Close To The Fire

by Suzanne Ferrell

  But she’d seen something in Kyle’s face missing in so many others.

  Hope.

  He’d shown a glimpse of it when he talked with Deke about the football team. He might’ve said he didn’t have time, but having Deke tell him he was good and would like him on the team had struck a chord with the teen.

  Then there was the way he interacted with Rachel throughout the evening and when she’d brought him his food. The girl had sparked a different kind of hope in him. Hope that she saw him as something more than another down-on-his-luck kid needing a job. Maybe more.

  “Kyle,” she started, as he finished his burger and scooped a fry full of ketchup into his mouth, “I’d like to welcome you to Westen and hope you’ll find a home here with us. How are you settling into Colbert House? Everything okay?”

  He swallowed and took a long drink of his soda before answering her with a half-shrug, half-nod. “S’okay.”

  Okay. He might have some hope deep down inside, but she was going to have to break through the typical teenage shell that most of the boys at Colbert House had to get to it.

  She opened the thin file beside her and fixed him with her most sincere look. “I’m not just some nosy woman. Not only am I on the Colbert House board of directors, but I’m the county social worker.”

  He nodded at the file. “Figured as much.”

  Wow. Three whole words. She was making great progress. Deke had more success with football.

  “Part of my job is to look out for your welfare here in Westen and at the Colbert House. Since you already have a job here at the Peaches ’N Cream, I assume Mr. Banyon already ran through the house rules with you?”

  “Yep. Stay out of trouble, show up at curfew, show up for classes and get a job. Got it.”

  “Any questions? Any problems you’ve had since you got here?”

  “Nope.”

  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. No use both of them getting belligerent. She flipped the first page of information to his very, very brief family history. Normally, she had a thick file that gave her details as to what trouble each member of Colbert House had been in to get them sent to the group home. In Kyle’s case the file was so thin and sketchy as to be almost non-existent. Which of course had her curiosity piqued.

  What had happened to his parents? Why was there no family claiming him? Why was he moved around so many times? Had he caused trouble at the other places the state had placed him in? If so, why wasn’t there pages telling her what offenses had gotten him moved on to their site?

  She glanced up to find the young man staring out over the café’s main room, which was emptying as families were headed home for the night. Only a few late-night truckers, Cleetus and Sylvie, and Deke remained. Rachel walked over to set pie slices in front of the deputy and hairdresser. Kyle’s eyes followed her every movement.

  Again, she saw a quiet hope in him, a yearning. Not just the yearning of a young man for a pretty girl. Libby got the sense that he yearned for the connections that seemed to be strong in Westen.

  Time. That’s what she needed to give the kid.

  Slowly she closed the file and took out one of her business cards and slid it across the table. “Kyle, most of the residents of Colbert House have family that can come visit or they can go visit on furloughs. Since you are an orphan, I’d like you to feel free to come talk with me anytime. Whatever is said between you and me will be confidential. Not even Mr. Banyon has a right to know about our conversations.”

  He picked up the card. “Not much for talking.”

  “I noticed,” she said with a smile and his mouth turned up at the corners just a notch.

  Score!

  “Just keep the card. It has my office address and my cell phone. You can drop by Monday through Friday or call any time. No big deal. I do have to meet with you once a month, but we’ll make it kind of informal like tonight, if that’s okay with you?”

  “Sure. I need to get back to work. Miss Lorna only gives me an hour for dinner.”

  “Of course.” She gave him another I-like-you-and-I-mean-you-no-harm smile as she extended her hand. “It was good to meet you.”

  He shook her hand then slid out of the booth. For a moment she thought the whole effort might have been a mistake until he slid her card into the back pocket of his jeans.

  Touchdown!

  She gathered up her things and headed to the cash register and nearly came up short when she saw Deke standing near it, talking to one of the older truckers. Was he waiting for her? No. He was just chatting with a frequent visitor.

  Damn her heart for doing a little flip. The traitorous organ delighted in torturing her.

  Stopping at the register, her back slightly angled away from Deke’s direction, just to show her heart who was really in charge, she focused on trying to find her bill just as Lorna stepped up to the register.

  “Something I can do for you, Libby?”

  “Um,” she flipped open the file folder slightly. Maybe she’d put her check slip inside. “I think Rachel forgot to give me the check.”

  “Nope. It’s already been taken care of,” Lorna gave her a wink.

  “Lorna, I can’t let you do that.”

  “Wasn’t me. Talk to the big man,” she said and nodded in Deke’s direction before turning and leaving. Her part of the discussion over.

  Great. Sometimes Lorna could be so high-handed. Now she’d have to take up her bill payment with Deke, because she sure wasn’t going to let him pay for her meal. That part of their lives ended ten years ago.

  Inhaling slowly, she straightened and turned on her heel, to find him waiting for her.

  “Deke—”

  “Thought I’d walk you to your car,” he said, that low, raspy voice of his warming her.

  What was he up to? They hadn’t talked in a decade and suddenly tonight he’s paying for her dinner and wanting to walk her to her car. She had two choices. Refuse and make a scene, and wouldn’t that make fodder for the gossip mill? Or let him walk her to the car and find out what was on his mind.

