Tucker's Bride

by Lois M. Richer

“Well, you did buy me that chicken sandwich.” She winked at him, her eyes bright, tender.

  In that moment Tucker wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her arms and forget the rest of the world. Just to stay here, to spend evenings like this, would be heaven.

  But he couldn’t stay. He had a job to do. And sooner or later, he’d have to go back to it.

  “I’m thinking maybe supper, tomorrow night. In your backyard.” He waited a moment for her to catch his drift. “After I deliver all those papers, I’m going to need to work out the kinks.”

  “The hot pool.” She caught on immediately. “Great. I’m quitting work at four. I’ve got someone coming in to help cover things till Dad’s back in the harness.”

  “You promise you’ll leave it all to me? You won’t make dessert or a snack or anything?”

  She peered at him, a hurt look in her eyes. “Well, I don’t have to, if you’d rather I not,” she began.

  “I don’t want you to do anything. From four o’clock on, you’re a woman of leisure. I’ll make sure your father has something to eat. Deal?”

  She nodded slowly. “Okay. Deal.”

  As the group broke up and Ginny disappeared, Tucker asked himself why he’d made that date. Why let himself grow any more attached to her? The answer wasn’t hard to find.

  Because she’d done so much for the rest of them. Because she’d given and given, in spite of everything.

  Because for once in his life, Tucker wanted to give something back, to feel like his life wasn’t totally in the red.

  Was that a good enough reason to risk getting her hopes up?

  “This is the best suggestion you’ve had in years.” Ginny laid her head against the rock and let the mineral-rich water soak her troubles away. “Even if it’s closer to five than four. What took you so long?”

  “Boy’s club meeting. They’re going through a list of possible candidates again. Six possibles.” Tucker ducked his shoulders under the water, then sprawled on the other side of the pool, eyes closed as he, too, relaxed. “How are the house plans coming?”

  “Very well. The foundation is laid, and they’re starting the framework. It’s going to be beautiful.”

  “Of course.” He grinned. “You designed it.”

  His cell phone pealed a loud cry, disturbing the tranquillity of their soak. Tucker leaned over to pick it off the rocks where he’d placed it before entering the pool.

  “Hello. Oh. Hi.”

  Ginny watched his face lose all color as he recognized the voice on the other end.

  “Yeah. Okay. Not yet.”

  One hand gripped the edge of the stone basin, fingertips white as he listened.

  “I can’t tell you that. I’m not exactly sure, but I will let you know as soon as I am. Yeah. Thanks.”

  He clicked the phone shut and returned it to the rock, brown eyes wary as they met hers. He said nothing, simply sank into the water.

  “Problems?” A frisson of trepidation wiggled down her spine at his glowering countenance.

  “The network,” he told her shortly. “They want to know when I’ll be back. It’s the second call this week.”

  “Oh.” What could she answer to that? He didn’t want her care or concern. He just wanted her to help heal his spirit. “Do you know when you’re returning?”

  He glared at her. “No.”

  “Oh.”

  She was about to change the subject when a piercing wail shattered the afternoon.

  “The fire alarm?” Ginny scooted out of the pool, wrapped herself in a towel and headed toward the house, hearing Tucker’s quick footsteps immediately behind her.

  She hurried to the front of the house and stood on the step, trying to discover where the fire might be.

  “I’ve got to go check the store,” she told him. “That smoke is coming from the downtown area.”

  “I’ll come with you. Maybe there’s something I can do.”

  It took only seconds to pull on her jeans and a shirt. Tucker had to sprint back to the pool to collect his shoes, then they were off.

  The closer they got to downtown, the better Ginny felt. The fire seemed to be at the other end of the street from the store. They rounded a corner, and she gasped.

  “The paper!”

  “I see it.”

  Flames licked out of windows where the glass had shattered, moving swiftly from one level to another. Ginny parked well back, out of the way, then caught up with Tucker, and they strode toward the building.

  “Stay here, Ginny. I’m going to help.”

