Rescued by the Firefighter

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  His hope rose for their commitment to marry, and the thought of having their own child became closer to a reality, but before anything went wrong with his plan today, he pulled her coat from the foyer closet and held it out for her.

  She slipped into it and wound a scarf around her neck with no comments.

  He hoped her thoughts were the same as his, envisioning what their life could be like together.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Paula opened her front door. The wreath she’d purchased, adorned with pine cones and red berries, looked appropriate for both Thanksgiving and Christmas.

  Clint stood on the welcome mat with a large bag in his hand with a logo she couldn’t see. “That looks nice.” He gestured to the door decoration and stomped his feet to remove the snow.

  “Thanks.” She smiled, wishing they could do more than stay home while she baked and he set up the tree.

  Clint stepped inside and gave her a fleeting kiss, his lips and cheeks cold from the icy wind. “Here.” He held out the sack, a grin lighting his face, and then he slipped off his jacket and hung it in the closet.

  Holding it, she was able to read the logo. “What were you doing there?” She held up the sack, curious what was inside.

  “I had to stop in Royal Oak, and I dropped in to Shine Gift Shop just to look, but I picked up something.” He strode past her into the living room. “Take a look.”

  She opened the top and peered inside. “More Christmas balls.” Curious, she lifted the container and admired the amazing handblown balls with Jesus in the manger inside. “These are gorgeous.”

  “I’d hoped you’d like them.” She did love them, but she couldn’t help but shake her head.

  She’d tried to convince him she’d planned to be low-key this Christmas with so much going on, but she didn’t say any more, not after the lovely gift.

  When they went shopping she’d worked to convince him she only wanted an artificial slimline tree. Thinking back, she grinned. Clint had squinted at her as if he couldn’t understand. “But it’s not real. What about the smell of pine?”

  “But think of the advantages,” she had said as they stood in front of the five-foot tree. “They look real, and I won’t have to deal with falling needles and sticky sap.” She could see she hadn’t convinced him yet, but then she became inspired and had more ammunition. “And being a firefighter, you know the possibility of tree fires, especially with the tree going up early. I won’t have to worry about it.”

  She chuckled when his brow unfurrowed. “You’re right,” he’d said. “That’s a good point.” In the months they’d been together, she’d learned how to reason with a firefighter.

  “Why the silly grin on your face?” He gave her a sidelong look.

  “Thinking about our differences of opinion on decorating for the holidays.”

  He drew her into his arms. “But we’re talking about Christmas.”

  She wiggled from his arms, knowing if she stayed she’d forget everything she had to do tonight. “Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving and I’ll be busy getting the house ready for your parents’ visit on your birthday, so if you want to set up that tree tonight, you’ll have to do it alone.”

  “But what about listening to Christmas music and drinking hot chocolate?” He gave her a playful pout, and she had to laugh. She’d never seen him look so boyish.

  “Another year.” She raised her finger and tapped his chest. “Or after your parents’ visit. All this stuff can wait.”

  He lifted his shoulders, and his breath released in a narrow stream. “I can do it myself. It’s a small tree.” He gave her a pointed look as if reminding her she was the one who insisted on a slimline tree. “You go and make your cookies or whatever you’re making.”

  Feeling as if she was deserting him, she headed into the kitchen to make his birthday cake, not cookies. She had a recipe that sounded good and it looked fairly easy.

  While she pulled out the bowls and measuring cups, she thought back to when they were in the checkout line. Clint made her grin with his exuberance, but what surprised her was when he pulled out his wallet. She’d tried to stop him. “This is my tree and decorations, Clint, not yours. I should pay for it.” But he’d insisted.

  The clerk did a double take. “I’ve never experienced a married couple with separate accounts.” She chuckled. “Not a bad idea.”

  She’d opened her mouth to correct the woman, but Clint gave her a subtle look, wanting her to let it go. She’d been confused by his reaction, but she’d let it slip. Now the question rose again.

