Jessica Snell
King’s Canyon National Park hadn’t changed, but Melissa had.
As she gazed across the river to the other side of the canyon, all she could feel was a quiet relief. I’m finally where I wanted to be.
The river was like a clear, green braid, running swiftly between boulders downstream of her, and pooling in a wide, clear basin upstream. Gold light flashed off its surface, and the rocks on the bottom of its bed shimmered like coins in a king’s treasury.
“Melissa!” came a shout from the campground behind her. “Can you check in with the camp hosts? I forgot to do that when we drove in.”
“Sure!” Leaving the river behind, Melissa trudged uphill. In a minute, her campsite was lost from view, and with it, the crowd of excited teenagers trying to set up their tents, and the small cluster of other youth group volunteers like herself.
Though she’d driven past it on the way in, Melissa found herself pausing when the camp host’s trailer came into view. Memories of what had happened a year ago flashed past her vision.
No, she told herself. That’s over now, and everyone’s okay. It’s not going to happen again this year.
But when she reached the trailer, and had raised her hand to knock on the door, she heard a deep, amused voice behind her say, “Hey, I remember you. Did you bring Pyro Bob with you again this year?”
Melissa turned around and met a pair of piercing blue eyes, set in a handsome face she’d never forgotten.
And all of the sudden, it felt like no time at all had passed since the summer before.
***
“Bob, it’s a bad idea.”
“Aw, the kids are going to love it.”
“The kids are our responsibility. We have to be careful!”
“Spoilsport,” Bob said, and then he tugged her into a hug and planted a kiss on her lips.
Melissa nearly smacked him—and would have, except for the crowd of teenagers watching and cheering. I don’t want to have to explain the concept of “unwanted physical contact” to them.
Besides, if she was right, there was something much more urgent she had to attend to. “Bob—” she protested again, reaching for the gasoline can in his hand.
But he jumped to the other side of the firepit, yelled at the crowd of youth group kids, “Hey, watch this!” and then…
And then it was like everything happened in slow motion. The fireball. The screams. The man with the bright blue eyes racing toward them to help. The frantic efforts to put out the fire. To render first aid.
Then the truly slow part: the interminable wait for the paramedics to arrive. Bob’s injuries were serious enough he had to be evacuated, but not so life-threatening that he had to be airlifted. “Go with him,” urged one of the other leaders to Melissa. “You know how he feels about you. You’ll be able to comfort him.”
Melissa didn’t care, in that moment, how she felt about Bob. The man was in horrible pain. She could hold his hand for the drive out of the canyon. Over the ridge. Down to the valley.
But she’d paid for it, in the year since, with flashbacks, with stress . . . with hours in therapy.
It had been a long year.
***
“He didn’t come with us this year,” Melissa said flatly.
“Ah?” asked the man with the blue eyes. “I’d gotten the impression you two were a couple.”
“No.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m sorry,” said the man. “Our parks are for everyone, but people who nearly cause forest fires should probably stay away till they learn to behave better. Plus,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “I remember you. You were sensible. You handled that emergency like a champ. You didn’t seem to be the sort of woman who’d stay with a man like that.”
Gratified as she was at his impression of her, Melissa couldn’t help replying, “I’ve never been with a man like that. The romance was all in his head.”
The man’s grin got wider, and he stuck out his hand. “I’m Matthew.”
She shook his hand. His grip was warm and friendly, but it didn’t linger too long.
No unwanted touching there.
“Melissa,” she replied. “I…I have to admit. I almost didn’t come back this year.”
“Because of what happened?”
“Yes…” Why did she want to tell him more? Something about this man invited trust. “It was traumatic. Maybe that sounds weak, but—”
“No,” he said. “I get it. You do what you have to do in the moment, but you pay for it later.”
“You’ve been there.” It wasn’t a question.
But he answered it anyway. “Eight years in the Marines. I did my bit for my country, and then I did my bit in therapy. No regrets on either count.”
Melissa blinked. This man was neither an idiot nor a coward.
Nor unattractive. She started to smile, and was rewarded by an answering smile on his own face.
“You know,” she said, “I thought of coming back here as my reward, for getting through this awful year. This place is…maybe this sounds stupid, but it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been in my life. I didn’t want what happened last year to keep me away from it.”
“That doesn’t sound stupid,” he said. “You’ve got to grab for the good stuff whenever you can. And sometimes you find even more goodness than you thought you would.”
Melissa raised her chin, took a deep breath of the pine-scented air, and let out a long, long breath—one that felt like she’d been holding in since last summer. “Sometimes you do,” she agreed. “I think coming back here this summer was the right call.”
“Well,” he said, “I’m certainly glad you’re here.”
And Melissa and Matthew smiled at each other, there in the beautiful place where they both wanted to be.
You can read more about her editing and writing work on her website, jessicasnell.com, or follow her on X (Twitter) at @theJessicaSnell, where she tweets about books, faith, and family.
Spark Flash Fiction 