by Jen Gilroy
“What about Ty?” Charlie grabbed beach towels from the clothesline and slung them over her arm. “Shadow? And Carmichael’s?” She covered her mouth with her free hand. On the other side of those trees, the flames inched closer to Sean’s place.
“Ty left before the storm hit to deliver a boat to the Inn on the Lake. He texted me when he got there. Sarah was on her way to pick him up. I’ll call him, but he’s safe.” His voice roughened and Charlie grabbed his arm. “I’ll call Trevor too. He’s at the workshop with Shadow, and there are guys at the marina. They’ll know what to do.”
“You should go home. Trevor’s a great guy, but—”
“I’m not leaving you.” He squeezed her hand before scanning the woodlot again. “Get those towels wet.” He pointed to the canoe on the beach, where Naomi had left it earlier. “Make sure the paddles are with the canoe.”
Charlie touched his cheek with a gentle finger, light beard stubble rough beneath her palm. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Because of what it might cost him to stay. What he might be giving up for her.
Charlie’s touch burned Sean’s face like a brand, hotter than any fire. He raced to the back of the cottage. If they were lucky, the wind wouldn’t pick up any more. Or change direction.
He checked the tree line again as he fumbled with his phone. No signal. Ty had to be safe. And Trevor, Carmichael’s. For an instant, he stood frozen to the dry grass. Tongues of flames arced skyward and cut a swathe between the lake and the road. Forcing his legs to move, he grabbed the hose from the reel by the kitchen door and soaked the ground between the cottage and the forest’s edge.
Charlie stumbled out of the cottage and darted past him toward the canoe, her arms piled high with bags.
“Here.” Seconds later she was back and threw a wet towel around his neck, another towel already in place to cover her nose and mouth. “The canoe’s set if we need it, and I’ve closed the windows. I got a ladder from the shed and propped it against the porch in case the roof catches fire. And I took the chair cushions inside because they’d be flammable.”
“You fix us a snack too?” Sean teased to try to get that look off her face. The look that told him she was more scared than she’d ever let on.
“You wish, Carmichael.” Charlie grabbed the hose and trained it on what had once been her mom’s garden. She stamped her feet and churned the sodden ground, turning Naomi’s white sneakers black. Her wet jeans clung to her legs like a second skin, and her green WORLD WILDLIFE FUND T-shirt had a jagged tear at the hem.
“Watch your step.” Sean started on the woodpile and tossed armfuls of wood away from the cottage.
“Oh, I’m watching.” For a split second, she grinned, and it was like they were teenagers again. The teasing smile that said she was his girl and the one that made him happy he was her guy. Then the smile slid away and her face got tight, her eyes enormous in her white face.
Sean heaved wood onto the lawn until there was a bare space where the woodpile had been. “You got your wallet?”
“It’s in my purse in the canoe. I’ve got my passport too.”
Of course she’d have her passport. She’d be back on a plane and out of his life again before he knew it. He kicked at a pile of stray wood chips.
She tightened her grip on the hose and aimed it into the forest, as if she could single-handedly push back the fire. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” Her voice shook.
“Bad enough.” He closed his hands over her icy fingers. “It’s been a hot, dry summer here. The ground and those trees are like tinder.”
“What about Carmichael’s?” She searched his face, compelling him to tell her the truth. “And your house?”
“I don’t know. I tried to call, but either the thunderstorm or the fire hit cell coverage.” He coughed as acrid smoke burned into his lungs. “The house is farther back than Carmichael’s, but with the way the wind’s going…” The business he’d put his heart and soul into. The house where Ty had done most of his growing up and a dog he counted as family. “I’m sure Trevor has everything under control.”
He rubbed a hand across his burning eyes. His twin would save the books with their grandfather’s hand-drawn plans and their grandmother’s painting. The things insurance money couldn’t replace.
Charlie dropped the hose and touched his shoulder in wordless sympathy. That sixth sense she’d always had for what he felt and thought. “How much time have we got?” She took her hand away and picked up a rake.
