Safe in the Fireman's Arms

by Tina Radcliffe

  At least he had the wisdom not to remind her of past indiscretions.

  He pointed to the last door. “Bedroom?”

  She nodded.

  “May I?”

  Maggie groaned. The room was an impressive mess, with clothes tossed on every surface. A quilt had been haphazardly thrown over the mismatched sheets and the pillows were falling off the bed.

  “I was in a rush.” Her face flamed. “I got so busy soldering the wind chimes that I lost track of time.”

  “Soldering?” His eyes rounded.

  Maggie released a small gasp. “I left the soldering gun on.”

  She raced down the hall, her dress fluttering around her. The hot metal odor only intensified as they approached the living room.

  Jake’s cheek twitched with the obvious effort of saying nothing while Maggie unplugged the tool.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It wasn’t touching anything.” She winced. “I’m really sorry. Sometimes I just get caught up in what I’m doing.”

  “I’d tell you that I understand. But I don’t. There’s something about you that seems to attract trouble and I’d like that to stop.”

  Maggie gave a slow and thoughtful nod.

  He met her gaze. “Maggie,” he said, his voice low and dangerously calm, “I’m your friend. I care about you. I don’t think I could handle it if something happened to you and I could have prevented it.”

  He released a breath and shuddered. “Not again. Not in this lifetime.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Margaret, when are you coming home?” Her father’s voice rang out clearly as he put her on speakerphone.

  “Good morning, Dad. I was calling to wish you a happy Father’s Day.”

  “I’ll be happy when you come home. Besides, Father’s Day was yesterday.”

  “I called yesterday and got voice mail.”

  “We were at a new program at the museum. You know we’re never available on the weekends.”

  “Right.”

  “When did you say you were coming home, Margaret?” her father asked again.

  “I’m not coming home.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m about to accept a temporary teaching position in Paradise. This is my home now.”

  Her mother spoke up. “I didn’t realize there was a university in Paradise.”

  Maggie cleared her throat. “High school. I’m teaching at a high school.”

  “Teaching what?” her mother asked.

  “Junior and senior level science. Mostly chemistry, physics and some botany and biology.”

  Her mother gasped. “You can’t be serious. What about your PhD? The ink is barely dry on your diploma. Then there’s your student-loan repayment. You didn’t spend all that time and money on your doctorate to teach a bunch of teenagers how to dissect a frog.”

  “You’re exaggerating, Mother.”

  “Am I?”

  “At any rate. This is what I’m doing until May. I’m taking a break from college academia. I’ve been going to school since I was five years old. I’m tired of being a professional student.”

  “Are you tired of the fact that you’re on the tenure track at thirty-two? Thanks to us, I might add.”

  “I do thank you, Mother. Both of you. For everything.” She took a deep breath. “Now it’s time for me to live my own life.”

  “Interesting phraseology. What exactly does that mean, Margaret?”

  “It means I get to choose from now on.”

  “Choose what?” her father asked.

  “Choose everything, Dad.”

  “Be sensible, Margaret. You’re going to give up the dreams you’ve worked so hard for, for what? What exactly does Paradise have to offer you?”

  “Your dreams, Dad. Yours and Mom’s. As for me, well, I’m not sure yet. The only thing I know for certain is that I need time to think, so I can decide exactly what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

  “What if you fail?”

  “In this situation, failure is an option. It’s my life. In my heart, I feel as though, well, like the Lord is calling me to take a step out in faith, toward the life He has for me.”

  “Oh, you’re not going to start with that God stuff again, are you?” her mother groaned. “Ronald, this is your brother’s fault. I knew sending her to that place in the summers was a bad idea.”

  “Mother, I’ve been a Christian for years. You know that.”

  “I thought it was a phase that you would outgrow.”

  “How do you outgrow God?”

  “I will not discuss this any further,” her mother returned.

  Maggie could visualize her mother’s expression of distain with clarity.

  “That’s fine. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

  Her mother cleared her throat. “Have you spoken to your fiancé?”

  “Ex-fiancé. I spoke to him before I left. When I personally returned his ring.”

  “I’m sure he’s devastated.”

  “Yes. He is. Now he has to find another mentor for tenureship. I was never the object of his affection, Mother. He was desperately in love with our family’s academic status.”

  “That isn’t true, Margaret.”

  “It is true, and it’s really a moot point now.”

  “Will you be coming to get your things?” her father asked. “We’ve decided to turn your room into an office for your mother.”

  “Sure. Yes. Let me schedule a moving truck. Will this Saturday work for you?”

  “Yes. Very good.”

  “Did I say happy Father’s Day?” Maggie asked.

  “You did. Have a good day, Margaret, and remember that we can’t hold your position at the college for much longer.”

  “I understand that, Dad. Goodbye. I love you.”

  “Goodbye.”

  Maggie set down her cell and realized her other hand was closed into a tense fist, her short nails digging into her palm.

  Warm and fuzzy, her parents were not. They cared in their own way, which unfortunately generally consisted mostly of reading between the lines. With a microscope. Aunt Betty was right, her father and Uncle Bob were as different as two brothers could be.

