Page 2 of Ink and Ashes

Holland

I ’ve always been a planner.

You know—a type-A overachiever who needs to be in control of every aspect of her life at all times.

I don’t do well with change. I live my life by the same daily routine and need at least three business days’ notice in order to stray from it.

I make an annual vision board of the kind of life I want for myself, then challenge myself every year to make those plans reality.

I’ve always been successful.

I graduated at the top of my class from my journalism program, completed one of the most competitive fellowships in the city, then went on to land my dream job as one of the lead journalists at the Investigative Journalism Foundation in Toronto.

And I did it all by the time I was twenty-five. Just like I planned.

Now that I’m pushing thirty, this year’s vision board was filled with sparkling rings, white dresses, and tiny baby clothes.

With both of us finally at the top of our metaphorical career ladders, I had planned for this to be the year Gabriel, my long-time boyfriend, and I would settle down and start a family.

Instead, I’m sitting in my car on the final thirty-minute stretch of my 4,000-kilometre, four-day drive—single, homeless, and unemployed.

This was not part of my plan.

Neither was getting fired from my job, being blacklisted by the journalism industry, or walking in on said boyfriend in bed with the girl he told me not to worry about. And yet, all that happened less than a week ago.

When it rains, it pours, right?

So here I am, making the long journey from Toronto to a small town in North Okanagan, British Columbia known as Ember Grove. A town of less than fifteen hundred people about an hour north of Kelowna and two hours east of Kamloops.

I heard about this town on the news when I was packing up my things from the apartment Gabriel and I shared, trying to figure out what to do next.

The last thing on my vision board was for all my carefully, well-thought-out plans to be completely derailed in less than forty-eight hours, but I knew I needed to keep moving.

If I slowed down or stopped, the weight of how much everything fucking sucks right now would come crashing down on me.

So I did some more research on the town of Ember Grove and discovered that this little town is nestled right in the Monashee Mountains, surrounded by forests on every side as far as the eye can see. It’s one of the most well-known areas in North Okanagan, despite its small size.

It took less than a day after everything happened for me to decide this was the place I wanted to land next.

Part of that was because something about the idea of small-town living has always interested me.

But the other part, and arguably the bigger part, was the reason I saw them on the news in the first place.

For the past six weeks, this town has been facing wildfires like they haven’t seen in years.

The Ember Grove Fire Department is responsible for protecting the largest area of land in North Okanagan, outside of what’s covered by the British Columbia Wildfire Service (BCWS).

But even though they cover a larger area than the other North Okanagan stations, they typically see the fewest wildfires.

At least they did. Until now.

For some reason, this year things have changed. Because despite it only being the end of May, they’re already fighting their sixth fire of the year. It’s not a huge increase from what they normally see, but it’s enough to raise concern.

Thankfully, none of the fires have spread too far or burned too long, but it seems like just as they get one under control, another pops up.

It’s devastating the woodlands more so than normal—they aren’t used to fires of this intensity, and this area in particular accounts for a number of endangered species.

With the help of BCWS, the town has been exhausting all resources, doing what they can to control and prevent the fires, but they just keep happening. No one seems to be able to figure out what’s going on.

That’s what I’m here to do.

I’m not a fire investigator, and until a few days ago, I didn’t know fuck all about forest fires. I’ve always dealt more with finances and politics. But this seemed like a desperately needed sign from the universe telling me to look into it.

Maybe it’s selfish, but I figure investigating someone else’s devastation is the best way to distract myself from all my personal devastation.

And with any luck, hopefully I’ll be able to help the town.

I might be thinking too much into the fires, but if nothing else, this move is getting me the hell away from the suffocating city I grew up in and all the people that come with it.

I know coming to a town on fire may not be the smartest move I’ve ever had, but after the rest of my life went up in flames, it was my best option.

There is an evacuation alert in place for Ember Grove and the surrounding area, but as of now, it’s not an order.

So long as it doesn’t become one, I should be safe in Ember Grove.

