‘Julia!’
At last he caught up with her and as his hand closed on her shoulder she wheeled around to face him. Her eyes were wild and the dirt on her face was streaked with sweat.
‘Julia, listen. You can’t go down there.’
‘Look at her! We’ve got to help her!’
‘No. She’s not going to make it. And if we go to her, neither are we.’
She tried to break free but he twisted his hand in the shoulder of her T-shirt to lock his grip and then hooked his other arm around her waist.
‘Let me go, damn you!’
She lashed out at him and he ducked, and as she leaned over him he came up again and hoisted her off the ground on his shoulder. Her feet were pointing uphill and she started to kick and hammer at his back with her fists and she was screaming and swearing at him but he managed to hold her in place and set off back up the slope.
‘Don’t look back,’ he said. ‘Don’t look at her.’
‘You bastard! You fucking bastard!’
Connor pictured Skye behind, watching them desert her. The flames must be licking at her heels by now, ready to devour her. He pulled a shutter down in his mind and closed it too as best he could to Julia’s punches and curses and tried to think instead only of their survival.
‘Let me go! Let me go!’
One man had survived the Mann Gulch fire: the only one who hadn’t tried to outrun it. Connor had already chosen the spot. On his way down he had run past a cluster of boulders and decided that it was the only place where they stood a chance. It was about twenty yards up the slope but with Julia putting up such a struggle it was hard to move fast. The smoke was thick and rolling around them now. He had his right arm clamped around Julia’s thighs and was using his left hand to steady her, but now he took it away and reached into his pocket for a fusee to have it ready for when they reached the boulders.
Fifteen yards to go. Twelve. Ten . . .
Julia gave a terrible scream and kept on screaming and he knew that the flames had caught up with the girl and engulfed her and that Julia was watching her die.
‘Don’t look, Julia. For Christ’s sake, don’t look.’
The scream turned to a wail and he felt her body writhe and convulse on his shoulder as if something inside her were dying too.
And now they were there and Connor lowered her so that she stood with her back propped against the nearest boulder. Her eyes were clenched and her face was distorted. Her mouth gaped in a soundless, desolate cry. She didn’t struggle anymore, just let herself slide slowly down the rock and crumple to the ground.
Connor left her there and lit the fusee and it flared brightly in his hand. There were three large boulders and a few smaller ones and they formed a triangle two yards across. There was grass between them and it was this that Connor first lit. It caught fire with a rush and burned fast and fiercely and the wind whipped it through the gaps between the boulders and soon the slope above was on fire too. Connor watched it go and only hoped that by now Chuck and Katie were well clear.
He peered through the smoke below and saw the whole valley was alight. A low wall of flame was rushing up toward them. The grass between the boulders had finished burning now and he walked into its smoldering remains and stamped it out. He could hear Julia moaning on the downhill side of the boulder where he had left her and with the fusee still flaring in one hand he ran around and found her slumped there sobbing. With his free hand he grabbed her wrist and dragged her a few yards down the slope and then he lit the grass between himself and the boulders and waited until it had burned.
The boulders now stood in a patch of smoking black some fifteen yards across. Connor threw the fusee uphill beyond the boulders and then knelt beside Julia and gathered her in his arms. She thrashed at his face and chest with her fists as he lifted her.
‘You bastard. You let her die. Why did you let her die?’
Connor didn’t answer. He just let her hit him and carried her between the boulders and set her down on the black earth. He took out his water bottle.
‘Okay, I’m going to pour this over you.’
‘Fuck you.’
He pulled a bandanna from his pocket and wet it, then he drenched Julia’s head and shoulders and emptied the rest over his own and threw the bottle away. The smoke was thick now and they were both coughing. It stung his eyes and through it he could just make out the red and orange of the fire. He figured it was about thirty yards away. Its roar was as loud as a dozen jet engines and the air so hot he could feel his flesh roasting.
