Rescued by the Firefighter

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  He studied Ashley’s pale face and tear-filled eyes, and he knew how she felt. “It’s not your fault, Ash. I should have told her. I’d convinced myself that not knowing would alleviate her concerns. Things have been great for her. Selling her mother’s house, getting the job, realizing she has a second chance for a better life, everything had worked out. I’ve been happy beyond words noticing the changes in her. Telling her would have been a setback.”

  The reasoning split him in two. “But that was my error.” He looked down the street toward Paula’s new house and struggled to calm himself. “Let me go there alone. Just for a few minutes. I’ll call you when—”

  Devon grasped his arm and gave it a squeeze. “Take your time. We’ll save the burgers for you.”

  “I couldn’t eat now if I had to.” Shaking his head, Clint rubbed his pounding temple.

  Devon slipped from the passenger seat and rounded the car. He leaned into the driver’s window with Ashley by his side, her face still stained with tears. “I’ll be praying, Dev.” Ashley gave a nod and buried her face in Devon’s shoulder.

  “Thanks for the prayers.” Clint lifted his foot from the brake and rolled down the street, his heart in his throat. Every excuse that ran through his mind sounded wimpy. Telling her would have made sense. He saw it now. It could have solidified their relationship instead of tearing it apart.

  Pulling into the driveway, he collected his thoughts and drew on his inner strength. The truth made sense. No excuses. She’d know if he was hedging. He turned the key and pulled it from the ignition, letting his back flop against the seat. Lord. He swallowed his words. God knew his heart and that’s all he needed to say.

  He stood at the side door, tossing the options of ringing the bell or just walking in. The question wasn’t needed. He grasped the knob, turned it and climbed the two stairs to the kitchen. He paused, not knowing which way to turn, but he took a chance and swung through the dining room into the living room.

  Paula looked up, her eyes glazed and her face tight with anguish. Awareness flashed in her eyes. “She told you.”

  He heard her ragged sigh.

  “I understand, Clint. Please don’t drag me through your excuses. We made no commitment, no promises. You’re free to live your life as you please.”

  He moved closer. “Thank you, Paula. I’m relieved you feel that way.”

  Her eyes didn’t blink, her face stoic. She’d fallen back into the Paula he’d met what seemed like years ago. Finally, she gave a faint nod.

  Instead of walking away as she must have expected, he stepped toward her, drew her into his arms and crushed her to his chest. “This is what I want, Paula. I had no decision to make.”

  Confusion flooded her face, her eyes searching his in a dazed stare.

  Despite their agreement, he tossed it aside and lowered his mouth to hers, every ounce of longing washing over him, drenching his heart with something he’d longed for but never had until she stepped into his life.

  Her body stiffened against his, her mouth pulling away, but undaunted, he held her fast, praying the Lord open her eyes. Her rigid stance diminished, and she yielded to his strength as if she could no longer stand on her own. When he eased back, the same confusion flickered in her eyes but, with it, a seeming willingness to listen.

  He slipped his hand in hers and guided her to the sofa, where he sat beside her and held her in his arms. Silence covered them while the air snapped with anticipation.

  In the quiet, her breathing slowed while his pulse eased to a trot. “I know you don’t want excuses and I won’t give you any. Only an explanation.”

  She studied him a moment before drawing back and sinking into the cushion.

  “It was a phone call, Paula. She called and I was shocked.” He explained the conversation and his disgust in her purpose for calling. He could only assume that she thought he’d stumble back to her, filled with forgiveness, maybe even on his knees, offering her love and security. “She has nothing to offer me, Paula. I have everything I want.”

  Her eyes searched his before focusing across the distance. He feared her thoughts were there, too, dredging up the horrors of her past or putting him in the same category as Vic or one of the other men who’d stolen her life from her.

  He didn’t give up. “I promised I would wait, and I’m keeping that promise. I know trusting is hard for you, but you’ve seen me in action and I pray one day you’ll accept my word and trust me.”

