Everglades Wildfire, page 6
Amber was already wrapped in his father’s embrace by the time Rick reached the porch.
“Mornin’,” he said, pulling Amber to his side.
His father didn’t miss the possessive gesture. “Don’t you worry, son. I’m not going scare her away.”
Maria appeared in the doorway and laughed at the exchange. “I made him promise to be on his best behavior.” Her openness, the tidy starched apron... it was the same as when he’d left, which now, suddenly, didn’t seem like a lifetime ago.
“Good morning, Maria,” he said.
“Stop being so formal.” She reached for him.
He wrapped one arm around her waist, returning her smile. After all, she’d never done anything to hurt him. She’d cared. She’d helped. She’d been around during the fall out—and before—but he realized now he knew very little about her. He owed her a thank you. Many thank yous. His father reached out to pull Rick into an embrace, but he shifted away. Hoping to avoid both the close contact and conflict he offered his hand instead. His father paused but finally accepted Rick’s outstretched hand.
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air until Amber broke it. “I meant to tell you yesterday, your yard is fantastic, Maria. Will you take me for a walk after we eat? I’d love to send my best friend Brittany some pictures.”
Maria beamed. “Of course, I’d love to. Ricky and I have been working on it these past few years.” Then she turned to Rick. “You won’t mind giving up your future bride for a few minutes, will you?”
He frowned. That would leave him alone with his father, which was no doubt what the women had in mind.
Amber touched Maria’s shoulder as she answered for him, “No, of course he doesn’t mind.”
“It’s settled then.” Maria took Amber’s arm, “Let’s go in and get you some coffee then I’ll put the eggs on.”
Amber slipped inside with Maria.
His father’s gaze followed the two women. He had the look of a happy man, a man whose life was in order, going the way he wanted. Had he really forgotten everything that had happened? The horrible fights? The past years?
Rick sure hadn’t.
Still, he couldn’t quiet the question that stirred in his mind. “Dad?”
Ricky, still gleaming with satisfaction, turned.
“Did... does...”
He dad cocked his head. “Spit it out.” The words weren’t harsh, just direct.
The image of Henry’s sneer, his loitering threat. Rick had to have answers, know what he was dealing with. “Does Anna own half of this place?”
Ricky shook his head. “You’re getting married. It’ll be yours.”
“Dad—”
“You and Amber want the house to yourself?”
Frustrated, Rick smacked his hands across his thighs. “No, of course not. You and Maria will stay here.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “I’ll stay over there—”
“You will not. You’ll move in here.”
Where he lived didn’t matter, so Rick let that argument die and steered it back to what did. “Does she? Does Anna own half of everything?”
After a pause, Ricky let out a slow breath then went to put the newspaper he’d left on the chair down onto the porch floor. He sat, gazing out into the yard. “I gave her half as a wedding gift. I wanted her to feel like she belonged, like she was a part of our life here. The attorney who wrote it up called it a ‘life estate’ I think.” He ran his hands over his hair then set them in his lap. “It was stupid of me to think she’d be happy here, out in the middle of nowhere, away from everything. A woman like her, she needed other things. Excitement I couldn’t offer.
“Why are you bothering with this now? It doesn’t matter. You know the conditions of your grandfather’s will. As long as you marry before your 25th birthday, you inherit everything.”
Maria appeared in the doorway. “Do you two want to eat? Or spend the morning on the porch?”
Ricky stood up and followed Maria.
Rick stepped back and really looked around for the first time in a long time. The sides of the house were freshly painted, the shutters hung square. Even the rough-hewn wood siding showed signs of repair. The place wasn’t at all like it had been when he’d left.
He ambled across the porch, turning out to the front yard, listening to the birds’ calls. It had been a while since he’d been affected by the savage beauty of an Everglades morning. The way the sun crept across the palms, streaked across the air ferns. How the air felt, easy and smooth.
Henry hadn’t been bullshitting him about being in touch with Anna. But what did that mean? Rick pushed himself from the railing. Following the spicy scent of the food, he stopped when he came to the doorway of the dining room. The table was set. The buffet had chips and homemade salsa, which Maria knew he loved for breakfast. As he took a handful of chips, she bustled in with a platter of eggs. Worry pulled on her face.
An unwelcome pang of emotion shot through his chest. He ignored it, pointing at the bowls, “Thanks.”
“No thanks necessary, Richard. We’re glad you’re back.”
“I didn’t know I was back.” He tried to say it lightly, to let her know he appreciated her attention, but he wasn’t sure he’d accomplished it. It had been so long since he’d tried to show anyone his better side.
“Of course you are,” his father said, rambling in, carrying a tray of sliced pineapple.
“I’ll get Amber.” He started to leave but she appeared holding a steaming mug of coffee.
“No need, I’m right here.”
Maria, the last to sit, set her napkin on her lap and noticed when Rick’s gaze fell on the fifth place setting.
“He’s staying with us, for now,” she explained.
“Here?” The nerve.
“Of course, big brother.” Henry’s arrogance cut through the room. “I belong here too.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Right?”
Rick faked a brotherly smile. “I’m glad you’re here, Henry. To get caught up.” He leaned back, pretending an air of nonchalance, “Any particular topics you want to avoid?”