I let out a sigh, focusing my attention on the winding road in front of me.

My map says I’m fifteen minutes away from The Scarlet Inn, the small bed and breakfast I booked a room at.

“Dreams” plays quietly in the background as I round the bend in the road leading into town.

I’m greeted by the beautiful view of the Monashee Mountains in the distance, but my breath catches when I notice the smoke billowing through them, intertwined in the pine trees like a thick fog.

I’ve seen plenty of pictures of wildfires online, but seeing one in person is entirely different. I can’t see much of the flames aside from the orange glow above the treeline, but I’ve never seen this much smoke in my life. There’s a permanent grey haze through the mountains.

I blow out a breath as I get deeper into town. The images I saw of Ember Grove made it look like a picturesque small town—a close-knit community with cute little shops lining the main road and friendly townspeople. As I drive through, I can’t help but note that the pictures don’t do it justice.

Despite the blaze tearing through the surrounding forests, the streets are full of people.

It’s nothing compared to downtown Toronto, but it feels so much more welcoming.

Small businesses with OPEN signs in their doors, neighbours out and about on their daily walks—everyone is completely unfazed by the fact that their town could potentially go up in flames.

I know this area is used to fires, but I was expecting a bit more panic than this.

I slow my speed as I make my way down Grove Street, glancing at my GPS to see how far I am from The Scarlet. I drive another kilometre before the signature red tin roof for which the inn is named catches my eye.

I pull into the small lot and park. Glancing out the windshield, I admire the small, Victorian-style home.

It has white siding and dark green shutters, with a cobblestone path up to the front steps.

The garden out front is well-maintained and blossoming, and I have no doubt that come month’s end, this will be the prettiest lot on the block.

It looks like it was pulled straight out of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.

After staring at it for a moment longer, I unbuckle my seatbelt, grab my purse from the seat beside me, and swing open the door to exit the car. I pull my laptop bag and suitcase from the trunk, making my way to the front door. A bell jingles above it as I pull it open, and I smile at the sound.

“Hi,” I tell the woman sitting behind the desk as I approach. She looks to be in her mid-sixties, and I figure she’s the owner. I set my purse on the counter beside me as I add, “I’m here to check in.”

“Holland Rhodes?” the woman asks without even looking up from the computer.

“That’s me.”

“Lucky guess.” She chuckles. She does some typing before placing a key on the counter. “Room one, down the hall and to your left.” She types more before finally glancing up at me. “You do know there’s an evacuation alert for this town right now, don’t you?”

My tongue darts out over my lips. “I’m aware. I’m here on business.”

She nods. “I have you booked in for six nights. Is that correct?”

“I may have to extend that, depending on how my project goes.”

“I can’t guarantee we’ll be staying open come week’s end with the unpredictability of the fires, but if we are, we’ll take the business. As you could probably guess, we haven’t been very busy since the fires started.”

I chuckle lightly. “I had a feeling. I’m grateful you’re still open for now, at least.”

Her lips quirk up at the side. “Wifi password is ScarletRed. If you need anything, my name’s Mary.

My husband Emmett and I live in the house next door.

Breakfast and dinner are included in your stay, should you choose to join us.

Breakfast is at eight and dinner’s at six every day. Lunch is up to you.”

I smile as I grab the key and my purse off the counter. “Thank you.”

I catch her smile before turning my back and making my way down the hall to the first room on the left. I unlock the door and head inside, dragging my suitcase behind me.

The room is small, with a queen bed sitting in the middle of it and an ensuite bathroom to my right. Decorated in soft greens and whites, it’s exactly what I’d imagine when asked to picture a bed and breakfast.

I exhale deeply as I pull my things inside.

The first thing I do is unzip my suitcase and pull out a fresh outfit before heading to the bathroom, desperately needing to rinse off the feeling of being in a car for days on end.

Once I’m clean and in something more comfortable, I climb into bed and grab my laptop.

Then I get to work learning everything I possibly can about Ember Grove.