by Nancy Gideon
The teen shrugged. "It's okay. Kinda on the slow side, but that's all right. I like the kids. They think I'm a sophisticated big-city girl." She grinned up at him. "I have to admit I like the 'big fish in a small pond' thing."
He smiled, understanding the teenage hierarchy. "Don't you miss your friends?"
A sigh. "I've got a couple of good ones, but the rest, they're kinda shallow. All they talk about is going to the mall, drinking and sex and—" She broke off suddenly, remembering who he was and what he did. He grinned wider to still her dismay.
"That much hasn't changed since I was your age."
She relaxed on an exhalation. "Anyway, the kids here, they're more, I don't know, real? Does that make sense? I thought they'd be dull rednecks, you know, farm kids, talking about the soy market and tractors and 4-H. Not that there's anything wrong with those things," she quickly qualified.
"I know."
Again the grateful smile. "Anyway, we've had some real conversations, about important stuff, like college and the environment and the future. Things I'd never thought much about. I was too busy trying to decide on which designer label to put on my rump."
Zach chuckled at her self-deprecating humor. A tang of wry wit was something they had in common. "There's nothing wrong with that, either."
"I know. But it makes me feel kinda stupid for spending so much time worrying about the 'House of Style' on MTV, instead of the House of Representatives."
"You're getting to be a wise old soul, Faith."
"That's what Mom calls Aunt B. I think she was hoping some of her sensibility would rub off on me this summer. I hope it has."
"So, what do you think of your aunt?"
"She's the greatest. Not saying that my mom isn't."
Zach nodded his agreement.
"Mom would get me stuff like new CDs and makeup for my birthdays. Aunt Bess always sent me Shakespeare and play tickets. Brainy stuff, you know. I got so I'd look forward to it. She always made me feel I was smart, like there was more to me than what was on the outside, you know?"
"Yeah, I do." And the sense of kinship grew between them during the next few minutes of reflection.
"I'm worried about her."
The teen's somber confession took Zach by surprise. Alarm bells went off in the area of his chest. "Why? What's wrong?"
"I never really met Grandma. She and Mom had a falling out before I was born and they never got over it. Mom used to tell me about her, though. She said she was a rigid, puritanical old bi—" Faith cleared her throat.
Zach filled in the blank mentally. His own reply chafed with friction. "I know what she was."
"Mom always worried about Aunt B, you know, being stuck here taking care of her all those years. Grandma broke her hip in a fall when I was just a baby. Guess it never set quite right and she ended up in a wheelchair. Aunt Bess had to take care of her and run the store." She kicked at a pebble on the walk, sending it careening into the gutter, growing moody. Reminding him of Bess.
"Mom tried to help out but Grandma wouldn't let her in the house. We kept inviting Aunt B up to visit but she always turned us down. Couldn't get away, she'd say. Guess that was pretty much true the way Grandma had her snared like a greedy old spider. That's not a very nice way to talk about your grandmother, is it?"
"Considering the source, I'd say you're being very polite."
"You didn't like her, either, I take it."
"She and I shared a mutual dislike."
"And something in common?" the girl prompted with an innocent lack of subtlety.
"That, too," Zach admitted.
"So, how come you and Aunt B aren't dating now? Don't you still like her?"
Zach nearly choked on those blunt questions. "It's not a matter of liking her. There are other things to consider."
She pooh-poohed his awkward explanation. "Like what? Your reputation?"
He squirmed a bit at her directness but answered truthfully. "Some people never get over things like that."
"And there are other things people never get over, either." While he considered that profound "out of the mouth of babes" statement, they rounded the corner near the bookstore and Zach drew up short. Their conversation blanked from his mind.
Smoke was curling up from beneath the door of Rare Finds.
"Faith."
The girl looked up, alarmed and alerted by the professional cut of his tone. "What?"
"Go to the diner and call the fire department."
Faith cried out, noticing the black wisps rising on the warm air. Her breathing quickened into gulps.
"Faith, run."
