And then Darek offered a smile.
The effect of it pulled the breath from Jensen, knocked him over inside. He swallowed, scrambling for his emotional footing. Then he managed to nod. “What do you need?”
“Saws. Shovels. People.” He paused, looked toward the horizon. Even from here, Jensen could make out the flames. Darek turned back to him. “I need you, Jens. Get me some manpower and then come out here and help me kill this fire.”
“You got it,” Jensen said.
IVY HADN’T REALIZED how much larger, how much closer the fire had grown until she topped the hill above town. From Deep Haven, the flames seemed little more than a glow on the distant horizon. However, now only a few miles from Evergreen Lake, she could make out raging tongues that torched trees like the flames of some mythical dragon scorching the land. The entire sky had turned orange for as far as she could see, and smoke billowed out and pitched the heavens with ash. Occasional plumes of fire suggested the blaze might only be gaining speed.
Ivy felt her pulse in her throat as she pushed the gas toward Evergreen Resort. Certainly Darek and his family knew that they might be in danger?
Maybe the specter of the fire would temper her early morning appearance and catch Darek off guard. He’d let her explain, hear her out. Realize that in the face of no good choice, she’d done the best thing she could for him.
Okay, for herself, too. Until last night, she’d wanted to save her job and her future with Darek.
Now—well, she turned onto their road, not caring if she had a job to go back to.
She pulled in fast and nearly ran over Ingrid, carrying a laundry basket full of photo albums to the open rear hatch of her Caravan.
Ivy got out, rushed over. “What’s going on?”
Looking a decade older than yesterday, Ingrid set down the basket and crushed Ivy to her chest. “I’m so glad to see you.” She held on a little longer and then let her go. “We have to evacuate.”
Amelia came out carrying a suitcase. She’d clearly been crying, her face streaked, and looked like she’d only just rolled out of bed, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, her hair messy. She glanced at Ivy with a frown as she threw her bag in the back.
“Hi, Amelia. I . . . I came to apologize for what happened—”
“Ivy!” Grace ran toward them, rolling her bag, and threw her arm around Ivy’s neck. “What are you doing here?” She let go and added her bag in the back end.
“I came to talk to Darek. But—can I help?”
“We have more pictures in boxes in the family room,” Ingrid said. “And a few more suitcases.”
Ivy headed to the house. She spied John coming around the side, dragging a long hose. Casper was setting up sprinkler heads, pounding them in with a rubber mallet.
“They’re going to set up a water perimeter, see if that will help,” Grace said.
Amelia stormed past her.
“Ignore her,” Grace said. “I think she’s more angry at herself for calling 911 than at you.”
“Calling 911 was the right thing to do,” Ivy said as she followed Grace in. Four large boxes held the family photos, pilfered from the walls. She grabbed a box.
“Can you imagine if Tiger were here right now?” Grace said over her shoulder on the way back outside. “I have to wonder at how God works things out.” She shoved the box into the Caravan.
Ivy added hers. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Grace smiled. “See? It’s all a matter of perspective.”
Someday Ivy hoped to be like Grace. Seeing life through God’s eyes. “I hope Darek agrees with you.”
“He’s not here. He’s over at Gibs’s place trying to cut in a fire line.”
They headed back to the house, standing aside for Ingrid, who was toting a box of books.
“Why? Some little strip of dirt isn’t going to stop that fire.”
Grace handed her a stack of homemade quilts sitting on the granite countertop. “He’ll cut a boundary line in the dirt and then set the area behind it on fire so that it burns up all the fuel. That way, when the main blaze hits the parched area, it has nothing to consume and it starves.”
“But isn’t that dangerous? What if the fire turns on him, jumps over the boundary line?” She pushed the quilts in on top of the boxes in the car.
“That’s what the hotshots do—they dig and dig, then burn and stop any little fire from crossing the line. It’s called a back burn.”
Or craziness. “They could get killed.”
Grace gave her a grim nod. “Darek knows what he’s doing. And he’s worked with the volunteer fire department, so they know too. But yeah, we need to pray for them.”