My Way to You Page 2

  “I’m one of the nurses at Henry Mayo. There’s been an accident.”

  TWO YEARS LATER

  CHAPTER ONE

  “We’re going to be late.”

  “Trust me. This is the third time I’ve done this.” Parker waited patiently for the gate on their property to open and let them out. “It doesn’t matter when you show up, we’re going to walk into a tiny room with a bunch of kids from your school. When you get there, your name goes on a list and you wait. The appointments are a joke.”

  They passed through the gate and drove down the private road shared by seventy of her neighbors. She turned the air conditioner on high, hoping to combat the ninety-degree heat radiating through the windows.

  “I hate being late.”

  Parker glanced at her seventeen-year-old brother, who was staring out the window. He looked like their dad more every day.

  “You could have just driven yourself,” she reminded him.

  He shrugged.

  He was starting his final high school year in a month, and it was time for senior portraits, hence the rush to the tiny room filled with pimply-faced kids on the cusp of starting a new future. Sure, Austin could have driven himself, but he wanted her there. She wasn’t a substitute for their mom, but she was the next best thing.

  Of the three of them, Austin had the hardest time after their parents’ accident. His grief came in the form of rebellion that lasted six months and almost forced the courts to take him away. Parker pushed the memories aside and focused on what was in front of her.

  “I made Mom get there almost an hour early when she took me,” Parker said as she turned off the private road and onto the one major street that traversed their neighborhood. “We ended up waiting an hour and a half.”

  “I hope it doesn’t take that long. I told my friends I’d meet them at In-N-Out at two.”

  They drove past the burger joint in question and onto the highway.

  “You might be late.”

  “I hate being late,” he muttered a second time.

  Parker glanced in the rearview mirror as she merged onto the freeway and saw a plume of smoke in the sky behind her.

  “Oh, no.”

  Austin turned in his seat. By now Parker had eased into her lane and was searching the landscape behind her.

  “That looks close.”

  She focused on the road. “Someone probably tossed a cigarette out the window. Assholes.” Southern California was in its seventh year of severe drought. The hillsides were nothing but dense vegetation too starved for water to even scream anymore. “I wouldn’t worry. The Santa Anas aren’t blowing.”

  They’d had plenty of experience with wildfires in the canyons surrounding their family home. Some had come close enough for the authorities to close the one major street in and out, but all were put out before any homes or properties were touched.

  Austin turned back around and put his nose in his phone.

  Forty minutes later, Parker sat tapping her foot against the air while she waited with her brother. The photographers provided a dress shirt and tie for pictures. Around them, boys sat in formal attire from the waist up with shorts and flip-flops waist down. The girls had these drape type things that offered the same effect.

  She snapped a couple of pictures of the crazy scene for Mallory to see later. Her phone buzzed with a text from her sister. Did you see the fire?

  We noticed it as we were leaving. Is it close? Parker felt her heart skip a beat just asking the question.

  I think it’s in Acton. I’m not sure. You guys should get home before they close the road.

  Parker snuck out of the studio and shuffled through the lobby overflowing with teens, and out the door. She looked up to the eastern sky, saw only a puff of smoke from her vantage point. Then again, they were miles across the Santa Clarita Valley.

  I’m sure it’s fine. Parker quickly walked back into the studio.

  Austin still sat on the bench waiting for his turn.

  She glanced at the time on her phone.

  Minutes clicked by.

  If the fire was close, she wanted to be home. The last time they closed the canyon road it was off limits for anyone coming in for four days. The fire hadn’t come that close, but the authorities asked for an evacuation. Only half the residents left. Her parents were alive when that had happened. Her father had loaded their horses onto the trailer and told her mother to take the animals, Parker, and her siblings out of the neighborhood. Dad had stayed behind. He promised that if things got hairy, he would leave.

  Nothing happened. Not even a layer of ash. For three nights and four days they were kept from going home.

  Austin’s name was finally called, and Parker released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

  She smiled at her brother as he took his seat and grinned for the camera.

  Much like an attraction at a theme park, the wait was much longer than the ride. Once Austin was out of the hot seat, she rushed him along. “Mallory thinks the police are going to close down the canyon.”

  “The fire?”

  “Yeah. She thinks it’s in Acton.”

  The silent drive home buzzed much faster than the one out. The small bursts of smoke in the sky had been replaced with huge mushroom clouds in less than an hour. When she passed the point of entry where the authorities would close down the road, she sighed in relief.

  They both exited the car with their heads craned toward the sky.

  Mallory met them at the bottom of the driveway. “What do you think?”

  It was close.

  Too close.

  “The wind is blowing the opposite way. If the sky wasn’t blue above us, I’d be worried.” Her insides quivered, but she wasn’t about to show her siblings that.

  “What do we do now?” Austin asked.

  “You skip burgers with your friends. If they close the road, you’re not getting back in. And if we have to leave, I’d want to pack your car with as much stuff as we can.”