"Aunt Bess—"
"If she's inside, I'll bring her out. Go on. Hurry." The teen broke into a wild run across the square. Zach grabbed the doorknob then jerked his hand back from the searing metal. Worse than he thought. Peering through the front window, all he could see was a thick curtain of gray, highlighted against glaring flames.
It was after-hours. All the neighboring businesses were closed. Bess was at home, he told himself, safe and sound. Even as he tried to convince himself, he pulled out his handkerchief and wound it about his hand.
The knob still scalded through the cloth, but Zach was able to open the door. Clouds of smoke poured out, forcing him to stumble backward. By then other citizens began to race over, drawn by the billowing blackness. Zach ignored them, for just inside the hazy opening, he could make out a single object on the floor.
Bess's purse.
Undoing the top two buttons of his uniform, he shucked his shirt up over his head to form a protective barrier to the smoke, keeping a pocket of fresh air close as he barreled into the burning building.
"Bess!"
His frantic cry was shoved back down his throat by an acrid fist of smoke. Coughing hard, he pushed farther into the room, feeling the heat blistering against the bare skin of his back and hands as he crouched low and began to search. He stumbled over an obstacle course of unseen perils scattered all over the floor, feeling his way over each one to find unyielding wood or lifeless volumes. The longer he fought his way through the dense smoke, the more frequently his starved lungs seat harsh spasms racking through him. His vision blurred as disorientation swirled through his lightening head.
God, don't let me pass out before I find her!
His foot snagged, nearly tripping him, as if he'd caught a low vine. Reaching down, his fingers encountered fabric and flesh: a woman's stockinged leg.
Bess.
His mind formed her name when his parched throat could not. Stooping low, he fumbled in the hazy limbo, finding the rest of her limp form.
So still!
Refusing to let his thoughts linger upon that terrible revelation, Zach gathered her close against his chest, hunching over her as he made his way toward what he hoped was the door. He couldn't tell. The smoke gave away no clues as it continued to mercilessly gag him.
Hang on, Bess. Hang on, I'll get you out of here! I'll get us both out.
Several precious seconds were lost as he searched for a way around a bookcase blockade. Finally freed, he stumbled, falling hard atop Bess's unresponsive form. He couldn't breathe. A strange disembodiment separated his mind's commands from the ability of his body to obey. He sagged over Bess, shielding her from the intense heat, though he couldn't save her from the effects of the smoke. Her hair pillowed his face, filtering his raspily drawn struggles for air.
Not now. Not yet!
Those pleas formed in his groggy consciousness.
Not until I can explain…
He started crawling forward, an agonizing inch at a time, dragging Bess beneath him, with purpose but no direction. A glow formed before his watery gaze. The fire or freedom … he couldn't tell. He continued toward it, slowed by the burden of Bess's slack form. He never once considered leaving her to save himself. They'd be together, either way, and that was enough to motivate him.
He sucked in pure flame. It tore down his raw throat to flare in his lungs. He heard a fain
t ringing. It grew louder, becoming a shrieking wail. Light flashed and strobed against the harsh dampness blinding him. He pushed ahead, using the dig and shove of his toes when his arms gave out. Movement grew faint then failed him.
Bess. Thoughts of her followed him into a deeper well of darkness. Just as hands followed to grasp at his elbows, at the back of his shirt, pulling him up. But he no longer had the strength to fight the swallowing sense of peace.
* * *
Grass. Dry, sharp spears of it tickling beneath his palms, at the back of his neck. He tried to move his head, but something held him fast like a suffocating hand clamped over his mouth. He rebelled against it, arms flailing ineffectually until a calming voice cut through his confusion.
"Don't fight it. Keep breathing in and out, slowly, slowly."
Zach gasped and strangled on a clog of panic. Then air rushed in, sweet, intoxicating, so pure it hurt. Everything hurt.
He blinked sore eyes open. Lumpy shades of gray against glare came gradually into focus, becoming Fred Meirs and several others bending over him where he lay stretched out on the square. His hand fumbled over the plastic bowl covering his mouth and nose.
"Easy, Zach," Meirs said. "It's oxygen. Breathe it in. Your head should clear in a minute."
