by Kacey Linden
“They’re about to drive me crazy,” Rory confessed, shaking her head. “They’re adorable and I love them but they have way too much energy to be cooped up inside all day during the winter. Kinley is a saint!”
Rory’s babysitter was a college student who’d returned to town over winter break. Willow had met her a few times when she’d brought the boys in during the afternoons and had to agree—she was possibly the sweetest, most patient person on the planet. Trey and Sean were not unusually difficult for four- and six-year-old boys, but they were a handful, and Kinley seemed undisturbed by even their most alarming adventures.
“Well, I hope you’re planning to take some extra time off next week,” Willow admonished. “We have this covered, and you should enjoy as much time with your family as you can.”
“I will.” Rory hugged her, before heading back to her office and leaving Willow to take up her usual duties with a sigh of relief.
The hours sped by much more pleasantly after Willow became convinced that Cale was not going to come in for coffee. He was working, and must have decided to leave her to think in peace. At least, she hoped.
Maybe he’d decided he didn’t want to see her either. Maybe he’d gone to see Marissa instead…
Willow bent down and scrubbed harder at the sticky spot on the table she was wiping. She needed to stop imagining the two of them together. Even if they did make an attractive picture, both tall and dark haired, one gorgeous and talented, the other handsome and kind…
“May I borrow that table?”
Her head jerked up to see the familiar face of Cale’s Uncle Pete, smiling at her over a large latte and pumpkin scone.
“Sorry,” she told him, straightening and pushing the chairs back into place. “I must have been a little too deep in thought.”
“Better too much than too little,” he told her, eyes twinkling. “As long as you’re not thinking about leaving just because of a little competition.”
Willow’s jaw dropped.
“I’m an old man, Miss Willow,” Pete told her solemnly, “so I probably say things I shouldn’t, but I’m going to tell you anyway that I hope you’ll stay. Even if my nephew is occasionally an idiot, he’s a good man, who sometimes tries a little too hard to help everyone in the world who needs it.”
“Does the whole town know about last night?” Willow demanded.
“Well, I don’t know about the whole town.” Pete lowered himself into the chair and set down his cup. “Cale called me this morning. He’s kicking himself and generally convinced that he’s screwed up past redemption.”
“So he sent you in here to plead his case?” Willow asked suspiciously.
Pete looked at her over his glasses. “Does that sound like my nephew to you?”
“No.” She sighed and dropped into the chair across from him, setting her rag on the table in front of her and resting her chin on her hand. “What did you tell him?”
“That he screwed up pretty badly, but most of us do from time to time.”
Willow chuckled in spite of herself. “Sounds like what Marcia told me this morning.”
“I have always considered Marcia Dillon to be an incredibly wise woman.”
“Everyone seems to think I should give Cale another chance, but I’ve been giving people one more chance my entire life,” she told Pete honestly. “It always ends badly. Why should this time be any different?”
“I suspect that’s something you and Cale will have to decide for yourselves.” Pete’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “My personal philosophy is to give out second chances based on actions, more than words. What do Cale’s actions tell you about the kind of man he is?”
Willow thought about Cale—about how he had rearranged his life over the past few weeks to include her in it. He took the time to answer her questions, and always offered her a way out of situations when he thought she might be overwhelmed. She had never felt more safe than when she was with him, and he had apologized for his mistakes.
But could he change? Would he respect her decisions even when he thought they were wrong? Could he learn to trust her? And how would she ever know if she didn’t let him try?
She sighed and pushed back from the table. “Thank you,” she told Pete. “I’ll think about it.”
It was a little after eight, she realized. Only two more hours till her shift was over. Darcy was wiping down the bakery case, Kristal was checking stock, and only three customers were scattered amongst the cafe’s tables. She should probably start mopping the kitchen or run a load of mugs and trays.
A sound, somewhere between a scream and a cry, echoed from the back of the shop, near Rory’s office. Darcy and Willow glanced at each other, but Willow was closer, so she put down her rag and jogged back through the door, looking around for the source of the noise.
