Walk Me Home

by Liza Kendall

  “But what’ll happen with the firehouse?”

  “Beats the hell outta me.”

  “Maybe the town will put it up for sale. Maybe we can go in together and buy it.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Hunter said bitterly. “That’s gonna happen. Since we’re all rolling in cash.”

  Jake sat down heavily on one of the kitchen barstools. “Guys . . . I’m so sorry. I let you down today. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “You didn’t do any such thing, man.” Mick turned to Grady. “Did you see him let us down? No. Kingston Nash just finally got his way. Maybe he bribed half the council. Hell if I know.”

  “It’s not fair to insinuate that the council is crooked,” Jake said wearily. “Though Billy Hodgkins isn’t exactly unbiased, since Kingston regularly pays his bar tab. Wish I’d thought to point that out, but it’s too late now.”

  They all stared at one another.

  Jake dragged a hand down his face. “Mick, you got something to say?” Maybe he could get them all united and on the same page.

  “Yeah, I do. This sucks, and I say we demand a revote, based on . . . on, I dunno. Something.”

  As rousing speeches went, it left something to be desired. “I don’t think it works that way,” Jake told him.

  “Yeah, well, it should.”

  Silence ensued.

  Once again, it was up to Jake to lead them onward. To think of something. To bring them all together. If only he weren’t so tired. So demoralized. So heartsick.

  Get up. Give them a speech. He didn’t know where the voice came from, or whose it was, but it was insistent. Go on. They’re looking to you for answers.

  Leave me alone, he told the voice. I don’t have any answers.

  Yes, you do. Now get up and open your mouth and they will come.

  Jake got up. He was probably crazy. But these guys were looking to him for leadership. He sucked in some air. “George. Mick. Grady. Hunter. Tommy. Rafael. We may have just technically gotten fired by the town, or downgraded to pay point zero or whatever. But we are still a team. We still have a job to do, and that job is to protect Silverlake in the event of disaster. To save lives and property from destruction. Whether or not we get a salary for it is immaterial. It’s who we are; it’s what we do. Paid or not, we are Silverlake Fire and Rescue. Are you with me?”

  Only two of the guys, Mick and Old George, nodded reluctantly. The others looked shell-shocked at the concept of working for no salary. He couldn’t totally blame them. But he forged onward.

  “This community may seem a little ungrateful right now, but we can’t take that to heart. We have to look at the town budget as just numbers, plain and simple. Numbers are not politics, and numbers are not weapons. Most of all, numbers are not the enemy. Neither is the town council. It’s composed of people, people who are just trying to make the columns add up correctly.

  “If they can’t make the numbers work, then we cannot hold that against them. But we, as firefighters, can work.

  “We can work in the face of the naysayers and the disrespecters and the haters. We can work as volunteer firefighters, because we love our town; we love this community, and we want to keep our citizens safe. So I ask you again: Are you with me?”

  All of the guys nodded this time. “Yeah.”

  “A paycheck certainly makes things easier, but it doesn’t change our core identities or values. Neither will getting other jobs during the day. We are all more than friends; we are brothers. And you guys are my heroes. I couldn’t get up in the morning or go to sleep at night without knowing that I can rely on you to have my back and to save my ass—”

  “Hear! Hear!” yelled Tommy.

  Jake broke off; the atmosphere was thick with emotion. Of course, being guys, they had to dispel it.

  “Dang,” said Mick with a smirk. “This is all so touching that I’m gonna have to cry.”

  “Shoot, I’m gonna write a poem,” Old George said in a soulful tone.

  Hunter clutched his hand to his heart, a big grin on his face.

  “Sing, boy, sing!” Tommy said, inciting the dog. Not-Spot thrust his snout into the air and howled.

  Jake broke into laughter and flipped all of them off, including the dog, who grinned right along with the rest of them.

  Grady flipped him off back. “That’s better.”

  Mick shifted his weight and then adjusted himself. “Phew, you were in danger of getting sentimental there, dude.”

