Letters in Time, Reiss Susan [read me a book TXT] 📗

as far away as fifteen miles from the center of the storm."

A shudder ran through me. “That’s scary.”

"Yes, it is. It all comes down to respecting Mother Nature. She always has a surprise waiting for us. We have to anticipate and be aware."

“And not do anything stupid,” I added.

He chuckled. “I think that’s what I said.”

It was my turn to laugh as he turned on a flattened grassy area leading into a cornfield.

“We’re going to stop here for a few minutes, okay?”

“Sure, fine,” I said, looking around, trying to figure out what interested him here and coming up without a clue.

I released my seat belt and moved into a more comfortable position. Ghost followed him as he got out of the truck. The dog was so quiet that I kept forgetting he was riding along with us in the back seat of the cab. TJ leaned over to inspect the cornstalks. The plants were drying out with their leaves turning brown at the bottom.

I heard a rustling sound and looked around. TJ had disappeared. Without moving my aching leg too much, I tried to spot him, but he was nowhere in sight.  I called out, but there was no answer.

Abandoned in a cornfield, now that’s novel, I thought.

All the talk about the surprises Mother Nature dishes out made me uneasy. Or maybe I was tired. Whatever the reason, I knew I’d feel better when TJ reappeared. I twisted around a bit and peered out the back window to the main road. In the distance, something caught my eye.

“Oh!” I jumped when he opened the door. “Ow!”

Ghost jumped to his place in the back and leaned his head toward me.

“Are you okay?” TJ asked, his voice full of concern.

I was embarrassed that almost everything I did showed how vulnerable I was. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

He put the truck in gear and started backing out to the shoulder of the road.

“It looks like someone’s having a barbeque nearby and the grill has gotten out of control a little.”

“A barbeque? Where?” He touched the brakes and looked around.

I pointed back through the rear window. “Over there, toward the storm clouds. Do you see it?”

He stabbed the accelerator and swung the truck toward it. “That’s smoke.”

“Yes, that’s what I said,” I stammered, surprised by his extreme reaction. “Somebody must be—”

“That’s not a barbeque! That’s one of Johnny’s fields! It’s on fire.”

Chapter Fifteen

“About nine O. C. last night we discovered a fire at Doctor Matthews. I immediately took the hands and ran over. We succeeded in the saving three chests of Carpenter tools, but very little other properties. All his farm buildings were burned down together with his crop of wheat, eating corn, farming implements, my treasure and deliveries, all his wool and about $200 worth of materials versus new building.” August 1, 1864

—The Willis Family Journals 1847-1951

Edited and Annotated by James Dawson

With tires spinning, we took off down the road toward the smoke. I braced myself as we sped around corners. Finally, he pulled over by a field where the smoke was getting thick. For a better view, he jumped up on the truck, uttered an oath, and yanked his cell phone out of his shirt pocket.

“I hope I’ve got cell service out here.” He punched three numbers and mumbled, “Come on! Come on!” Then in full voice, he said, “Yes!  Get me Fire. There’s a fire in Johnny Sutherland’s cornfield on…”

The details blended into the background as I watched the smoke growing thicker and spreading over the field. I wondered how a person calls for an emergency response to a cornfield. Does it have an address like a house? How did TJ know this was Johnny's field? There was so much to learn about living in the country.

The excitement and anxiety of finding a fire in a field were infectious. It wasn't about a whimsical curl of smoke from a barbecue. Orange flames were starting to lick the tops of the cornstalks. Black smoke that rose from the center of the field was getting thicker. To me, wildfires happened out West. The East Coast always seemed too built up, too urban, for this kind of thing to happen.

“TJ, look!” I pointed toward the flames that were no longer licking the plants. They were consuming them.

"Yes, I see it." He jumped back in the driver's seat and drove the truck down the road so we were upwind and pulled over on the shoulder.

“We’ll be okay here for a bit.” He patted my hand to comfort me and maybe to reassure himself.

We sat in silent fascination, watching the flames spread from the middle of the field. Smoke billowed and darkened the area. The fire department wouldn't need an address. The smoke would lead them right to the fire.

“The closest fire station is St. Michaels.” Anxiety made TJ’s voice raspy. “I hope they’re not out on another call. They need to get here now. It will take Easton longer to respond.”

At first, the siren wail was faint, like something imagined, conjured up from a real desire for the trucks to come. It grew louder as the fire started to growl.

“They’re coming! I can hear the sirens.” And the single sound became sirens from more than one emergency vehicle. My relief was so intense, a tear leaked out of my eye and ran down my cheek. As the sirens grew louder, I noticed that I was rubbing the thigh of my right leg.  Not to relieve pain, because it didn’t hurt, at least not any more than usual. It was a nervous movement, my hand moving back and forth. Back and forth.  As the sirens