  Her mouth pulled at the corners, and he longed to see her smile, to cover her with kisses and to hear her say he was forgiven.

  “I need time to weigh the situation, Clint. I know I’m always asking for time, but if we have any hope of resolution, that’s what I need.”

  “I promised to wait, and I will no matter what the reason. I’m in no hurry.”

  “Thank you.” She leaned closer and brushed her lips against his.

  “That’s all I needed.” Though only a whisper in her hair, his voice resounded in the heavy quiet.

  * * *

  Clint leaned back and chuckled when he saw Devon. “Guess what I found in my wallet?”

  “Hundred-dollar bill?”

  “Not quite.” He flipped open his billfold and pulled out the card. “It’s our win from the Sequence game.”

  Devon eyed his prize. “You haven’t used it.”

  He gazed at the gift card for Clawson Steak House. “I forgot.” He grinned at Devon, shaking his head. “I know. I’ve been on a short thread lately.”

  “Maybe it’s good you still have it. You owe that lovely lady a night out.”

  Clint thought of the mess created by Elise’s phone call and gave Devon a thumbs-up.

  Sal appeared over his shoulder. “You still have that thing. If you don’t want it, Maureen loves the place.” He gave Clint’s back a pat before extending his hand.

  “No luck, pal. Think of it as spent. Friday night, if that works for Paula.” He slipped the card back into his wallet. “Paula deserves a fun night out as a celebration of her new house.” He looked at Sal over his shoulder. “Thanks to Ashley and Devon.”

  Devon’s voice sailed from the other side of the room. “Don’t thank us. Paula paid our asking price and selling it to her saved us all kinds of costs. We owe her our thanks.”

  “But a home of her own is something she’s dreamed about. Seeing her happy makes me happy.”

  Sal’s chuckle reverberated behind him. “The boy’s got it bad.”

  Cringing, Clint clamped his mouth closed, surprised he’d said so much.

  When the others went on to their evening activities, he settled into an easy chair and pulled out his cell phone. He loved his work, but for the first time in his life, he missed being home. He missed Paula.

  Their relationship hadn’t been smooth. He would never say it had been, and they still faced bumpy roads. She needed time, and he understood. At one time, he’d needed the same, but not anymore. If he were sure of anything, he knew how he felt about her.

  Her lack of faith hadn’t been a concern until his heart took over and he realized what that meant. A proposal. Marriage. That was on hold. But he still believed that a person’s actions could influence others, and he’d never hidden his faith from anyone. She’d witnessed it and even commented that she wished she had something to lean on. He’d offered his shoulder, but his shoulder was aeons from God’s power. Paula had needed to know that the Lord loved her and was there for her, no matter what. And now even he’d witnessed evidence of her growing faith.

  The seeds had been planted, but he’d helped her become aware of them. That’s all he’d done. Nothing more. Yet her drive and desire to learn had been watered by others, and here she was today, seeming more and more to grow, to pray and to study the Word.

  Every day he became more confident their
lives were lining up and one day she’d let him know she could accept what he had to offer, a life with him. Children? The longing to be a father swelled in his heart, and despite Paula’s fears that she’d be a terrible mother, he had no doubt she had learned from her mother’s mistakes. People could learn from bad experiences and she would provide the opposite lifestyle for her children—one filled with love, security and laughter. Paula would be a wonderful mother.

  His cheeks felt the pull of a smile, and he glanced around the room, hoping no one noticed him grinning like an idiot as he sat alone staring into space. He looked behind him, half expecting Sal to be lurking nearby, but he was alone in his corner, and he raised his cell phone and punched in Paula’s number.

  He listened to it ring—three, four, five—until voice mail kicked in. Disappointed, he ended the call and slipped the phone into his shirt pocket. He sat a moment, trying to get his mind on something else. An idea struck him, and he hoisted himself from the chair and headed toward the door, deciding to hit the exercise room. Before he got through the door, a vibration quivered against his chest followed by the familiar ring tone. He tugged the phone from his pocket, and Paula’s name appeared.