  “Anything but that. So anyway, guys—”

  But Jake’s last words were cut off by the earsplitting fire alarm, and they all sprang into action. It was what they did; it was who they were—paycheck or not.

  Chapter 23

  Charlie left city hall, moving like a robot, and went straight to Lila’s office. “Hi,” she said, standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry to bother you at work, but . . .”

  Lila looked up from her computer and homed in on Charlie’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything.” Charlie slumped into one of the chairs opposite Lila’s desk and hugged her handbag to her chest.

  “That’s a pretty sweeping statement—”

  “I mean it.” And Charlie told her what had happened.

  Lila stared at Charlie, aghast. “You did what?”

  “I know . . . but Granddad was literally having a heart attack over it. He had one at the hospital when I refused. So to calm him down, I promised him that I would speak his words for him at the meeting.”

  “Poor Jake,” Lila said.

  “I didn’t know how to tell Jake. I tried, at one point, but the timing didn’t work. And then last night . . .”

  Lila held up a hand, her face a classic portrait of disgust. “No more information on boinking my brother. That’s gross. I get it—you two have been aflame with lust for each other for years, but . . . gross. So, you told him this morning. Jeez. I think I would have snuck out without a word. You’re braver than I am.”

  “I wanted to sneak out, trust me. He was asleep. I could have. I started to. And I almost called you for a ride.”

  Lila eyeballed her until she squirmed. “But?”

  “I felt that I couldn’t put you in that position. Jake would never speak to you again.”

  “Thank you. No, he probably wouldn’t. I’m not sure I should let you even sit across from me, telling me all of this, Charlie. What a mess!” Lila seemed caught between sympathy and horror. “He’s only just begun to forgive me for not cutting things off with you in the past. Now this?”

  “I’m sorry.” Charlie fidgeted with the straps of her bag. “I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

  “Lucky me. It would be so much easier if you were shallow and had just used him for sex. Why can’t you be shallow?”

  “Huh? Uh . . .”

  “But you’re not. You just have to be a decent person, don’t you?” Lila shook her head. “That pisses me off, because you’ve really gone and done it now. I hate to tell you this, but you’re in love with my stinky brother.”

  Charlie stared at her, mute. And finally nodded. “I’m in love with your stinky brother. It sucks, but I pretty much always have been.”

  “And I don’t see a way to happily-ever-after on this, Charlie, since you just torpedoed his job!”

  “I never thought the vote would actually go against them,” Charlie wailed.

  “Idiot,” Lila said. “As your friend, I mean that in the nicest possible way, you understand. But this is bad. I’m kicking you out of my office now, okay? I need to think.”

  Charlie nodded and stood up. “Okay.” She had just pulled open the door to Lila’s office when they both heard it: the bellowing and honking of the fire truck as it rushed by, all lights flashing, Jake at the wheel.

  Something besides Charlie’s life was on fire. But what?

 
; Lila’s cell phone rang. She registered surprise at the caller ID and then picked up. “Hey, Deck. What’s going on?” As she listened, her face drained of all color. “Oh, dear God. Promise me you won’t go anywhere near it. Promise me. Jake and the guys just passed by. I’m on my way.” She grabbed her purse and sprinted around her desk toward Charlie and the door.

  “What is it?” Charlie asked.

  “The Old Barn is on fire! Bridezilla took lanterns out there, because we told her no candles. I’m going to kill her with my bare hands . . .”

  Chapter 24

  Jake. The Old Barn was burning, and Jake was heading right into it. Charlie’s heart beat a staccato rhythm, and she could take only shallow sips of breath as she raced after Lila, who was heading to the alley behind the office where she parked her big silver Suburban.

  Scenes from the fire at her grandparents’ house flashed in and out of Charlie’s mind. The nightmarish black smoke silhouetted against the malevolent yellow flames behind the bay window. The horrible popping and groaning, then the obscene crash when the roof over the family room collapsed. The screams of the onlookers. Jake, crawling out with Grandma Babe on his back.