“Five minutes, tops.” He was grateful she’d never been the emotional type. Most women would have been crying and carrying on, hindering instead of helping. Not Charlie. She’d always been cool under pressure, and he’d loved how they’d been equal partners, a team.
“Okay.” She dragged undergrowth away from the foundation with the rake,then pulled at vegetation with her bare hands to leave cleared soil behind.
“The wind…” He stopped, not wanting to frighten her even more.
“It’s changed?”
“Looks like it.”
A deer and a pair of foxes darted out of the woods and streaked past them, heading for safer ground.
“The animals know.” She pointed to a flock of birds rising out of the trees. Their wings were a dark cloud against the livid red sky. “They do too.”
Sean dragged the brush she’d cleared farther down the driveway. Maybe it was pointless. Maybe they should both have headed for town when they’d had the chance. Crouched on her hands and knees, Charlie tore at the rosebushes beside the porch.
“Charlie.” Sean raised his voice above the roar of the fire.
“What?” She half turned. Her face was smeared with dirt, and her hands were spattered with blood from the thorns.
“We need to get out of here.” He raised the hose high, one last time. Water arced in a big circle. “Now.”
She clutched her throat. “My necklace. It’s gone.” She pawed in the dirt, her motions frantic.
“There’s isn’t enough time. You have to let it go.”
“I can’t. Mom gave it to me.” Her voice was a high-pitched wail.
Sean crouched beside her in the carnage of the turned-up soil. Something glinted in the sunlight. Her gold heart necklace had snagged on a root, its chain broken. He tugged it free. “The lake.” He thrust the pendant into her hand and urged her along beside him.
“What about your car?” She wheezed.
“Too late.” He pointed to the flames that cut across the woodlot and devoured everything in their path, inching closer to the makeshift firebreak and the road. “Charlie?”
She stood motionless by the porch steps, and the wind whipped her hair around her face.
“Charlie?” He shouted louder and then, when she didn’t respond, swung her into his arms and ran with her to the canoe. He slid it partway into the water and bundled her into the bow.
“Sorry.” The word came out in a gasp. Her chest heaved and her eyes were blurry, unfocused. “For a second there, I…” She stuffed the necklace into the pocket of her jeans and dragged her hands through the water, washing away the blood. “Mom…I loved her so much, and she gave this little heart to me…”
“She loved you too. It’ll be okay.” He hoped like hell he was right. He pushed off and the canoe scraped the sandy lake bottom.
“I’m out of practice,” she muttered as Sean stepped into the canoe and moved her purse, a backpack, a pink tote, and what looked like a dry-cleaning bag folded in two, clear plastic over shiny green fabric.
He knelt in the stern and picked up his paddle to push the canoe farther into the water. He couldn’t let himself think about Ty. Or Shadow. Or Carmichael’s. He couldn’t think about anything but getting them to safety.
Sean jerked his head around as a boom sounded above the crackle of the fire. Ten feet away, the tree he and Charlie had built forts under as children teetered and crashed onto the boathouse. Flames licked into the roof, arced toward the dock.
H
e dipped the paddle into the water. “Teamwork.”
“We’re in this together. I’ve got your back.” Her voice was muffled, like she was trying not to cry.
He steered the canoe toward the middle of the lake. The wind cut across his face, and a cloud of ash momentarily blinded him. “One, two,” he counted, and on three, the canoe moved forward. Charlie matched him stroke for stroke as she paddled in the rhythm he’d taught her long ago.
About five hundred yards out, he stopped. His body was drenched in sweat, and he shook from the exertion and the aftermath of the adrenaline rush.
“Sean?” Charlie’s voice was high and raspy, and the canoe lurched as she paddled solo.
“We’re far enough out. We can rest here.” He tried his phone again. Nothing. She turned to face him and rummaged in the pink tote. Barbie dolls like his nieces used to play with tumbled out. “You saved Barbie?”
