With a deep groan of frustration, she stretched out, face down on the floor, and reached toward the pup. The sharp corner cut into her soft flesh, but her fingertips barely brushed the soft fur. She ignored the tears that coursed down her cheeks and rested her head on her still extended arm.
Her lungs burned, but she didn’t know if it was from the exertion or the smoke. Either way she had to rest for a second. God, help me, she prayed, as the puppy’s whimpers faded from her consciousness, and she descended into a cottony haze of sleep.
❧
The lakeside drive made a circle around the placid water, and everything from ramshackle cabins to elegant mansions dotted the shore. A gentle breeze rustled the tree leaves. As he jogged quietly along the pavement, closing his eyes against the cool wind, Clint allowed peace to wash over him. He automatically put one foot in front of the other.
As his body relaxed, he stumbled on a loose pebble. He opened his eyes and grinned. He’d been asleep on his feet before, working a double shift, but he’d never fallen asleep jogging.
Sleepless nights were for the birds, like the owl that hooted softly in the big oak tree next to him. He glanced at the numbers on his lighted watch. Barely past three in the morning. Weird time for a workout.
Stress had apparently wreaked havoc on his internal chronometer. He had no idea why that would come as a surprise. It was certainly ravaging the rest of his life.
Even his senses—the same ones he used to depend on to keep him alive—were starting to play tricks on him. For a brief moment, he wondered if he was having a nervous breakdown. In the wee hours of the autumn morning, with the water lapping rhythmically on the shore a few feet away and all of the inhabitants of this sleepy little village nestled snug in their beds, Clint, the quintessential fireman, smelled smoke.
Almost of their own volition, his feet picked up speed, following the imaginary smell. He came around the bend and ground to a halt.
Clint recognized the tiny cabin as one that had been vacant for years. Tendrils of smoke were curling up from it. Small flashes of yellow and orange licked at the edges of its cedar-shingled roof like a multitude of tiny tongues.
So much for peace. He must attract fire somehow, like some men attracted women or wealth. At least it wasn’t an occupied residence.
He had no doubt old Mrs. Benton would be sorry to lose the cabin that had been in her family for decades, but certainly no one else in the community would consider it a sad event.
He hurried toward the cabin, looking for a nearby water hose. There were no near neighbors, but with the brisk wind, one could never be sure what might happen.
As he came closer, all the blood in his body seemed to gel, and his heart felt like it stopped for a beat. Terror washed over him.
A small blue car was parked in the always-empty driveway.
Instincts kicking in, Clint took off at a run. When he reached the front door, he stopped, paralyzed by the gut-wrenching fear that had been his constant companion since Ryan’s death.
Lord, please don’t let there be anyone in there. Please don’t make me do this. I can’t.
He could hear the fire truck in the distance. Someone had already called them. He looked around the yard. The resident had most likely awakened, phoned 911, and was waiting on the perimeter of the property for the fire department to arrive.
He stood on the porch for a split second, frozen by indecision. Even his prayer had become more of a groaning that he couldn’t put into words. Just as he tried again to step closer to the door, it slowly opened.
Clint stared as a figure collapsed on the threshold. Black smoke poured out the door with her, almost obscuring her from his view.
As if invisible restraints had been cut, Clint sprang forward and grabbed the woman, who appeared barely conscious. She clasped a lethargic puppy and a small black purse to her chest.
“Is anyone else inside?”
“No.” She leaned against him as if the one word had cost her dearly.
Coughing, Clint scooped her up in his arms, puppy, purse, and all, and carried her away from the cabin, out to the edge of the lawn. He laid her carefully on the cool grass and automatically began to assess the situation. Just as he found her steady pulse, a fire truck spun into the driveway, and an ambulance was right behind it.
The woman’s eyelids fluttered open. Clint was struck by the startling green color. She looked so familiar. Before he could figure out where he’d seen her before, she began to cough.
