She dropped her face to her hands as tears spilled from her eyes with abandon.
“What’s the matter with me?”
“I dunno,” Amanda said, walking into the office with a glass of lemonade. “You listening to those sad songs again? I mean, who ever heard of anyone your age listening to Linda Ronstadt?”
Beatrice smiled and wiped her fingers under her eyes. “It’s not the sad songs.”
“Good. I always listen to rap. I hate it. It makes no sense to me so it can’t affect me.”
“That’s a waste of time. And your life.”
“You know—” Amanda pointed her index finger at her “—you’re right. How about that?”
Beatrice stared at her. “Come to think of it, I’ve never heard rap coming out of that kitchen. Adele. Taylor Swift, maybe. A hoarse Paul McCartney.”
“Don’t knock Paul. He’s old. What can I say?”
“So what are you really trying to say?”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed in that way wise old owls observed their surroundings. “Don’t waste your life, either, Beatrice.”
“Goodness, that’s the last thing I’m doing. Why I’ve spent every nickel on my dreams.”
“I’m not talking about coins.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Chances. The kind that come only once in a lifetime.”
“Like this camp?”
“Yes, some chances you’ve done well with. No one in their right mind would have bought this run-down place and turned it into a summer palace for broken kids. But you did. No one with a whit of business sense would give jobs to interns and old women like me with no experience running a kitchen. But you did.”
“Well, you are all very good at what you do.”
“And so are you. But when was the last time you took a chance on love? On your future?”
Looking back, Beatrice realized she’d based all her decisions on her past. She hadn’t had a real childhood, so she’d wanted to create one for herself by building the camp. As a kid, she’d wanted to learn to kayak, plant a pioneer garden and grow real vegetables. She had wanted to finger-paint and play Ping-Pong and badminton and chess. All the things that had been missing from her own childhood that she believed would be good for other children.
In the end, she’d been right. The camp kids had grown and unfolded petals of their own creativity when they were forced to live without electronics for a few days.
Maybe she had come at her life with the wrong motivations, but her actions had worked not only to her advantage, but also been a benefit to the camp kids.
Sometimes, she realized, fear, loss and pain were put in one’s life to make one grow. To search for other means of maturing. For Beatrice, her father had been taken to heaven. Her mother had been self-centered. Because of her past, Beatrice related to her kids perhaps more than anyone else could.
But she doubted Amanda was talking about the camp or her childhood.
“I’m guessing you’re talking about Rand.”
“I am. You’ve come to a fork in the road, Beatrice,” Amanda replied with a motherly smile.
“I’m not at any fork. Making a decision implies there are choices.” She lifted her shoulders in a half shrug. “That would imply that I had options to consider. Rand is all wrong for me. It would never work out. He chose a life of jumping into flames. Fire, Amanda. Fire!”
“Oh, for pity’s sake. I drive into Chicago once a week and that’s twice as dangerous. That’s not really the reason.”
“Yes, of course it is.”
“No. It’s not. You’re just scared.”
“Of course I am! That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He could die and then leave me alone.”
Amanda shrugged her shoulders. “You’re already alone. You know what that’s like.”
“I do.”
“Sweetie. You’re afraid to love him.”
“I—I... That’s ridiculous. Why would I be afraid of that?”
“Do you know what it is?”
Moments, scenes, whispered words, the feel of his kisses, the anger in his eyes, the sight of him walking away—all of those things filled her brain. “He told me that the fears of my past didn’t need to be my future. I had let my mother’s fears become my own. Honestly, he’s done the same. His own past experiences have caused him to make wrong decisions. We’re both broken.”
“Beatrice. What did I tell you about this camp? Every kid here comes to us broken. And you make them well again. You give them heart and hope. Because that’s what you are. You just have to learn to do it for yourself.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
BEATRICE TOOK THE check from Mr. Hamilton, her banker. His bushy gray eyebrows knit together in concern. “Are you sure you need this?”
“I am and I appreciate you doing this for me,” she said, folding the check in half and putting it in her purse. “I have to pay someone back. Someone very, very kind.”
“Apparently.”
“He’s generous to a fault,” she said. “And courageous.” She thought of Rand carrying her out of the fire. “I didn’t see it at first, though.”
“Well, I’m glad for you that you do now.”
“I will pay you back. I have a new program for the fall and we’re booked up nearly every weekend ’til Halloween.”
“That’s great news, Beatrice. Great news.”
He shook her hand and walked her to his office door.
Beatrice left the bank and crossed the street to Scott Abbot’s Book Stop and Java Shop. She had a few extra dollars in her budget for spending.
“Hi, Scott!” She smiled as she walked in.
Scott was stocking children’s books on a rack. In the far end of the store she could hear Isabelle’s voice as she read a story to the preschool children gathered around her.
“Beatrice,” Scott said and walked over to her. He hugged her. “How nice to see you. Isabelle is nearly finished with her story hour.” He smiled toward his wife as Isabelle winked back at him.
“I don’t wish to disturb. I was wondering if you got those books in for me that I ordered.”
