Her Only Hero

by Marta Perry

  He grabbed Laura’s arm. “Is there anyone else in the building?”

  “No.” She tried to pull away from him. “You scared Mandy. I could have carried her out.”

  When it came to stubborn, this woman took the cake. He yanked her to the stairs. “Tell me about it later. Right now we’re getting out.”

  Luckily she’d shoved her feet into shoes, so he didn’t have to worry about her getting cut up. He hustled her down the steps. The front door stood open now, and together they rushed out into the fresh morning air.

  The paramedic unit had already pulled up to the curb, and the crew from the secondary tank truck was wetting down the adjoining buildings.

  He took Laura straight to the paramedics—his sister Terry’s team, thank goodness. Terry was the best. She was already checking out the little girl.

  Mandy struggled to get away from Terry’s hands, reaching toward her mother. Laura dropped to her knees on the wet pavement, coughing, and swept her child into her arms.

  The lump in his throat might have been from the smoke, but he didn’t think so.

  Thank You, Father.

  He suspected Dave was saying the same prayer. Any day they got people out safely was a good day.

  “You need to let us check you out.” Terry’s voice was gentle but authoritative as she peeled the little girl away from her mother.

  Laura nodded, but Mandy took one look at him and began to wail again.

  Quickly he stripped off the mask and helmet and squatted next to her. “Hey, Mandy, it’s me.” He pulled off his gloves so he could sign his name. “Ryan.”

  The wailing stopped and the child’s dark eyes widened, some of the fear leaving them.

  “This is just my mask.” He had to gesture to make up for the signs he didn’t know. “See, Terry is going to give you one, too.”

  Mandy clutched her mother’s hand, but she let Terry fit the oxygen mask on her face.

  Terry glanced up. “Thanks, Ry. We’re going to take them both to the hospital.”

  “I’m all right—” Laura began, but the words were interrupted by a fit of coughing.

  “Just to check you out,” Terry said gently. “Don’t worry.”

  “Listen to my sister.” He gave Laura a reassuring smile. “Trust me, she knows best.”

  She nodded, clasping the little girl close as he and Terry helped them into the rig. “Thank you,” she murmured, and the door closed.

  He watched the unit out of sight. They’d be all right. He and Dave had gotten to them in time.

  He turned back to the building. A sense of relief went through him. Thanks to their fast response, the crew nearly had the blaze out already. By the looks of things, the damage probably wasn’t going to be severe.

  Still, thinking about the job Laura was trying to do, he felt a pang of sympathy. She’d already had her hands full. Now, it looked as if her life had just gotten a whole lot tougher.

  Laura trudged up the stairs to the second-floor apartment, following the yellow beam of her flashlight in the darkness. The staircase looked like Mount Everest at the moment. Apparently the doctors had been right about the effects of smoke inhalation.

  I’m fine. That’s what she’d kept repeating to the doctors all day so they’d let her go.

  Mandy was spending the night at the hospital. Just to be on the safe side, they’d said. She’d stayed there, too, until her daughter fell asleep. She’d been tempted to go to sleep herself in the vinyl chair next to Mandy’s bed.

  But she kept thinking about the building. How bad was it? She’d been told the fire department had doused the flames quickly, but no one had told her how severe the damage was. She hadn’t been able to sleep for thinking about it. Finally she’d known she had to see for herself.

  So she’d come. She’d change her clothes and get Mandy’s favorite teddy bear to take back to the hospital, just in case her daughter wakened in the night. And she’d check out the damage to the only asset they had to their names.

  Then she could go back to the hospital and try to sleep in that chair, once she knew the worst.

  She pushed herself up the last few steps, feeling as if she carried an enormous weight on her shoulders. The apartment door was closed, but not locked. Had she closed it in the flurry of getting out, when Ryan had manhandled her down those stairs? She didn’t remember.

  Inside, she swung the light around, half afraid of what she’d see. Her breath came out in a sigh of relief. The apartment was untouched. The acrid scent of smoke still hung in the air, but that was minor in comparison to what she’d been imagining.

  Coughing a little, she crossed to the closest window and opened it a few inches at the top. Cool night air rushed in, fanning her face. She’d deal with airing out the rest of the apartment later.

  She went through into the bedroom. The closet door was closed, and she pulled it open. Not too bad. The closed door had protected her clothing from the worst of the smoke.

  She pulled out a pair of slacks and a shirt, changing quickly. She’d showered at the hospital, and a nurse had provided some cast-off clothing to replace the sooty, smoky pajamas she’d been wearing. She wouldn’t be likely ever to wear those again.

  A shudder ran through her. If the smoke alarm hadn’t gone off, if someone hadn’t seen the blaze and called the fire department, if—

  No. She couldn’t let herself keep reliving those terrifying moments when she’d struggled awake and run to Mandy’s room. The problem would be to stop doing it.

  She crossed the hall to her daughter’s room, her stomach roiling. When she’d run in, terrified, Mandy had been awake, huddled under her quilt, clutching her teddy bear. Why hadn’t she come to her mother when she realized something was wrong?