Rory, who had been due to leave at eight, was standing in the hall, her face whiter than milk, her phone on the floor by her feet.
“My house.” She couldn’t even form a sentence. “My babies.”
“What is it?” Willow grasped her arm firmly and forced her to focus. “Rory, what happened? What’s wrong?”
“My house is on fire.”
“Your house…”
“Willow, it’s burning and I don’t know where the boys are!”
Willow whirled around and burst back into the front of the shop. “Darcy, you’re in charge,” she yelled. When Darcy shot her a thumbs up, she turned back, grabbed Rory’s hand, and tugged her towards the door.
“Keys?” she demanded.
Rory looked at her blankly. Willow spotted her purse slung over her shoulder, and rifled through it till she found car keys.
“Let’s go.” She pulled Rory after her, out the rear door of the shop, to the tiny parking lot where Rory’s Jeep was parked near the back. Willow didn’t even ask, just jerked open the passenger door, shoved Rory in and buckled her seatbelt.
Five seconds later she was peeling out of the lot in the direction of Rory’s house. She’d been there only once, but the town was small enough it wasn’t difficult to remember, and her direction was confirmed by the fire truck that sped past her only a few moments later.
Rory gasped and clutched at the door, so Willow raced after it. They pulled up in front of the house to the terrifying sight of smoke pouring from the windows and leaking from under the eaves.
“Sean! Trey!” Rory screamed, yanking at her seatbelt ineffectually and straining towards the door.
“You have to stay here!” Willow grabbed her sleeve and held her back. “Let the firefighters do their work.”
“But what if they’re still in there? We don’t even know!”
“I’ll go and ask someone. We’ll find out.” Willow’s heart ached for the terrified mother, but she knew nothing good would come of letting her try to stage a rescue herself. “Rory, they know about the boys. They will look for them. You know you can’t go in there.”
“Try to stop me,” Rory growled, finally locating the button on her seatbelt and scrabbling at the door of the Jeep.
Willow threw herself out and ran around to Rory’s side, just as the other woman managed to exit the vehicle. “Stop,” she cried, as flames erupted from one of the downstairs windows, brightening the darkness and drawing a howl of anguish from Rory.
“Trey!” Tears ran down Rory’s face. “Sean!” She collapsed against Willow.
A pickup towing a trailer pulled up behind the jeep in a spray of gravel. It had barely settled to a stop before Jake Cunningham leapt out and headed for the house at a dead run.
“Jake!” Rory’s cry pierced the night, and the sandy-haired man stopped as if he’d hit a wall. His head swiveled until he spotted her.
“Rory.” He turned her way, the relief in his face unmistakeable. “Darcy called me. I happened to be in town, so I…” It finally seemed to register that she was alone. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know,” Rory exclaimed tearfully. “They were with Kinley. Her car is he
re. They have to still be in there.”
“Then I’ll find them,” he said grimly and started for the house again, running around the side and disappearing into the back yard.
Kinley’s car. There were too many cars. Willow counted again. Besides the fire truck, Rory’s jeep and Jake’s truck, there were two cars in front of the house. Kinley’s gray sedan and… a county sheriff’s car. There would only be one deputy on duty this time of night. Cale.
Fear gripped her, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. It sat on her chest like a rock, tore at her heart and clutched at her throat with brutal strength.
Cale was in there, with the heat and the smoke and the flames. He’d probably arrived first and gone in to make sure Kinley and the boys got out, because that was the kind of man he was.
And because he was the kind of man who would never hesitate to sacrifice himself for the safety of others, he could die without knowing that she’d forgiven him.
The roar of the fire intensified, and Willow grabbed Rory’s arm, choked by fear for the lives of those they loved. “They’ll be okay,” she whispered, as much for herself as for Rory. “They’ll all be okay. Cale will get them out.”
“What?” Rory looked up, blinking through her tears. “Where is Cale?”