  Heart in her mouth, Ginny waited while he spoke to the policeman. A moment later he was back, face grim.

  “Marty’s gone inside,” Tucker told her. “I’ve got to help.”

  Then he was gone. Ginny watched, praying fervently as one after another of the firemen were forced out of the burning building. The heat dried her skin, but she refused to back away. She had to be there when Tucker came out.

  As she waited, she heard people behind her talking.

  “They say a kid did it. Tall kid. Saw him running away, out the back of the building just before the fire was reported. Redheaded kid. Tom something.”

  Ginny whirled and glared at them, furious that anyone would start this kind of gossip.

  “Well, don’t look at me. I didn’t identify him. Vera Malloy did that. Anyway, that kid’s set fires before. He even said so in that newspaper they put out. Doesn’t surprise me that he’d take it up here.”

  “It’s a lie!” Ginny controlled her temper with difficulty. “Tom would never start a fire, especially not here. He loves this place.”

  “Yeah. Right. We know how much those punks love things.”

  A collective shout went up. Ginny turned to see Tucker, clad in a fireman’s suit, emerge staggering from the fire. Marty’s body lay slung over his shoulders, still and lifeless.

  Helping hands relieved Tucker of his burden as he collapsed to the ground. Ginny rushed forward, sidestepping the police, grateful that the ambulance attendants were already caring for Marty.

  “Please,” she begged them. “I can help.” Someone finally allowed her to pass the barricade.

  “Tucker? Are you all right?” She eased off his hat and brushed a hand across his soot-darkened face. “Tucker?”

  He coughed several times but eventually nodded. When he looked at her, she saw his eyes were streaming with tears.

  “He was trying to save the boys’ stuff,” he said, voice scratched and gravelly. “He was worried about that stupid plane.”

  Ginny took the cup of water someone offered her and held it to his lips.

  “Drink it,” she ordered.

  “Marty—”

  “—is being taken of, Tucker. He’s in good hands. Now drink.”

  He sipped a little, coughed, then sipped some more.

  “Local hero does it again.” The fire chief clapped him on the shoulder.

  Tucker’s soot-smeared face tightened. “Don’t say that!”

  Ginny had never heard his voice so fierce or so angry. The fireman backed up, hands in the air.

  “Hey, all I was saying was thanks. We needed an extra hand down there. All that paper makes it pretty tough to control a blaze like this. You were in the right place at the right time.”

  “Yeah, well, it was no big deal. Okay?”

  “Sure.” The fire chief glanced at the building. “It’s under control now. Just a matter of putting out spot fires. There’s a lot of damage, though.”

  “I know.” Once he’d caught his breath, Tucker stood, glancing around for the ambulance.

  “They took him away already,” the fireman explained in solemn tones. “He’s in rough shape.”

  “How rough?”

  “A guess?” The chief scratched his head. “I’d say at least second-degree burns on his hands and arms. Maybe third on his back. But you can never be sure. Sometimes it looks worse than it is.” He waved a quick farewell, then moved to direct his team.
<
br />   “It’s those kids, that’s what it is. Why, if we’d never had that bunch of hooligans in our town, they wouldn’t have started Marty’s paper on fire.”

  Tucker froze, his face blanching as the conversation behind them resumed.

  “That little arsonist. That’s the one that did it. Vera even saw him running out the back.”

  Ginny shook her head. “They don’t know that, Tucker,” she said. “It’s just gossip.”

  But the crowd decried her.

  “Vera saw him. Who else has hair like that? Orange as a carrot.”

  “Tom.” Tucker’s shoulders slumped. He closed his eyes as he whispered the name. “They’re accusing Tom.”

  “He didn’t do it,” Ginny insisted.

  “Well, of course he didn’t!” Tucker opened his eyes and glared at her. “But how are we going to prove it?” He glanced around as if he could find a clue.

  Ginny knew what he was looking for. She glimpsed some of the boys standing away from the rest of the spectators. She touched Tucker’s arm. “There.”