He kept his hand on her shoulder until the wracking spasms stopped. She motioned him to lean toward her.
“Puppy was stuck. . .I couldn’t get him out.”
“The puppy’s fine, ma’am. He’s right here beside you.” Clint resisted the urge to smooth back the curly tendrils of red hair that framed her pale face.
She twisted her head toward the burning cabin, then moaned and coughed again. Tears tracked down her soot-blackened face. “Oh, no.”
“I know it hurts to cough. Try to relax.”
“No, it’s my family.”
“Your family?” She’d told him no one else was inside. Could she have been confused? He felt the familiar adrenaline rush. “Is someone else in the building?”
“No.” Her voice was weak but sure. “My family will think it’s my fault.”
Clint looked back at the cabin. “I doubt that. After decades of use, wiring gets worn and old.” Instinctively, he took her hand in comfort.
She squeezed it. “You saved me,” she murmured. “You’re a real-life hero.”
The relief he’d felt when the front door opened disappeared, and a lead ball of self-disgust settled in his stomach.
Hero? Not hardly.
Before he could speak, two uniformed EMTs arrived by her side and took control of the situation. Clint stood and looked toward the cabin now engulfed in flames. Firefighters worked valiantly to contain the blaze, but from their procedures, he recognized they’d given up the structure itself as a total loss.
He’d go tell the fire chief what had happened, then get on home. He’d done all he could here. Which was not much, actually.
“Wait!”
He glanced back. The red-haired beauty, now on a stretcher between the two EMTs, motioned toward him.
He walked over to her, desperately hoping she wouldn’t call him a “hero” again.
“Thank you.”
Heat crept up his neck, but he nodded. Right now wasn’t the place or the time to try to set the record straight.
“I know you’ve done enough, but will you take the puppy? At least until I figure out what I’m going to do?” Her eyes were pleading.
He nodded and scooped up the wiggling yellow puppy who seemed to have recovered completely. To his surprise, it growled and nipped at his hand.
“It’s a stray,” she said. “Thank you for taking him. I’m sorry I didn’t have any flowers for your mother.” She barely got the words out before another coughing spell started and the attendants hurried her off to the ambulance.
He wondered for a moment if she was delirious, but as the vehicle doors shut behind her, he realized why the green eyes had looked so familiar. She was the florist he’d met his first day back in town. Even in his sorry mental state, he’d been fascinated by The Flower Basket’s new owner.
He turned toward the burning cabin. Was it a twist of fate or an act of God that had thrown them together tonight? ]
Three
Jessa plucked at the sheet on the ER bed and shivered. A large framed print provided the only relief against the stark whiteness of the windowless room. She stared at the sun-drenched ocean scene and willed herself to soak in the warmth of the hot sand. Leaning back against the wall, she stared at the deserted beach.
The sterile room receded, and suddenly she was nine years old again, with waves washing over her head. She swam frantically for the shore, but the current pulled her under the briny water again and again.
The flood of despair washing over her n
ow felt no less deadly. Her father had saved her that day at the beach, and she had no doubt he’d love to save her now. But at what cost?
She loved her family, but she’d moved from Georgia to get away from their watchful eyes. Instead of the smooth sailing she’d hoped for on Lake Freedom, she feared her boat had just sunk.
If only she hadn’t procrastinated about buying renter’s insurance. Somewhere in the charred remains of the cabin were quotes from three companies in town. She’d looked through them before going to bed and had settled on the most reasonable one, intending to take care of it first thing this morning.
Now all of her worldly possessions were gone. Well not quite all. The things she’d stored in the outdoor storage building should be fine. At the time, she’d hated putting anything in the musty old shed on the back of the property. Now she realized her reluctant decision had inadvertently saved the few items she had left to her name.
Just like her hero’s decision to go on a late night excursion—jog, most likely, if his clothes were any indication—had saved her life. Why had he been so averse to being called a hero? His warm blue eyes had turned frosty when she’d used the word.
