A terrible thing happens, and then, the most beautiful thing in the world happens after it.

CHAPTER 50 – Fire at Gus’

You ever smell smoke before you see it?

That’s how it started. Just a whiff, caught in the breeze comin’ off the west slope while I was checkin’ pecan sprouts. At first I figured someone was burnin’ brush or tryin’ to light damp kindling again. But then Lu appeared on the porch with her hand to her brow, eyes narrow and locked onto a thick dark column risin’ past the trees.

“That’s not brush,” she said flatly. “That’s Gus.”

We didn’t waste time.

I called out, “Buckets, tank, ropes, shovel crew—let’s go!” and the boys sprang into motion like they’d been waitin’ for a call to action. In truth, they probably had. All that energy from bottling and picklin’ and fermentin’ had to go somewhere.

“Get the back rig!” Lu barked. “Seis, Dos, hitch the trailer tank! Once, Doce—grab tools and a med kit, just in case!”

Even Lu’s brothers—Juno, Tress, and Vico—who’d been with us the past month helpin’ build out the storage and herb beds, dropped their lumber and ran.

The bunkhouse emptied like a kicked anthill, every hand grabbin’ somethin’ useful. Within five minutes we were haulin’ out toward Gus’s property on the far side of the grove, the rover bumpin’ like a wagon with a wild horse hitched to it.

The smoke grew thicker the closer we got. We rounded the bend and there it was—his big old storage barn, the back third already consumed. Flames licked out through slats like devil tongues, and Gus was out front with a useless garden hose, red in the face, yellin’ at nobody in particular.

I jumped down. “Where’s your crew!?”

“Out tradin’!” Gus shouted back. “It was just me and the goats—thankfully they’re penned up on the far side!”

Lu arrived beside me, eyes already scanin’. “Storage barn?”

He nodded. “Tools, feed bags, salvaged gear from Earth... gone if it spreads!”

“Not today,” she said.

We moved like a machine. Once and Doce uncoiled the water hose from our tank and started sprayin’ the back edge of the flames, where sparks threatened to catch onto Gus’s south fence line. Lu’s siblings—strong as oxen and twice as coordinated—grabbed shovels and cleared a path to keep the fire from reachin’ the old coop. Quattro and Seis formed a line, haulin’ buckets like they'd trained for it. Nueve and Dies took orders, passed water, and dragged salvaged crates out before they could ignite.

And then, miracle of miracles, neighbors showed up.

First it was old Lady Ramie and her grandson, pullin’ up in a muddy hauler with spare buckets and their own line of water. Then the Varrows came from down the ridge, bringin’ a load of scrap tin and extra hands. Folks had seen the smoke. Folks came.

We beat back the worst of it within an hour. Lost the west wall, most of the roof, and all of Gus’s old rope collection—he mourned that harder than the busted feed crates—but we saved the house, the animals, and the rest of his gear.

By the time the last flames died down and smoke rose in wisps instead of columns, we were beat and black with soot. Lu leaned against a barrel, hands on her knees. Once was limpin’, and Dies had a soot mustache that made him look like a sneaky waiter.

Gus stood there, starin’ at what was left of the barn. The old man wiped his forehead with a sleeve and let out a breath that sounded like relief and regret all rolled up together.

“I should’ve checked the wiring months ago,” he muttered. “There was an old panel back in the feed corner...”

“You’ll fix it,” I said.

“With what?” he asked, voice crackin’ a little. “Lost most of my lumber. Tools are half-ruined. I ain’t got the scratch to buy fresh.”

“You won’t need to,” said Lu, straightenin’ up and walkin’ over. “We’ve got timber. Not much, but enough for a roof. And the Varrows just offered half a stack they milled last month.”

Ramie called out from her rover. “I’ll bring nails and roofing sheetin’ tomorrow, Gus. We owe you for helpin’ my Curtis get his fence fixed.”

Vico stepped up. “And we’ll bring crew. Your coop's easy rebuild. We’ll take a shift day-by-day.”

Gus looked stunned. He took off his hat and just nodded.

“You really did it, Ron,” he said after a beat.

“Did what?”

“Built a place where help shows up.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just patted his shoulder and said, “Well... I can’t take credit for the wiring disaster. That was all you.”

He laughed—tired, real, from deep in the gut.

We stayed long enough to haul out the worst of the debris, prop a tarp where the roof had failed, and leave Gus with a food box Lu packed from our wagon: smoked fish, two loaves of bread, and a honey cake.

On the ride home, the boys were quiet. Not worn down—just thoughtful. I think seein’ the fire shook ’em, reminded them how fast a life can go sideways.

At the farm, we cleaned up with buckets and scrub brushes. Nobody complained. Lu’s brothers stayed late, organizin’ wood and plannin’ the repair crew for the next day.

That night, I sat on the porch, boots off, feet bare. Lu came out with two mugs of lemon balm tea and sat beside me.

