Rescued by the Firefighter

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  “Talk about creative.” Clint held the vase in his hand, turning it to view from all sides. “This is really pretty, Paula. Done like a pro.”

  Humbled by the memory of his amazing woodwork, she thanked him and carried the arrangement back into the living room and placed it on the table in front of the picture window.

  “Have a seat.” She gestured to the sofa where he usually sat, and she sank into the easy chair near him. He looked pale, taking her back to his time in the hospital. “How are you feeling now that you’re working again?”

  His expression answered her question, and she understood even more when he explained his limited duty and boredom, but she sensed he had more on his mind and suspected it was about her. “I didn’t want to call you at work since you’d been gone all those days. I figured it would be an adjustment and—”

  “That’s okay. I understand. I think the real issue is we were both thoughtful when we got back from Roscommon, and we were uncomfortable with what happened between us.” He captured her gaze. “At least I was.”

  Blunt and to the point. Here it came. She shifted her eyes from his. She’d feared this from day one, and with Clint, she recognized bad news even before he expressed it. “That’s part of it, I guess.” She forced herself to look at him. “I’ve been thinking a lot, and I—”

  “And you don’t want to see me anymore.”

  Sadness filled his face. His reaction startled her, and it made her ache. “No, that’s not it. Not at all.”

  His back straightened, and though his expression held concern, his eyes glinted hope. “What is it then?”

  “I’m going to be open with you, Clint. If I were ready to make a commitment, you’d be the only man who’d make me want to take that step.”

  His dazed eyes searched hers. “Then what’s the but?”

  “You and I know what happened when you kissed me in Roscommon.” Grateful that he nodded, she didn’t need to explain her meaning. She wrapped her mind around the rest of her thoughts. “But I know intimacy isn’t what you want outside of marriage.” She studied his expression for validation. “I know I’m right about that.”

  His face tensed again, causing her concern, but he didn’t falter. “You are right, and I know that’s why we were uneasy, but that being said, I need to disappoint you here.”

  A hollow feeling depleted the air in her lungs.

  “When I was in my early twenties, I knew what was right, but I did get that involved with a girl. It seemed every guy I knew had a story to tell, and I began to wonder if I was the only twenty-two-year-old virgin in the state.”

  Though he grimaced, she had to hold back a nervous laugh. In other circumstances, what he said might have held humor. But not now. “I admit I’m surprised.”

  “I never wanted to lead you on. I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes and without the excuse of ignorance. I knew I was doing wrong, but I did it anyway. It took me a long time to forgive myself even though I knew the Lord had forgiven me the moment I faced the truth and I regretted what I’d allowed to happen.”

  She considered this idea, recalling scripture relating stories of Jesus forgiving great sins out of love. Could that be the situation in her case? Had God forgiven her, but she hadn’t forgiven herself?

  Her own admission hung by a thread in her mind, a thread ready to break with the weight of her sorrow. Clint had confessed his sin, and it was time for her to tell him everything. She gazed at the lovely bouquet of bright colors and sweet scent. They would shrivel and die without water, and so would her relationship with Clint without truth, but the admission sucked the life from her.

  “What’s wrong, Paula?” He blew out a stream of air. “I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you.”

  The sadness in his voice startled her. “You haven’t disappointed me, Clint. I’ve disappointed myself far more than you could ever upset me.” She steeled herself. “Since we’re being honest, let me expand on my story.” She forced herself to look into his eyes.

  He didn’t blink but leaned closer, resting his elbows on his knees. “Please. I want to know everything about you.”

  Not this, but it was time. “I told you about my mother, but I’m no better, Clint. I didn’t think of my body as sacred. I’d never even thought like that. I saw it as a way to find love. That’s what my mother did. Or I thought she’d found love. What she’d found was security and a man to hold her in his arms. I wasn’t naive. I knew what went on, and though it disgusted me to one extent, it answered my desire to be loved...or what I thought would be love.”

  His breath rattled from his chest. She closed her eyes, fearing that he would stand and walk away, but when she lifted her eyelids, he was still there. As she opened her mouth, she feared telling him everything. He’d told her about one girl, and her admission was worse and could destroy the progress they’d made in their relationship.

  But she’d opened the subject and so she continued and told Clint about the night she met Vic. “He came off as a gentleman. He never tried anything. He didn’t ask for anything from me. That night he drove me home and kissed my cheek at the door.” She shook her head, still unable to wrap the image around her mind. “Can you understand how amazing that was for me?”

  Clint gave a faint nod, his expression rapt in her experience.

  “After a couple of weeks, he gave me a bottle of perfume and told me how much I meant to him. He’d been looking for work, and meanwhile he was staying with friends. Since I had an apartment to myself, I invited him to move there until he got his life in order.” Her stomach knotted remembering that day. “Clint, I had dreams. Hopes. Vic sounded grateful and moved in with a small suitcase and a mouthful of thank-yous.”

  The rest of the story curdled, and she spoke it into the air, more to persuade herself than Clint how she’d fallen prey to a liar. She’d become a victim of— She closed her eyes, dispelling her excuses. She’d been utterly desperate for love.