  She shook off the images. This situation had nothing to do with the past.

  Lila’s white face had taken on a green tint, and tears ran down her cheeks. She dug into her purse for her keys and stumbled. Charlie caught her arm and steadied her. “You all right?”

  “No,” Lila said baldly.

  There was no debate over whether Charlie should come. They’d been friends too long for them not to face this emergency together, no matter who would get mad about alliances.

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” Charlie told Lila, fervently hoping that this was true. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “Yes.” Lila’s normally steady, competent hands shook as she hit the fob to unlock the door and then, after scrambling in, tried to get her key into the ignition.

  “Let me drive,” said Charlie.

  Uncharacteristically, Lila nodded and moved over as Charlie rounded the rear of the truck and then climbed in. “Declan—please, God, don’t let him try to go in there.”

  Charlie pulled the truck out and hit the road. “Deck isn’t stupid, and he knows that Jake and the boys are on the way, remember? He’s not going to go in.”

  Lila nodded. “He must be losing his mind. He worked so hard to remodel and renovate it . . . If we lose the Old Barn because of my client . . . Oh God—I can’t believe this is happening. What was Felicity thinking? How did she even get inside?”

  Grimly, Charlie shook her head. “Who knows?” She took a left, speeding past Piece A Cake, where Kristina’s cousin was visible through the window, waiting on café customers. Amelie’s shop flew by in a blur, then the insurance agency, the hardware store, and Petal Pushers.

  The Suburban was a luxury vehicle compared to old rickety Progress, and it was a lot faster, too. Within moments, Charlie was gunning it down the highway, and soon they turned into the gates of the Braddock ranch and down the formal paved drive in the front. She braked hard when Grouchy appeared, agitated, and ran right in front of the Suburban.

  She rolled down the window. “Hi, buddy. Hi! Go back to the house.”

  Grouchy wasn’t having that. He ignored her, even when Lila repeated the order.

  “Go play with Cat,” Lila suggested.

  He barked, as if to say this was no time to play.

  Charlie and Lila finally gave up, and the dog followed them for a ways, eventually peeling off after he apparently felt he’d given them enough of an escort. He sniffed the air and ran back toward the house, barking.

  Charlie smelled the smoke long before they saw it. She wrestled the Suburban into the left turn down the gravel road that led to the east bend of the property. She then veered to the right, down another gravel road, and the Old Barn came into view. The entire back wall was in flames, the rising smoke weirdly backlit by the afternoon sun. Big Red stood by, hoses unspooled and snaking around the building.

  “Oh God,” Lila moaned. “I can’t look.”

  “Don’t.” Charlie drove them closer. They could hear the shouts of the men and the terrifying roar of the blaze. A massive figure in full uniform—it had to be Grady—came running toward them, shouting something.

  Charlie lowered the window.

  “Get back!” he yelled. “Get out of here. We got this under control.”

  “Everyone’s okay?” Charlie’s voice came out in a weird rasp.

  “Everyone.” He nodded, though his expression clearly conveyed his disdain for her. Charlie tried not to let it bother her, but it did.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but we can’t have you here. Go back to the main house. Deck took Felicity up. They’re safe.”

  Lila leaned over to talk to him. “Is the Old Barn—?” She seemed unable to go on.

  “We’ve got this under control,” Grady repeated. “Gotta get back to work.”

  Charlie nodded and put the Suburban into reverse, backed off the gravel driveway, and turned them around. Wordlessly, they drove to the main house and got out, pulling in next to Will’s haphazardly parked BMW. Deck met them at the front door, looking like he’d missed a decade’s worth of sleep.

  “Charlie,” he said frostily. “What are you—”

  Lila rushed him and wrapped her arms around him. “Deck, you’re okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said gruffly, standing stock-still, as if unused to physical contact. Finally, he slid his arm around his little sister and hugged her close, though it didn’t last long. He pulled away, his hand to his face like he didn’t want anybody to see more than he was willing to share.

