“Aye, aye, Chief,” Dan said, grinning.
John draped the coat over her, and she tucked her head under it as Dan picked his way out of the building. On a second hose, Simon and Doug battled a wall of flame still fighting for life on the far side of the kitchen. The smoke cover had lessened. Dan scanned the charred ceiling and a few burned tables before he stumbled out. The ratio of damage to smoke made him wonder if most of the damage was confined to the kitchen.
The rescue truck bathed the restaurant in halogen light. A crowd stood behind three parked police cruisers. An extra water truck had arrived, now pumping water into the hose that snaked around the back. Two other hoses ran from the engine, which sucked water from a nearby water main. Craig manned the gauge on the pumper. Mitch, now in his turnouts, came to relieve Dan of his burden, but Dan shook his head.
Ellie recoiled into the jacket and frowned at Mitch. “I thought . . .”
Mitch drew back, and Dan thought he saw hurt flicker across Mitch’s expression.
“Mitch saw you being kidnapped, honey,” Dan said softly, not quite sure why Ellie wore a pale look of confusion. “He ran to the police station—probably saved your life.”
Ellie blinked at him, then stretched out her arm from under the jacket, touching Mitch’s coat. “Thanks, Mitch.”
Dan looked at the two of them, at something passing between them, feeling unease coil in his stomach. Did they—?
And then Ellie wrapped her arms around Dan’s neck. “My feet are starting to come alive, and they hurt,” she whispered. “Can you hang on to me just a bit longer?”
He met her eyes, filled with a new texture that he hoped was trust, and nodded. Oh yeah, he could hold her into the next century if she wanted. Especially the way she was curled into his chest for the entire population of Deep Haven to see. He tightened his grip and carried her to the rescue unit. Dan sat on the bumper, put Ellie in his lap.
Steve Lund had arrived with his ambulance and hustled over a stretcher. “Hey, Preach, can I check her over?”
Dan grinned over the top of Ellie’s head. “Only if you give her back.”
Ellie had her hand in Dan’s suspender. “No. He can check me right here.”
Dan raised an eyebrow at Steve, who frowned. “Whatever,” he stammered. He knelt before them and checked her pulse, her blood pressure. “I want to get some oxygen in you. Clear out your lungs.”
Reluctantly, Ellie sat up, and Dan helped her over to the stretcher. She sat on it, his turnout coat around her shoulders, her huge eyes pinned to his as Steve put a mask over her face. She pulled it away. “Don’t go far. I want to finish our talk.”
Okay, so who was this woman? Had he rescued the right girl? What had Guthrie done with the “don’t help me, I can do it myself” spitfire he’d come to know . . . and love? But he liked this version too—sooty, her hair in mud-caked tangles, nestled in his coat, eyes glued to him as if he were some sort of movie hero. Yeah, he’d take occasional appearances of this Ellie Karlson without argument.
Somehow he tore his eyes from hers, away from the weird sensation that something spectacular had happened in that locker, and watched the fire. Two men from the St. Francis Township crew were on ladders, cutting holes in the roof. The flames had vanished; only charcoal gray smoke plumed out of the roof. Dan turned, looking for Sam. He spotted him posed next to his car, talking to Mayor Romey Phillips. Something about Sam’s dark expression hit Dan funny.
He crouched and arranged his coat tighter around Ellie’s shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”
The night felt moist and heavy as he walked toward the duo. He was drenched in sweat and reeked of smoke. If someone stood too close to him, they were liable to need smelling salts. He looked about the furthest thing from pastoral, but he felt, in his soul, that someone needed protecting.
“I’m just saying that maybe this wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been a woman.” Romey’s voice sounded tired.
“What wouldn’t have happened?” Dan asked too brusquely to be considered polite. He could almost see the mayor flinch.
“How ya doing, Dan?” Sam asked. He clapped him on the shoulder. “How’s Ellie?”
“Alive. Brave.” Dan crossed his arms. “What are you saying, Mayor?”
Romey lifted his chin as if resenting the fact that Dan towered over him. “I found us a new chief. He’s from Iowa but has about ten years’ experience. He’s ready to start on Monday. Permanent.”
