Sparking Sara (The Men on Fire Series)

by Samantha Christy

  Sara looks right past him to where I’m standing. “I think someone is,” she says in nothing more than a loud whisper.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sara has been put through her paces on her first day at the rehab center. They told us that from nine to three every day, with the exception of a break for lunch, she’ll be getting some kind of therapy. This morning, the physical therapist lifted Sara up between parallel bars and she was able to stand. I’m not sure how the therapist was able to control Sara’s weak, wobbly body, but he did. And every time he would sit her down, she would ask to stand up again.

  And she would smile. She would smile at me sitting in the corner, cheering her on.

  She did so well that Donovan, her physical therapist, said he wanted to get her walking in the afternoon. I didn’t believe it, of course. How could she possibly walk when she can barely hold herself up?

  But here I stand, watching a miracle happen. It’s a collaborative effort for sure, with Donovan helping her stand, and another therapist on the floor helping Sara know which foot to lift and helping her lift it. Yet another person walks right behind her with a wheelchair in case she falls or needs to sit. And then there’s me, a few steps in front of her, talking to her the whole time, keeping her attention while I encourage her to lift her head by herself and look at me.

  She takes five steps, sits for a break, and then takes five more. Cheers can be heard throughout the hallway.

  Progress.

  When we get back to her room, she’s exhausted. She gets put back on the vent.

  “You wait here,” I tease. “I’ve got a surprise for you. I’ll be back soon.”

  She nods before falling off to sleep.

  Before I leave, I stare at her awhile, amazed at the advances she’s made today. Less than a week ago, the doctors were still saying she might not recover, or if she did, she’d have major deficiencies. Yet here she is. Walking. Talking.

  She doesn’t talk much. I think it tires her out. Last night, when we first arrived at the rehab center, after she got situated in her room, all she wanted to do was play cards. So we played Go Fish and listened to the Beach Boys until she could no longer keep her eyes open.

  I look around her room that looks far less like a hospital room with the exception of the ventilator. And this room has flowers. I was happy to see that Oliver had sent some over last night to welcome her to her new temporary home. And it has balloons. I’d contemplated going with flowers as well, but then I remembered my promise not to step on his toes. Flowers might have been too much stepping.

  I slip out of her room to run my errand and am back in less than an hour. When I get to her room, Oliver is there and the nurse is bringing in Sara’s dinner tray.

  “No way,” I tell the nurse. “She’s not eating that. She was a rock star today and deserves a reward for her first real meal.”

  I place the bag on the table in front of Sara, noticing she’s been taken off the vent again.

  “What?” she asks softly.

  I dig into the bag and pull out a gourmet cheeseburger and fries. Her eyes go wide.

  “A burger?” Oliver says in displeasure. “You got her a burger?”

  “Hell yes, I did. This is a celebration dinner.”

  “Why in bloody hell would you do that?” he asks. “She’s vegan.”

  “She’s what?”

  “Vegan,” he says. “As in, she doesn’t eat meat. Or French fries made with beef fat.”

  I look down at the burger, feeling guilty. I start to wrap it back up. “I’m sorry. Lydia told me … Well, it’s not important.”

  “Stop,” Sara says, looking at the burger as if she wants to devour it immediately.

  “You want it?” I ask.

  She nods, her wide eyes not straying from her dinner.

  “She wants it,” I say to Oliver.

  Oliver looks perturbed. I guess he’s upset that she doesn’t remember her life. Doesn’t remember him. But then he forces a smile and pushes the burger closer to her. “What my fiancée wants, she gets.”

  Sara smiles with relief. I’m not sure if she thinks Oliver controls what she can and can’t do. But maybe now is not the time to tell her he doesn’t. I try a different tactic instead. “Oliver, I think Sara will need help eating. And remember, this will be her first solid food in thirteen days, so don’t let her overdo it. She should take small bites.”