  Tucker nodded, shuffled to his feet, then started walking toward them, eyes searching the group for Tom. Ginny already knew he wasn’t there.

  “You guys know where Tom is?”

  They shook their heads, faces sober.

  “Any ideas?”

  “He was going to take papers out to the farms on the old Willing’s Road. Thought he could sell a few extras, I guess. But he should have been back by now.” Nick spoke for the rest of the group. “Is it bad?”

  “Really bad. Marty’s gone to the hospital.”

  Ginny knew he was going to tell them, and she wanted to stop it. With every fiber of her being she longed for him to keep silent. But it wouldn’t help. They would hear soon enough what everyone was saying. They would know half the town suspected them—or one of them—of lighting this fire. Better to hear it from Tucker.

  “Someone claims they saw Tom run out of the back of the building right before the alarm was heard. You guys know anything, you’d better tell me now.”

  “Tom?” Without hesitation Nick shook his head. “No way.”

  “He left right after the meeting.” Ira kicked a clod of dirt. “He wouldn’t have done it, Tucker. He loved this club.”

  “I know. I don’t believe it. I’m just trying to sort everything out. John, I want you and Ira to round everybody up and meet at Ginny’s, by the clubhouse. We’ve got to think this through.”

  They nodded, then hurried away, shocked by the events. Ginny looked at Tucker.

  “What are you going to do?” she whispered.

  “I’m going to prove Tom had nothing to do with this. But first, I’m going to find out how bad the fire was. Are you coming?”

  “Try and stop me.” Without thinking she threaded her fingers into his and matched his step across the street.

  She stood silent while he questioned the chief, fully aware of the accusing glare of the townspeople. Finally she spotted her father’s thin figure near the back. Mrs. Franks stood beside him, holding his arm.

  “I’ll be back in a minute, Tucker,” she whispered, then eased her hand away. He glanced at her once, then his attention was back on the chief.

  “Hi, honey.”

  “Oh, Daddy.” She hugged him close for several moments, savoring the warmth of his embrace. “They’re saying Tom did it, Dad. Marty’s in the hospital. He’s in trouble. Can you find the pastor and get him to start the prayer chain? We really need it now.”

  “That boy wouldn’t hurt a flea. Ridiculous bunch of busybodies!” Her father bristled, his eyes flashing. “I’ll start recruiting right here. Half the church is standing beside me, anyway. They might as well put their tongues to better use.”

  Ginny had to suppress a smile as her father approached first one bystander, then another, asking if they’d be willing to help. Grateful that he knew how to deal with each of them, she hurried to Tucker.

  “I see. So possibly by Monday I could go in and see what to make of things?” He nodded. “Okay. In the meantime, can you let me know if you find anything? Anything?”

  “Sure.”

  They turned away. Tucker went first, parting the crowd so they could get through. They were walking toward her car when Ginny spotted Tom riding his bike into town.

  “Tucker, look!”

  As they watched, he pedaled at an even speed. But then he caught sight of the smoke and began to pedal increasingly faster.

  Tucker waved to him, and the boy skidded to a halt beside them.

  “What happened?” Tom stared at the newspaper building, then at them. “What’s wrong?”

  “Where have you been?”

  “I rode out to deliver some papers. I earned an extra fifteen dollars, enough to buy us that motor Marty talked about.” He held out the money proudly.

  Tucker took it, his face grim as he spoke.

  “There was a fire at the paper, Tom. I’m not sure the plane even survived.”

  Tom gasped, then his face went completely white.

  “Marty was going to go over some stuff for next week’s edition,” he sputtered, eyes tearing up. “He was working inside. I have to go help him.” He dropped the bike, ready to charge to the rescue.

  Tucker reached out a hand to stop him, his face as ashen as the boy’s.

  “Marty’s at the hospital. He’s been injured. No one knows how badly yet.” He stopped for a minute as if unsure how to continue. “Tom, someone claims they saw you leaving the building just before the fire started.”

  “What?” Tom frowned. “But I wasn’t even in town!”

