Into the Flames

by Multi-Author

  “You’re not a cripple. And you’re not that much older than me either.” Yes, he was thirty-one to her twenty-three. It wasn’t even a decade.

  “Well, I’ve decided. You can keep the ring if you like, and all the clothes were gifts from Diana, not me. I’ll have Tim help you move back to the Websters, if that’s all right.” He didn’t even look her in the eyes.

  “I see.” She slid the ring from her finger. “This belongs to your family. I couldn’t bear to look at it again anyway. I’ll go up and pack my things.” She was grateful that she’d kept Diana’s dress-buying to a minimum. Even with the new clothes and coat, she’d still be able to fit it all in her parents’ old suitcases.

  An hour later she was up above the bookstore, crying her eyes out to Mrs. Webster. Later, she was tucked up in their guest bed when she heard the fire bell. Eli would be going. And this time, no one would come to tell her if he was hurt.

  Chapter Ten

  It felt right to be back at the shop full-time, although her feet were tired by the end of her first day. Nettie had missed the customers and the routine. She still hadn’t known what to do with her time at Eli’s, having servants to do all the work. She’d donate the quilts to a local charity, she decided, though she’d gifted one to the Websters and she might send Diana one of the small ones for her baby. She’d have to go try to get her money back for the wedding dress. Wouldn’t that be humiliating?

  Mr. Webster locked the shop door, flipped the closed sign and turned to Nettie, slipping the keys in his pocket. “Sure you won’t come to dinner with us, dear? We’d love to have you.”

  “It’s your anniversary, Uncle James. I’m not coming along as a third wheel. I’m going to unpack that new box of Agatha Christie books, and then curl up with a sandwich and my very own copy.”

  She waved them off, then tied an apron over her nice pink dress and went into the back store room. The box of Christies was right on top of the table near the door, so she didn’t need to search. She used a pen knife to slit open the wrapping and started stacking books on the table. She’d already cleared off one of the new book shelves for the grande dame of mystery’s latest work. Something smelled off in here, but her nose was stuffy from crying all night so she couldn’t place it.

  A noise, something like a splash, came from the back corner—where the washroom and cleaning closet were. Unlike Eli’s spacious house, there was no living space on the first floor of the Main Street storefront.

  Nettie moved back. A bulb must have burned out because it was hanging dark from the ceiling when it should have been lit. Nettie began to pick up an odd feeling, so she lifted the first possible weapon she saw—a short length of lumber intended for building more shelves.

  She came to the door of the closet as it sprang open. Her father stood there, not dead at all but looking nearly so. Crazed and skeletally thin, he held a jug of kerosene in his hands.

  Without thinking, Nettie swung the plank, knocking the can from the old man’s grip.

  “Bitch,” he roared. “Whore. It won’t matter. I’ve already poured enough around to burn the place to ashes. This last can was for the front.”

  “You’re supposed to be dead.” She backed up steadily, holding her plank out in front of her.

  “And you were living in sin. What’s the matter? Your boyfriend sick of getting the milk for free?” He advanced, pushing boxes of kerosene-drenched books to the floor. Scattering things, she supposed, so they’d burn better.

  “Who died in our house?” She tripped at the threshold of the shop window and nearly fell.

  “Some drifter. Coshed him over the head with a rock, then cut of his hand so they won’t know it isn’t me.” Al used her stumble to light a match and throw it on the nearest pile of books. A second flew in the other direction. Both instantly shot up in flames. Nettie turned and made a run for the front door. Her key was upstairs in the apartment, but there was a large, metal cash register on the counter.

  Before she could pick it up, Al was on her. He grabbed her hair and dragged her back toward the flames.

  Before Eli, she might have let him. Even though he’d rejected her, first he’d convinced her that she was a person worth fighting for. She grabbed the nearest bookshelf and hung on, making Al stumble at the unexpected resistance. When he got close enough, she kicked him in the groin.

  “Whore!” he let go of her hair to grab his crotch.