“You ever think,” she said, “how strange it is that we’re here? That all of us—Gus’ old friends, my brothers, the boys—we’re all on this crazy speck of a place, buildin’ somethin’ together?”

“Every day,” I said. “But I ain’t gonna question it. Not now.”

She handed me the second mug.

“I wrote Gus’s name on the repair board,” she said. “You thinkin’ three or four days?”

“We’ll do it in two.”

“You’re soft sometimes, you know that?”

“Only when I’ve seen a man nearly lose everything,” I said. “And only ‘cause we didn’t.”

She reached over and squeezed my hand.

And for a while, we just sat there, stars above, smoke scent still clingin’ to our shirts, both of us feelin’ a little more grateful than we had that mornin’.

CHAPTER 51 – Decision Time

It had been simmerin’ for weeks.

You could feel it in the way Lu looked at me when I handed her a cup of tea before she asked. The way my hand lingered a beat too long when we passed in the hallway. The quiet between us wasn’t awkward anymore—just full. Like bread dough that’d been left to rise.

We’d gone from workin’ partners to somethin’ more. Only problem was, we hadn’t said it out loud yet.

After the fire at Gus’s place, I figured it was time. That kind of scare has a way of sharpenin’ your thoughts, like cleanin’ a blade you forgot you were still carryin’.

So I waited till the chores were done and the boys were out by the old fire pit, roastin’ vegetables on sticks and jabberin’ about nothin’. Once was playin’ his fiddle off-key, which didn’t stop the rest of them from hummin’ along like it was a national anthem.

I found Lu in the herb garden, clippin’ lemon balm and hummin’ under her breath. She had her sleeves rolled and dirt on her cheek. Pretty as anything I’d ever seen.

“You got a minute?” I asked.

She didn’t jump or ask what it was about. Just wiped her hands on her apron and said, “Sure.”

We took the gravel path past the orchard and down to the knoll—the same place we’d sat weeks ago, dreamin’ about the storefront. That dream was standin’ now, green-painted and proud by the fence line. Just like us.

There weren’t no stars overhead. Not on this world. Just blue sky stretchin’ out in every direction, lit by that big golden sun that never quit. Warm all the time, like a summer afternoon that refused to end. Didn’t bother me none. Didn’t bother her either.

We sat down in the grass. It was soft and smelled like clover and mint from the garden.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” I started.

She gave me a look. “That so?”

“I know I’m not quick with words,” I said, scratchin’ the back of my neck. “And I sure ain’t good at knowin’ when to speak ‘em. But I think it’s time I stopped pretendin’.”

“Pretendin’ what?”

I picked at a weed beside me.

“I still love Peg,” I said. “I reckon I always will.”

Lu didn’t flinch.

“I know,” she said. “And that’s okay.”

“But I ain’t afraid anymore,” I added, lookin’ her square in the eyes. “Ain’t afraid to love again. Ain’t afraid of what it means. Not after everything we’ve built together. You, me, the boys. The farm.”

Lu’s hands rested on her knees. Her face was calm, steady.

“I was wonderin’ when you were gonna say it out loud.”

I gave a dry laugh. “Guess I had to work up the nerve. I’m forty, you know. Practically an old man.”

She smirked. “That don’t bother me none.”

“No?”

She reached over, took my hand, and squeezed it.

“Ron,” she said, “I’ve seen the way you are with the boys. With the land. With me. You’ve got heart. That’s worth more than years.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just sat with her, hand in hand, warm sun glintin’ off the hills behind us.

After a bit, I cleared my throat again.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore, Lu. You’re not just my cook or partner or housemate. You’re... well. You’re home.”

She turned toward me and said, real soft, “Then let’s stop pretendin’ we don’t already know where this is goin’.”

“I’m ready,” I said. “To be with you. To share all of it.”

“You’re late,” she teased.

I kissed her right then. Not quick or shy, but real. Felt like breathin’ after holdin’ it too long.

When we got back to the house, hand in hand, the boys spotted us from clear across the yard.

“You two finally had your talk?” Quattro yelled.

“We did,” Lu called back, grinnin’.

“Took ya long enough!” Seis shouted.

Dos added, “We’ve been bettin’ on this for a month!”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what’s the prize?”

“Loser has to clean the coop for a week,” Nueve said, proud.

“Well, go settle it. And no cheatin’!”

That night, we sat out on the porch. The boys were in the bunkhouse, arguin’ about whose handwriting counted as “official documentation” for the bet. Lu leaned against me, hummin’ a little tune, barefoot and at ease.

“You know,” she said, “I never thought I’d find a man like you.”

“I never thought I’d find peace like this,” I replied.

She smiled.

“I want to build a life with you, Ron. Not just days and chores and distillin’. A life.”

“We already are,” I said. “But yeah. Let’s say it plain. Let’s do it right.”

She looked at me then—not just lovin’, but certain. Like she’d known all along.

“Good,” she said. “Then I want pie at the weddin’.”

I laughed. “Deal.”