He took out his fire shelter and shook it open. It was a small tubed tent of aluminum foil. Connor had never had cause to use one before and was skeptical about how much use it would be in a fire. Jumpers called them shake ’n bakes and joked that all they did was cook you crisp like a turkey. But it was worth a try. He laid it out on the ground and opened it up. The wind rattled the foil.
‘Julia, stand up.’
She didn’t move, so he hoisted her to her feet and leaned her against him, supporting her with one arm, for she seemed unable to stand. She was still crying, but silently now. The shelters were designed for one person but Connor figured there was just enough room for them both. He managed to lift it above them and pulled it over their heads and slid it down over their bodies so that they were cocooned. Then he put his arms around her and lowered her gently until they were lying together on the ground. He handed her the wet bandanna.
‘Put this over your face.’
She wouldn’t, so he did it for her. Their bodies were pressed tightly together and he could feel the shudder of her sobs. And as the roar of the closing fire grew louder and louder, he circled her with his arms and held her against his chest and waited.
PART TWO
13
Connor had flown into Kentucky twice before, once in thick fog and once in a blizzard. This time, as the plane started its descent, he was hoping to get a look at the land, which everyone said was great horse country. But Lexington lay shrouded in a low layer of cloud and when they dropped below it, all he could see through the rain-streaked window was a blur of sodden pasture and a highway jammed with cars, all with their lights on even though it was only three in the afternoon.
He wondered if she would be there to meet him.
It was late February, and in the six months since the fire he hadn’t seen her once. When Ed’s condition had stabilized, she had flown back with him to Kentucky and had stayed with his parents while he was in the hospital. Now that he was convalescing at home, Julia spent her weekdays working in Boston and came back here every weekend - except the two that Connor had come to stay. On both occasions she had stayed in Boston, allegedly because of work. By now Connor had gotten the message.
At first he had kept on trying to phone her. In Boston all he ever got was her answering machine and she never returned his calls. Twice she happened to pick up the phone at Ed’s parents’ house and on both occasions it was like talking with a stranger. She was polite and distant, relating Ed’s progress in a voice devoid of emotion. Yes, the burns were healing fine; yes, the broken hip too; in fact, he was walking almost without a limp now, and, no, there was still no progress with his eyesight.
In his fall Ed had suffered retinal hemorrhages in both eyes. The doctors said that it was somehow connected with his diabetes. He’d apparently had some recent eye trouble that he hadn’t disclosed in case they stopped him from jumping. The chances of it happening in both eyes at the same time, however, were a million to one against. Connor didn’t ask too much about the medical details, not that they would have meant a lot to him. All that mattered was that his friend was now blind and seemed almost certain to stay that way.
To those who knew him less well, Ed’s response to what had happened to him might have seemed unbelievable. Connor spoke with him on the phone two or three times a week and his mood was rarely less than ebullient. Once his hip had mended he spent a month at a rehabilitation center for the blind and came b
ack with hilarious accounts of mishaps and mischief. There was a young Swedish orientation and mobility instructor there with whom he and a couple of the other guys seemed to spend most of their time flirting.
‘Connor, man, I tell you. She had the sexiest voice you ever heard. Her real name was Trudi but we all called her Greta, because she sounded just like Garbo. One of the things they teach you, to find your way around a place you don’t know, is to have someone draw a map with their finger on your back. And we’d all be, like, “Hey, Greta, I’ve forgotten the map, can you do it again? No, lower, lower! You know, maybe it’d be better if you did it on my thigh?”’
He said it was marvelous what license you had as a newly blind person, you could put your hands anywhere and pretend it was an accident. Last week he had been going on about all the new computer gear he was getting to help him in his composing. It had specially modified braille keyboards and screens that talked to you. The software was so sophisticated that all you had to do was hum it a tune and it would record it and score it and play it back to you.