Her face flushed and she pulled a bottle of water from the bag. “Emma loves these dolls and she’d have been heartbroken if they’d burned up.” She twisted the cap off the water and handed it to him.
He tipped the bottle into his mouth. Liquid trickled down his throat and soothed the rawness. “What else did you save?”
“The teddy bear Naomi’s had since she was born. Mia’s family photos, my camera and computer, some clothes.” She pushed the dry-cleaning bag under her seat.
“What’s in there?”
“A dress.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and her breasts heaved beneath a picture of a panda. “And shoes.”
Of all the things he’d have expected Charlie to save, a dress and shoes wouldn’t be them. It was a fancy dress, by the look of it.
But there were a lot of things about this Charlie he hadn’t expected.
Her vulnerability during the thunderstorm, which had shocked him and, in equal measure, made him want to protect her. Charlie Gibbs had never needed protection, by him or anybody else.
While he knew she loved her nieces, he guessed she didn’t see them much, and he’d expected it would be more of a hands-off kind of love. Instead, she was a real part of their lives and knew what was important to them.
He swallowed, and fear cut off his windpipe. Fear that had nothing to do with fear for his son at the inn, or the fire that still raged on shore, the cloud of smoke and ash drifting closer toward Carmichael’s. Instead, it was an even deeper, more primitive fear. He’d never imagined, despite everything, despite how she’d broken his trust and his heart, and hadn’t told him about their child, that Charlie would still have this kind of hold over him.
A hold so strong it had driven him to keep her safe at all costs and almost made him forget how things had ended between them. The lies, the hurting, and the silence.
The canoe rocked in the wind and drifted out into the lake as memories washed over him.
He and Charlie playing on that beach, building elaborate castles with turrets and moats, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which tasted of sunshine and sand.
Mrs. Gibbs, as beautiful as any movie star, reading on the porch or dancing to pop music from a battery-powered radio. Charlie and Mia dancing along with her.
Mia sunbathing on the dock in a tiny bikini and always too grown-up to build a sand castle. Reading fashion magazines and flirting with city boys, the sons of doctors and lawyers from nearby cottages.
Summer smells of barbecues and suntan lotion and the sweet taste of strawberry Popsicles, which melted in his mouth, the juice trickling down his chin.
Dr. Gibbs, arriving late on Friday nights in a dark suit, a tie loose around his neck, sucking away the fun, the music, and the laughter. A handsome man with dark hair threaded with silver and blue eyes like flints, whose presence made the air thick and heavy. Everyone, even though nobody ever said it aloud, counting the hours until it was time for him to go back to the city again.
And always, there was Charlie, his sunshine. The girl he’d fallen in love with more each summer. Their childhood friendship had deepened, matured, until the day she’d told him it was over.
In the distance, emergency sirens wailed. Sean reached for Charlie’s hand. She met him halfway and linked her fingers with his.
“Ty’s okay. There’s no way the fire can jump across the water at the end of the point, and the inn’s a couple of miles beyond there. But your house, Carmichael’s…” She stopped.
He nodded, unable to speak. Even if the worst happened, a house and a business could be replaced.
He tightened his grip on Charlie’s hand. Her knuckles were scraped and bloody, and she was covered in mud and soot, her hair a wild tangle around her face. In all the years he’d known her, she’d never looked more beautiful.
Or more lost and alone.
Chapter Eleven
Charlie couldn’t stop shaking, and despite taking one of her little white pills, she found that her leg hurt more than it had in weeks. She sat on the only unscathed Adirondack chair, which had ended up at the edge of the lake, and pulled the blanket one of the paramedics had given her tighter around her shoulders.
The yard was a soggy mess of emergency vehicles, and tire tracks extended across the beach. The boathouse was gone and the charred remains of the dock floated in the water. But the cottage was safe. At least most of it.
She squeezed her eyes shut, still seeing the flames that had devoured the old wood of the porch. The firefighters had perched on ladders to beat back more flames that threatened the roof, before they smashed through Naomi and Emma’s bedroom window. She fisted a hand to her mouth and opened her eyes again.