  Wanting privacy, he pivoted around as he answered and returned to his corner. His disappointment fading, he sank into the chair. “Busy?”

  “I’d left my phone in the living room. When you called, I was on the kitchen floor.”

  “The floor?”

  Paula chuckled. “Sorting through pans and casserole dishes. How many of those things does one person need?”

  He shrugged, shaking his head at the uselessness of his visual response. “You lost me there. You know I’m not a great cook.” He spotted Devon coming through the doorway and knew he needed to get down to business. He turned his back, hoping he could finish before Devon got too close. “I found the gift card today from the Sequence party. How about dinner on Friday night? We can celebrate your pan arrangement or the new house and use the card at the same time.”

  “Multitasking. Ingenuous.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, and I’d be honored to accept your dinner celebration.”

  His pulse hitched facing the questions he didn’t want to ask. They were hedging on responses he might not want to hear. The warning failed. “How’s it going?”

  Silence.

  He knew it. One day he’d learn to keep his mouth closed. For most people that would mean nothing, but for Paula his question held an innuendo.

  “Getting things organized and put away I rank about a B plus.” Silence. “And my messed-up head? I’m getting it together inch by inch. Grade—improving.”

  Grateful for her upbeat response, he decided to proceed. “Great on both counts, Paula, and I’m sorry I asked the question that way.”

  “It’s not you. It’s me, Clint. You know that. Until I view things through new eyes, I’m a real pain. I’m not sure what you see in me.”

  Her image filled his heart. “Your hair glowing in the sunlight, your smile that lights my world, your kisses warming my heart, your wit making me laugh, your—”

  “Whoa. I have to observe this myself, and there’s no mirror in this room. I don’t want to miss this illusion you’re having.”

  Gooseflesh prickled his arms. “I wish I could be there to see you in person.” When had he become Robert Browning, gushing love phrases?

  Her chuckle awakened him, and he saw Devon with his usual taunting grin heading toward him. “I smell smoke. I’d better hang up.”

  “Really?” Concern rattled her voice.

  “No, but I’m on fire.” Heat rose up his collar, and he craned his neck to make sure no one heard his ridiculous words.

  “Silly. I’ll see you on...”

  “Thursday after I catch forty winks, and don’t forget our date on Friday.” He opened his mouth to say he loved her, then slammed it closed. He managed a goodbye.

  Devon stopped to talk to one of the crew, giving Clint time to sit a moment, amazed at what he’d heard spewing from his mouth. Mr. Rescuer, Mr. Firefighter, Mr. Confident, Mr. Reliable and— He snapped his mind shut. He’d lost it. Over the edge. Out on a limb.

  Lord, this is in Your hands.

  Chapter Eleven

  Paula waited for Clint to open the car door as he always did. From the day she’d met him, he’d made her feel special. Yet accepting it had taken time. She’d finally come to grips with all he’d opened to her, a life she’d never known, and a real man who’d helped her see the true meaning of trust and hope.

  The door opened, and she shifted, slipping her feet to the ground. She stepped out of the way as he closed the door. Instead of moving inside, he gazed at her a moment, his look tender and engrossing. Air emptied from her chest with an overwhelming awe of him. He’d dressed in gray pants and a navy jacket with a gray-and-blue tie. His dark hair looked so full she longed to run her fingers through it.

  Linking his arm with hers, he guided her inside the stone and white stucco building, where the hostess led them to a table set with white linen near the bandstand. Clint rolled back the white upholstered chair as she sloughed off her coat, and when she sat, he settled adjacent to her, both facing the bandstand.

  “I didn’t know they had music.” She eyed the white sparkling background framing the name, Mark James Band.

  “They begin at eight. We’ll stick around for a while.” He eased his hand toward hers and covered it with his palm.