  “That one’s getting kind of old.” She ran for the front of the store as the room began to fill with smoke. She pounded on the glass with her fists, and when someone on the street turned to look, she yelled, “Fire!”

  The man nodded and ran toward the fire hall.

  By then Al was on her again more furious than ever. He smashed her head into the glass, stunning her.

  Outside, the fire bell began to ring.

  Al, sensing perhaps that his own escape route was probably cut off, threw her to the ground. He did what she’d tried before, picking up the cash register, but it bounced off the thick pane of glass. When it struck the base of a bookshelf on the rebound, the shelf toppled over, pinning him beneath it.

  Coughing, feeling the flames lick ever closer, Nettie crawled for the door. The firemen would be here any minute. The blaze wouldn’t reach her that fast. She pulled her dress up over her chin, breathing through the silk.

  Help would be here any minute. All she had to do was breathe.

  * * *

  Eli was the biggest cad alive. Not only did he think that, it had been confirmed by his mother and sister as well as his housekeeper. He was back in his office the next day, going over and over his decision to break the engagement and he still convinced himself it was the right thing to do. His leg would never be one hundred percent. And the scars were hideous. Nettie deserved somebody whole, a man who could keep up with her boundless enthusiasm. Eli had even discovered two white hairs in his beard that morning. She wasn’t for the likes of him. He did make a note to get Stan to drop off her sewing machine at the Websters. The other volunteers had pitched in and purchased a new cabinet as well as repairing all the damaged mechanisms. They’d planned to give it to Nettie as a wedding present.

  When the fire bell rang, he cursed his inability to run the few blocks and hopped into his roadster. At least he could still drive. It was more than he’d hoped for at first. At the firehouse, he saw that some of the men weren’t even waiting for the truck, but instead, running down Main Street.

  “Hurry up, Eli, it’s the bookstore. “ Stan yelled. “We need the pump truck.”

  “You drive it.” Eli didn’t even stop to grab a helmet, he just ran, despite the sharp pains in his leg. Not Nettie. Please God, let Nettie be all right.

  In front of the shop, the men were cutting a hole through one of the plate glass windows with their axes, while others cleared out neighboring shops and kept pedestrians safely away. Clearly the fire had started in back—someone should tell Stan to take the truck through the alley. All Eli could do was look at the woman in pink, crumpled right by the front door.

  “She’s breathing,” one of the men called. “Why the hell didn’t they leave her a key?”

  Eli didn’t answer. As soon as the hole was large enough, he pushed one of the other men aside—he was too far out of his head to notice faces—and climbed through, rushing to Nettie.

  She moaned in his arms. Alive. “Thank God!”

  He handed her off to one of the others and climbed back through, taking her into his arms again. Feeling the pain in his leg, he allowed someone to push him down onto a sidewalk bench. He cradled Nettie close, stroking her face.

  “I’m all right, Eli.” Her voice was raspy and her forehead was bruised, but otherwise she seemed intact. “Someone has to go back in—my father.” She stopped to cough. “Under a shelf.”

  “The Websters?”

  “Out to dinner in Grand Haven.”

  Eli yelled that there was another man inside, but no one u
pstairs. He also motioned to one of the policemen who’d arrived to manage the crowd that the other victim was the arsonist.

  The police were ready when they brought Al Price, unconscious but alive, out of the shop. Nettie gave her statement to a more senior officer, and refused to go to the hospital. Someone handed him a blanket to wrap around Nettie, and they sat until the fire was out.

  “Store room is gutted,” Stan reported. “Front area is mostly smoke and water damage, but I doubt any of the books are salvageable. Floor upstairs is partly sound, though it will need replacing. I sent someone up to bring out clothes for you and the Websters. They’ll smell like smoke, but a wash or two and they’ll at least be something to wear.”

  “Put them all in my car,” Eli said. “They can all stay at my house until their apartment is repaired.”