  What would have happened if she’d actually grown up in Paradise instead of simply spending summers here?

  Maybe she’d be more like Susan and less like the coward she’d become.

  Guilt gnawed at her as she paced the kitchen, mulling over the conversation with her parents. How was it they always managed to make her feel like a failure?

  Am I missing it here, Lord? No, she didn’t think so. She was determined to look forward and not back and things were looking very good. Why, she had a lovely little house, and a newly planted garden. A new job, too.

  Maggie glanced at the clock. Too early for work. Unless she walked to work and then stopped by Patti Jo’s and treated herself to something special to celebrate her new life in Paradise.

  She wasn’t going to allow her parents to steal her joy. Locking the door, she headed down the street, with a smile on her face.

  “Hi, Mack,” Maggie called out as she approached his house.

  Mack pulled his head from beneath the hood of a vintage Mustang.

  “Mornin’, Maggie. Where’s your bike? Do you need a ride to work?”

  “No, thanks, it’s a lovely day. I prefer to walk.” She stopped at the bottom of his driveway. “What are you doing?”

  He stood straight and wiped his hands on a greasy rag. “I’m trying to get this baby fixed for Bitsy. That tank she drives is on its last legs.”

  “Need any help? I’m pretty good with engines.”

  “Why am I not surprised? I might take you up on that offer later.”

  “You do that. Just holler.”

  “I will.” Mack paused and opened his mouth, and then closed it as though he suddenly thought better of it.

  “Was there something else?”

  “Uh, no. I guess not.”

/>   “Have a great day,” she said.

  Maggie continued along the residential street until she reached Main. She took a shortcut through the alley to Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery, where she pulled open the familiar red door.

  “One tall black coffee and a chocolate scone, please, Julia.” She dug in her wallet for exact change.

  “Here you go,” Julia said. The teen looked at Maggie with a question on her face.

  Maggie frowned, perplexed. “Everything okay, Julia?”

  Julia nodded. At the same time two customers slowly walked by and stared at Maggie.

  Something was definitely going on and eventually she’d figure it out. After all, this was Paradise, and there were no secrets here.

  She left the café and stepped outside, turning her face to the sunshine as she walked down the street. Today she’d only think about pleasant things, like the new outfit that she was wearing, a white eyelet-trimmed, peach peasant blouse with green capris.

  Or maybe she’d think about Jake and his feather-soft kiss instead. Her heart needed no encouragement to change the subject of her thoughts. Of course, it was a once-in-a-lifetime kiss, not to be repeated, which meant she’d savor it even more.

  Turning the corner, she halted, her coffee sloshing forward through the sip hole. A long line had formed outside the fix-it shop. A line that consisted wholly of men. Men of various shapes, sizes and ages stood with appliances and equipment in hand. What was going on? Were they having a sale and no one told her?

  She stepped carefully toward the shop. Several heads turned and elbows jostled each other as the customers turned to look at her. Yes. They were all men. What was going on?

  “Hi, Maggie!”

  “Hello?” she said with a wary smile. Did she know the man? Maybe from the Founder’s Day supper?

  Faces ranging from familiar to not so familiar greeted her with eager smiles.

  Standing at the head of the line was Duffy McKenna, holding a large cardboard box. She didn’t want to know what was inside that box.

  His freckled face lit up when he saw her. “Good morning, Maggie.”

  “Duffy?”

  “You look lovely today,” he said.

  “Ah, thank you. You are aware that we don’t open for another thirty minutes, right?”

  “That’s okay, I’ll wait. I’ve been here for two hours. Can’t give up my spot.”

  “Two hours? That must be important stuff in that box.” She shook her head. “I’ll see what I can do about opening a little early this morning.”

  “Thanks, Maggie.” Duffy grinned and elbowed the elderly man next to him in line.

  Maggie knocked on the door of the shop and Beck peeked out from behind the blinds. She heard a click and the door finally swung open. She slipped inside and shut it firmly behind her.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, unable to keep the panic from her voice.

  He shrugged.

  “No. Seriously, Beck. This is not the time for monosyllabic. What is going on?”

  “I think you have a few admirers.”

  “You think all of those men are here for me?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Why. How?”

  “Some rumor.”

  Maggie put her coffee and scone on the counter. “Now what? I’m not in the paper again, am I?” She released a short, nervous laugh.

  Beck nodded.

  “I’m in the paper again?” Maggie’s gaze searched the room until she found the paper near the cash register.

  “Front page.”

  She skimmed the article about the Founder’s Day event, and then unfolded the paper. Then her mouth dropped open. A photo of her watching the band with the caption: “Maggie Jones, who’s arrived in Paradise to find a husband, enjoys the Founder’s Day supper. More photos on page four.”

  Rustling the paper, she turned the pages quickly to page four. “I’m only on the front page. That’s a plus.”

  Except the damage was already done. And this certainly explained her strange morning. Once again, panic welled up inside. She waved a hand toward the street. “What am I going to do?”

  As if on cue, a loud knock rattled the door.

  “We don’t open for thirty minutes,” Maggie called.

  “It’s Bitsy Harmony.”

  Maggie unlocked the door and yanked it open. “You have a fix-it emergency?” she asked.