“He’s in there,” Willow choked out, pointing to the house just as they heard a crash from inside. “He’s somewhere in there.”
When he spotted smoke curling from under the eaves of Rory’s two-story gray craftsman-style house, Cale called for the fire department and exited his cruiser at a run, almost at the same moment. He’d seen Kinley’s car, knew she was there with the boys, and felt an instant surge of concern when he checked the back yard and still didn’t see them anywhere outside.
There was no way he was waiting for the fire truck to arrive. He burst through the front door, and was forced to bend low to avoid the worst of the smoke that had already filled the air on the main level. A single smoke alarm wailed over the faint roar of the fire, but he didn’t hear the boys.
“Trey? Sean?” When there was no answer, he checked the dining room and the living room, glancing past the decorated tree and the array of presents before moving on to the kitchen, where flames already licked at the walls. Next, he headed up the stairs towards the boys’ bedroom. It was nearing their bedtime, so Kinley might have taken them up to begin wrangling them into their pajamas.
Smoke burned his lungs and stung his eyes, so he pulled up his undershirt to cover his mouth and nose before bending towards the floor and trying to breathe shallowly. “Trey! Sean! Kinley!”
A faint pounding came from somewhere ahead of him down the hall. The boys’ bedroom was down there, but just then Cale noticed the carpet beginning to smolder. The fire from the kitchen must already be burning up through the floor.
Holding his breath, he jumped over as much of the smoking carpet as he could and pounded on the boys’ bedroom door. It was locked. “Are you in there? Open the door, Sean. It’s Cale Matthews.”
The doorknob jiggled under his hand. A moment later, the door cracked open to reveal the tear-smudged and terrified face of six-year-old Sean.
“Cale?” He surged forward and practically leapt into Cale’s arms. “Our house is on fire,” he wailed, “and Kinley is sleeping. We came in here in case of bad guys but we were so scared.”
“I know, buddy, I know.” Cale held him tightly and stroked his hair. “Where’s your brother? We need to get out of here.”
Four-year-old Trey emerged from the closet looking rumpled but whole.
“Okay, we’re about ready to go. But where is Kinley? It’s too early for sleeping.”
“She’s out there.” Sean pointed towards the hall. “She said there was smoke and went to look and didn’t come back. When we looked for her she was asleep.”
Cale swore silently. He’d forgotten Kinley had asthma, and the smoke would have affected her far faster than the boys. He couldn’t carry them all though, so he made a quick decision. “Okay, boys, the first thing we’re going to do is get you out of here. Then I promise I’ll come back and look for Kinley, all right?”
They nodded.
A quick look out the door confirmed Cale’s fears—the floor had finally caught fire and they wouldn’t be going out that way. “Looks like we’re going to be exploring the roof,” he told them calmly, shutting the door behind him to keep out the worst of the smoke. It was already thick, and still creeping under the door. The air had grown hotter, causing sweat to drip into his already stinging eyes and scorching his lungs. He popped open the window and surveyed the incline of the roof. The craftsman style worked in his favor—the lower edge wasn’t as steep as usual, but he had to get both boys out there without them falling off.
“Sean, do you have anything like rope?” he asked quickly.
Sean dove under his bed and came up with a jumprope.
“Perfect.” Cale fashioned a makeshift harness around Trey’s chest. He hoped to be able to lower the boys to the ground, but couldn’t count on there being anyone to catch them. The window was in the back, and until the fire department arrived, few people were likely to come around to the rear of the house. Except Rory, but Cale prayed no one had told her. If she was out there somewhere, she would be frantic with worry.
He turned to reach for Sean, but the boy had retreated towards the door.
“My bear!” Sean said anxiously, putting his hand on the doorknob, but yanking it back quickly when the heat seared his fingers. He began to cry again. “I have to get my bear. I can’t let it burn up.”
“Sean, we have to go now.” Cale tried to sound reasonable, but he broke out in a fit of coughing.
