By the next afternoon, the power was back and the immediate threat to Cedar Hollow was over. The county was still working to contain the larger fire, but the roads near our homes reopened and the fire district had the local spot-fire area largely secured. Neighbors stood in yesterday's clothes beside the mail kiosk, comparing what they had seen and checking whether anyone needed help. Some brought food; others offered tools for fence repair or space in their sheds for whatever the Ostranders had managed to save.
I walked the northern lane with Elliot and a man named Henry Ostrander. Henry looked at the blackened framework of his shed for a long time and then pointed toward the fence posts that were still standing. He asked whether I thought they were safe to rebuild around, and I told him I could not assess structural damage from a glance. I offered to help him find someone who could inspect it and said I would bring my truck when it was time to haul away debris.
"Your water held them here," he said quietly.
"A lot of people held them here," I answered. "I'm glad it was available."
Henry nodded and put a hand on my shoulder for a brief moment. There are thanks that people say because they are polite and thanks they say because they have been frightened enough to understand what could have happened. His was the second kind. It nearly broke my composure, and I was relieved when he went back to looking at the fence.
Naomi Pierce arrived shortly after one in a county vehicle. She was forty-six, the district's fire marshal, and carried a clipboard, a tablet, and a pen she clicked when she was deciding what to ask next. She did not come straight to my tank. She walked the service lane, inspected both hydrants with utility personnel, photographed the damaged area, and made notes about access and the movement of equipment during the incident.
I knew from the way she worked that she was not there to assign compliments. A post-incident review needed to establish what had functioned, what had not, and what an agency could reasonably improve. Even a helpful private tank had limitations that mattered in a future plan. I respected her for beginning with those limitations instead of a story about a fortunate homeowner.
Celeste reached Naomi before I did. She came down the lane at a brisk walk, introduced herself as association president, and announced that the board was delighted to cooperate with the fire district. Then she said Cedar Hollow intended to incorporate my tank into its emergency preparedness program. She spoke as if an agreement had already been reached and I had simply not been informed.
I was standing close enough to hear every word. "You're going to incorporate the tank you were fining me to remove?" I asked.