just call her Marmy. She doesn’t poop in the corners anymore when she comes inside, but she still brings Mom field mice. And they’re not always dead.” Heidi was almost squealing with excitement. Her dimples deepened. “Mom screams loud enough to be in the movies.”

Heidi dissolved into giggles, eliciting a smile from Jackson. He could appreciate the humor of it all. But did two pets that were nothing but trouble bode well for his case with Lex?

“Mom’s resting. She has to do that a lot. I wouldn’t want to be her for anything.”

“Is something wrong?” Jackson tried to keep his voice steady.

“She’s just tired.” Heidi tugged on Jackson’s arm, pulling him up the hill and closer to the house. “So smile and make nice. If she’s still in one of her moods, I’ll offer to bake her some cookies and you can take out the trash.”

“She’s in one of her moods?” Jackson wasn’t so sure that he wanted to be rejected twice in the same day. In fact, he couldn’t face Lex without arming himself with the proper defenses. More gifts. That’s what he needed.

Jackson resisted Heidi’s tugging. “Hey, what do you say we do a little shopping while your mom rests?”

“Shopping? Clothes shopping?” Heidi clasped her hands to her chest and leaned against Jackson. “Need you ask?”

“Go ask your mom and hustle back out.” Maybe if he gave Lexie a little time to get used to him being home, she’d come around to his way of thinking. Getting married again was the logical move.