  “I know. But the allegation is there. Can you identify your time at all? Maybe think of someone who would remember seeing you?”

  As the full import of what Tucker was asking sunk in, Ginny saw the boy’s countenance fall.

  “But I didn’t do it! You believe me, don’t you, Tucker?”

  “Yes, of course I believe you. Ginny does, too.” Tucker drew her into the circle. “We know you would never have started that fire, but it would be an idea to get some proof out there before the accusations get going.”

  “It sounds like they already are.” Tom kicked the dust with his toe. Then he looked at Tucker, trust implicit in his eyes. “I didn’t do it. Can’t we go and see Marty now?”

  “Yeah, we can.” But Tucker stood where he was. “We’ll go and see him right away. But first I want you to think. Can anybody place you at their house at a time that would make it impossible for you to have come back here and start that fire?”

  Tom, his eyes fixed on Tucker, solemnly shook his head. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t come straight back,” Tom admitted. “I went to the falls.”

  “Tom!” Ginny couldn’t believe it. “You know how dangerous it is.”

  “I didn’t go near them. I just wanted to look along the bank. I heard some men in town talking about fossils they’d found, and I wanted to see if I could find any. Marty likes to collect them.”

  Tucker sighed, closed his eyes and thought. Ginny felt sorry for him. Tom was his protégé, the boy’s group his special outreach. Even if he didn’t realize it, she knew the talk would run rampant through the town. The boys, particularly Tom, would be targeted as mischief makers. Being accused of starting this fire might invalidate Tom’s probation.

  “We’ve got to think of something to clear you. We’ve got to.”

  Tom’s face shone, his eyes brimming with joy. “I’m glad you believe me, Tucker,” he admitted quietly. “It isn’t much of an alibi, but God knows I didn’t set that fire. He’ll work things out. All things work together for good.”

  Tucker blinked at such blind assurance, and in that moment Ginny knew what was going through his mind. Tucker didn’t have the same level of faith, wasn’t prepared to stand by and let God work it out. Instead, Tucker wanted to make sure of the boy’s defense before it was needed.

  Now Tom was the comforter, patting Tucke
r’s shoulder to encourage him.

  “Now I’d like to see Marty. I want to make sure he knows I didn’t do this.”

  “Don’t worry, Tom. Marty knows.” Ginny wrapped her arm around the boy’s thin shoulders and hugged him. “But, yes, I think we should go over to the hospital and see what’s happening.”

  As they drove, Ginny felt a sense of grim foreboding hanging like thick smoke.

  What would happen to the boy’s group? And how would Tucker react to yet another tragedy? What if Marty died?

  God had initiated another test of patience. There was nothing she could do but wait and see.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Townsend. It’s admirable that you’re trying to help Mr. Owens by keeping his weekly editions running. We appreciate the work you and your, er, group of boys have done to get the offices up and functioning. But we must tell you that we have grave doubts about keeping this group going.”

  Tucker almost groaned as the mayor looked to his council for agreement. To a man, they nodded. Two weeks later and they were more convinced than ever that Tom was the culprit.

  “The fire chief has determined the fire resulted from a match in the basement. Your boys met there frequently. It’s hard to justify continuing support for this group when so much damage has resulted.”

  “No one has proven that any member of the boy’s group was in any way involved.” Tucker bristled at the unfairness of it. Ginny’s fingers crept around his under the table, infusing him with courage. He tried to soften his words. “I don’t believe it’s a good thing to condemn anyone without evidence.”

  “Tucker, there was an eyewitness.” Rob Lassiter frowned. “I’m new to council, but that’s pretty tough evidence to refute.”

  “Plus the boy himself admitted that he set fires.” The mayor tilted his chair. “He told us his record the very day of the fire. Right in that newspaper of theirs.”

  “Yes, because he wants to make restitution! Those are not the actions of a person who’s planning to commit new crimes.”

  It was a waste of time, he could see that just by looking at their faces. They’d made up their minds and weren’t prepared to adjust their decision without some cold, hard evidence to the contrary.