Stand-In Mom

by Marie Ferrarella

  Sydney had purposely used the vague term something, allowing Marta her privacy. It wasn’t work Sydney was thinking of. Shayne had told her about nearly walking in on the two of them. She couldn’t have been happier.

  But the last thing Marta wanted right now was to be alone with Ike, especially after this morning. “No, I’ll come home with you. You’re the one I came to visit, not Ike. I’ve spent more time with him—”

  “All for a good cause,” Sydney reminded her. “You were helping him learn his way around the baby.”

  If Marta hadn’t been around, then Sydney would have been more than happy to volunteer her services to him. But her attention was already divided up enough for any two people. Having Marta here to help her out, even for a short while, was a blessing.

  Marta thought of the women she’d seen clustered around Ike when they’d first arrived this morning. “He’s got more than enough help, I’m sure.”

  She frowned as she heard what sounded like a high-pitched siren. That was a city noise, something she associated with ambulances and police cars, neither of which were in Hades. It had to be something else. She looked at Sydney. “What’s that?”

  Sydney paled slightly. The siren went off infrequently, but every time she heard it, chills ran up and down her spine. She hated the sound of it. Scanning the area, she saw Shayne, but didn’t manage to make eye contact. He was striding toward Ike. The latter was motioning toward a number of other men gathering near the door.

  Marta caught Sydney’s arm, drawing her attention back to her. “Sydney, what is it?”

  “Someone called in a fire.” She felt as if her heart was in her throat as she said it. Scrambling to their feet, Mac and Sara came running toward her.

  “Mommy, can we go see it? Can we?”

  “Is Dad going?” Mac asked excitedly.

  “Yes, he’s going, and no, we’re not going to go see it. We’re going to go home and wait for him until he gets back.”

  “Back?” Marta echoed. “Back from where? You told me Hades doesn’t have a fire department.”

  “We don’t.” Sydney pressed Sara close to her. “We have volunteers.”

  Several men were rushing past them to pile into their vehicles and head for the source of the call.

  Impulse seized her. Unable and unwilling to hang back when there might be an emergency, Marta grabbed her parka from the back of the chair where she’d left it.

  Stunned, Sydney stared after her. “Marta, where are you going?”

  “You said the town used volunteers, right?” she called back over her shoulder. “Well, I’m volunteering.”

  The next minute, she hurried out the door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Moving quickly, Marta found herself colliding with Ike the moment she set foot outside the door. Surprised, he grabbed her by the arm to steady her, as Marta caught her breath.

  As if of one mind, they asked in unison, “Where are you going?”

  “With you,” Marta said, just as Ike answered, “To talk to you.”

  “Why?” Again they asked in unison.

  Marta held up her hand to stop him from saying anything else. If this continued, they’d wind up going nowhere quickly. “You first.”

  “I wanted to ask you to take Celine home with you. There’s no telling how long I’ll be gone.” Chagrin, as well as cold, colored his cheeks. “I forgot about her for a second when the alarm sounded.” That said, he began moving away from Marta toward his car.

  But Marta caught his sleeve, demanding his attention. “Sydney can take her home. I’m going with you.”

  Even if she hadn’t been holding onto his sleeve, her words would have stopped Ike in his tracks. “You’re what?”

  “Going with you,” Marta enunciated slowly, raising her voice above the noise.

  Was she out of her mind? “This isn’t some clambake we’re going to.” Deftly, he removed her hand from his sleeve. “It’s a fire, and I’m wasting precious time standing here talking about it.” Glancing behind him, he saw that Shayne had already left. On top of everything else, Shayne had accepted the post of volunteer fire chief. Ike didn’t like leaving him without backup.

  “Then don’t waste any more.” Turning, Marta saw Sydney approaching them. “Watch Celine for us,” she called out to her.

  “Don’t worry about her,” Sydney told them, raising her voice. “I’ll take her home with the children.”

  That settled, Marta turned around, only to discover that Ike had already left. Stifling an unflattering oath about his immediate biological debt to the animal kingdom, Marta hurried to where she knew he’d left his vehicle parked.

  He was starting up the Jeep. She’d caught up to him just in time.

  It wasn’t until after she flung herself into the passenger seat that Marta realized she’d used the word “us” in making her request of Sydney. Us. As if Celine were hers as well as Ike’s. As if there were some sort of relationship between them instead of just a temporary, passionate coupling.

  She hoped Sydney hadn’t picked up on it.

  Just a slip of the tongue, Marta comforted herself, nothing more. It didn’t mean that she was actually beginning to think of Celine as hers in any fashion. A few random diaperings and feedings did not form any sort of lasting bond. She, more than anyone else, knew that. Hadn’t she been in enough homes to learn that? Helped with enough babies who would never even suspect she’d been part of their lives for a short interim of time?

  They weren’t moving. She looked quizzically at Ike, waiting. “I think you’ll make better time if you move that shiny stick back to the letter D.

  He let the sarcasm go. Ike shifted in his seat, looking at her. What the hell was she trying to prove? “I’m only going to say this once. Get out of the car.”

  She responded by buckling up. “Okay, you’ve said it, now let’s go.”