  “Right,” he says, pulling a chair close to her bed. “I’ve got this, mate. You’ve probably been here all day, why don’t you head home. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

  While he pours Sara a cup of water from the pitcher on her side table, Sara’s eyes find mine and she stares at me. She stares at me the way she should be staring at him.

  “I … Actually, I have a baseball game to go to.”

  I don’t. I mean, there is a game tonight, but I don’t need to go. I told Aspen I wouldn’t. But I think I should. Sara and Oliver need to spend time together. Time without me.

  “Sara, I hope you enjoy your meal. You did great today.”

  “Tomorrow?” she asks, looking hopeful.

  I shake my head. “I work tomorrow. I’ll stop by the day after. Joelle said she’d be here tomorrow, and I’m sure Oliver will keep you company.”

  She nods.

  “Come on, hun,” Oliver says. “Let’s get you fed. Then we can watch something on the telly.”

  She looks over at the deck of cards sitting on the side table. “Okay,” she says, her eyes following me as I walk out her door.

  ~ ~ ~

  Watching the game with Aspen was fun, and it’s a refreshing change to have someone who loves the opposing team as much as I do. I loved playing baseball growing up, and I’ve always been a fan of MLB. But when your brother-in-law is one of the best shortstops in the league, not to mention he holds the record for stolen bases, it makes watching games even more enjoyable.

  Sawyer got me a job last year in Kansas City. I worked grounds crew for the Royals when nobody else would hire me. I grew up loving the Royals, and now I have two more reasons to cheer for them.

  Aspen invites her friends, Rylee and Murphy, to go out with us, but they already have other plans.

  “I have to swing by and pick up my date on the way to the restaurant,” I tell Aspen, as all of us head down towards the clubhouses to meet up with the players.

  “Why didn’t she just come with you to the game?” Aspen asks.

  I shrug. “For one, I didn’t know I was coming until a few hours ago. And two, well …”

  “She’s just your date for the night and you don’t plan on calling her tomorrow.”

  “Don’t look at me like that, Pen. It’s not like I have a bunch of one-night stands and sneak off in the middle of the night.”

  She gives me a scolding look. “You don’t sleep with them?”

  “I don’t sleep with most of them,” I say. “I’m not a playboy like your husband used to be.”

  “Gee, thanks for reminding me.” She rolls her eyes. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to try a second date now and then. Not everyone is like Kendall. Anyone worth having will stick with you through thick and thin.”

  I ignore her observation. I’m tired of Aspen shrinking me. “I’m going to head out and get Nora while you wait for Sawyer. Meet you there?”

  “Sounds good.”

  I say goodbye to Aspen’s friends and make my way through the crowd to the subway. Twenty minutes later, I’m knocking on Nora’s door.

  “I’m so glad you asked me out,” she says. “I didn’t think you even noticed me.”

  “What’s not to notice?” I ask.

  “Thanks,” she says, walking down her front stairs. She looks into the street. “Oh, we’re not taking a cab?”

  “I’m more of a subway guy.”

  She looks down at her very high-heeled shoes. “Uh, mind if I run back up and change out of these?”

  I wait on the sidewalk while she trades her fuck-me heels
for a more sensible pair.

  We make small talk on the way to dinner. I ask her about being a nurse and she asks how I like being a firefighter. When we make it to Mitchell’s, Nora looks up at the awning. “I love this place,” she says. “Have you ever been here before?”

  “It’s one of my favorites.”

  She hooks her arm around my elbow. “See, we have so much in common already.”

  I open the door for her.

  “A chivalrous fireman,” she fawns. “You really are the whole package.”

  I see Ivy waving at me from across the restaurant and we make our way over.

  Nora smiles and bats her eyelashes when I pull out a chair for her.

  I lean over to kiss Ivy and shake Bass’s hand. “Aspen and Sawyer shouldn’t be too long,” I say. “Ivy and Bass Briggs, meet Nora Goodwin.”

  We order some drinks and then I see a familiar face.

  “Hey, Denver, nice to see you again,” Kyle Stone says, stopping at our table.