She sagged back against the wall and pulled a blanket over her legs. Even though she’d worn flannel pajama bottoms out of the burning cabin, her teeth chattered. How many times had she sat in an emergency room just like this one? Too many.
The doctor had examined her shortly after she’d been brought in, then hurried out. A lab technician had come and drawn enough blood to run every test known to mankind. What seemed like hours later, a nurse had bustled in, checked Jessa’s vital signs, and heralded the doctor’s second coming, but so far, he hadn’t appeared. Jessa wondered what she would do when he signed her release papers.
From the corner of her eye, she caught movement as the door slowly opened. The tap that followed was obviously an afterthought on the doctor’s part. The short, balding man in a white lab coat who had examined her earlier walked into the room, engrossed in an open file. He looked up from the folder. “Hi, Jessa. You feeling better?” Without waiting for a response, he began a cursory exam.
After she had taken numerous deep breaths and coughed on command several times, he nodded. “You have a little smoke inhalation. All your blood tests came back normal, though.” He patted her shoulder. “I think you’ll be fine with some rest.” His eyes softened. “I understand you lost your home in the fire. Do I need to keep you overnight to be sure you get rest?”
“No. I’d rather go—” Her voice broke off. Go where? Where did you go when your house burned to the ground in the middle of the night? “Go to my shop.”
It was not technically true. Her shop was the last place she wanted to go. There was no bed nor couch. But it would be quiet, and it would be hers.
The doctor nodded, but his eyes shone with sympathy. “Do you have a ride?”
“No. Yes.” She grimaced at the hoarseness of her voice. It was bad enough to be helpless without sounding like it, too. “The fireman said my car was fine. I can walk and get it.”
“Isn’t that out on the lake? I don’t—”
A voice on the intercom interrupted him. “Dr. Satterfield to CICU, stat. Code Blue, repeat, Code Blue.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and signed her papers. “Go ahead and check out if you want to, but wait in the reception area until I finish with this, and we’ll find you a ride out to your car.” He shoved the folder at her and hurried out of the room.
Jessa sat stock-still and tried to think. What choice did she have but to wait for the doctor? She didn’t want to worry Evelyn and Ruby, and who else could she call in the middle of the night? Her gaze fastened on the clock. It wasn’t the middle of the night anymore. In this room without windows, it was hard to believe it was morning. A few minutes past eight. Her shop would open in two hours.
If she could get a ride to her car, she could beat Doris there, get cleaned up, and rest for a while. She kept a sleeping bag and a pillow in the trunk of the car. She would throw those down on the floor and trust that her assistant would understand when she found Jessa sacked out in the back room. Tears burned her already irritated eyes.
She blinked against the hated weakness and tossed the blanket to one side, then scooted off the bed. She’d slipped into her shoes and started for the door just as another tap came. “Yes?”
A man poked his head in. “You decent?”
“Well, if I wasn’t, it would be a little late.”
She recognized her reluctant hero as he stepped into the room, holding the silliest looking stuffed puppy she’d ever seen.
Pushing her gloominess aside, she smiled. “That’s not the pup I left you with.”
He snapped his fingers and grinned. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” His eyes, so somber in repose, twinkled like a Christmas tree when he smiled. “I knew they wouldn’t let me bring the real thing, so I left him at home chewing on my best boots. I picked this little guy up at the gift shop instead.” He held the toy out to her.
She took the plush puppy and squeezed it to her cheek. “It’s so soft. Thank you.” She marveled at the comfort that hugging an inanimate object gave her.
Suddenly she remembered the feel of this man’s strong arms around her, lifting her effortlessly out of harm’s way. Maybe she’d been alone too long, trying to establish her independence. She raised an eyebrow and considered her mysterious rescuer. What was it about this man that had her thinking about her single status?
He returned her gaze, refusing to look away. The silence stretched across the room like a taut rubber band.
Jessa’s stomach squirmed as if one were aimed at her.