  He had no idea what to make of her behavior, and had no time to try. The car began to vibrate, protesting being left in neutral. “Get out of the car,” he repeated a little more firmly.

  “Going back on your word?” She looked at him innocently. “I thought you were only going to say it once.”

  He sighed, struggling to keep his temper. What was it about this pint-size woman that brought all of his emotions out in the open? He hardly ever lost his temper, hardly ever had a temper to lose. She had made it part of his everyday life. “I don’t have time to play games. They’re going to need every pair of hands they can get.”

  He wasn’t sure just how many men were on the roster now. The number of volunteers changed from week to week. He, Luc and Shayne were practically the only steady members on the volunteer force.

  “My point exactly. I’m not coming to watch. I’m coming to help.” Marta looked at him, trying to appeal to his common sense. She had never fit into the “good little woman” mold and never would. “There has to be something I can do to free up someone bigger and stronger to do the things that require more strength.”

  His foot on the brake, he disengaged the hand control. “You are the damnedest, most stubborn woman…”

  “Yes, I am,” she agreed wholeheartedly, turning forward. “Now drive.”

  He shifted the car into drive, and it roared to life. Ike could still make out the last car that had left the field. Picking his way across the snow as quickly as he could, he made a beeline for it.

  He spared Marta a glance. She was sitting ramrod straight beside him, staring into the night as if searching for the fire. The woman was irritating as hell, but she was also magnificent.

  He had to know. “What is this burning desire, if you’ll pardon the pun, that you have to come along?”

  Marta’s first instinct was to make up some flippant excuse. But he was bringing her, and maybe she owed him an explanation. Or maybe saying it aloud would take the heavy weight that had suddenly materialized off her chest. It had been a long time since she had thought of it.

  “When I was ten years old, the family I w
as staying with, the Andersons—Edith and John—had their house burn down. It happened in the middle of the night.”

  She lowered her voice as the memory became more vivid. “I can remember the terror of waking up and seeing flames shooting up all around the room I slept in.” It had been a spare bedroom that had been turned into a den and then turned back into a bedroom again when she had come to stay with them. “If it hadn’t been for that fireman finding me, I wouldn’t be here today.”

  He’d come out of nowhere—a tall, strapping man dressed all in yellow and black, and she’d thought he was some sort of monster, coming out of the fire to get her. Until she’d seen his eyes. She’d always remember those eyes. Dark brown and kind. The moment she looked into them, she knew he was going to save her.

  Ike reached for her hand, covering it. “Remind me to send him a thank-you note.”

  Marta ignored the comment, thinking it was only a line Ike would have said to anyone. If he sounded sincere when he said it to her, well, that was probably nothing more than part of his well-honed act.

  She refused to get caught up in this man’s charm any more than she already was. Doggedly, she continued with her story, getting to the heart of it. “I also remember what it felt like, standing out on the lawn, wearing the jacket he’d draped over me. Watching everything those people had burn up. Everything I had, too.” Her voice turned wistful. “My favorite toy went up in that blaze.”

  She hadn’t thought about that in years, Marta realized.

  “What was it?” Ike asked when she stopped abruptly.

  Marta closed her eyes for a second, seeing the stuffed animal in her mind’s eye. She couldn’t remember who had given it to her, only that she’d always had it. Until the night of the fire.

  She laughed softly. “A champagne-colored teddy bear with curly hair. Glen,” she recalled. “I called it Glen. I have no idea why. It was pretty ratty by that time.” She meant to sound dismissive, but didn’t quite carry it off. “I cried for days after that—when no one was around to see.”

  She’d been proud, even at ten, Ike thought. At what age did a personality take shape? Hers had probably formed a great deal faster than most. “Keeping a stiff upper lip’s pretty important to you, isn’t it?”

  Marta shrugged, realizing she’d said too much already. He had a way of bringing it out of her. She turned away from him and stared straight ahead. “I like my privacy.”

  “Sometimes,” he told her quietly, “privacy can be lonelier than Hades.”

  She didn’t know whether he was being cryptic, or literal. In either case, she didn’t want to continue talking about her past. Looking out her window, she still couldn’t see anything. Had someone played a prank on everyone? “Do you know what’s burning?”

  Yes, he knew. It was Jean Luc who’d sounded the alarm and then called Shayne on his cell phone. Returning to the Salty to tend bar, Luc had seen the fire through the window. “It’s the general store.”

  Ike set his mouth grimly. The general store was their equivalent of “the mall.” Without it, they were going to have to do without, or travel into Anchorage. Unless the roads suddenly cleared on their own, the only access anyone had to the city was Shayne, now that Sydney had been officially grounded. It made life difficult for everyone.

  “A lot of people might have to tighten their belts for a stretch, unless we’re lucky enough to keep the damage to a minimum.”

  He took this personally, Marta thought. Someone else might look for a way to capitalize on the situation. She knew enough people like that. Had loved someone like that. Or thought she had, she amended.

  Now she wasn’t so sure.

  As soon as she saw the fire, it took center stage, eradicating any other thoughts. Red and yellow flames were reaching out, trying to grasp the sky, even as they licked at the source of their existence.

