She watched the flames engulf the house, black smoke pouring out of the windows, and knew in her heart where he was. He’d gone in. That was why he’d run off so quickly—Rafe had gone inside to try to save Bessie. She felt utterly helpless, and sick with worry.
Finally, fire engines and a rescue unit ripped up the small street, an ambulance on their heels, pulling to a quick halt in the front yard. The outside air was acrid and thick as the sun rose in a halo of smoke over the house. Joy was hit by the intense heat when she ran up to the firefighter closest to her and grabbed his arm, shouting to him that Rafe had gone inside.
He and three other men dragging heavy hoses headed for the porch as Rafe appeared in the door, an archway of fire framing them all. Joy held her breath as two of the firefighters took the body of the small woman from Rafe’s arms, and another helped Rafe away from the house as his body clutched in a fit of choking coughs.
All of a sudden, the arch over the front porch collapsed, Christmas lights and all, right where Rafe and the other men had stood moments before. Police arrived, and they corralled people back to the other side of the street, but Joy stayed in place, all the action happening around her as if she’d become invisible. No one bothered her, or she didn’t notice.
She couldn’t see Rafe at all, and that snapped her back to life. She rushed forward to where she’d spotted him last. The sounds of flames, rushing water, loud engines and louder shouts surrounded her, but she had only one focus: Rafe. A fireman blocked her path and she pushed past him.
“You have to let me by. My, uh…My husband is hurt—he went in the house.” She shook his arm, making him listen. “He’s the guy with no shirt—I saw him come out, but I can’t find him—I have to make sure he’s okay. Please,” she pleaded desperately.
The fireman nodded. “Your husband saved that woman’s life, ma’am. He’s over there.” He pointed her in the direction of a rescue vehicle where Rafe sat on the edge between the open doors, an EMT handing him an oxygen mask. She took a few steps and stumbled, tears blurring her vision.
“Rafe, oh, my God,” she cried, throwing her arms around him. “What on earth…I didn’t think you were going to go in there when you ran off,” she said, holding on tight.
His chest rumbled against her, and she didn’t know if he was coughing or laughing, but he squeezed her tightly and then gently disengaged her arms from his neck, waving away the EMT who was hovering.
“I’m fine—I knew the house since I’d been in there a few times, and I found her easily. Just sucked up some smoke is all. It was only a minute or two I was in there, no big deal.”
He coughed again, and she drew back, looking into his face, something powerful arcing between them. This was more than a two-week fling. She knew it, deep inside her heart.
He caressed her cheek. His tone had been reassuring, as it must have been for hundreds of people before her, people he reassured and saved every day. Suddenly she didn’t want to be the one being protected—or rather, she didn’t mind his concern, but he was the one who needed the help right now. Why hadn’t she seen it before?
“I’m okay, Joy. Not even a scratch, see?”
“It could have been a lot more than a scratch.”
“But it wasn’t. Bessie’s okay, and I’m okay.”
The image of his handsome, soot-stained face was engraved into her memory, and her heart, and she couldn’t find words, so she simply held on to him a little longer. When his arms slipped around her, too, hugging her close, in spite of herself she fell in love with him right there on the spot.
Too bad he would be out of her life in a little over a week. He planned to head back to New York right after New Year’s.
She loved Rafe, but he was leaving. What had passed between them a moment ago was something stronger than lust, but did he love her, too?
Rafe’s gaze followed the movements of the people around him, the firefighters getting control of the blaze, the onlookers talking among themselves, the police keeping people back. The ambulance roared past them, whisking Bessie away—whose life Rafe had definitely saved.
Joy could see how much it all meant to him, and how painful it was for him to be on the outside looking in. Rafe was about helping people; that was who he was. He saved lives; things like running into burning buildings came as naturally to him as breathing came to everyone else. Somehow, he’d even managed to break down the walls Joy had built around herself and help her, too.
She’d never been more sure of herself in her life than she was right at that moment—more alive, more in love—and it was about more than sex. Who was helping Rafe? She was immediately ashamed, her life and her problems having been the center of their focus to this point. Whether he loved her or not, she knew what she had to do. This time, it was about Rafe.
Everything crystallized; all the concerns she’d had, all the neuroses, pressures and worries that had plagued her life fell away, meaningless. She’d spent her life withholding the best of herself, afraid to give in case someone should take what she was offering and walk away. Ever since her mother had left, she’d held the most vulnerable parts of herself back, determined never to let anyone else hurt her that much again.
With everyone except for Rafe. Maybe it was different for him because he was the opposite. He opened himself to life and he wasn’t afraid of anything. He did what he did because it mattered to him.
What mattered to her?
Certainly not the toy company, their profit margins or the promotion she’d been so determined to get. None of that mattered.
There was the shelter. That mattered. Maybe she’d been going about everything the wrong way—she wanted her work to make a difference, the way Rafe’s did. She wanted to use her talents to help people who needed it, like Pam and the residents at the shelter. She wanted to throw herself out into the world and see what happened, and if she got hurt, well, there were worse things. Like the numbed life she had been living.