  “Kyle, you, too. Guys, this is Kyle Stone. We met at Aspen’s wedding.”

  “Dr. Stone,” Nora says in greeting.

  “We’re not at work, Nora. Please call me Kyle.”

  “I know your wife,” Ivy says to Kyle. “I met her through a friend of mine who’s married to her brother.”

  “Lexi’s right over there.” He points across the restaurant. “Hey, you guys mind if we crash your party? We’ve got another couple coming as well.”

  Ivy looks around the restaurant. “Do you think they’d mind?”

  Kyle laughs. “We’re dining with the owner’s daughter, so no, I’m sure they won’t mind.”

  He walks over to the hostess stand and then a few workers come over and push some tables together for us. Lexi comes over and introductions are made all around.

  “Oh, here they are,” Kyle says, motioning for two people to come join us. “Everyone, this is Baylor and Gavin McBride. Lexi works with Baylor.”

  “You mean for,” his wife says.

  He leans down and kisses her. “Just trying to make your job sound more important, sweetheart.”

  Baylor swats Kyle. “Her job is important,” she says. “I would be lost without her. She’s my right hand.”

  “What is it that you do?” Nora asks.

  “I’m a writer,” Baylor says.

  Lexi guffaws. “Oh, please. She’s way too modest. She’s a very successful author of romance novels. She writes under the name Baylor Mitchell.”

  “Wait,” Nora says, looking dumbfounded. “You’re Baylor Mitchell? Oh, my God, I love your books. I’ve read every single one of them.”

  Baylor looks embarrassed and shoots Lexi a biting stare. “Thank you,” she says to Nora. “I’m glad you have enjoyed them.”

  “Would you sign something for me?” Nora asks. “The other nurses at work will die. They all read your books.”

  “Sure. What do you want me to sign?”

  Nora looks around the table. Then I hand her a menu. “Here, how about this?”

  “It’s a menu,” Nora says.

  “Yeah, a Mitchell’s menu, signed by Baylor Mitchell.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea.”

  As Nora chats up Baylor, Kyle asks me about Sara. I tell him she was moved to a rehab facility yesterday. He’s pleased. I get the idea he, like Dr. Miller, didn’t think she had a chance at any kind of meaningful recovery.

  “Sara Francis is one tough chick,” I say.

  Baylor stops talking and turns to me. “Did you say Sara Francis?”

  “Yes.”

  “I know her. She’s doing a painting for me.”

  My jaw drops. “She is?”

  Baylor snuggles closer to her husband. “She’s making a painting of our engagement. She’s super into details. She tracked down the small jet Gavin proposed in and even talked the pilot into taking her up for a short flight.”

  “Yup, that’s her,” I say. “But I’m sorry to say, it might be a while before you get the painting.”

  “Oh, really? Why?”

  “She was in an accident a few weeks ago. A bad one. She’s having to learn how to walk again. And I’m afraid she’s lost some of her memories. I don’t think she remembers making paintings for people.”

  “Oh, that’s horrible,” she says. “I mean, not for me—I can always get another painting—but for her. Is she going to be okay?”

  “She’s been moved to a rehab center. She’s doing better than anyone expected.”

  “Well, that’s good. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Are you friends?” I ask.

  “No, not really. I found out about her from my brother-in-law who is a photographer. Why do you ask?”

  I look down at the table. “Because she could use friends.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Not many people have come to see her,” I say. “I guess she wasn’t what you’d call a very kind person. But I don’t see it. She’s been nothing but kind the past few days.”

  “She was a bit of an arrogant one,” Baylor says. “But I thought that just went along with the territory, being a sought-after artist. Even so, it must be horrible to be in the hospital and not have visitors.”

  “Well, her cousin is there sometimes, but she has twin toddlers, and Sara has a fiancé, but his job keeps him away most of the time.”

  “She has you,” Aspen says, standing behind me.

  I hadn’t realized they had arrived.