  She hadn’t expected the terror to return, but it had. The terror that had taken hold of her that night so long ago. She struggled to wrench herself from its control and lock it away. She hadn’t come along to be a burden, but to help.

  The lone truck the community possessed, purchased through a pooling of funds, was already in place before the general store. Luc, his hastily donned yellow coat flapping in the wind as he moved, was hurrying to attach the hose to the hydrant. One of the men she remembered seeing at the Salty—a man she’d heard referred to as Clancy—was dispensing protective uniforms as if he were dealing out cards from a giant deck.

  “One size fits all?” she asked Ike as she quickly got out of the Jeep.

  “Seemed the way to go.” Hurrying to secure his uniform, Ike suddenly stopped dead before he reached Clancy. A thought had occurred to him with the suddenness of a summer shower. “You’re not going in.”

  It wasn’t a question, it was an order. And because it was, Marta bristled at it, ignoring the protective underpinnings of his instruction. He wasn’t being protective, she told herself, he was just worried she’d get in the way.

  Marta glared at him over his presumption. Just because they’d made love didn’t give him the right to order her around. “I said I wanted to help, not argue. I’ll be where I can be the most use.”

  Ike had no idea what that meant in Marta terms. Exasperated, he turned to Shayne. “Here, you do something with her. She’s not going to listen to me.”

  Already decked out in firefighting gear, Shayne looked surprised to see her. “I thought you were going home with Sydney?”

  “Change of plans,” was all she said. “What can I do to help?”

  Hustling her out of the way of the two volunteers manning the hose, Shayne brought her to where Clancy was dragging out more gear.

  “You take over for Clancy. Clancy, tell her what to do and then come find me.”

  If Clancy was confused by the switch, he gave no indication. There was no time to move slowly or ponder anything. They’d practiced this periodically. Every man knew that every second counted. The general store was close enough to other buildings that the fire would ignite them if the wind picked up even slightly. The entire town could be wiped out in a matter of hours.

  Standing near the truck, Marta could feel the searing heat. The blaze, hypnotic and evil, had already consumed a third of the building, its appetite driving it on to destroy the rest. She tore her eyes away, refusing to look for Ike in the crowd. She wouldn’t be of any use if she let worry paralyze her.

  She looked up at Clancy on the back of the truck. He’d been throwing down the gear that was stashed beneath the seats. Grasping the side rails, she climbed up onto the truck.

  “Go,” she ordered Clancy. “I can do this.”

  Grabbing a set of gear for himself, he jumped off the truck and was gone before the words were completely out of her mouth.

  It took them over an hour—twelve men working frantically, pitting themselves against a single destructive force, bent on bringing its reign of terror to an abrupt end.

  At one point, sparks from the blaze had landed on the roof of the Salty. From her vantage point, Marta had a clear view of the other building. It took her only a second to realize that she was the only one who saw where the sparks had landed, or even that they’d found a target. Appalled, she scanned the area for Ike. Her heart instantly leapt into her throat as she saw him emerging from the burning building, smoke billowing out from behind him as he carried the Kelloggs’ aging dog to safety.

  He’d risked his life for a dog. Her heart swelled.

  “Ike!”

  He saw her then, soot streaked across her face, her hair the color of the flames they were trying to beat back. For a second, Ike thought she’d come running to him because she’d been afraid for his life. But then he saw that she was pointing at something.

  He looked in the direction she indicated.

  Damn!

  Rushing past her, he alerted the volunteers in charge of the hose of this newest threat. They directed the water to the Salty’s roof before it, too, fell victim to the fire. Becaus
e she’d alerted them in time, the threat was averted quickly enough.

  Ike’s eyes met hers. He hoped she understood. He had no time to say anything to her, to voice his gratitude.

  The general store was still burning.

  Exhausted, Shayne made the rounds in the bar where the men had gathered after putting out the fire. He was checking the men out for any smoke inhalation or injuries sustained during the fire. A couple of the men had singed hair, and one had swallowed more than his share of smoke. But he was all right. And, more importantly, Tate and Shirley Kellogg, who lived above the store, had been spared along with Isaiah, the dog Ike had carried out after the couple had been rescued. They’d been lucky.

  “How about you?” Shayne asked Marta, stopping at her table. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, surprised at how drained she felt. She hadn’t actually fought the fire, yet it had taken its toll on her, just being close. With a deep sigh, she dragged her hand through her hair.

  “I’m fine.”

  He checked her out anyway, then turned just as Ike approached with a mug of ale in each hand. “I’ll get yours in a minute,” he promised Shayne, nodding at the mugs.

  “None for me,” Shayne told him. “I just want you to sit down so I can check you out.”

  Ike smiled at Marta. She’d been terrific tonight. As fearless as they came. He felt something warm stir within him. The lady really was something. “I’d rather have your houseguest check me out.”

  “That’s between you and her to settle. Open your mouth,” Shayne instructed, a fresh tongue depressor in his hand.

  Sighing, Ike complied. When Shayne was finished, Ike nodded toward another table. “Go play doctor with someone else. I’ve business to attend to.”