There was more than enough help to go around for clients who could afford to pay for it, but what about everyone else? While financial security had always meant a lot to her, she could see it wasn’t the cornerstone of life, nor should it be.
Her dreams of Rafe had been pushing her to risk, to take more chances, to go after what she wanted and to make things happen—and not only in bed, but in life.
As the meaning of the moment dawned on her, it was as if a latch opened up inside of her and she could breathe freely for the first time in her life. There wouldn’t be any more dreams, no more talking and acting out in her sleep. She slanted a gaze at Rafe’s sweaty, dirty, lovely chest and smiled—she’d be plenty able to live out her fantasies wide awake from now on. All of them.
Boldly taking his hand as they crossed the street back to her house, she knew she wanted to start her new lease on life by helping him as much as he’d helped her.
The question was how?
* * *
Rafe walked along the hospital hallways, following Joy, who knew her way around the place better than he did, though in his experience all hospitals more or less looked the same.
Garland and fake Christmas trees, menorahs and other holiday items were scattered throughout the stark yellow-white hallway. As much as the decorations aimed to offer holiday cheer, for many of the people in here, and many of their loved ones, it was not a happy season, and no amount of decorations would make it one.
It had often been difficult to get through the holidays when he’d been riding the ambulance—the holidays were a time of year when people could be at their best, or their worst. Loneliness and hardship, poverty and loss were often highlighted, the contrast sometimes too much to bear. Rafe had usually turned to his family to remember what was good and happy about this time of year.
As for right now, two days until Christmas, being in the hospital reminded him of the sadness he’d had close personal contact with over the years, though there were happy stories, too. The Christmas babies born, the lives saved, the tragedie
s averted, as was the case with Bessie, whom they’d come to see. Focusing on the upside was how he’d gotten by as long as he had, though apparently he’d lost that ability somewhere along the way.
He’d rarely seen people after he’d brought them to the hospital, and even though he hadn’t acted in an official capacity with Bessie, he felt off balance. He held a bunch of flowers in one arm and clasped Joy’s hand in his other. She was walking at a slightly faster pace, looking for the room, full of cheer.
To be honest, he’d been surprised when she’d told him she wanted to go with him to the hospital. He’d had the impression that she didn’t connect much with her neighbors, but then, a lot of things seemed to have changed with Joy. In the two days since the fire, she’d been far more energized, unbelievably sexy. In bed—and out of it—she was rocking his world.
She was also busy, working on something every minute, usually associated with the shelter. They’d both spent every free minute getting the fund-raising party planned, which was why they were late to see Bessie. Christmas was two days away, and Rafe knew how much keeping that shelter open meant to Joy. Still, the changes in her demeanor since the fire were considerable, if a little mysterious to him.
Among other things, she’d taken to wearing her hair down instead of tied back, and she seemed more relaxed. He found it hard to believe that getting over her sexual inhibition had led to such a personality shift, but it didn’t really matter. What did matter was that she was happy. He liked to think he had something to do with it.
The more time he spent with Joy, the less he thought about going back to New York, and maybe not even going back to his job. Working hospital shifts and driving ambulance was tough on relationships, and he’d made his work the center of his life for so long because nothing else more important had presented itself. Joy was changing all of that.
As they reached the end of the long hallway, nurses and activity buzzing around, he teetered on the edge of a huge decision. He was technically on a leave of absence, but he was considering making that leave permanent. In fact, maybe he’d already made the choice.
He wanted more time here in San Diego and Joy was the reason for that. Going back to New York without her was quickly becoming a nonoption, but he wasn’t sure what she would think about that. Would she want to tie herself down to a relationship with him, when he had no idea what was next?
Stopping by the door of Bessie’s room, he heard voices, and knocked softly, making sure it was okay to enter.
“Rafe! My hero, you come in here,” Bessie exclaimed, holding her arms out. She wasn’t alone, he could see, a younger, well-dressed couple were sitting at her bedside.
As he hugged Bessie and stood back, he handed her the flowers, aware of Joy right behind him. Reaching back for her hand, he drew her next to him.
“Hey, Bessie. You’re looking chipper—glad to see it.”
“Yes, well, thanks to you, I’m around here to tell the tale,” she said, her eyes moving to Joy. “I see you brought a friend.”
“You know Joy, Bessie, from across the street. She called 911 when we saw the fire that morning,” he explained and nudged Joy forward.
“Well, I can’t thank you enough for that, Joy,” Bessie said, her eyes tearing up. “You both saved my life, and the firemen got there in time to at least save many of the things on the second floor—there’s smoke damage, but so many of my memories, my wedding pictures, my husband’s things, were upstairs,” she said, choking up, and couldn’t continue.
Joy bent over and hugged Bessie, reassuring her.
“I’d be happy to help get them out and clean things up, if you’d like me to do that. I wish we could have seen it sooner, is all, but Rafe is the real hero. I only made a phone call,” Joy said, releasing Bessie from the hug.
She wiped away a few tears and nodded. “They told me as much, and I can’t believe you came into that burning building for me,” Bessie scolded Rafe gently in an emotional voice, and Rafe stayed silent, not knowing what to say.