Dan never felt like slugging someone so many times in one day. “What?” He shook his head. “What about Ellie? She’s done her job.”
Romey smiled, utilizing his PR skills, something Dan had obviously abandoned. “She has, yes. But you have to admit that her presence here has caused an unfortunate . . . situation.”
“You can’t blame her for another man’s obsession. In fact—” Dan ran his hand through his hair—“I don’t think you can even blame Guthrie. My gut tells me that his sister’s death has knocked him more off balance than we imagined.”
The mayor nodded, genuine empathy in his eyes. “I agree, Pastor. It’s just that Ellie . . . well, I think the men would react better to working under a man.”
Dan clenched his jaw and stared at Romey. “That’s probably the most chauvinistic—”
“—and true statement I’ve heard in almost three months.” Ellie limped up next to Dan. “They would. Having a woman at the helm breeds all sorts of problems.”
“Even if she is able?” Dan asked curtly. He cupped his hand under Ellie’s elbow to support her.
Ellie smiled, and when she looked up at Dan, he saw gratitude, even humor in her eyes. “Yes.” Then, taking a deep breath, her smile faded. “Mayor, I’ve appreciated this job. It’s been an . . . adventure.” She held out her hand. “But I don’t think Deep Haven is ready for a woman fire chief yet. And I’m not ready to be her, even if Deep Haven was ready.”
“Ellie—”
Ellie shook Romey’s hand. “Thank you for the opportunity. I’ll clear my things out tomorrow, right after I finish the paperwork on tonight’s events.”
She left Sam, Romey, and Dan standing openmouthed as she limped back to her stretcher.
“What did you say to her?” Sam asked.
Dan shook his head, completely baffled. “Nothing. I . . . why is she doing this?”
Romey’s eyes sparked with admiration. “Maybe she cares more about this town than she does about herself.”
Dan turned and stalked back to her. No. This was not right. Ellie deserved this job. She’d fought prejudice, long hours, and an arsonist for her life. He wouldn’t let her quit.
She sat on the stretcher, holding the oxygen mask to her mouth. “Hey,” she said, pulling the mask away. “It’s the right thing, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.” Dan slid to his knees, gripped her arms. “This job is your life. You can’t quit.”
“I can. I do.” She grinned at him. He wanted to throttle her. “I don’t need this job. In fact, I don’t even want this job anymore.”
Okay, now really, he was going to have to shake the truth out of Guthrie. Where was the real Ellie?
She touched his face, her fingers light and soft and sending flames through him. “I realized while I was trapped that I’ve been working my entire life trying to find the one thing I already had.”
He frowned.
“God’s love.”
He had no words when he opened his mouth. Only confusion.
“Seth used to say to me, ‘God is enough.’ It drove me crazy. I never got it. Seth was my parents’ golden child. He was going to follow in Dad’s footsteps. Be a fire—”
“Chief.” Dan cupped her face. “And when he died, you thought you had to take his place. Earn your right to live.”
She smiled, a wobbly admission. “Something like that. Only I never felt good enough. Never felt like I’d done enough or said the right things.”
He nodded, his throat thick, understanding better than sh
e could ever comprehend.
“But I realized that God isn’t looking for my outstanding deeds. He just wants me to realize His love for me. To embrace it. To find purpose in it.”
“John 15. Have you been listening to my sermons?”
“I have. And they finally sunk in. Along with Seth’s words: ‘God is enough.’ The last time he said them to me, we were fighting about my working on the hotshot crew. I’d been there about a month, and the fires were getting worse. We’d already had one crew nearly lose their lives. We were sitting together on a rocky outcropping, overlooking the fire camp three days before his death. He had a far-off look and told me, ‘God is enough, Ellie. He has to be. In this life, there is no other answer.’
“You know, I never knew how much I idolized Seth until I realized I’d never find another hero. . . .” She dug both hands into Dan’s shirt, pulling him close. “Until, of course, I came to Deep Haven.”
Then she leaned forward and kissed him, her lips moist, tender; and he felt in her touch the honesty of her words. She pulled away but kept her face close. “God is enough and so are you, Dan. I love you.”
He wanted to swing her up in his arms and dance. No, fly. “You do?”