  Their property sat on the edge of the Angeles Forest. It was one of the best parts about it. The ten acres that they called The Sinclair Ranch had the illusion of being even bigger without neighbors on one side of them. The house itself had been engineered by the previous owner to withstand a California wildfire. Stucco walls, tile roof. Their father had planted ice plant all around the back hill. Although a freeze one winter and then multiple summers of zero rain and water rates as high as they were . . . yeah, most of that had died off. The neighbor directly above them did a crappy job of clearing their brush. Parker had hopped the fence many times in the past two years with a Weed Eater to knock down the vegetation close to their fence line.

  She turned without comment and started down the long driveway.

  “Where are you goin’?” Mallory asked.

  “To open the gate so the fire department can get in.” If there was one thing that was consistent with fires in the neighborhood, it was the fire department using their property to stage. The land was flat, with the exception of where the house was perched, therefore the fire engines could easily turn around.

  The three of them ate dinner in front of the TV, the news all competing for the best angle of the fire. Thankfully none of them were on her street or in her yard, which gave Parker some semblance of safety. And the sheriff wasn’t going house to house asking for evacuations either.

  They’d gathered the photo albums and put them by the stairs leading down into the garage. It was all they had left of their parents, the pictures and the memories. One sparked the other and it’s all that really mattered.

  As much as Parker hated to admit it, she worried. It was hard not to when darkness replaced the sunset and the glow in the east was easy to see.

  Austin stood by the big bay window overlooking the property. “The fire department is here.”

  Her chest squeezed.

  Parker stopped doing the dishes and walked outside. Lights flashed from the engine slowly rolling toward the ho
use. Austin shadowed her down the driveway while Mallory hibernated in her room. Scout, their black lab, ran circles around them with the excitement of a nighttime walk.

  “Good evening,” she greeted the firefighters, who were standing beside their engine looking at the glow.

  “Hello. You the homeowner?” one of the men asked.

  “I am.” She reached out a hand. “Parker. This is my brother, Austin.”

  “I’m Captain Moore. Thanks for opening the gate.”

  “Of course. Anything to make it easier for you guys to put this out. How far away is it?” she asked him.

  “Miles. We’re just keeping a watch on it tonight.”

  “No evacuations?” Austin asked.

  “No, not yet. If the wind keeps going the way it is, it won’t get here. Don’t worry. If something changes in the night, we’ll wake you up and get you out of here. Do you have livestock?”

  She shook her head. “Just chickens.”

  “Good.”

  Scout pranced around the captain, looking for attention.

  “We’ll probably be in your yard most of the night.”

  That was a relief. Not that she thought any of them would find any sleep. “Good by me,” she told him. “If you need anything, please just ask.”

  “We’re pretty self-sufficient.”

  Parker noticed a couple of her neighbors at the edge of the property looking in. She left Austin talking with the fire guys to chat with her neighbors.

  She walked just outside the gate and put on a fake smile. “Shit gets real when the fire department camps in your yard,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  “What did they say?” Lori asked.

  “They’re just watching right now. No need to panic.”

  “It’s not coming down here,” Mr. Richards said. “I’ve seen this a dozen times. I remember sitting on your porch with your dad the last time, drinking beer and listening to the quiet before they opened the canyon back up.” Mr. Richards had to be in his early seventies. His property didn’t touch hers, but his home was tucked higher on the hill. If anyone needed to worry, it was him.

  “I wouldn’t stress, Parker.” Susan and her husband, Ron, shared a fence line with them. “Your dad would be kicking back a beer.”

  Susan’s words were meant to comfort her. Instead they fell flat.

  “I feel better with the fire department here.” She glanced at the flashing lights of the fire engine. Wished her dad were here instead. That thinking would paralyze her, so she pushed it aside.

  “Are the De Lucas still in Hawaii?” Lori asked, changing the subject.

  “Yeah. I’m sure someone is watching the house.” The De Lucas traveled a lot and always had someone behind watching over their home.

  “I suggest you all get some sleep. Tomorrow this place is going to be crawling with flashing lights,” Mr. Richards said.

  “Let’s pray the wind doesn’t shift,” Susan said.

  Parker ignored the looks of sympathy, the ones that accompanied every conversation since her parents had died and she’d taken over their life. She said her good-nights and walked back toward the house. When she reached the crossing at the dry creek, she paused. The glow in the distance was brighter there. No flames. Not that she could see, anyway.

  She shivered.

  Hot July night and she was cold.

  The morning air was still. The wind chimes didn’t bother to move.

  Parker managed a few hours’ sleep and woke before the sun or Bennie, their rooster, had a chance to do the job.

  Sliding into a pair of shorts and a tank top, Parker followed Scout out the door. The fire truck had left the property. Haze shadowed the blue sky as the sun started to rise.

  Mallory joined her, a cup of coffee in her hands. “What do you think?” she asked.

  “Hard to say. According to the weather report, the wind is supposed to shift.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “Hence the crap in the air.”

  “Dad would be telling us to relax.”

  “And Mom would be freaking out.”

  Mallory put an arm around Parker’s shoulders. “I wish they were here.”