  “More strays?” Nettie murmured. “I haven’t even unpacked and I’m going back where I started.”

  “Where you’re staying,” he growled. “I’m not that much of an idiot, Nettie. I love you. I won’t let you go a second time. You’re stuck with me now.”

  Nettie laid her head against his shoulder and sighed. “I wish it hadn’t taken this to bring you to your senses.”

  * * *

  Nettie felt history repeat itself as Eli carried her up the stairs to his apartment, although this time with an obvious limp and grunts of pain. The VanCleves hurried behind him.

  “I can walk.” There was nothing wrong with her but cuts and bruises. “And where’s your cane?”

  “Not yet.” He set her on her feet at the top of the stairs. “Cane’s somewhere in the middle of Main Street—or maybe the fire house.”

  “You were so worried you dropped it and ran?” He was such a hero.

  Eli shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do?”

  Mrs. V put her arm around Nettie’s shoulder and led her toward the guest suite. “You left a nightgown behind, Miss Nettie. I’ll go start your bath and leave it out on your bed. So good to see you back.”

  “I’ll bring up the things in from the car,” her husband added. “Put the Websters in the Gold Room, right? They can borrow night things from us. Be clean clothes for everyone by breakfast.”

  “You three are some of the most wonderful people on Earth.” Nettie looked back at Eli and smiled. “You need a bath too. And get off that damn leg, you idiot.” Her wonderful, beloved idiot.

  Later, she joined Eli for supper in the breakfast room, which seemed appropriate for the pair of them. He’d taken a mild pain pill, but she could see he still hurt. “You didn’t reinjure yourself, did you?”

  “No, I only strained it a bit,” he said. “I’ve learned that I can move when I need to, though. I feel more…whole than I had been. I have my limits, but I’m still a man.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You were always a man. Even if you’d been in a wheel chair, I wouldn’t have cared. I love what’s in here…” She reached over and touched his forehead. “And here.” She placed her fingers over his heart, feeling it beat. While she was in one of her own nightgowns and his bathrobe, he wore only a clean shirt and trousers. The scene was very intimate—this is what it would feel like after they were married, she was sure of it.

  Eli reached into his pocket and pulled out her engagement ring. “I’m hoping you’ll take this back. I’ve been a fool, but I do love you, with all my heart.”

  She held out her hand. “I don’t want to wait for the wedding.”

  He smiled. “Next week? We can probably arrange all the legal matters by then.”

  “Next week is fine.” She laughed, and stood holding out her hand. “But that isn’t what I meant. The Websters will be here in an hour or so, so we don’t have long. Take me to bed, Eli. Give me something to dream about that will erase all the nightmares.”

  “Next week at the latest.” He threw down his napkin and stood, taking her hand. He led her into his bedroom and locked the door. “You’re sure?”

  “Completely.” She untied the belt of the robe and let the heavy silk slither to the floor. “I’m done waiting for you, Eli Lawson. I want us to belong to each other in every way possible.”

  “I want that too.” He dropped his suspenders and unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, his gaze holding hers. “Are you sure you don’t want me to turn off the light? My scar is pretty ugly.”

  “I’m aware of that. Remember, I changed the bandages? Besides, it’s the scars that make us who we are.” She pulled the nightgown over her head and turned, letting him see her bare back for the first time.

  “Dear lord, I should have killed him.”

  She knew what he saw. Al hadn’t kept his beatings to fists only. Her back was a mass of whip-like scars from lashings with his leather belt.

  “Do you want me any less?” She knew the answer. Love didn’t care about scars.

  “No.” He crossed to her, set his hands on her hips, and began running kisses up and down the lines on her back. “You’ll always be the most beautiful woman on Earth.”

  “Then credit me with the same degree of feeling and take those slacks off.” She turned in his arms and looped hers around his neck. “I want you. Exactly the way you are.” Spots of iodine scattered across his shoulders and arms spoke of his hurry to reach her in the book store. Her forehead was purple. None of it mattered.