  The bear, Teddy, lay abandoned on the rag rug next to the single bed. She scooped him up and held him close, feeling tears sting her eyes. We’re all right. We’re safe.

  She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. She had no time for crying. The clock was ticking.

  In three weeks her prospective buyer would be here to check out the building. The specialist could call at any time to schedule Mandy’s cochlear implant. The two most important things in her life sped toward her.

  She had to be ready. She suppressed a flicker of panic.

  Okay. Carrying the bear, she started back downstairs. She’d take a quick look at the damage and then head back to the hospital. And tomorrow—

  She frowned, swinging the beam of light around the front room of the downstairs. Water from the fire hoses hadn’t mixed very well with the dirt. Would she be able to bring Mandy back here tomorrow? Maybe, if the power company restored the electricity.

  If not, that would mean a motel, and how she’d pay for that, she couldn’t imagine. The panic flickered again and was beaten down. She could do this. She’d find a way.

  Little as she wanted to, she had to check the back of the building, where the worst damage was. She picked her way carefully across the littered floor, feet moving in the yellow circle cast by the flashlight.

  A loud thud sounded at the back of the house. Her heart stopped for an instant and then started thumping wildly. She heard a scuffling sound, then the rumble of a masculine voice, followed by several loud bangs.

  The sensible thing was to run out and call the police. She wasn’t feeling very sensible. Instead, rage surged through her. It wasn’t bad enough that she and her child had been forced out of their home by the fire. Now some lowlife was trying to get in and rob them. Well, he’d get more than he’d bargained for this time.

  The flashlight beam touched a two-by-four about as long as a baseball bat. Perfect. She grabbed it and advanced on the door to the old kitchen.

  Light gleamed from around the swinging door. Apparently her thief had come well-equipped.

  Running on anger and adrenaline, she shoved the door open, raising her improvised weapon threateningly. A dark figure stood at the back door.

  “What do you think you’re
doing? Get out of here!”

  He swung around, and her breath caught. Ryan. Ryan Flanagan stood there, a hammer in one hand.

  Chapter Two

  Ryan lifted his hands. “I give up. Don’t shoot.”

  Laura’s heart pounded, as if once the adrenaline started to flow, she couldn’t stop it. “I’m sorry.” She realized she was still holding the two-by-four. It hit the ragged linoleum with a clatter.

  He lowered his hands cautiously, probably not sure she was really disarmed. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you were at the hospital.”

  “I came back to check the house.”

  He nodded toward the teddy bear that was clutched under her arm. “And to find something important, I guess.”

  She held the bear a little tighter. “He’s important to Mandy. She likes to sleep with him.”

  “How is she?” Ryan leaned against a sooty counter, hands braced against its edge, apparently not minding the dirt. He’d exchanged his uniform for jeans and a dark-blue knit shirt, and he’d picked up a streak of soot across the front of the shirt, presumably since he’d entered the house. The concentrated light of the torch cast his strong face into sharp relief.

  She forced herself to concentrate, her wits still scattered after finding him here so unexpectedly. “She’s going to be all right. The doctor thought she should stay until tomorrow to be sure there aren’t any aftereffects from the smoke.”

  “That’s good.” He studied her face. “You look as if they should have kept you, too.”

  “I’m fine.” She was getting tired of saying that. “I don’t want to be rude, but what are you doing here?”

  “Fixing the door.” He gestured toward the door that led onto the porch, and she realized belatedly that the powerful torch he’d set on the counter was trained on the opening. The door sagged on its hinges.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  He shrugged. “I broke it. Seems like the least I can do is fix it.”

  “I can take care of the door. I don’t need any help.” She had to sound strong, because she was unaccountably weepy at the thought that Ryan Flanagan had actually come back to do something for her.

  “Not even from an old school friend?” He gave her the easy grin that charmed so readily.

  She blinked, startled. “I thought you didn’t recognize me.”

  “You’re Laura Jane Phillips. At least, it used to be Phillips. You were a year behind me at Suffolk High. Am I right?”

  She nodded. So he had remembered her. Or perhaps someone had told him who she was.

  “Why didn’t you tell me who you were yesterday?” His eyebrows lifted. “Or didn’t you remember me?”

  “No one could forget the Flanagans.” She answered the second question first, evading his eyes. “I just—didn’t think it was appropriate to get into old home week when you were here on business.”

  He leaned casually against the filthy counter, as if ready to stay and chat all night. “It bugged me all day, trying to figure out why you looked so familiar to me. How are your folks?”

  “They’ve retired to Arizona. My dad’s health isn’t very good.” The usual pang of concern gripped her heart at the thought of her father.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I guess otherwise he’d be here doing the renovation for you.”

  She nodded. It wasn’t necessary to confide in Ryan that her father didn’t know she was doing the rehab herself, for that very reason. If Dad knew, he’d try to come and probably kill himself in the process.

  As for her mother—well, she’d stopped trying to figure her mother out a long time ago. She just knew she couldn’t count on her for help with this or anything else.

  Ryan relaxed his long frame against the counter, not seeming in any hurry to get on with the door-fixing. “Anyway, I didn’t know you’d come back to Suffolk. I thought you were living in Philadelphia.”