He finally spoke. “I’m Clint McFadden.”
“And I’m the damsel in distress. Jessa Sykes.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess the fireman told you.”
“No, actually, my mom did.”
Jessa looked at him. “McFadden?” The name sounded so familiar. “Oh, you’re Jeb and Elaine’s son!” She could see the resemblance now between her hero and the couple who’d been so friendly to her at church the last few weeks. “Your parents are so sweet! I just love them.”
Clint ducked his head. She watched in fascination as red slowly suffused his face. How long had it been since she’d met a man who blushed? “That’s good. Because my mom has given me an order. Since you like her, it’ll be easier to deal with.”
“An order?” Jessa couldn’t imagine that either Clint or his mom thought she was in any shape to talk about flowers. Didn’t they realize she was homeless, not to mention exhausted?
“When I told her about your cabin, and that I was coming to the hospital this morning to check on you, she insisted I bring you to their house as soon as the doctor released you.”
“To their house?” It occurred to Jessa that she was repeating everything he said, but she couldn’t help it. “Why?”
“They were hoping you’d stay with them while you figure things out.”
“Oh.” She absently stroked the stuffed animal while her tired mind fumbled for a tactful way to decline. Changing one pair of controlling parents for another pair wasn’t her idea of becoming an independent woman. Even if this set did have an absolutely gorgeous son who blushed at the drop of a hat. “Please tell them thanks, but I’ve got things under control.”
He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth then shut it. “I see.”
For a minute, she wondered if he really did see. He seemed to take her “No, thanks” personally. Maybe asking him for a ride to her car would take the sting out of her refusal. Surely throwing herself briefly on the mercy of her rescuer would be more palatable than waiting for the doctor to make travel arrangements for her. “Would you mind taking me to my car, though?”
“Okay. After you get your car, are you up to checking yourself into a hotel? I could follow you back into town and help you get settled.” He looked at her clothes. “I know you ca
n’t wait to get into something clean.”
She cringed. She knew she looked a mess, but he didn’t have to spell it out so plainly with his pitying expression. “I can clean up at the shop.” She glanced down at her T-shirt and pajama bottoms. They were filthy and torn. “I keep an extra set of clothes in the cabinet.” Without warning, hot tears filled her eyes again. Her only set of clothes now.
“Why not wait until you get to the hotel to clean up?”
Her hero might be reluctant, but he was certainly persistent. “Actually, I think I’ll just stay at the shop for a few days until I get things sorted out. There’s a back room.”
“At The Flower Basket?” He started to say more, then closed his mouth instead and shook his head.
She felt her defenses rise. How could she tell him that, with no insurance, every spare penny would have to be used to replace her clothes and other necessities? A hotel room was a luxury she simply couldn’t afford. And allowing others to care for her came with a price tag of a different kind. But one she wasn’t willing to pay, just the same. “I’d prefer to be at my own place.”
“I’ve seen that back room,” he mumbled.
She shot him a warning look, and apparently taking the hint, he changed the subject. “You ready? When I walked by the nurses’ station, I overheard the doctor say you were going to be fine and that he’d released you.”
“Yeah.” Fine was relative, but when she stopped and thought about it, having no clothes was fairly trivial considering how things could have turned out. Shame flooded her at her ungrateful attitude a few minutes before. “I’m thankful you were in the mood for a middle-of-the-night jog.”
Her heart hammered against her chest at the memory of the smoke-filled cabin, even as she grabbed her purse and clutched the stuffed puppy under her arm. She looked up at Clint. “I don’t think I could have made it breathing that smoke much longer.”
He nodded shortly. “Let’s go.”
He pushed the door open and placed his hand against the small of her back as he ushered her out. For a split second she relaxed against his palm, drawing strength from his steady presence. Then she pulled away and hurried down the vinyl-tiled hallway toward the checkout window, clutching the plush toy to her chest and barely glancing at the tall man beside her.
Through the Fire Page 2