“No, I have to get it!” Sean screamed. He picked up a jacket off the floor, used it to open the door, and ran out into the hall.
“Sean, no!” Cale picked up Trey and went after him, but the fresh air flowing from the open window had already reached the fire. It flared hungrily, and Cale heard burning timbers fall with a horrific crash.
Sean stood in the hallway, frozen in place by the wall of flames, until Cale scooped him up, raced back into the bedroom and slammed the door with his foot. “I promise, Sean, I’ll get you a new bear. I’ll get you two. But we really have to go now.”
The boy clung to him and nodded, by now too scared to even cry.
“Sean, I need you to go first,” Cale said, and lifted him through the open window to the roof outside. Trey had his arms wrapped too tightly around Cale’s neck to even dream of detaching him, so Cale maneuvered through the window one-handed, ending up over the back porch just as flames began to leap from the front side of the roof, so high they were visible from where he stood.
He was beginning to be afraid that he was just going to have to jump and hope for the best when Jake Cunningham raced around the side of the house, searching the windows, probably looking for a way in.
“Jake!” he shouted. “Jake, I’ve got the boys!”
He could see the relief on the rancher’s face as he jogged up and positioned himself just below the overhanging roof.
“Sean, you can jump,” Jake said, holding out his arms. “I promise I’ll catch you.”
“I want Mama!” Sean wailed, clinging to Cale’s leg and almost throwing him off balance.
“Your mama is out front with the fire truck, and she really wants to see you,” Jake said, in a surprisingly soothing voice. “I promised her I would find you. Do you want to come with me and give her a hug? I bet they’d let you look at the fire truck too.”
Sean nodded. “But I’m scared to jump.”
“I won’t let you fall,” Jake said, and even Sean seemed to be able to tell that it was a promise.
With only a slight hesitation, he let go of Cale’s leg and jumped. His foot caught on the edge of the gutter, causing him to fall sideways, but Jake never faltered. He snatched him out of the air and caught him up in a hug that looked as desperate as Rory’s own might have been. Once Sean was safely on t
he ground, Cale disentangled himself from Trey’s arms and lowered the smaller boy using the rope harness.
“Go!” Cale said, after Jake had Trey securely in his arms. “Find Rory. Let her see them. And tell the guys that Kinley is still in there!”
Jake didn’t need a second invitation. He took Sean by the hand and jogged towards the front of the house.
Cale let out a deep breath and shut his stinging eyes. A round of coughing shook him and sent a spear of pain through his chest but he didn’t care. The boys were going to be okay.
He was about to move towards the edge of the roof, hoping to swing his legs over and drop to the ground, when the roof itself gave way beneath one of his feet. The sudden shift pitched him forward, and he made a frantic grab for the edge of the roof as he rolled past it. He missed.
The ground leapt up to meet him.
When his eyes opened, he lay on the back porch, only a few feet from the house. His head pounded with agony, and every breath rasped painfully in and out of his lungs, but he was alive.
He didn’t think he could stand, but his arms and legs obeyed his command to move, so he crawled, inch by inch, away from the house as the flames continued to leap higher.
Someone would find him. He just had to get a little further away. As he looked back at the growing inferno, Cale felt a surge of sadness for Rory’s sake. There would be no saving anything, even if the firefighters did manage to get the fire under control. Rory and her boys would lose everything, and only a week before Christmas.
The community would rally around them, and the boys wouldn’t be allowed to go without Christmas presents, but still… after she’d started over so recently, this would be a blow that would take a long time to recover from.
At least she had Jake, he thought, recalling the look of relief on the quiet rancher’s face when he saw that the boys were safe. Those two might need some encouragement to admit that they were crazy about each other, but anyone who knew them could see it.
He’d only gone a few yards, and could still feel the heat, but Cale couldn’t seem to drag himself any further. He rolled to his back and let himself collapse into the rapidly melting snow, concentrating on breathing. Even his vision seemed a little fuzzy.