“Yeah.” She rubbed his cheek. “Probably since the day you landed at my feet.”
He pushed her grimy hair from her face, drew her into his arms. “Do you remember what I said to you?”
When she smiled, his heart leaped to attention. “Uh-huh. But you can remind me.”
“I asked you if you were a dream. My dream. And you are. Marry me, Jammie Girl.”
She looked beautiful in a blush. “I’m not sure I’ll be much good at the pastor’s-wife thing.”
“I think you’ll be a regular fireball.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, and he kissed her again, this time taking his time, not caring that most of his congregation watched from the sidelines. This was his woman. His fire chief. His perfect match. “Is that a yes?”
“And a promise.” Her radiant eyes twinkled with mischief.
He laughed, amazed that every moment with her seemed better than the last. “Listen, if you change your mind about the firefighting thing—”
She raised her eyebrows, teasing. “Over your dead body?”
He laughed. “No. I’m right behind you. I’m just wondering if I can call you Chief at home too.”
“You can call me anything you want, as long as you cook for me.”
He chuckled, kissed her again. “Aye, aye, Chief.”
She wove her fingers into his hair, her face shining through the grime. She’d never looked more breathtaking. “Well, now, Preach, that’s the kind of response I’ve been waiting for.” And when she kissed him, it confirmed what he’d known for nearly three months.
Ellie Karlson was the dream he’d been waiting for all his life.
Epilogue
Ellie leaned her forehead against the windowpane, watching snow peel from the leaden clouds. From the front window of Edith Draper’s A-frame cabin, Ellie could see the residue of foam and debris washed onshore by Lake Superior’s winter unrest. Crispness laced the air, as if winter in all her gusto waited to exhale.
For the first time in years, she anticipated the transition between fall and winter. It poured through her senses, and she knew it had nothing to do with the approaching holidays, the intoxicating smell of Thanksgiving turkey, or the fact that snow would soon cleanse the landscape and bedazzle the trees in brilliance.
No, the feeling that rushed through her in quiet moments over the past three weeks could be nothing but pure and untainted hope. The kind that comes with a keen knowledge of unfailing love.
God’s unfailing love.
Love without rules, without expectations, without a list of qualifiers.
Warm hands slid over her shoulders, and she leaned back into Dan’s embrace. He’d let his whiskers grow since Sunday, knowing she liked the scruffy look and now rubbed them against her cheek. “Dinner is nearly ready.”
“Mmm,” she responded, closing her eyes, relishing his nearness. Oh, how good God had been, giving her not only peace but this man with whom to share it. “Are Noah and Anne here yet?”
She’d met Dan’s friends at their wedding almost a week ago. Noah Standing Bear looked like a pure bad boy, with his massive size, his shoulder-length black hair tied back in a ponytail, and eyes that seemed a thousand years wise. But when he’d swept his arms around his bride, Edith’s niece Anne Lundstrom, the guy appeared downright princely. Beast into beauty.
And if that weren’t enough to push tears into her eyes, Dan had grabbed her hand and squeezed.
Yes, hope had many different facets, and she loved every one of them.
“Pastor Dan!” Jeffrey Simmons ran up and flung his arms around Dan’s legs. The boy’s strength had returned with gusto and his emotional healing along with it under Joe and Mona’s blanket of love. “Come and see the parade. They have a giant floating SpongeBob SquarePants!”
“Who?” Ellie asked when Dan bent down to swing the boy up into his arms. She could hear the laughter of Joe and Jordan in the other room, probably in a tangle of arms and legs as they watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
Dan angled for the den while Ellie made her way into the kitchen. Mona held Angelica on her hip while she stirred the gravy. A twenty-plus-pound, golden brown Butterball sat on the counter, calling to Ellie’s stomach. Edith had tented a piece of tin foil over the top to hold in the heat. Still, Ellie longed to pick up a fork and dig out a piece of the oyster, the succulent part under the leg. She must have put on ten pounds the last few weeks, and this kind of offering wouldn’t offer her waistline any mercy. Even though she wasn’t pulling duty as the local fire chief, her job as deputy chief and investigator required that she at least fit into her uniform.
“Where’s Edith?” Ellie asked.
“She went upstairs to phone Ed.”
