worst we’ve seen.”
“But the Syrah.”
He scoffs. “The Syrah will be fine.”
“Talon already said it’s been breached.”
“Like I said, it’s not the first time.”
“Dale…”
“Dale will get over it,” Brock says. “He’s done it before.”
“Has he?”
Brock nods. “Of course. Five years ago, half the Cab Franc vines were taken out. Dale survived.”
“Dale’s proud of his Cab Franc.”
“He should be. It’s a great wine.”
I nod. It’s a lovely wine. But it’s not Syrah. Both Dale’s and my favorite. Those vineyards, where Dale escapes to find… What? I have no idea. I’ve been there. Tried to find what he finds.
He can’t lose them.
He’ll lose part of himself.
I can’t say any of this to Brock. He won’t understand. Mere weeks ago, I didn’t understand either. Part of me still doesn’t. I understand only that Dale needs those vineyards as much as he needs air.
He can’t lose them.
He can’t.
Chapter Five
Dale
“We’ve got ten percent containment,” Johnson says to me, after talking into his device.
I nod.
I have nothing to say. In reality, I know that getting any containment this early in a fire’s life is damned amazing.
Miraculous, even. Clearly my family hiring private firefighters has helped a lot. They found me, brought me to safety. I should be grateful, and I am. Sort of.
But until I know the vineyards are safe, I won’t be at peace.
Hell, I’m never at peace anyway, certainly not now.
Johnson’s satellite phone rings. “Yeah? Sure thing.” He hands it to me. “Your father.”
I take the phone. “Dad.”
“How are you holding up?” Dad asks.
“I’m fine.” Physically, anyway.
“Good. I want you to know Ashley is safe at your place.”
“Johnson already told me everyone was safe.” Still, hearing that Ashley isn’t anywhere near harm’s way helps.
“I’m sure he did. I just figured you’d want to hear it from me.”
“Yeah, it helps.” A little, anyway. “Mom?”
“She’s in town at work.”
“Will she be coming home?”
“Probably. The fire’s not anywhere near any of our residences.”
A small wave of relief sweeps over me. I want my mother safe. I want Ashley safe. I want everyone safe.
I want my vineyards safe.
Yes, vines aren’t people. I know that. People are more important. Still…
“Okay. Good,” I say to Dad. “Could you call her and ask her to do me a favor?”
“Of course. You don’t have service up there?”
“No, and my phone died, anyway. I should get one of these satellite jobs.”
“If you’re going to continue hiking up to God knows where, yes, you definitely should. What do you need?”
I inhale slowly, my throat hurting from the smoke. “I left in a hurry, and there isn’t much food at my house. Please ask her to get some groceries for Ashley. She likes orange juice. And scrambled eggs.”
“Of course. I’ll call her. She can pick them up before she leaves town.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
I clear my throat. “And Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell Mom I love her.”
“She knows, son.”
“Tell her anyway.”
“I will. Take care. I’ll check in with Johnson periodically.”
“You take care too. Bye.” I hand the phone back to Johnson. “Now what?”
He pauses a moment before replying. “Now, we wait.”
“For what?”
“To get word that it’s safe to move.”
“Are we spending the night out here?”
“We might be.” He gestures to my pack. “Looks like you’re prepared.”
“I am. Are you?”
“Always.” He motions to a tiny pack.
“You can’t possibly have a tent in there.”
“I don’t. It’s a sub-zero bag. I’ll be fine.” His phone rings. “Johnson here.”
I stop listening to his end of the conversation. If necessary, we can both fit inside my one-man tent. It’ll be snug, but we’ll manage. I’m thirsty from trying to escape the fire. Water. We’ll need water. The creek…
I begin walking.
“Hold on, Jack.” Johnson moves his phone from his ear. “Where do you think you’re off to?”
I look over my shoulder. “Water.”
He nods and goes back to his conversation.
The creek I was going to follow to get home is about a mile south. The weather is brisk, which is a good thing. Hotter weather means the fire will last longer. I’ve seen worse in my day. I’m about halfway down when Johnson calls to me. I turn.
“You following me?”
He shakes his head. “Just got word. It’s safe to follow the creek down.”
“Thank God,” I say under my breath. I need to be there for my vines.
The scent of fire is still thick in the air.
Half a mile later, we reach the creek and both fill up our canteens. Pure Rocky Mountain spring water is the best, and though it eases my dry mouth and throat, it doesn’t ease the dryness in my heart. In my soul.
Ashley is safe.