‘It’s incredible. Once I’ve gotten the hang of it, I’ll be able to give it just a rough idea for a song - you know, love song, kinda smoochy, a little sad maybe - then go have a cup of coffee, read the newspaper, come back and find it’s composed the whole damn thing. Maybe even an entire musical.’
Connor didn’t push to find out what was going on behind this brave face. He could imagine though. He knew that both Ed and Julia had been having some kind of post-traumatic therapy. It had been offered to Connor too, back in Missoula, but he hadn’t followed it up. He didn’t see the point. What had happened was done and nothing could change it. He could handle it himself.
The strange thing was, he and Ed hadn’t yet really talked about the fire. Ed was always so determinedly upbeat that Connor didn’t feel able to raise the subject. What he most wanted to ask was about Julia and why she was avoiding him, though he had a pretty good idea. Ed had once let slip that the fire on Snake Mountain had left her with wounds worse than his own. It seemed that she blamed herself for what had happened not just to the girl and to him but also to the five who died when the search and rescue helicopter crashed into power lines.
Ed had sounded thrilled when Connor asked if he could come to see him in Kentucky again. He promised that this time he’d be there himself at the airport to meet him. Connor wasn’t counting on Julia being with him. She would probably make another excuse and stay in Boston.
But he was wrong. As he came through the gate with his old leather duffel bag slung on his shoulder he saw her, though if Ed hadn’t been standing next to her with his arm linked in hers, Connor might not have recognized her. Her hair was cut short and she was pale and much thinner. There were dark rings under her eyes. She was wearing boots and a long black coat with the collar turned up and she looked beautiful and tragic at the same time and at the sight of her Connor felt a cold stone turn slowly over in the depths of his chest. She saw him and waved and he saw her whisper to Ed, telling him which direction to face and Ed dutifully lined up and beamed and waved too.
‘Hey, cowboy! Over here!’
Ed was wearing dark glasses and an old yellow ski jacket that Connor had seen him wear up many a mountain. He too had lost weight and there was something about the way he stood, a slight, selfprotecting hunching of his shoulders, that made him look frail. But the burn scars on his face had calmed and looked a lot better. Connor walked over.
‘Hey, old buddy,’ he said. ‘When’s this darn state of yours gonna get itself some decent weather?’
He put down his bag and took Ed by the shoulders and the two of them stood there hugging each other for a long time. Connor had to fight hard not to let tears well in his eyes.
‘Hey, man, it’s good to see you,’ he said softly.
‘It’s good to see you too, man.’ He laughed and held Connor at arm’s length as if inspecting him. ‘And see? I still say “see” and I’m not going to stop. Anyhow, in my head I can see you. And you’re still an ugly sonofabitch.’
Connor laughed and turned to Julia.
‘Hi, Julia.’
‘Connor.’ She nodded. ‘How’re you doing?’
‘Good. How are you?’
‘I’m fine. Thanks.’
Neither of them seemed to know what to say or do next, whether to kiss or hug or even shake hands. Connor took the plunge. He stepped closer and put his arms around her and kissed her cheek and the smell of her came back to him in a rush. She didn’t hug him back, just briefly touched his shoulders and he felt that this was more a signal that the embrace should end. He let her go and looked into her eyes but she looked away almost at once.
‘You had your hair cut,’ he said dumbly.
‘Yeah. Well, it was all singed and frazzled, you know . . .’
Connor felt dumber still.
‘Suits her, doesn’t it?’ Ed said, grinning. He ran his hand up the back of her head and ruffled her hair and Julia dutifully smiled.
‘Yes, it does,’ Connor said.
There was another beat of awkward silence.
‘So. Did you check any luggage in or anything?’ Julia said.
‘No, this is it.’ He picked up his bag.
‘Well, what the hell are we waiting for?’ Ed said. ‘Let’s go get this cowboy a beer!’