  “How on earth would you know that?” She hadn’t imagined he’d remember who she was, let alone know where she’d gone after school.

  He grinned. “You’re forgetting my mother, with her encyclopedic knowledge of anyone who’s ever attended our church. Once I mentioned you, she trotted out everything she knew, including the fact that you were married and living in Philly. She was surprised we haven’t seen you in church since you’ve been back.”

  Siobhan Flanagan had taught her in church school twice—once in kindergarten, then again in junior high. She had a gentle manner, a warm smile and a love that extended to even the most rebellious of teens.

  Still, however warm her memories of Ryan’s mother, she was not going to defend her failure to attend church to him. “Please greet her for me. And really, I can take care of the door.”

  He shoved away from the counter in a smooth, even movement. “Tell you what. You hold the boards and I’ll pound. We’ll have it secure in no time.”

  That was probably the fastest way to get him out of here, so she set the flashlight and teddy bear down and went to the door. The acrid scent of wet, burned wood from the back porch sent a wave of nausea through her, and she forced it down angrily.

  Ryan had apparently brought a few two-by-fours with him, because the wood gleamed new. He put one of the boards against the door, and she braced it with both hands.

  He used the hammer with quick, effective strokes. The board vibrated from his force, jolting her hands.

  “So, after your husband’s death, you decided to come home and buy this place.” The pounding punctuated his words, and she felt the flex of his muscles where his arm brushed her shoulder.

  “Not exactly. My husband had bought the building a couple of years ago for some business venture he had in mind, but he never got around to doing anything with it. So I decided to fix it up.”

  She wouldn’t add that this building was the only legacy Jason had left her and Mandy. That everything else he’d received from his father had been frittered away on one foolish scheme or another, until his father had finally cut him off, saying Jason would have to pay for his own mistakes. Apparently he’d put her and Mandy in the mistake category.

  “You plan to live here?” Ryan propped another board across the door, and it gleamed palely against the blackened frame.

  “I’m fixing it up to sell. I have a buyer who has an option, if I can get the renovation done before she loses interest or finds something better.”

  Ryan paused, looking over his shoulder at her. Her pulse gave a little jump. Her hands were planted next to his on the board, and his face was only inches away.

  “And then you’ll leave Suffolk again?” He looked at her as if he really wanted to know. As if it might matter to someone what she did.

  Her mouth was dry. From the smoke, she assured herself. Not because Ryan Flanagan had any effect on her.

  She moistened her lips. “I haven’t decided yet. Mandy is going to have a cochlear implant—at least I hope she is, if all the tests go well. I can’t plan beyond that right now.”

  The implant could give Mandy a chance at a normal life. How could she think of anything else?

  “At the hospital here?” His eyes lit with interest.

  “That’d be Dr. Marsh, I guess.”

  “You’ve heard of him.” She was faintly surprised. Franklin Marsh was well-known to parents of deaf children, but why would Ryan know of him?

  “My sister-in-law, Gabe’s wife, trains animals to work with people who have disabilities. She introduced me to Dr. Marsh at a benefit. I understand he does good work.”

  “He’s the best.” She wouldn’t trust her daughter’s hearing and her future to anyone who wasn’t. “If he decides Mandy will benefit from an implant, it will make all the difference in the world to us.”

  And if he did accept Mandy for the procedure, she somehow had to come up with the over fifty thousand dollars the process would cost. The minimal insurance program she was able to afford would cover Mandy’s stay in the hospital, but it didn’t cover a cochlear implant.


  As if he felt all the things she didn’t say, Ryan put his hand over hers where it rested on the board. “I hope it works out.”

  “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I appreciate that. And really, I can finish up the door. I’m sure you have other things to do with your evening.”

  “I’m free as a bird.” He pounded another nail in place. “And anyway, as far as I can see, it’s finished.”

  He stood back, smiling at her. He was right. The door was secured.

  He’d shaken off her protests and done exactly what he’d said he would. And he’d gotten more information from her than she’d confided in anyone in months.

  She raised her eyebrows at him, dusting her hands off. “Do you always get your own way?”

  His smile broadened into a grin. “If you remember my family, you ought to know that I grew up fighting a bunch of siblings to get what I wanted. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  “I remember that you used to charm the teachers into letting you get away with murder.”

  Now why had she said that? The man would think she was flirting with him.

  “Lies, spread by my brothers, no doubt.” His smile assumed an angelic aspect. “I was always a serious student.”

  “Somehow I find that difficult to believe.” And she also found it difficult to believe that she was standing here smiling at him, after everything that had happened this day.

  “Why is it no one will take me seriously?” He dropped the hammer into a duffel bag and picked up the flashlight.

  “Maybe because you don’t take yourself seriously.”

  “Ouch, that hurt. A woman who sees right through me. I’d better watch out.” He hefted the bag. “Anything else I can fix while I’m here?”

  “Everything’s fine.” Well, it wasn’t, but he ought to know what she meant. “I guess we’d better go out the front door, since you’ve nailed up the back.”

  He nodded, and then he unexpectedly clasped her hand in his. His face was very serious in the dim light. “I wish you and your daughter the best.”