Beyond the ruined porch, Sean was in a huddle with the forest fire warden and crew from the fire station in Kincaid. He had an arm around Ty, and behind him stood a woman who must be Sarah. Ty’s mom. Sean’s ex-wife.
A woman who was everything Charlie wasn’t. She was tall, Nordic blond, and slender with pale blue eyes, wearing a pink vest and a short white skirt that showed off her long, smooth legs and toned figure. Throat dry, Charlie tried to untangle her snarled hair with her fingers.
“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” Linnie knelt beside her.
Charlie didn’t need to ask who Linnie meant. “Yeah.” She gave up on her hair and looked at the cuts on her hands.
“Sarah’s a preschool teacher, so she’s great with kids.” Linnie opened a first-aid kit and began to clean Charlie’s right hand. The antiseptic stung and made her eyes water. “She sings in the church choir, makes jam, and sews most of her clothes.”
“And?” Charlie caught the teasing glint in Linnie’s eyes.
“Whenever I’m around her for more than half an hour, I want to throw stuff just to shake things up a bit.” Linnie patted Charlie’s good knee.
“What happened between her and Sean?” Although Sean had said Sarah wanted someone different, she wanted to know what Linnie thought.
Linnie finished cleaning Charlie’s right hand and started on the left. “I don’t know, not really. Sarah’s nice enough and she’s a good mom to Ty and little Emily and Olivia. A great cook too. She makes a banana cream pie to die for.”
“When I knew him before, Sean didn’t like banana cream pie.”
“He still doesn’t, which pretty much sums it up. Sarah and Sean, from what I saw, even when they stood to get married, never fit together.” Linnie pulled out bandages and a roll of surgical tape from the first-aid kit.
“Why not?” Sarah sounded conventional and settled. The kind of woman who should have been exactly right for Sean.
Linnie leaned back on her heels and slid a bandage out of the package. “Sarah’s allergic to dogs and she hates boats and most outdoor sports, although she’s always in the gym. If she’d been caught in the fire, you can bet we’d have heard her screams from town. Not like you. Sean said you were real brave.”
“He did?” Charlie looked back at the cottage and at Sean, who still had his arm around Ty like he couldn’t bear to let his son go. All of a sudden, she found it hard to breathe.
/> “I heard him when he was on the phone to Trevor after cell coverage came back.” Linnie wrapped the bandage around one of Charlie’s palms and secured the ends with tape. “My husband surprised me. Since he’s the younger twin, he’s always looked up to Sean. But when Sean wasn’t there, he coped fine.”
She tapped Charlie’s bandaged hand. “Apart from some water damage, Carmichael’s is okay and Shadow is too. The wind changed direction, so the fire veered away from Sean’s house.”
“Straight for the cottage,” Charlie said.
“You can rebuild the porch if you want and fix the roof. Replace the broken windows and repaint. It could have been a lot worse. You’re both okay and so is Sean’s car.” Linnie finished wrapping Charlie’s other hand and closed the first-aid kit. “Anyway, you’re selling.” She hesitated for a heartbeat. “Aren’t you?”
“I don’t have much choice.”
Linnie’s eyes narrowed. “You always have a choice.”
And the choice was to support herself. She was on her own. The money from the cottage sale would give her stability and financial security. And Mia was even more desperate. If they couldn’t find another buyer, they’d have to sell to Tat Chee. A pang of loss rippled through her.
Charlie looked at her bandaged hands. “Hey, you did a good job. Really professional.”
Linnie flushed and smoothed her T-shirt over her shorts. “I wanted to be a nurse.”
Charlie tilted her head. “We used to talk about everything. How could I have forgotten that?”
“I never told you. I never told anybody because I didn’t think I was smart enough. I was always average at school.” Linnie looked at her feet. “Not like you. You’re smart. You always knew what you wanted and you went for it.”
“Maybe it looks like that.” Linnie couldn’t see inside her, couldn’t see the reasons why Charlie made the choices she did. Or feel the regrets.