They walked slowly across the concourse, Ed in the middle, with his arm linked in Julia’s, while people scurried past and around them as if they all knew of some emergency that hadn’t yet been disclosed to the three of them. They stepped out into the dank and gloom of the afternoon and Julia went off to fetch the car, leaving Connor and Ed standing in the shelter of the pickup zone with the rain gusting beyond in great swaths and sparkling in darts across the headlight beams of the cars. Beside them a young couple stood locked in each other’s arms, kissing passionately, the woman telling him in gasps how much she loved him and how badly she had missed him. It made Connor feel uneasy and saddened him too, though he didn’t know why.
‘How do you think she looks?’ Ed said.
‘She looks great. A little tired maybe.’
‘Yeah. She works too hard. She’s been incredible.’
There were so many questions Connor wanted to ask but they all seemed wrong.
‘You know, man, she feels so bad about what she said to you.’
Connor knew what he meant but felt he should pretend not to.
‘What do you mean?’
Ed sighed. ‘Well, she told me how she swore at you and said it was your fault that the girl . . . you know.’
‘Hell, she didn’t know what she was saying. I never thought she meant it.’
‘That’s good. Because she knows you saved her life and that you had no choice about the girl.’
‘Well, maybe.’
‘No, Connor. No maybes.’
Ed fumbled for Connor’s arm and grasped it tightly, pointing his face at where he thought Connor’s was, as if trying to look him in the eyes.
‘You had no choice, man. Any of us would have done what you did. Or tried to. The truth is, most of us would have failed and died.’
The official inquiry into what happened hadn’t published its final report yet, but Connor already knew that this would be its verdict too. It didn’t make anything feel any better.
After what seemed a long time, a black Jaguar slid up to the curb and through the tinted glass Connor saw Julia lean across and open the passenger door. She too was wearing sunglasses now which, given that it was almost dark, struck him as strange.
‘Here she is,’ he said and steered Ed gently toward the car.
Dinner at Grassland - or Chateau Tully, as Ed called it - was at seven-thirty prompt and it was considered bad form to be late. If you were, Ed’s father didn’t make a fuss about it, he would just raise an eyebrow and give you one of those indulgent smiles that made you feel about two feet tall and a total failure. Ed, in the family tradition of giving almost everything an acronym, called them
SAPS: ‘such a pity’ smiles. He’d had to put up with them all his life. Julia was heading for a SAP this evening. It was already twenty past and she was still soaking in the tub, trying to summon the strength to face Connor again.
The guest suite was about as far removed from the reality of her weekday life as it was possible to get. The bathroom was walled and floored in streaked cream marble, the lighting discreetly recessed, the tub the size of a small swimming pool. The Boston apartment that she shared with Linda and to which she gloomily flew back every Sunday evening was cold and cramped and drafty, which seemed to do nothing to deter the platoons of mice and cockroaches that tried to share it too.
Ed had first brought her to Grassland on their way to Montana the previous spring to meet his parents. And from the moment they landed at the airport, the culture shock had set in. Raoul, Ed’s father’s driver, was there to meet them with his dark suit and black necktie, ushering them with a diffident smile into the back of a Mercedes spacious enough to throw a party. Julia got the giggles - until they turned off the highway and, as if by magic, a pair of enormous crested wrought-iron gates whirred open and the car purred up a driveway that wound through parkland until there in front of them was this pillared palace and by then she’d stopped giggling and her jaw was just hanging loose. There were fountains and peacocks and a whole army of servants. She told him she’d had no idea she was dating Rhett Butler, for heavensakes, and Ed just laughed and kissed her and said frankly, my dear, he didn’t give a damn for any of it.
Since their sons had left home, Jim and Susan Tully had the entire west wing to themselves, with staff and guests housed in the east. There were at least four guest suites and when Ed, on that first visit, had led her along the cream-carpeted corridors to the best of them, Julia whispered that she’d better leave a trail of peas because otherwise she would never find her way out again. When he opened the door to the suite and she saw the yellow silk wallpaper and drapes and Chinese rugs and the views of rolling pasture from its tall windows, she was speechless.