  “Then it happened. Vic was short of money, and I gave him a loan. Soon he had my credit card and took money as he needed it. I didn’t bat an eye. I responded like a wife. He came home with gifts for me and groceries occasionally, and I didn’t give a thought to what was really happening.”

  Clint made a groaning sound. “So he was buying you presents and supplies with your money.”

  “Not only that, Clint. I was so stupid and trusting that I didn’t even check my financial records. For the first time in my life, I had a person who came home to me at night—sometimes later than I wanted—but he came home, and I thought he loved me. I talked about making it legal, and he said not until he found a job and made things right.”

  “But he found no job?” Clint shook his head, concern etching his face.

  “No job, but he was getting a sturdy bank balance. He was stealing my savings, and I didn’t see it. By then he’d taken over paying the bills and depositing my checks at the bank for me. I was duped. Horribly and stupidly duped. A woman of thirty who had the brain of a teenager.” Her voice caught in her throat. “But a hunger for love can do that.”

  Clint rose and drew her into his arms. Instead of disgust, his face churned with a look of indignation. “He wasn’t a man, Paula. He was scum. Good-looking maybe, but beneath it scum.”

  “But I was old enough to know better.”

  “Age had nothing to do with it. You had no one who demonstrated what a healthy relationships should be. How could you not look to your mother for an example and think you were—”

  “If I really search inside me, I did know something was wrong. I just didn’t want to face it.” Her chest ached holding back the anger she felt for Vic and the disgust she held for herself. “I looked at my friends with healthy relationships—the few I had—and they had concerns, but I defended him.” Pain knotted in her neck and radiated down her back. “I didn’t want to face reality. I di
dn’t want to admit I’d been gullible and stupid.”

  He drew back, his eyes searching hers. “Are you sick? You don’t look well.”

  “It’s nothing. I’ve dreaded telling you this, and I don’t know how you can—”

  He kissed her cheek and eased her into the chair, then stood behind her, massaging her neck and shoulders until the tension lessened and she could breathe again.

  “Better?”

  She nodded, not wanting him to stop. She’d spewed the story, and instead of turning his back, he’d sided with her, found excuses and spoken his concern. She didn’t deserve one minute of his kindness. He’d done what he’d told her God did for His children. The example warmed her heart.

  Clint gave her back a final rub and rounded the chair. “Thank you for telling me. It breaks my heart, Paula, but you don’t need anyone’s forgiveness except your own. You’ve already atoned. I can hear that in your voice, and if I can hear it, you know the Lord can. It’s all in your hands now.”

  “And you’re not disappointed? Disgusted?”

  “No more than I am with myself.” He wandered back to the sofa and sank into the cushion. He studied her a moment, his expression morphing from one emotion to the other until she stopped trying to read his thoughts. When he leaned forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, his hands folded. “But what I need to know now is where do we stand?”

  His question came out of the blue. Or did it? She thought back to the beginning of their conversation. “You mean our friendship?”

  “Friendship.” His jaw tightened. “Is that really what it is?” His eyes told the truth.

  “No. It’s far more than friendship alone, Clint. You’re my breath of life, my hope for the future, my inspiration.”

  “Then what’s holding us back from making a—”

  She pressed the flat of her hand against her chest. “Me.”

  Confusion covered his face, his eyes searching hers in silence.

  “Until I can be a woman that will make you happy, one who fits your life and faith, I can’t take that step. You deserve to be a father, Clint, but I’m not sure I can be a good mother. I can’t deprive you of that joy. I would never forgive myself.”

  “But—”

  She stopped him with a flex of her hand. “No buts. You said I had the seeds, Clint, and I trust that you’re right. I’ve seen the tiny buds of faith form. Now I’m waiting for them to open. You reminded me that you can’t do it for me. I have to not only open my mind but also my heart. So much of my life has changed, even blossomed, so those buds could blossom, too. It just takes time.”

  “Time.” He rose and knelt beside her. He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I can wait.”

  Her breathing ceased, and she gulped for air. “You’re willing to wait?”

  “I am.” He rose and drew her into an embrace. “I know those special kisses will have to be saved for later, but I can still touch your lips with mine and hold you.”

  He slipped his arms around her and drew her close, his lips brushing hers with the gentleness of a summer breeze.

  Joy rippled through her, a shudder he felt by his loving touch. “Thank you.”

  He rested his cheek on hers, his hand flowing down her back like raindrops on a window. “I can wait as long as it takes.”

  Her arms trembled as he pressed her to his heart, and she prayed.

  Chapter Ten

  “What do you think?” Paula stood back and studied the blue-and-rust upholstery of the sofa Ashley had left behind, which was positioned near the two rust chairs Paula had taken from her mother’s all-season porch. Together it gave both of them new life.

  “It looks great.” Ashley slipped her arm around her shoulders. “In fact, it looks as if you bought the pieces together. I never liked the look of chairs I’d used in the room, but then I was grateful for any furniture. Adam had received notice of duty in the Middle East, and my mind had been focused on that.”

  Her voice had trailed off, and Paula’s lungs pushed against her heart. She couldn’t imagine. “I’m surprised you were able to do anything.” Then it hit her. “And you’d just learned you were pregnant.”