“I did. I have them behind the counter.” Scott walked over to the coffee bar and bent down. “Fly Guy Presents Firefighters and A Day with Firefighters. Good selections. These are for the camp, right?”
“Actually, for two special boys.” She pulled out a piece of paper from her purse. “Here’s some other books I want to order for them.”
“They like to read. That’s good.”
“It’s a new adventure for them both,” she replied, feeling quite proud of Chris and Eli.
She paid Scott, waved to Isabelle and left.
Back in her SUV, she headed north out of town.
As she passed Indian Lake she realized that if she took the road to the right, only two blocks away was Rand’s house. On a whim, she flipped her turn signal and drove to his house.
She parked in front.
The lawn had been mowed and edged. The flowers looked healthy. She guessed he must have hired someone to care for it while he was away. Her heart felt heavy. He was gone—maybe forever.
The thought that he might never come back turned her mind dark. Then black.
She couldn’t and wouldn’t allow herself to think such a thing. She remembered the Sunday when she and the boys had met his family. A collage of memories blurred her vision. She heard his voice, then his laughter. She pressed her fingers to the back of her neck, where he’d first kissed her.
Today, there was no family gathering. No smell of grilling food coming from the backyard. She realized she hadn’t properly thanked him for the barbecue. And for other things.
Just then the front door opened and she saw Laura walk out onto the porch with a watering can. Flint followed her out.
“Laura!” Beatrice brightened and got out of her SUV. She walked up to the porch.
“Beatrice. Hello!” Laura opened her arms wide, waiting for a hug. “Oh, it’s good to see you, dear.”
Beatrice embraced her.
“What are you doing here?” Laura asked.
Beatrice leaned down and petted Flint, who wagged his tail.
“I, uh. Actually, I have something for Rand and I thought I’d drop it off. I didn’t realize anyone would be here. I’m happy to run into you, though.”
“Come, let’s sit down,” Laura said, pointing to the Adirondack chairs.
Beatrice noticed that the red-and-white-striped pillows were missing. Yet Laura was watering the ferns. Maybe Rand wasn’t going away for good.
Laura followed Beatrice’s eyes as she looked at the watering can. “Oh, I told Rand I’d take care of the ferns and the impatiens while he was gone. I did take Backdraft and Flint home with me, though. Today, Flint wanted to visit with me.”
“Dogs love to ride in cars.”
“I think Flint misses this house. And his daddy.”
“I’m sure he does. So, er, is Rand planning to sell the house? Now that he’s gone?”
“Sell? Goodness, this has all been so sudden. I don’t think it’s entered his mind.” She looked around. “He’s put his heart and soul into the remodeling. The new kitchen and bath. He built this porch nearly by himself. Of course, he did get some help from Luke Bosworth.”
“Yes. Luke and Sarah are wonderful friends.”
“Oh, good. You know them.”
“I do. Rand and Luke have done so much to help the camp.”
“How is everything at the camp?” Laura asked, smiling easily at Beatrice.
“It’s fine. I mean, since Rand, well...”
Laura reached over and touched Beatrice’s arm. “He told me what he did. Putting in those water lines for you. That’s just like him.”
“Is it?”
“Oh, yes. His father was the same way. God rest him.” Laura beamed. “Did Rand tell you how I met his father?”
“Er, uh. No. He didn’t tell me much about his father at all.”
“Really? Rand is very proud of his dad, Admiral Malcolm Nelson. Of course, he wasn’t an admiral when I met him. You see, I was a navy nurse, surgeon’s assistant, and he was just a lieutenant, not long out of Annapolis, when he wound up in the naval hospital in San Diego, where I was stationed.”
“Was he injured?”
“Yes. But not from wartime activity. He’d been on the sidelines, so he said, of a pool-hall brawl. I was working the night shift, ER, actually, and they brought him and his buddy in. One of the pool-hall gang had pulled a blade and knifed him in the ribs. It barely missed his heart. The surgeon on duty was excellent. Malcolm was a lucky man.”
“I’ll say.”
Laura’s eyes held a wistful gleam as she reminisced. “Rand is almost the spitting image of his father, you know. Anyway, that night, as I prepped Malcom for surgery, I asked him if he was all right. And he said, ‘I will be if you hold my hand until they put me under.’ I told him I would. But what stayed with me was that this very strong man, who looked like he could lift a battleship singlehanded, gave me the most gentle smile and said, ‘I want yours to be the first face I see when I wake up.’
“I told him I didn’t work in the recovery room. He promised he wouldn’t wake up until he felt my presence next to him. Naturally, I thought he was kidding until my shift was over and I went down to the recovery room. The nurse on duty mentioned that Malcolm had not woken up and they were getting concerned. So I went to his side and put my hand over his. In seconds, his fingers wrapped around mine, he opened his eyes and said, ‘Don’t leave me again.’ And I never did.”
Beatrice couldn’t stop the welling tears in her eyes if she tried. She lifted her fingertips to her cheeks and swiped them away. “I’m so sorry he’s gone.”