  “Oh, I’m not here for that. I want to know what your strategy is to deal with this.” Bitsy slapped the newspaper in her hand against her palm. “And that.” She nodded toward the ever growing line.

  Maggie closed the door. “Strategy? Are you kidding me? I still don’t have a clue how this happened, much less how to stop it.”

  “You sell papers.”

  “I what?”

  “The last two issues that featured you on the front page broke all records. The newspaper is a dying form of communication. Can’t blame the Paradise Gazette for trying to stir up revenue.”

  “I can’t? I was planning to discuss the word slander with them.” Maggie shook her head. “I should demand a retraction. Yes. That’s it. A front page apology, as well.”

  “That’ll only irritate folks. You’re new to town. You can’t afford that kind of alienation. A new teacher and all.”

  “How did you know...” She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. “Never mind.” Maggie sagged against the counter. “I can’t just do nothing. Did you see that line out there?”

  “Paradise has always had an inordinately large population of men, compared to the number of available women,” Bitsy mused.

  “That’s not my fault.”

  “I recommend that you let them think your affections lie elsewhere,” Bitsy remarked.

  Maggie blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “You like Jake.”

  “You like the chief?” Beck asked, breaking into the conversation.

  Maggie inhaled sharply as she turned to the teenager, just realizing he was still in the room. “We’re friends. The chief and I are friends.”

  Bitsy looked at Beck. “Would you excuse us for a few minutes?”

  Beck dragged himself slowly to the back of the shop.

  “That young man has a crush on you,” Bitsy said quietly.

  “Beck?” Maggie glanced at the door that had closed behind him.

  “Yup. Be careful. He’s impressionable, and I’d say he’s jealous of the chief.”

  “I’ll be careful, but you’re the one who mentioned Jake.”

  “So I did. For good reason. There’s not a thing wrong with allowing folks to make assumptions. They’re going to make them anyhow. After all, this is Paradise. So why not lead them in another direction.”

  Maggie put a hand to her head, and then realized her ponytail was gone. “You want them to think...Jake and I?”

  Bitsy nodded.

  “Oh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. In fact what you’re suggesting is exactly what Aunt Betty calls diving straight from the frying pan into the fire.”

  “There’s a difference when it’s by choice. Then it’s called long range planning.”

  “That makes sense, I think.”

  “Of course it does. You’re simply going to take what looks like a problem and turn it around to benefit your goals here in Paradise.”

  Obviously Bitsy had confidence that Maggie actually had goals. Maggie glanced at the wall clock. The minute hand joined the hour hand. Quarter to nine. Time to open the shop. She swallowed and reached for the door.

  * * *

  She knew the moment Jake entered the shop. How was it she had extra sensory perception when the man was around?

  “Please don’t tell me you have a broken toaster. I’ve spent the better part of my morning looking at toasters. Most of them suffering from user error.”

  He chuckled. “Good to see you, too, Maggie.”

  She wiped her chin with an oil rag and fought to ignore him, though her traitorous eyes continued to
sneak glances at his profile.

  “Actually, I’m here in an official capacity.”

  “Of course you are,” she mumbled. Apparently he hadn’t spent restless hours thinking about their kiss. No, the man was all business on a Monday morning.

  “The sheriff called me. He’s had a few complaints that your customers were parking in the fire lane.”

  “You handle traffic, too?”

  “I’m the fire marshal.”

  Silence stretched.

  “Earth to Maggie?”

  “Hmm?” She reached for a Phillips screwdriver. Jake’s hand covered hers.

  Maggie jerked back at the contact and met his gaze.

  With a small frown, Jake reached out and held her chin.

  “What are you doing?” Maggie asked, as she attempted to pull away.

  “Hold still. There’s grease on your chin.” He took the rag from her hand and gently wiped her chin before releasing her.

  “Thank you.” Face ablaze, Maggie turned away.

  “What’s going on in that computer-processing head of yours?”

  “I’m appalled and humiliated that there was a line of men outside the shop this morning.”

  “Ah, the picture in the Gazette. That explains why you’re hiding behind that ball cap and those baggy coveralls.”

  She picked up the patch of oil-stained rag from the counter. “I’m not hiding. I didn’t want to get my clothes dirty, so I changed when I got to work.”

  “Right.” He cleared his throat. “What happened?”

  “Ralph Meyer—the butcher—brought me bacon. Not ordinary bacon, either. It’s specially cured with a tad bit of maple syrup and honey.” She sighed. “Andy Pickering, the librarian, gave me flowers from his garden.” She met Jake’s gaze. “And Duffy. Duffy was at the head of the line. He brought in a laptop. In about one hundred pieces.”

  “I’ll take care of Duffy, but there’s nothing I can do about the rest of them.”

  “I’d like to know who wrote that article. Who thinks I’m looking for a husband?”

  “Are you?”

  Maggie jerked back. “No. I only just got rid of...” She stopped when she realized Jake was grinning.

  “I’m glad you find this so amusing.”

  “Not amusing. More like eye-opening. Seeing you all worked up, that is.”

  She took a deep calming breath. “What can I do for you, Fire Marshal MacLaughlin?”