  “Doesn’t she?” she says. “My brother here visits her every chance he gets.”

  Nora’s eyebrows shoot up. “You do?”

  “My company responded to her accident,” I say. “I felt bad for her.”

  Aspen and Bass share a look.

  “I’d be happy to visit her,” Baylor says. “But she won’t have any idea who I am. Do you think that’s okay?”

  “I’m sure she’d love for you to visit. A famous author? Who wouldn’t? Maybe you could take a few books to her.”

  “I’ll go, too,” Ivy says. “I’ll bring flowers.”

  I smile. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

  Nora spends the rest of dinner fawning over the famous author and the all-star baseball player at our table.

  I spend the rest of dinner wishing I were eating a cheeseburger and playing Go Fish.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Well, you look like shit,” Justin says when Brett comes around the corner. “Don’t take that the wrong way, Lieutenant.” Justin laughs. “Actually, no—that’s exactly the way I intended. You tie one on last night? Looks like you have one hell of a hangover.”

  Brett goes straight to the coffee machine and pours himself a cup. He stands there with his back to us, just drinking and breathing.

  “I was in California,” he says. “Just got back at five o’clock this morning.”

  “You were in California?” Bass asks in disbelief. “But you were on shift forty-eight hours ago.”

  “Flew in and out yesterday,” Brett says, still not turning around.

  “Why would you do that?” Justin asks. “Isn’t Amanda coming home tomorrow?”

  “No,” Brett says. “No, she’s not. She’s not coming home ever, apparently.”

  The sound of chair legs scraping against the tile floor echoes off the walls as we all stand up and circle around Brett at the kitchen counter.

  “What happened?” Bass asks.

  “She got offered a job. A better job than she has here. So, she’s staying.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Asked me to box up her stuff and ship it. She said she hired a lawyer, too.”

  “What the hell?” Justin asks. “She’s not taking Leo, is she?”

  Brett shakes his head. “No. She hired a divorce lawyer. She doesn’t want me or Leo. I suppose that’s the silver lining if there is one.”

  “You should be happy this happened now and not when Leo’s old enough to be messed up by it,” Justin says.

  “Happy?” he bi
tes, looking at Justin like he might strangle him. “You think I should be happy about this? My goddamn marriage is ending. My son is losing his mother.”

  “A mother he never really had,” Justin says. “And don’t kid yourself, you’ve had nothing resembling a marriage this past year.”

  Everyone shoots Justin a scolding look. It’s one thing that we’re all thinking these things, quite another to say them out loud.

  Brett walks away, taking his coffee over to the table. He sits down and puts his head in his hands.

  J.D. puts a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you sit this one out,” he says. “I’ll call headquarters and get someone to cover for you.”

  “No way,” Brett says. “You want me to go home and think about the fact that I just became a single father? I know exactly how it feels to grow up without a mother. But at least mine didn’t leave on purpose. How do I tell my fifteen-month-old son that his mother doesn’t love him enough to stick around? No thank you. Being here is exactly what I need today.”

  The alarm sounds, putting us all into action to respond to a residential structure fire.

  “That’s our wake-up call,” J.D. says. “Time to put on our dancing shoes.”

  In the rig on the way to the call, I think about Brett and everything he’s had to overcome in his life. Losing his mother in 9/11 was horrible. And now this.

  “We should do something for Brett,” I say.

  “Like what?” Bass asks.

  “I don’t know. Offer to babysit or something? At the very least, we should pass the boot.”

  “That’s a given,” he says. “He’s one of us and we take care of our own.”

  I nod, wondering if I’ll ever be able to say the same. I don’t try to pretend like I’m one of them. Everyone knows I’m filling in for Noah. But let’s face it, I’m a man without a home. A sheep without a flock. A player without a team.

  I really, really want a team.

  Bass swats my arm with the back of his hand. “You’re one of us, too, Andrews. We got your back whenever you need it.”

  “Thanks, bro.”