Closing his eyes, he obeyed, and finally the restorative gas began to work, alleviating the pressure in his chest and chasing the fog from his mind.
Bess!
He tore the mask away, struggling to sit up. Too weak to defy the restraining hands, he allowed them to guide him back down upon the carpet of green.
"Be—" A harsh paroxysm of coughing choked off the rest of her name.
Fred caught his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "The paramedics are with her."
Zach's awareness waned as consciousness threatened to leave him again. Then he fixed upon one horrible uncertainty.
He'd brought Bess out of the burning building.
But had he brought her out alive?
He had to know.
The townspeople pushing in around the opened back of the county's one ambulance parted to give him room. He never saw any of them. His focus channeled down to the sheet-draped figure on the gurney, on the grimy face mostly covered by the bubble of the oxygen mask, on the hand resting in a delicate curl between the rounding of her breasts. That focus didn't waver until he saw that slender hand slowly rise and gradually fall again.
His own breath released in a hoarse shiver of sound.
Thank God.
Faith huddled behind the two paramedics who were measuring blood pressure and pulse rate. Her huge, frightened eyes lifted to find his. Without hesitation, she flung her arms about him, hugging to the dirt and smoke and sweat in grateful disregard as she wept, "You saved her. You kept your promise and saved her."
He hugged her back, surrounding her trembling figure with comforting warmth.
"How is she?" His question grated out in a whisper, each syllable hell to force through scorched vocal chords.
Faith leaned back, wiping her damp and now-sooty cheek with her hand. It shook but her voice was steady. "She breathed in a lot of smoke but she must have fallen and hit her head, 'cause that's what knocked her out. They told me she couldn't have lasted much longer." Her eyes teared up again as she turned back to her aunt.
Zach cupped the back of her head with his hand, murmuring, "You did good, kid. Got them here just in time."
Her gaze flew back up to his. "It wouldn't have mattered, if you hadn't gone in there after her."
Zach followed her stare across the street where firemen worked frantically to keep the fire confined. The front window was smashed out and smoke roiled onto the sidewalk, enveloping all who stood too near. Lloyd Baines and his deputy pushed back the curious to keep them from getting in the way of the tangle of fat hoses snaking across the puddled pavement. Even contained, there was no mistaking the killing fury of the blaze roaring within the store, consuming everything in its path.
As it would have consumed Bess.
A cold chill of consequence shuddered through him as Zach wrapped his arm about the teen, sharing her horrifying glimpse at another possible ending.
The paramedics began packing up their equipment as Fred Meirs took over the examination. Worry ebbed from his lined features as he reevaluated their findings and pronounced them sound. Bess Carrey would be fine.
Sheriff Baines pushed his way in, when Bess's lashes fluttered and she moaned her way back to consciousness. Her bleary stare jumped past him to search the crowd, seeking one face among the blur of those gathered around her.
"Zach?"
He heard her faltery call and bumped Baines out of the way to crouch down beside the gurney. He took her hand up carefully.
"Right here, Bess."
Her lips moved soundlessly for several seconds, making Zach lean in closer to hear the frail words. Then he straightened, his face drawn in taut, immobile lines as they loaded Bess into the ambulance.
Zach watched it edge through the crowd, light strobing but siren silent as it carried her to the clinic for more conclusive tests.
"What did she tell you, Crandall?"
Zach glanced at Baines's impatient features. "Nothing. Just to see Faith got taken care of."
Baines believed him. He shoved his way back over to the smoky scene to assume an authoritative pose, ushering the bystanders away. "Nothing to see. Go on home, folks."
Zach saw nothing but Bess's grimy face. Heard nothing but the words breathed hoarsely against his ear.
"Someone was in the store," Bess had whispered.
Zach recalled the rest with heart banging.
"Someone hit me and left me to die."