  Moments later they were both naked and Eli led Nettie to his bed, a wide, four posted antique with a mattress she knew from nursing him was firm but yielding. He sat and drew her down to his lap, pulling her in to kiss her senseless.

  Her body melted under his touch. Liquid pooled between her legs, as it had before. An ache settled low in her belly, matching the ones in her breasts.

  Eli rolled her to her back, lying on his side next to her. “We don’t have anywhere near enough time for everything I want to do to you.”

  “We have the rest of our lives. But let’s not waste these stolen moments.” She ran her hand across his chest, loving that his smaller nipples tightened the same as hers did. She licked the one closest to her, making him groan.

  “Minx.” He kissed her deeply while tracing circles around her breasts with his fingers before trailing them down to her navel, and finally to her sex. “You’re wet.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She nipped his ear as he shifted to take her breast in his mouth. Once he began to suck, as well as slide his fingers in and out of her sex, she couldn’t do much more than grip his shoulders with all her strength. It was magnificent.

  Soon she felt herself reaching close to that peak he’d shown her before. She arched her back into his mouth and lifted her hips in time with his strokes. As the climax approached, she caught her breath…and the world exploded. She cried out…probably his name. She may have left nail marks in his skin, but he kept on stroking her with fingers and thumbs until she could breathe and open her eyes.

  “Ready?” His voice was little more than a husky rasp, and it made her shiver.

  “Oh, yes.” She embraced his waist as he came down over her. “I love you, Eli.”

  “I love you, Mrs. Lawson.” He used one hand to position his penis at her entrance, then penetrated slowly. “To me, this is our true wedding night.”

  “It is.” She widened her hips, conscious of a stretching, but nothing that could really be called pain. “Let the old biddies count if they want to.”

  “What biddies? The only ones who count are right here in this bed.” He began to slide in and out in small, gentle increments that soon intensified.

  Nettie felt herself tighten again, building toward another climax, and soon she was lifting up to meet each stroke, her head thrown back against the pillow while he kissed her neck. He slid one hand up to pinch one of her nipples and she peaked again, this time unabashedly shrieking. He pushed in hard and ground out her name as a wet, warm sensation filled her core.

  “I love you.” She held him close, not letting him move away while they both caught their breath. “I like y
our weight on top of me.”

  “Love you too. But we’d better wash up and get you into your own room before your godparents get here.” He kissed her and levered himself up into a sitting position. “Next week. Promise?”

  “Tomorrow, if we can make it work.” A little sore, she put her robe back on and returned to her own room, kissing him goodnight at the door.

  Epilogue

  It was amazing what money and determination could accomplish. Eight days later, an intimate, but elegant wedding was staged in the conservatory at Lawson Pines. It was larger than Eli’s parlor, so he’d given in to his mother’s request to hold it here. All of his family had arrived—Diana’s husband, his two single brothers—both on their best behavior, and even his father. Since Nettie had no family but the Websters, the fire department filled up that side of the seating, along with a few other local merchants.

  James Webster gave away the bride. Her only attendant was Diana, so rather than choose one of his brothers, Eli asked Stan to be his best man. Nettie had cried and hugged the burly mechanic the night before, at the rehearsal, when the boys had carried in the restored sewing machine. Only Nettie, Eli reflected, could bring together such a wide cross-section of the town. To know her really was to love her. The other firemen’s wives couldn’t wait for their first auxiliary meeting.

  Most importantly of all, his Nettie glowed with happiness. Finally, the words were spoken, making them husband and wife. Even if he did walk down the aisle with a cane, Eli was the happiest fireman on Earth.

  “Knew it the first time I saw you two,” Stan said in the receiving line. “Saw the smoke.”

  “What smoke?” Eli shook hands with another guest, but turned his head toward Stan.

  “You know what they say.” The mechanic grinned. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. I’d say you two had fire aplenty.”

  “Smoke,” Eli agreed. “Lots of smoke.”

  The End