  She set down the poppy seeds and walked back into the living room.

  Clint was on the floor tightening the screws of the tree stand while trying to hold the tree straight. She chuckled. “It looks like the leaning tower of Christmas.” She hurried to his rescue.

  He gazed up at her. “Is it crooked?”

  “A little.” She pressed her lips together not to laugh, but he’d looked so surprised she couldn’t disillusion him.

  He adjusted the tree and finished before he rose and stood beside her. They stepped back and agreed they’d done a good job.

  Slipping his arm around her, Clint drew her closer. “What happened to the cookies?”

  She’d wanted to surprise him with a birthday cake, and he wasn’t making it easy.

  “A question popped into my head and I got distracted.”

  He eyed her a minute. “Okay. Shoot.”

  “Why didn’t you correct the clerk when she thought we were married?” Her mind whirled with possibilities of what his answer might be.

  “No reason, but it sounded nice, don’t you think?” He pulled open the bag with the Christmas paraphernalia they purchased together.

  She gave him a poke. “But it’s a lie. You don’t believe in lying.”

  He shrugged. “Not exactly.”

  She gazed at him, weighing his meaning. She’d agreed to see where things would go, but the idea of marriage becoming a possibility still seemed unreal. Yet as she studied his strong profile, she couldn’t image life without him.

  “Shoo.” Clint whisked her away toward the kitchen. “You’re baking and I’m hanging lights.” He grinned at her. “I can do the lights by myself.” He gave her a wink. “And you know I don’t lie.”

  Her breath drained as she gazed at him, so much a part of her life already, and yet reservations still blocked her ability to tell him the final degradation that she’d been unable to dump at his feet. The Lord knew everything and had forgiven her, but Clint didn’t know, and she feared her admission would be the final blow that would destroy what could be a beautiful ending to her sad life. She sensed he loved her, knew it in her heart, but his human nature could see her confession as a threat to their future. The thought sickened her.

  Though weighted by the thought, she pulled her shoulders back and marched into the kitchen while Clint wound the tree with lights. She needed the Lord’s light in her life, but she wanted Clint’s shining face in her world, too. He made everything worthwhile, and she wished she would have told him everything earlier when she’d found the courage to spill it out weeks ago.

  But tomorrow his parents would visit for Thanksgiving, and on Friday they would celebrate his birthday. Now wasn’t the time to ruin a lovely day. She buried the sorrow inside her as she’d done so much in her life and sought a smile as she added the ingredients to the poppy-seed cake, hoping it tasted as good as it sounded. Most of all she wanted Clint and his parents to enjoy it.

  * * *

  “Paula, this has been lovely meeting you, and the cake was scrumptious. I’ve seen poppy-seed muffins but never a cake. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

  “I’d be happy to.” Paula grinned at the petite woman who was half the size of Clint or her husband. “Did you see the amazing cabin
et Clint made for me as a housewarming gift?” She motioned toward the living room archway.

  “Yes, I did. It’s lovely. He’s always tinkered with wood even as a boy.” Pride shone in her eyes.

  Paula loved seeing her response. “I’m sure you’re proud of him.”

  “Aren’t all parents?” She flashed Clint a smile, but beneath his pleasant nod, Paula recognized a grimace, and she knew it was for her. “Tell us about your parents. I’m sure we’ll meet them one—”

  “Mom.” Clint’s voice halted her, and she looked at him with a scowl. “I thought I mentioned Paula’s mother died recently.”

  She slammed her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I—”

  “It’s perfectly all right, Mrs. Donatelli. I know—”

  “Goodness, thank you, dear, and please, call me Iris.” She gestured toward Clint’s father. “And Clint’s dad is Tony.”

  He smiled and nodded. “It’s not like we’re strangers. We’ve heard so much about you. In fact, we bugged Clint for weeks to bring you for a visit, but he explained you were getting settled in this lovely house.” He glanced at Clint. “Although I’ll never understand—”

  “Dad.” Clint’s voice shot out a near bark. “Sorry.” He shook his head and looked chagrined. “I didn’t mean to sound so vehement, but let’s talk about something else.”