“No.” Henry’s lip twitched. “What about you?”
“Let’s eat in peace, boys,” Ricky broke in. “You two can take it outside afterward if you want.”
That had always been Ricky’s old school solution—take it outside.
“Fine with me,” Henry smirked. “I learned a few things while I was away.”
Rick ignored the bait, instead turning to Amber. To someone who didn’t know her, her expression would seem calm, but an undercurrent swam in her eyes.
Good. Let her see the worst. Make sure she leaves and never looks back.
The heated conversation gave way to a tense quiet.
Maria passed the egg platter to his father, who after putting a huge helping on his plate and a good sized one on hers, passed it on to Henry. The sounds of utensils clicking against serving dishes echoed in the room. Cuban jazz floated in from the kitchen radio.
The food was what Maria had always made for them—eggs and cheese loaded with spices and dark coffee served piping hot with too much sugar for Rick’s taste. Maria and his father had always insisted it was the only way to drink it, so he’d always just gone along with it.
That had been his problem though, always trying to please those he loved, protecting them at any cost—his mistake.
He felt the weight of his brother’s stare burning across his skin and looked up, expecting to find Henry focused on him. Instead, he found his brother’s gaze on Amber.
Rick’s fork clattered on his plate.
His brother lifted an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Richard?”
“No.” He picked his fork up, forced himself to relax, letting his own gaze gently fall on Amber’s face. “Something is right.”
Amber tried to get the conversation going several times. However, it seemed that each time she thought of a topic to pursue, Henry found a new way to be rude. At first, she’d tried to convince herself he wasn’t that bad, but after about 20 minutes she gave up. Maybe he hadn’t been that way before prison. But if he’d been doing drugs in high school, he’d probably always been the sort to make life hard on those around him.
Not your concern, she told herself. Learning anything about Rick’s family, good or bad, would only deepen her ties to him.
She had to think about herself... her future... and let Rick go.
Maria started with the idle chitchat where Amber had given up. The collective struggle to smooth away the friction reminded her of all the foster homes she’d been part of. Each time she was moved into a new home, she’d always wanted to make the best impression, hoping to fit in and become one of the members. But it never worked. Somehow, she said or did the wrong thing. Each time, in the end, she’d given up and kept to herself.
Being part of a family was wonderful, yet Rick refused to even try to connect with his.
Henry finished rambling on about the food in prison. Silence circled the table until he spoke again. “Hey, Maria, you ever get that citizenship situation taken care of?”
Amber choked down a bite of toast, and reflexively Rick’s jaw tightened. Maria looked calmly ahead, as though she hadn’t heard, until gradually turning toward Henry, her expression still calm. “Something in particular on your mind?”
Henry angled back, wiping his mouth slowly with the white cloth napkin. “I’m only trying to catch up on the latest family news.” He turned to Rick. “How’re things with you? Other than your very convenient engagement.”
His attitude set Amber’s teeth on edge.
Rick’s tone held an implied threat, “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I’m not worried,” Henry toyed with his fork. “I was just askin’.” He went back to eating as though nothing had happened.
Maria pushed herself out of her chair, asking, “Does anyone want more coffee? Eggs?”
Glad to have a reason to leave the room, and the pool of aggression swirling in it, Amber stood. “I’ll help,” she offered, although Maria hadn’t asked for help, nor had anyone asked for more.
In the kitchen, Amber kept busy loading the dishwasher.
“Don’t pay any attention to Henry,” Maria said softly. “He’s... adjusting...”
Amber winced.
“Trust me. Ricky has a way with him, he’ll make sure everything is fine.” The older woman turned to the coffee pot, taking her time throwing out the old grinds and refilling it with dark, fine ground beans.
Amber felt so comfortable, even in the hull of conversation that fell as they worked together to clean the kitchen. “Thanks for breakfast,” she said, closing the dishwasher. “It was...”
Maria finished rinsing out a wooden serving bowl, set it upside down on the counter. “It wasn’t always like this,” she said, still speaking very softly.
“You mean,” Amber paused, her hands motioning toward the dining room.
Maria dried her hands with her apron. “The boys, Henry and Richard, were into a lot of mischief as children, but they were good. After Anna, the boys’ mother, left, Henry... had problems. He started getting into trouble and it seemed to just get worse and worse. It tore Rick up. Being the big brother, he thought he should’ve been able to stop him. He set an example, put pressure on himself to be the best at everything, but that wasn’t enough.”
Amber couldn’t hold in her curiosity any longer, lowered her voice. “You’ve known them all for a long time?”
“I came to be the boys’ nanny, stayed after their mom left. Even though it’s been rough at times, now, I suppose I belong here with Ricky, taking care of him.” She shrugged then took a towel from the counter and started wiping away the few chunks of coffee grinds that’d dripped from the filter. Amber understood that desire to be needed, to take care of someone, but there was more to a relationship than doing. “What about you? Who takes care of you?”
Maria’s arm stalled, and she shrugged again while her back stayed turned.
How much had this woman given to this home, these people? Where was her family? Amber was considering asking more about Maria’s past when Rick slipped through the doorjamb.