  Parker really didn’t want to stroll down that rabbit hole. She had enough to think about. Sweating in sorrow had no place in her day. She broke out of her sister’s arm and marched away.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Turning on the sprinklers. Rolling out the fire hose.” There was a hydrant in the middle of their yard. A five-thousand-gallon gravity tank fed it from up on the hill behind the house. It wouldn’t save it, but it might help. Until it was empty. Then there was the pool. But she hadn’t replaced the pump her father had set up to pull water from it in situations like this. Avoiding that bill had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  I should have replaced the pump.

  By ten o’clock, helicopters were buzzing over the neighborhood in regular succession. The firefighters parked in the yard and the air was full of hot ash.

  The stillness of the morning shifted, and the wind started pushing the fire in their direction. Slowly, the blue sky disappeared behind smoke plumes that hovered overhead. The wind chimes kept a steady, pleasant beat to the movement of the air. Not like a Santa Ana, Parker thought. Where she would come out in the dead of night and take the chimes down because their frantic movement would keep her from sleeping.

  All Parker and her brother and sister could do was watch the sky and the silhouette of the hillside. Standing beside one of the half a dozen firefighters, she started asking questions. “Will the air attacks put this out before it can get here?”

  “They’re going to try, but those mountains aren’t easy to fly in with this much smoke.”

  She grew up on those hills, understood firsthand just how steep they were.

  “Bulldozers?”

  “If there’s time.”

  What did that mean?

  The thirty-something-year-old firefighter must have sensed her worry and smiled. “I’d pack your cars and be prepared to evacuate if this gets any closer.”

  “Is there an evacuation order yet?”

  “Voluntary. Many of your neighbors are moving their livestock, just in case.”

  Parker hadn’t left the property all day and had no idea how many of her neighbors still hung around.

  She ran a hand over her face, felt a fine layer of dirt on her palm after she did.

  Not dirt, she corrected herself.

  Ash.

  She motioned for Mallory to join her as she walked back up to the house. “Let’s load the cars . . . just in case.”

  Parker looked into the same blue eyes that she saw every day in the mirror. A gift from their mother.

  “I’m scared.”

  “They always put it out before it crests the hill,” she assured her sister.

  “Yeah, but it’s always been on the other side of the canyon. Never from this side.”

  Her sister was right, but she wasn’t about to feed into her panic. “You grab the photo albums, yearbooks . . . clothes and fill your car. I’ll get Mom and Dad’s stuff.”

  Still, as Parker packed she told herself it was a wasted precaution.

  Nothing was going to happen.

  She loaded up her father’s gun collection in the trunk of her car along with all the ammo she could find. The last thing she wanted was to have bullets flying if the house did catch fire. She wasn’t sure if that was possible, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Her hands shook even as she told herself that she’d be unloading the car without leaving the property.

  “Did you pack Mom’s china?” Mallory asked.

  Parker looked around the space left in her car. “We don’t have room.”

  “I don’t like this.” Tears blossomed in her sister’s eyes.

  Parker started to choke up. “I don’t like it either, Mallory. Let’s keep it together, okay?”

  “Okay.” Her sister took a gulping breath.

  The helicopters had
stopped buzzing overhead. Not one water drop or plane filled with Phos-Chek graced them with any relief.

  The smoke thickened and so did Parker’s nerves.

  At one point she looked around all the first responders and didn’t see her brother. “Where’s Austin?”

  Mallory pointed toward the neighbors. “At the De Lucas’ helping Lynn.” Lynn was the De Lucas’ adult daughter, who was watching the house.

  “Did he pack anything?”

  “I don’t think so,” Mallory said.

  Parker ran back to the house, went into her brother’s room, and took inventory. It didn’t appear that he’d packed a single thing. She grabbed his hamper, the clothes he obviously wore, and headed to his car.

  Mallory ran into the house, the fear Parker felt rising shined in her sister’s eyes. “We see flames.”

  Everything chilled.

  Hair stood on end and the thud of Parker’s heart was loud enough to hear.

  She dropped the basket on the floor and rushed out the door.

  They both ran to the dry creek bed and stared at the path the fire was taking. A clustering of flames flickered up the hillside.

  Parker marched up to the hotshot crew that had staged in the middle of the property. “Where is the other crew?” she asked, looking for the truck with hoses.

  “One of our guys just left to get them.”

  Her heart wouldn’t work for long at this pace.

  The sky went from hazy to gray. White ash started to fall.

  She turned to her sister. “Go get Austin.”

  Without question, Mallory ran to the neighbors’ house.

  Parker removed her phone from her back pocket and started to record. A habit from when she was in college and recording life events was a part of her daily life. “I don’t like this,” she said to her recording. Her video caught the way the sky started to move from gray to black and the wind started to pick up. The view landed on the barn that only housed a half a dozen chickens.

  The guesthouse stood several feet from that, her father’s flags waved proudly in the wind.

  Shoving her phone back in her pocket, she ran to the barn and opened the chicken coop door. She wouldn’t try and gather the birds. If the fire moved in, they would just have to run for themselves.