  The vision of their first meeting, when she was uncomfortable and unsure, shifted to days and weeks when she tried to avoid falling in love. The images spiraled around her, a kaleidoscope of experience that left her dazed.

  “Remember our first date?” Clint’s question chased away the quiet.

  “How could I forget? I remember everything.” His fingers wove through hers, sparking warm recollections. “Even the day we went to the park.”

  He chuckled. “But the crowd scared—”

  “Welcome to Clawson Steak House. I’m Rose, your server. Are you ready to order?”

  Her head jerked up and she grasped the menu, sending the waitress a feeble grin.

  The woman caught on and smiled. “What would you like to drink?”

  Clint ordered two coffees, then picked up the menu as the waitress left. “Everything is good here. This is the only place I know that begins the meal with soup and salad, plus great bread.”

  “I’ll be full by the time the meal arrives.” She lifted the folder and gazed at the long list of choices, deciding on the sautéed lake perch while Clint opted for the horseradish-encrusted salmon.

  After they placed their order, a waiter filled their water glasses, and their conversation meandered from his duties at the fire station to her new job, which she enjoyed. She sipped water and when the French onion soup arrived, she savored the rich flavor, knowing she had so much to say.

  “Uncle Fred would make a good theologian.”

  Clint’s head popped up, leaving his soupspoon sloshing in midair. “Really. I’ve never pictured him in that light.”

  “No, but his answers are clear, and I’m really learning a lot about the meaning of faith. He’s given me real-life examples, sort of like the parables Jesus used to answer questions, but he talks about things from his own life. It makes sense.” She pressed her lips together, anxious to speak from her heart. “I’m understanding more each day, and I realize now I was never a true nonbeliever. I was more like a doubting Thomas. I needed to stick my fingers into...” She looked down at her soup and decided he didn’t need the picture.

  Clint grinned. “That’s what I saw, Paula. I said you had the seeds, and I was right.”

  “I even understand the seeds now. You lost me with that analogy until I felt them growing in my—”

  “Clint. How ni
ce to see you.”

  Hearing a woman’s syrupy voice, Paula lowered her spoon, the soup forgotten. She eyed the woman over her shoulder, seeing a head of blond hair sweeping to her shoulders, lashes longer than ones she’d seen on TV and flawless makeup. Confused, she shifted her attention back to Clint’s face, pale as the napkin she’d laid on her lap.

  “Elise. What are you doing here?”

  While Paula recalled what Clint had told her about his former fiancée, Elise’s laugh rippled above Paula’s head.

  “I’m having dinner. You seem to be doing the same.”

  He didn’t speak but sought Paula’s eyes with a look of apology. “This is an odd coincidence.”

  Irony seeped from Clint’s tone, and from Elise’s expression, Paula suspected his insinuation was correct.

  “You knew I’d be here, didn’t you?” This time his look could broil a steak.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Elise eyed Clint with an arched brow, then snapped her eyes toward Paula. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Paula drew back, amazed that Elise had ignored Clint’s question. Her pulse raced, anticipating where the conversation might lead.

  “I doubt you’ve ever met.” Clint’s voice reeked with irritation. “Paula’s only been in town a few months.” He turned to her. “Paula, this is Elise Jordan, an old friend of mine. Elise, this is—”

  The woman’s laughter cut through the air. “Friend?” She slipped behind him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Interesting.” She gave Paula a wink, then leaned down and kissed Clint’s cheek.

  He jerked away, his frown deep, his face blazing. “That’s enough, Elise.”

  She drew back, her look as sharp as his voice. “I look forward to seeing you again, Clint...when you’re in a better mood.” She spun around, wiggling her fingers over her shoulder, and headed away from their table.

  Clint released a ragged breath. “I’m sorry, Paula. That startled me. I know Elise wants what she wants, but this time she can’t win.” He shook his head. “Never.”