  Seeing his discomfort and guessing what his father had nearly said, Paula came to Clint’s rescue. “Tell me about Clint when he was a boy.”

  His father chuckled. “Now that will be fun.” He flashed a look at Clint and began a tale about Clint learning to play catch as a boy.

  Paula leaned back, relaxed for the first time since they’d arrived. Although they were lovely people, she couldn’t stop thinking about her difficult confession. They needed to end their relationship or embrace it, and she couldn’t until she opened up even more than she had.

  The stories led through his first crush on his fourth-grade teacher, and later his dating in high school and the proms. She noticed in all their stories, some funny and some touching, they skirted the issue of Elise. That made her respect them even more. Her own mother wouldn’t have hidden much of anything that she could pin on her.

  As the thought landed in her mind, she swept it away. She’d asked the Lord for forgiveness and it was time she learned to forgive her mother. Nodding in response to Clint’s youthful antics, she reviewed her mother’s difficult life.

  Left with a toddler, her mother had managed to keep her fed and clothed. Though she’d been closemouthed about Paula’s father, she’d spoken a bit about her past and much more as she drew near to death. No wonder life had been a horrible memory for her. As she dug deeper into her mother’s trials, a quiet filled her, and for the first time, she had an understanding of how her mother had been raised, along with the horrors of her past, especially her uncle’s sexual abuse, and forgiveness seemed unnecessary. The anger and hurt Paula had felt for so long shrank to a lump as small as an acorn.

  When she cleared her mind, Clint was looking at her, concern growing on his face, and his mother’s story had slowed—probably noting her withdrawal from their tales.

  She grasped the only reasonable response she had. “Sorry. I remembered the gift I have for Clint. I haven’t given it to him yet.”

  His mother clapped her hands. “Yes. Thank you for reminding me. I would have forgotten, too.” She bent over, grasped her purse handle and pulled it into her lap. “We never know what to get this man.” She chuckled. “He has everything, I think.”

  “I know. I had the same problem.” Paula rose. “Excuse me a moment.” She darted up the stairs and returned with a large wrapped package. All eyes turned her way as she walked into the room and handed Clint the gift. He gave it a questioning look. “This is big.”

  She only nodded. “Open your parents’ first.”

  He slid open the envelope flap and pulled out a card, read it and raised his head. “Thank you for the message, and for the wonderful gift certificate. You were too generous.”

  His dad grinned. “Buy something you need, son. As your mother said, we’re at a loss.”

  Clint rose and shook his father’s hand, then leaned down to give him a quick hug before moving to his mother and kissing her cheek.

  Paula saw the love he had for his parents, the kind of family she’d longed for, and seeing them warmed her.

  Clint returned to his chair and lifted her package. He read the card, a smile growing on his face, and then tore back the paper and pried up the box lid. When he pulled it back, he glanced at her, his expression a blend of surprise and happiness. “This is great.”

  She knew he spotted the stable roof projecting from the bottom of the box.

  He reached inside and pulled out two figures wrapped in bubble wrap. He pulled it off the first, revealing a shepherd, and the second, Mary seated on a bed of hay.

  His mother rose and peeked in the box. “This is wonderful. Tony, it’s a crèche.”

  “A what?” His father stood up and craned his neck toward the box. “What in the world—”

  “A nativity scene, Dad, for Christmas.” Clint gave a laugh and winked at Paula.

  Although Paula smiled, she’d drawn a blank. “I’m with you, Tony.”

  He shifted to her side and slipped his arm around her. “Now this is my kind of woman. Honest and pretty as a picture.” His arm slipped away and he settled back into the chair.

  Though a little embarrassed, she was drawn to his Italian charm so like Clint at times. “Thanks. You’re too kind.”