  She gave him a nod and headed to the door with him, feeling Lorna’s watchful eyes on her back the entire way.

  * * * * *

  Cleetus watched Sylvie scoop a forkful of pie and slip it between her dark-red lips. Closing her eyes she seemed to sink into the lemon meringue. He’d have thought she’d be a cherry pie girl, but somehow the tartness of Lorna’s lemon pie suited Sylvie to a tee.

  He could watch her forever. She enchanted him. Heck, she was about the most fascinating person he’d ever met. Kinda like a little sprite with her pert turned-up nose, big green eyes and spiky red hair. She only came up to the middle of his chest, but her smile made her seem to fill a whole room.

  When he walked into the Dye Right late one Tuesday night a month ago, he’d only expected to find Twylla working late. He’d expected to just say hi and that everything was okay before heading on down Main Street on his security rounds. Then out of the back came this orange-headed ball of energy. All he could do was stare at her. Even after Miss Twylla had introduced her as the new girl at the salon. He’d managed to say hello. Then she’d smiled. And dang if his tongue stopped working completely.

  It took him two more visits before he could do more than stare and stumble through hello. But catching her by surprise tonight had let him get the invitation for dessert out before his tongue and brain lost their function. Now here he was, watching her enjoy her pie.

  With a smile, she opened her eyes as if she’d just come out of a really good dream.

  Heat filled his face and he swallowed hard.

  “That’s about the best thing I think I’ve ever tasted.” She tipped her head to the side with a little smile. “Aren’t you going to taste yours?”

  He blinked at her question, sliding his gaze away from her to the cherry pie on his plate. Usually, he devoured his favorite flavor almost after it hit the table, but tonight he suddenly wondered what the lemon meringue tasted like. Picking u
p his fork, he took a big bite. He chewed, swallowed and went for a second, hoping to come up with some sort of smart thing to say when he finished.

  “Do you like being a deputy?” Sylvie asked, another forkful of pie halfway to her mouth.

  He swallowed the bite in his mouth and reached for his water, trying not to stare at her mouth as she slid it over the fork and pie once more.

  “Um, yes. Gage’s late daddy was the sheriff when I started.” He tucked into another mouthful of cherry goodness, relaxing a bit. If she did the asking he could talk to her, easy.

  “What do you like about it?”

  He thought about her question a moment. “Well, I like helping people.”

  “Oh, like being a hero,” she said with a little twinkle in her eye and the heat flushed back into his face at her teasing.

  “No, I ain’t a hero. Gage and Deke are the heroes. Heck, even Miss Bobby, Gage’s fiancée, is a hero, saving him last spring. I just like making sure everyone is doing okay and the town is safe. Like that time when Miss Isabelle was still living with Doc Clint and Emma and was out walking on the highway.”

  “Why was she on the highway?” All the tease was gone and her eyes opened wider with real concern.

  “Miss Isabelle would get confused. Doc Clint and Emma finally had to get her into a nursing home, with Miss Libby’s help. She had Alzheimer’s.”

  “That is so sad. So how did you help her?”

  “She was out on the highway with Emma’s two little boys. I was making my rounds in the patrol car and stopped. She thought I was a taxi driver. Didn’t tell her no different, but got her and the boys in the car, then took them home all safe and sound.”

  She smiled big at him, her whole face full of admiration. “Well, I think that’s very heroic.”

  He smiled shyly, but sat a little straighter as he took the last bite of his pie.

  “What else do you like to do? You know, for fun?” she asked after a few minutes.

  “Started helping coach the high school football team this week.”

  “Really?” Her eyes opened wide in surprise again. He liked the way they did that. It let him see the green in them better.

  “Yeah. Used to play lineman there, so Gage and Deke asked me if I’d like to help teach those guys some of my tricks.”

  She gave him another of those teasing smiles. “Somehow I thought you’d be a football player.”

  Before he could answer, the alarm on his cell phone went off.

  “Crap,” he said, leaning back and pulling it out of his jeans pants’ pocket.

  “What’s that?” she asked, laying her fork back on the plate, her brows scrunched down in concern.

  “The fire alarm.” He looked at the number. “It’s the Amish alarm. Some kind of fire out there.” He slid out of the booth, whipped his wallet out and tossed a ten on the table. “Sorry to have to run, Miss Sylvie—”

  “No, no. You go. I understand. Go.”

  He hesitated just a moment then hurried out, hitting the door at a run.

  * * * * *

  Deke held the door for Libby as they left the café, not quite sure why he’d insisted on walking her to the car or even why he’d picked up her check for dinner. Sitting across from her tonight, while it hadn’t felt comfortable, it did feel familiar. He could say his actions were a habit from the days when they’d been together, but habits didn’t continue after a decade had passed.

  Maybe he was tired of pretending they were strangers. Or maybe he just plain missed her. Whatever the reason, he’d just known he wasn’t ready to just walk out of the café and not see or talk to her again for days, or weeks, or even years.

  “So, what did you think of Kyle?” he asked, looking for something to break the quiet between them.

  “Kyle?” She blinked in surprise and stopped walking to look up at him.