“I can see you don’t like being told you’re a hero, but you are. Anyway, this is my son Charles, and his wife, Melinda. They came as soon as they heard, and I guess I’ll be staying with them for a while until the house can be taken care of.”
“So you’ll be rebuilding?” Joy asked politely, and Bessie nodded.
“The old place needed a lot of repair—it was an overheated circuit that started the fire. I left a Crock-Pot on all night, and I guess the fire started in the wall where it was plugged in, so they say.”
“That’s awful, Bessie, but at least you’re okay,” Rafe added, shaking hands with Charles and Melinda, who looked both relieved and concerned as they chatted. Rafe didn’t want to intrude on the family moment—he was used to being on the outside of such things.
“We’d love for Mother to come live with us permanently, but she likes being on her own. It’s nice to know she has such good neighbors,” Charles said.
“There aren’t many who would run into a burning building to save someone,” Bessie added with blatant admiration.
“What do you do for a living, Rafe? Mom said you were here on vacation?” Bessie’s daughter-in-law asked.
“I’m a paramedic, back in New York,” Rafe said casually and tried to change the conversation to focus back on Bessie, but his attempt failed yet again.
“Well, you’re a hero to us—I hope you’ll let us do something to show our appreciation,” Melinda said, and Rafe waved away her offer.
“That’s not necessary, really.”
“We insist. Please.” Charles met his gaze, and Rafe knew it was important to the younger man to do something to show his gratitude, but Rafe wasn’t about to accept any personal payment for doing what anyone could have done.
“I’ll tell you what. If you’re all in town, there’s a Christmas fund-raiser at a local homeless shelter tomorrow night that we’re helping out. We’d love it if you could come, Charles and Melinda, and Bessie, if you’re up to it.”
“We’re probably taking Mother home tomorrow morning, but we would like to make a donation. I wish we could do more,” Charles said. “You saved my mother. After having lost Dad, this could have been the saddest holiday ever for our family, and you changed that. We can’t express what that means to us. Thank you.”
Rafe nodded, accepting the thanks awkwardly. Joy’s hand was on his back as they all shook hands and said their goodbyes. Walking down the hall, Joy turned to him as they waited for the elevator.
“Rafe, in all the years you did your job, did anyone ever say thank you?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Some people sent cookies, or dropped a note.”
“No one ever personally thanked you for helping them?”
“New York is a big place, Joy, and we handled so many cases every day…. There were several ambulance companies, even more drivers. It was a daunting number of people. Patients couldn’t tell us apart let alone know our names, especially when they’re in crisis. It was our job to help them. Thanks isn’t necessary,” he explained.
The elevator doors opened, and as she stepped inside, she raised her emotion-filled eyes to his.
“It’s something you deserve.”
“Knowing we’ve helped is enough.”
Or was it? he asked himself, though somewhat ashamed of the question. What he did wasn’t supposed to be about recognition, but had the endless stream of people whom they’d helped and never seen again finally gotten to him? Was it the source of his burnout and insomnia?
Rafe didn’t like that idea. Maybe it was more about never knowing how most of those patients ended up—he only saw them at their worst, but never, as he’d had the chance to do with Bessie, when things turned for the better.
In the shelter, Joy and Pam could see someone move from destitution to success, from being dependent to self-sufficient, and that was a reward he’d never had. All he’d seen was the never-ending moments of crisis. It was a reality he’d never acknowledged before.
&
nbsp; Joy murmured her agreement with what he’d said, but Rafe kept his other thoughts to himself, considering them less than noble. Having Joy think anything less of him bothered him a lot. Still, did he always have to be the hero? Was his ego so bound up in what he did that he didn’t even realize it? He didn’t like to think so, but maybe.
As they left the hospital, Joy was distracted, lost in thought, even through lunch.
“You’re quiet,” he observed, toying with his own food and caught up in his own thoughts. It was nice that they could be quiet together, but he wondered what was on her mind.
“Sorry, going over party stuff. Thinking about Bessie, and how happy I am about how it all turned out—I hope the same happens for Pam.”
“It was good of your boss to give you these few days off before the holiday.”
“Uh, yes—” she looked down at her soup “—I told him about the fire and everything, and he was very supportive.”
“So things are working out there,” he prompted, picking up on some weird sense that she was holding something back from him.
“Yeah, things are working out very well, but really, the shelter is what I am focusing on right now. That’s where my real passion lies, and I guess I never realized that.”
“That’s wonderful, Joy—they’re lucky to have you.”
His thoughts circled back to his own situation. Maybe getting his old sense of purpose back wasn’t the right move—maybe it was time to try something new. Instead of trying to find the meaning his life used to have, he should look for something new, much as Joy was discovering. He’d always assumed he’d drive ambulances forever, but now he was questioning that. The prospect of returning to the job brought him none of the anticipation and excitement it used to. That was something he had to accept. It was over.
When they returned home, Joy headed off to run some errands for the shelter party, and Rafe sat by the phone for a long time. Finally, convinced he was doing the right thing, he picked it up and dialed his boss. It was time to leave his old life behind him.
Talking In Your Sleep... Page 15