“So am I. There will never be another man for me.” She looked back at Beatrice. “The boys are all splinters of Malcolm and so is Cassie. She wants everyone to think she’s as rough as her brothers, but she’s not. Rand is like that, too. But I suppose you noticed.”
Oh, she’d noticed a great deal. “Yes.”
“You know, Beatrice, before we met you, he talked about you all the time.”
Beatrice’s eyes flew open. “He did?”
“He admires you tremendously. He’s always talking about everything you do for those kids. Of course, at first he thought you were more a daredevil than he, running into that forest so recklessly.”
“Uh, well. He was right. I didn’t think and that was really stupid of me. But I’m glad I did it—saving Eli and Chris was all that mattered.”
Laura nodded. “Yes. You are two peas in a pod.”
Beatrice looked down at the envelope sticking out of the top of her purse. “Actually, we aren’t. Apparently, we are very much the opposite. Rand and I are friends. Good ones, I hope. Maybe not. But I don’t want you or the family to think that there’s anything romantic going on between us. Certainly not as romantic as what passed between you and your husband.”
Laura was silent as her green eyes observed Beatrice. “You’re in love with my son. I’d bet the bank on that.”
Beatrice felt her heart heave in her chest. She was in love with him, but his heart was lodged in his career. As it should be. He was a man of conviction and passion. She had her own commitments as well. What did it matter that she loved him?
Rand wasn’t ever going to be the guy who would ask her to stay with him forever.
And even if he did, she would have to turn him down.
Wouldn’t she?
“You see, my father was a Chicago detective and he was shot in the line of duty when I was young. Rand is a lot like my dad. He wants to protect people, but in the end, he hurts the ones he loves. Maybe not today, but eventually. A person can tempt fate only so often.”
“And you believe Rand will die on you like your father did?”
“I do.”
Laura shot Beatrice a piercing look. “Did Rand ever tell you how his father died?”
“No.”
“The flu.”
“What?”
Laura shrugged her shoulders. “All those years at sea. Gale-force Arctic winds. Hurricanes. Sitting in the Persian Gulf with missiles aimed at him. He walked away from every near-death experience a navy man could imagine. And what takes him down? A microscopic virus.”
Beatrice was astonished. She didn’t know which was more frightening: the fact that Rand put himself in harm’s way on purpose, or the realization that he could be taken from her at any given moment by something as common as the flu.
Beatrice had spent a great deal of her life under the wing of fear, she realized. She’d been looking for stability and security and every day, life reminded her that there was no such thing.
One minute her finances were in the black and the next she owed the bank again. From one day to the next, she couldn’t be sure what was solid...except for the friends who showed up at her camp to help her.
She could count on them.
And in that group, she had to include Rand. He’d not only saved her the labor on the water lines, but he’d also bought and paid for the pipe. He’d shown caring and interest in two young boys who’d completely turned themselves around, thanks a great deal to him. He might even have saved them from following in their drug-addicted parents’ lifestyle. Only the future would tell about that, but she believed that because of who he was, Rand had given the boys an ideal to emulate.
And she’d pushed him away.
“So if you love him, why not take what time you have together?”
“I don’t have to love him. I’ll get over it,” Beatrice said.
Laura slapped her palm over her mouth as sh
e broke out in a chuckle. Then she laughed. Both palms went over her mouth as her laughter increased. “Oh. Ho. I’m sorry.” She kept laughing. Then she reached over and put her hands on Beatrice’s arm. “Dear sweet girl. You don’t get over love.”
“Of course you do. People do it all the time. They fall in love. They fall out.”
Laura pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, they don’t. Not real love. I’m not saying it isn’t hard and there aren’t times when you’d like to slap them silly, but anger is a fleeting thing. Love endures. Believe me. Even after death.”
It was Beatrice’s turn to touch Laura. “It must be so hard to have loved your husband so much and then be without him.”
“Just as hard as it is for you having this situation with Rand go unresolved.”
“He’s in Idaho. I think he resolved it.” She pursed her lips tightly to beat back a sob that ached for escape.
“I see. And you came here today because...”
She pulled out the envelope. “I’ll always be grateful to him for what he did for me and the camp. I want to pay him back. This should cover his expenses, and someday, I’ll save up enough to repay him for his labor, too.”
“You should say all this to Rand,” Laura said.
“I tried to send him a text but my phone said the message was undelivered. When I dialed his number, I was told it was no longer in service.”
“Wait here a minute.” Laura got up and went into the house. She returned in a few seconds with a folded piece of paper. “Here. It’s Rand’s new private cell-phone number. He was issued a new phone out in Idaho. You call him.”
Beatrice shoved the paper and the envelope back in her purse and rose. “Thank you for taking this time with me, Laura.”
Laura hugged Beatrice and then held Beatrice’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Rand can be stubborn and rigid sometimes. But he always does the right thing. What I want you to ask yourself is why you’d give up on him.”
Beatrice’s eyes stung as she looked into Laura’s caring eyes. “I wish I’d had a mother like you. I—I think things would have been different. I...would be different.”
Rescued by the Firefighter Page 19