“Ed?” Ellie grabbed a pile of silverware and began to set it on the table. “Have I met him?”
Mona laughed. “You’d know if you met Edith’s son. He’s legendary in Deep Haven. Was a real lady-killer.”
“Sorta like Dan, huh?”
Mona raised one groomed eyebrow. “You’re not serious, are you?”
She could never figure out why everyone in town acted like she’d thawed the ice man or something. Dan had always been . . . well, more than sufficiently warm and friendly with her. “Um, well . . .”
Mona laughed and tickled Angelica, who burst out in a grin. “It’s probably a good thing Auntie Ellie doesn’t get it, don’t you think, Angie? We wouldn’t want her to know that she has Pastor Dan under a spell, do we?”
Ellie frowned but couldn’t help a giggle. If anyone felt under a spell, it was she, especially with the diamond sparkling on her finger and the way her parents embraced Dan like the son they’d always wanted. Yes, she’d entered some sort of fairy tale. “So, is Ed in town?”
Mona shook her head and continued stirring the gravy. “No. He lives up north, out in the bush somewhere. I think he’s a missionary.” Angelica reached for the spoon and nearly dumped the pot. “Oh!”
“I’ll take her.” Ellie reached for the little girl, but Angelica clamped her flabby legs around Mona’s waist. Mona offered a silent apology.
Ellie waved it off. “I love stirring, I think,” she said as she took the whisk from Mona.
“Just make sure to get out all the lumps.” Mona moved away and hitched Angelica up on her hip. “I don’t think Ed has been home for years. He left with some sort of dark secret that I can’t seem to pull out of Edith. Once I overheard her and Ernie Wilkes talking about him at a picnic, but the second I walked up, they switched topics faster than the weather. I always felt like I’d intruded.”
“I have a feeling there are quite a few secrets in Deep Haven,” Ellie said, thinking about Guthrie and the fact he’d kept his mental illness hidden for over a decade. She and Dan visited him at the Hennepin C
ounty Medical Center locked ward on the morning before the wedding. Not only had his depression lessened because of the medication, but it looked like the county would weigh his illness into the murder charges. Ellie hoped that he’d be able to live in a facility that might attend to his needs. After she’d heard his confession and his motives, it scared her how much she related to Guthrie’s need to be loved and accepted.
And it hadn’t helped matters any that she did, indeed, bear an uncanny resemblance to the lady Guthrie had loved. Poor guy just wanted to be a hero . . . to matter to someone. He did matter—to God. And in cultivating her new habit of spending time with God every morning, she’d added Guthrie’s salvation and healing to her daily list of prayer requests.
“I’m here!” Fingers of cold whooshed in around Liza as she stomped into the warm kitchen. Snowflakes dotted her dark hair, and she looked like a Siberian ski bunny in her faux leopard-skin jacket and black bell-bottom stretch pants. She held out a box. “My contribution to T-Day dinner.”
While Liza shucked off her jacket, Ellie opened the box. It looked like lumpy oatmeal. However, as the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg escaped from the box, she decided she might be game to try it.
“Apple crisp. It’s a Beaumont specialty.” Liza plucked it out of Ellie’s hands and pulled the pie plate out of the box. “It’s good with peaches and pears too.”
“Wow, she’s an artist and a chef,” Ellie said. She glanced at her own paltry attempts to help. “I think I killed the gravy.” She poked at a dumpling-sized lump. “Sorry.”
Liza gave her a hug and turned off the heat under the pot. “Don’t worry. No one cares. It’s the company that counts.”
Edith thumped down the stairs. “I just saw Anne and Noah drive up.” She glowed like a kid at Christmas.
Thirty minutes later, they joined hands around the table, Ellie trying not to glance at the lumpy gravy and eyeing instead a choice piece of dark turkey meat on the platter. On one side of her, Dan held her hand, his thumb playing with the solitaire diamond ring he’d given her. On the other side, Liza was making goofy faces at Angelica on Mona’s lap, whose grin seemed to light up the table. Across from her, Joe and Mona locked hands with Jeffrey and Jordan, and the smile on their faces swelled a lump in Ellie’s throat.
Deep Haven [03] The Perfect Match Page 26