  Charlie began to have an inkling of how Jake must have felt when her family had rejected him.

  She suddenly felt not only superfluous and unwelcome, but voyeuristic. She had no right to see even a hint of the vulnerability hidden by this tough, rangy rancher.

  Deck shifted his weight and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “We’re all fine,” he said. “Well”—he jerked a thumb in the direction of the great room—“more or less.”

  Felicity’s uncontrollable sobbing was audible from where they stood.

  Deck clenched his jaw, looking back and forth between the view of the fire over Charlie’s shoulder and the hall behind him leading to Felicity. Though he wasn’t about to abandon the girl, everything about his body language still communicated that he wanted to run out the door and join the boys at the fire line. Lila put her hand on his arm, maybe half to comfort him, the other half to stop him from going anywhere.

  Felicity unleashed another wail of distress.

  Charlie hesitated. “If you’ll let me inside,” she said, “I can help you with that part.”

  Deck leveled his gaze on her, then nodded and stood aside. It wasn’t a warm welcome, but what could she expect? She left Lila with him and went to deal with Bridezilla.

  “Charlie!” Felicity wailed. She was the very picture of pathetic. Mascara ran down her cheeks in twin torrents, her face was swollen and blotchy, and her artful curls were limp and shapeless. “Oh, Charlie, this is all my fault. I never meant for this to happen . . .” The rest of her words were swallowed by yet another sob.

  Hug her, said Charlie’s better nature. She’s crying out for comfort.

  Strangle the she-beast! said Charlie’s inner beeyotch. She’s the reason for this disaster.

  Charlie summoned all the empathy she could muster. “Of course you didn’t mean for the barn to catch on fire.” She put her hand on Felicity’s shoulder and squeezed. This gesture only produced a fresh outburst of wails. “Okay, come on. Let’s go into the kitchen and make a cup of tea.”

  Deck’s kitchen was cool and soothing, with blue walls. It was full of pale oak cabinetry and old-school white appliances with rounded edges. Charlie pulled a ch
air out from a corner nook and nudged Bridezilla into it while she hunted for a tea bag and a kettle. She found neither, so she settled for making coffee instead.

  “Felicity, how did this happen?”

  As Charlie scooped a breakfast blend into the basket filter of Deck’s coffee maker, the girl blubbered something unintelligible about lanterns.

  Charlie shook her head. “I thought Mick went over all of that at the safety check.”

  “I know, but I thought everyone was being overly paranoid, and the men were so bossy about it, and that ticked me off. I figured that these candles were enclosed in glass, so they were safe, and if they were already here, Lila would let it slide. Because it was my wedding . . .”

  “So you hung the lanterns yourself? Inside?”

  Felicity nodded, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

  Charlie spied a box of tissues on a corner shelf and handed it to her. “Why didn’t you wait and talk to Lila?”

  “She wasn’t answering her phone.”

  Charlie nodded. She herself had seen Lila ignore the insistent barking from her phone. She sometimes let Felicity’s calls go to voicemail in order to retain her sanity. Maybe that had been intolerable to a neurotic bride.

  “And I guess”—more shame crept into Bridezilla’s tone—“I just didn’t want to be told no. So I drove out here in Will’s car to hang them . . . and then I wanted to see what they’d look like when they were lit. So I turned off all the lights, and I was backing up to get a picture on my phone, and my elbow caught one of the lanterns and knocked it down. The glass broke, the candle ignited a roll of paper towels, and a pile of brochures . . . I tried to grab the roll of paper towels to put it out, but it unspooled to the opposite wall.

  “And next thing I know, there’s fire everywhere! I didn’t know what to do. I ran outside screaming, and Declan came running, and we tried to throw water on the flames, but we couldn’t fill the bucket fast enough. So he called nine-one-one—”