  “Not one bit,” his mother said. “Our son has good taste...most of the time.” She arched an eyebrow, and her action spoke a thousand words. Maybe Elise hadn’t impressed them as much as she had Clint. Her curiosity rose, and she longed to ask his mother, but she tethered the idea.

  She and Iris joined Clint in unwrapping the shepherds, sheep, camel, cow, three Wise Men, Joseph and finally the baby Jesus in the manger. The Holy Family sat in no particular order beside the stable.

  “The details are beautiful. It looks Italian. Don’t you think, Tony?” She held up one of the shepherds.

  Before he could respond, Paula answered. “It’s a Fontanini design from Italy. I fell in love with them when Clint and I were in Frankenmuth, and—”

  “But you didn’t buy it then.” Clint’s voice rang with surprise.

  “No. I ordered it online.” She warmed at his amazement that she’d done that for him. “You’re worth it.”

  He rose and drew her into his arms. “I love it, Paula.” His eyes probed hers. “It means so much to me.”

  She understood, and the devotion she’d felt in viewing the nativity scene filled her heart.

  Tony stood. “Since we’re all standing, I think we should get moving. We have a long drive home, and evening always means slippery weather.”

  Iris joined him, and while Clint pulled their coats from the foyer closet, they gave her hugs and compliments on the birthday cake. She’d forgotten to copy the recipe so she promised to send it. After more hugs, Clint walked them to the car while she gathered the cups and plates from the lamp tables in the living room.

  Though she thought of every excuse in the world, she’d decided tonight she had to clear the air. She no longer questioned her feelings for Clint. He was the only man for her, one she wanted to live with forever, and she sensed if she only said the word, he’d be on his knee with a ring. The sparks between them had grown to fire, but they knew the boundaries and kept them. Yet each time together grew more difficult to control.

  Clint darted back in, his arms wrapped around his body, a shiver running through him. He opened his arms to her, and she stepped in, feeling the icy chill yet still wanting to warm him. She recalled the verses from the New Testament, Ecclesiastes, if she remembered correctly.
“Two are better than one.” She now understood the meaning of those words, and even the impact of the scripture as it continued. “If two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?” How many cold nights had she spent longing for real love, a love that was sure, a love that held her close and protected her from harm? The vision shuddered through her body.

  “Now you’re chilled.” Clint kissed her cheek and unwrapped his arms. “It’s time for that hot chocolate I mentioned last night.”

  “It wasn’t you. A thought ran through my mind, that’s all.”

  He frowned. “It couldn’t have been a good one. Did my parents do anything to—”

  “No. They were wonderful, Clint. I loved meeting them. It’s just...” She worked a moment to gather her wits. “Let’s sit. Okay?”

  Concern knocked the smile from his face, and he studied her a moment before he turned and sank onto the sofa.

  “Meeting your parents made me realize how much more you mean to me, more than I’ve wanted to admit. Your parents are lovely people, and they adore you.” She dragged in a breath. “You noticed I became a bit distracted during the evening, and I was sorry about that. I hope I didn’t hurt your parents’ feelings.”

  He waved her words away. “It takes more than that to hurt Mom and Dad.” He tilted his head, his eyes searching hers. “What are you trying to say. I’m not certain what’s bothering you.”

  “It’s not you. It’s me. I looked at you with your family and started thinking of my mess of a family, and—”

  “I worried about that, Paula. I should have been more sensitive.”

  “No, I loved seeing it. Actually, seeing all of you made me think of the difference in my life.”

  She told him about the thoughts that had woven through her mind, the horrors her mother had gone through with the uncle, and she suspected she didn’t know half of it. “The more I thought, the more my heart softened, and I began to feel differently. I understand my mother better and can see why loving and trusting was impossible for her. She did the best she could with a limited education, and a life trying to put food in our mouths. She did what she had to. I didn’t have to forgive her anymore, because I no longer felt as I did. I only wish I’d realized that earlier.”