  Ashley nodded. “We were thrilled to leave the apartment and have our own home with our first baby on the way. We thought everything was perfect, and then...”

  She didn’t need to finish the sentence. “I’m always wary when things seem perfect, Ash. Somehow the ax always falls.”

  Ashley nodded. “I know.” She sank into one of the rust chairs, rubbing her fingers over the nappy fiber. “Like now.”

  Paula’s breath hitched. “What’s wrong, Ash?”

  She gave Paula a strange look. “I’m talking about Clint’s situation.”

  “Clint’s situation?” She stared at Ashley, uncertain of what she meant.

  Ashley’s eyes widened, and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Paula. I’m so sorry.” She lowered her head and shook it. “I don’t think Clint told you.”

  Her pulse exploded. “Told me what?”

  Ash’s head inched upward. “Elise.”

  Paula suspected her face had turned as pale as Ashley’s. “What about her?”

  “She’s coming back to Ferndale. Her parents still live here.”

  Her mind spinning, Paula sank onto the sofa. Clint hadn’t told her. That had to mean it was something he didn’t want her to know. But why?

  “I could kick myself.” Ashley rose. “I’m so sorry.” She rattled a sigh. “I’m sure he didn’t mention it because he didn’t want to stir up your worries when everything was going so well for you.”

  “But I’d want to know. Don’t make excuses for him.” She fought tears attacking her eyes. “Anyway, we don’t have a commitment. Nothing. He—”

  “What are you talking about?” Ashley darted from the chair and caved onto the cushion beside her. “Words don’t make a commitment. Your actions do. Clint hasn’t dated since I’ve known him, and Devon said he never knew the guy to go out with anyone after Elise walked out on him. Clint wouldn’t even go to a movie with Devon or stop for breakfast when they left the station.” She grasped Paula’s hand. “He’s been like a new man since you stepped into his life.”

  Nothing stirred hope in her. She’d been a distraction while he waited for Elise. “If I mean something to him, he should have confided in me. Not in you and—”

  “Devon told me how upset Clint was. Clint never said a word to me, Paula. Not one word.”

  She replayed their last conversation. She’d confessed her disgusting life, and he’d guaranteed her that it made no difference. Later when it sank in, who knew what would happen? She’d been surprised at his confession, but that hadn’t been as shameful her million-dollar admission. She’d sinned, and the sin left her used and dirty.

  Clint had been upset, but he blamed Vic and excused her. She remembered his words when she asked if he were disappointed or disgusted. He’d said, “No more than I am with myself.” But what did that mean? If he still harbored disgust for his own sin, then he certainly harbored disgust for hers.

  She’d seen his expression when he arrived...and the flowers. She’d made a joke about guilt. Maybe it wasn’t a joke after all.

  The picture twisted in her mind. Was it guilt? He would feel guilt if he’d planned to tell her that Elise had returned and he was going back to their relationship. Or was he upset because Elise had stirred up a problem when his life seemed perfect? Perfect. The word sickened her. She tossed the options in her head. Which way did it go?

  Ashley stood again and walked to the window. “When the guys get back, I’m telling Clint what I’ve done, and hope that he’ll forgive me.”

  “Please don’t bring it up, Ash. Let me talk with him. I’ll let him know your reference was a mistake. That you assumed
I knew.” She stood and dragged herself to the window beside her. “It’s not your fault. An honest man would have told me.”

  “Honest? Clint’s the most honest man I know. Let him explain. Don’t assume you know what was in his mind or why he didn’t bring it up. People are innocent until proven guilty.”

  She snapped her head around to face Ashley. “Do you know how many people get away with murder?”

  Ashley’s color drained. Tears flooded her eyes, and she spun around and darted through the front door. She watched as Ashley hurried down the road toward home. Though she didn’t know for sure, Paula assumed Ashley could not forgive herself for opening up something Clint had been hiding from her. She didn’t blame Ashley but she supposed her own over the top reaction threw Ashley off. Why would she ever compare Clint’s indiscretion to getting away with murder? She and Clint had no agreement, nothing that would keep him from going back to...Elise. Still, the thought tore her to pieces.

  Paula sank into the chair, her mind reeling, her spirit boiling with despair. Why Lord? Are You listening? Are You even there?

  * * *

  Clint sat frozen to the spot. He peeled his fingers from the steering wheel, the bag of fast food sitting in Devon’s lap. A rush of fear roared in his ears when Ashley flagged them down on the street.

  “Clint, I’m sorry. So sorry.” Tears rolled down her eyes.

  “What? What happened?” His heart raced. “Is it Paula? What happened?”

  “I didn’t know you hadn’t mentioned Elise’s call, and...”

  His stomach knotted, and her mistake hit home. He’d been stupid to avoid telling her. As he listened to her spill out the story, he realized that Paula had drawn an assumption that was so far from the truth he couldn’t see it. Elise meant nothing to him but a pain that he’d allowed to fester until he’d come to his senses. He’d done that with Paula’s help. Nothing could influence him to take a second look at Elise.