* * *
Chapter 14
« ^ »
Sunlight streamed across the bedcovers, making Bess blink against the brightness as she slowly awoke the next day. She recognized her own room, preferring it to the sterile hospital surroundings of the night before. A vivid splash of fresh-cut flowers stood behind her digital clock, distracting her from numbers that read 5:43. Puzzled, she squinted, focusing more clearly to see the p.m. dot illuminated—5:43. She'd slept almost all day. No wonder her senses were so groggy and her throat so dry. The moment she dragged her tongue over chapped lips, a deep masculine voice intruded.
"Here. This ought to help."
Too tired to be startled by the fact that Zach Crandall sat at her bedside, she reached for the thermal cup he held and directed the bendy straw to her mouth. Cool water seeped down her throat, cutting through the soreness in a delicious slide. The reason for her lethargy and the charred taste in her mouth floated at the edge of her awareness. She chose not to bring it close enough for recognition. She'd deal with it later. Right now, Zach was here. She was safe in her foggy world. With a sigh, she settled back against the pillows and gathered the strength for speech.
"Where's Faith?" Her words came out, sounding like the pull of a rusty saw through dry wood.
"Downstairs fixing some supper. She had a friend's birthday sleepover scheduled for tonight, but she wouldn't leave until she knew you were all right. I told her I'd stay with you. If that's okay with you."
The effort of thought was almost as great as the effort for speech, so she just nodded, her eyes closing wearily of their own volition. Content with the idea of Zach watching over her, she drifted again, letting sleep overcome her.
Zach waited a few minutes to see if she'd come around, soothed by the gentle movement of her breathing. The hoarse rattle in her chest that had frightened him in the hospital had eased to a quiet rhythm so he wasn't worried about leaving her alone for a moment.
Faith looked up from the pot of stew she was stirring at the stove. The concern furrowing her brow relaxed upon seeing his expression. "Is she awake?"
"Just for a second. The stuff they gave her will probably keep her out of it most of the night. Smells good."
"It needs to simmer another half hour." She clanked the spoon on the metal edge of t
he Dutch oven, then restored the lid. "There's more than enough if you want to stay for some."
"Don't mind if I do."
Faith checked her watch. "I'd better call Kathy and tell her I can't come over."
"She's fine, Faith. Your being here, fussing and worrying won't change anything. I doubt that she'll be up for company before morning."
"I don't know—"
"I thought you had a Brad Pitt droolfest planned for tonight."
Faith wavered. "Nothing I haven't seen a million times."
"One more won't do any permanent damage." Zach smiled, solving her dilemma for her. "Go. Have fun. Leave me a number, and I promise I'll call if she needs you. You know I keep my promises." His conscience winced. Except the ones he made to Bess.
"Oh, all right. You promise?" At his nod, her animation returned. "Kathy has a triple bill planned. I'm bringing the popcorn and bibs to catch the drool. Her number is right there next to Doc Meirs's and the hospital." She paused, frowning, as responsibility chafed at her. "I don't know. Maybe I'd better not. I feel kinda funny running off when Aunt B's—"
"She's fine. She'll be fine. All she needs is rest. Not a teenager pacing next to the bed."
Just a handsome guy sitting next to it. Faith knew whom she'd rather wake up to. "Sure you don't mind?"
"No," he told her softly. "I don't mind at all."
After weighing her worry for her aunt against the possibilities of Bess and Zach alone in the house together, she gave him a look that was intuitively adult then smiled back. "What about your reputation?"
"I'll say I had to stay to get a statement."
"Think they'll buy that?"
"Do you?"
She shrugged. "Does it matter?"
"Maybe it will to Bess."
"Naw. I think Sleeping Beauty would rather wake up to your face than mine. Don't forget to take the stew off the burner."
When he made that promise, she darted for the stairs and the bag she hadn't unpacked, then hurried back, pausing only long enough to stretch up onto her toes to press a kiss to his rough cheek.
"Thanks, Zach." And she was gone.
He touched the damp spot, fingertips lingering there for a long minute. Kids. Not a bad invention when they turned out as good as this one. Something he hadn't thought about before. Kids. Family. His experiences weren't anything that would convince him to plunge right in. But obviously things could work out the right way, if Faith was any indication.