“Thanks for taking care of my bride.”
Maria spun around to greet Rick with a faint smile.
A hot current of awareness shot through Amber when he curved his arm around her waist.
“Thanks for bringing her, Richard.” The bittersweet reflection had vanished from Maria’s eyes, she looked open and content. “You’ve made your father a very happy man.”
Rick stiffened.
“Maria, is someone supposed to be burning off the fields today?”
Maria turned on the water and started scrubbing the skillet. “No, it’s Saturday. You know your father won’t let them work on the weekend. He thinks...”
Then Amber saw it too.
Thin spirals of smoke stretching up to the sky.
Rick bolted, shouting over his shoulder as he dove through the swinging kitchen door, “I’ll get Dad. Maria, find Henry.” He went back out.
Maria rushed out the back door. Amber ran to the front yard.
Outside, Rick and his father were climbing into his truck.
“Wait!” She grabbed the driver’s door as Rick was slamming it shut.
His eyes sparked and he pulled on the door. “Stay here.”
Amber held on. “I’m coming.”
Ricky stretched across the cab. “Let her in. We don’t have the time for this.”
“All right.” Rick swung out of the truck. Amber scrambled in.
Ricky pointed to a back corner of the yard. “Rick, take the back way.”
“But—it’s been—I haven’t—”
“We’ve kept it cleared.”
The two men exchanged a look, then after the slightest hesitation, Rick gunned the engine and roared forward. The tires ground against the gravel as the truck sped over the back two-track road.
She grabbed the dashboard as Rick turned sharply and the pick-up bounced over a rough field. The smell of the smoke clouded the sweet morning air. The rumble of the engine roared in her ears, mixing with the increasing pounding of her heart. Ricky’s tight face stared straight ahead, no doubt expecting the worse.
The smoke disappeared for a few seconds when the ground lowered, then came back into view. An ominous odor swirled around them, filling the cab. The minutes stretched, the truck rolling ever closer toward the smoke. Another stand of trees appeared as they reached the bottom of the hill.
“Almost there, son,” Rick’s father said. “Maybe it won’t be too bad.”
Rick didn’t respond, only pushed the truck harder. The road narrowed as they approached some trees, but still he didn’t slow. Branches scraped the sides of the truck, leaves and twigs flew in through the open windows.
Then the brush cleared away.
It was Rick’s large storage shed, on fire.
Rick and his father tumbled out of the truck.
Amber remained seated on the bench, frozen with anguish.
Cruel, dark smoke billowed out of the windows, thick flames licked the side of the building, stretching toward Rick’s small house. Everything he owned, what little there was, ready to burn to the ground.
Rick ran to the main yard hydrant, scooped up one of the hoses, flying toward the flames, he tossed the hose down in front of his father. “Wet down the house.”
Ricky snatched the hose, started spraying the side of the house. He waved through the smoke at Amber, “If we keep it wet, it’ll be fine.
Rick shouted from the door of the flaming shed. “I’m going in.” A thick wave of smoke swallowed him up as he disappeared inside.
Ricky spun. “It’s a loss, son, get out of there.”
Panic beat through Amber. Another hose—behind the house, with the smaller garden hydrant. A beautiful coil of green and yellow.
Relief gave her strength. She lifted the handle, welcomed the spray of water. After grabbing the hose off the metal arch where it was kept, she ran, trailing it behind her. As she approached the burning shed, the crash of falling boards was followed by a muffled cry.
Tugging the hose along, she crossed the threshold. Smoke filled every corner. Flames flickered up from the floor. She inched in, gasping against the smoke. Rick, backed against the wall, burning boards between them.
Amber’s throat tightened. “Ricky, bring the hose!”
But he was already there, ready.
She pressed her thumb across the spray of her hose, widening the stream of water. The flames flickered, fighting, as she was, for air. Beside her, Ricky gasped against the smoke but stayed steady.
Amber spoke to Ricky, pointing, “Spray in the center, over there.”
“Rick,” she called, scanning for any sight of him, “come to my voice, we’re over here by the door.”
Then he appeared, sidestepping the flames and dashing through the cloud of shouldering ash. Still hacking, he took the hose from his father and jogged over to start spraying the side of his house. Amber joined him, Ricky, coughing desperately, headed away from the worst of the smoke.
Amber called to Rick. “What were you thinking?”
“More research,” he tipped his head to a sheaf of papers she hadn’t noticed, sticking out of his waistband.
Research. For her?
Rick ignored her amazement. “Keep spraying the house. It’ll be okay.”
* * *
Exhausted, Amber trudged through the wet smoky mess, then dropped onto the far edges of the battered grass. The afternoon sun loomed straight overhead, beating down, but the rays were light compared to the heat of the fire. Rick dropped down beside her, Ricky, still coughing occasionally, stepped over and sat with them. Their faces were smeared with smoke and sweat, the shed gone, the cottage saved.
With the hoses still on, the water hissed into the yard, making puddles near the porch. Restless, Amber got up to turn them off. As she lowered the garden hydrant handle, a car rumbled up the drive, stopping just behind her rental.