  “Yeah. I can’t seem to shake the feeling I’ve met him before.”

  She tilted her head. “He looks familiar?”

  “Not exactly. It’s his eyes.” Deke ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Not too many people I know with grey eyes.”

  “They are unusual,” she said as they walked along.

  “So, what did you think of him?”

  She laughed, the softness of it running over his senses like cool air. “I think you got more information from him than I did.”

  It was his turn to be surprised. “You’re kidding me. All we did was talk about football.”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t what you talked about, but how he reacted to your questions that spoke volumes.”

  “And what did his reaction say?”

  “That even though he turned you down, it meant a lot to him that you singled him out to ask him to join the team. That you saw potential in him. That you saw him more than just someone on the sidelines.”

  “You think he heard all that?” He shook his head. “I know you have to use a lot of psychology working with people, in particular these at-risk kids, but I’m pretty as up front as you see me. No secret codes. No hidden messages. What I saw was a kid who could take on Ethan Tanner, one of the best wide receivers in the state, and lay him out flat. And I said so.”

  “You always were pretty up front about what you thought.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. “And you didn’t have to pay for my dinner.”

  “Put your money away, Libby. I paid, no big deal. Used to do it all the time.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

  “That’s when we were a couple.” She got that stubborn look he knew all too well in her eyes and her lips pressed into a thin line as she held the money out to him. There was no talking to her when she got like this. Might as well try to shove his head through a brick wall.

  He took the money and shoved it into his back pocket. She nodded then turned and headed towards the parking lot once more.

  Conversation stalled again, because the big Pink Elephant between them had joined them on their walk.

  She was right. He’d never pulled any punches or kept his opinions to himself, at least when asked. One of the reasons he hadn’t been able to face her after Bill’s death. He’d known it would destroy what they had. Hell it already had and he’d never even said a word.

  Dammit. He’d never been a coward before that fire. Had been living in its shadow for far too long.

  The truth hit him smack in the face. He’d waited to walk her to the car, because it was time to crawl out from under that specter and start living his life again.

  She stopped at her car. A nice silver SUV. Safe. Sporty. Very Libby.

  After opening the door, she tossed the file and her bag onto the passenger seat. Turning, she held the door for a moment, staring up at him with those beautiful blue eyes. “You didn’t have to walk me to the car.”

  “I know.” He laid his hand over hers on the top of the door. Her fingers were cool beneath his and they trembled just a little. “Libby, we need to talk.”

  “I know.” She slowly pulled her hand from beneath his. “But not here, Deacon.”

  “I could follow you home.”

  She hesitated, a shadow passing over her face, then she nodded. “You’re right. There’s things we need to talk about.”

  He took a step back to give her room to climb inside the car. Suddenly, Cleetus came running out of the café at the same time Deke’s phone sounded a high-pitched alarm from his jeans’ pocket. Blood drained from his head as it had anytime an alarm sounded since Bill’s death.

  “What’s wrong?” Libby said, already back out of her car.

  “That’s the fire signal. The special one for the Amish community.”

  Quickly, he hit the number for the fire station, where Brandt Outman was manning the phones. “It’s Deke, Brandt. Where’s the fire?”

  “The Zimmer farm out on county road 79. The trucks are on their way.”

  “I am, too.” He closed the phone, looking at Libby. His pulse raced with the need to act, but his hear
t wanted to stay with her. “Libby…”

  “Go,” she said, holding up her hand. “We’ll talk later.”

  With one last glance at her, he turned and ran for his truck, already dreading the coming firefight.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Libby stayed standing between her car door and the driver’s seat, watching Deke, who’d gone pale when he got the call on his phone, climb determinedly into his truck and do a U-turn in the center of the road. When he lifted his hand briefly to her, she raised hers, wishing he wasn’t going to a fire.

  Ever since Bill’s death, she’d dreaded fires. Had nightmares of him and Deke trapped in one. She’d needed to talk with him about them, but then he’d closed her off and she’d had to come to terms with that loss on top of the others. And now Deke was headed into one.

  Stop it. It’s his job.

  Yes, but she didn’t have to like it and knowing how badly he’d been injured before, her fear for him increased.

  You should head on home and pretend it’s not happening, like you always do. He’s been doing this a decade since those injuries, and you haven’t been this concerned.

  She shook her head, knowing the voice in her head was a liar. She had worried, she’d just tried to not know he was in danger. Now he was going into danger, even though it was his job, and her fear had been let loose. She’d lost Bill, she didn’t know what she’d do if a fire consumed Deacon, too.

  “What’s the rush?” a voice said from behind Libby.

  At the sound she jumped slightly, gripping her door handle tighter as her heart raced. She whipped her head around towards the sidewalk outside the café. Walking along, half in the shadows of the maple trees that lined Main Street and periodically blocked both the moonlight and the street lights, was the new newspaper owner, the glowing ember of a cigarette in his hand.

  “Sean,” she said, letting out the breath she’d been holding. “You startled me.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I was just out for an evening stroll. Saw the deputy and now Chief Reynolds bolt out of here. What’s going on?” He took one last drag on his cigarette, then ground it out beneath his foot on the sidewalk.