Love Inspired June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: The Cowboy's HomecomingThe Amish Widow's SecretSafe in the Fireman's Arms

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Mack was in a chair in the living room, slumped and not moving.

  Maggie’s heart accelerated. “No, Lord. Not Mack. Help me, please.”

  She groaned as she picked up an iron lawn chair from the porch and heaved it at the window. The center pane shattered, leaving large shards. Maggie removed her jacket and wrapped it around her hand. She punched at the shards until she had a path into the house.

  Jumping through the window, her sneakered foot landed on a piece of glass. She slid across the oak floor, landing face-first against a large piece of furniture. It wobbled precariously.

  Maggie shook her head and rolled over onto broken glass. Grabbing a table, she stood and leaned against the wall until she had her balance back.

  “Grace under pressure, Maggie. Way to go.”

  Heat licked her face. Heat, but no visible flames. Good.

  The entrance to the kitchen had become thick with smoke, obliterating her field of vision past the dining room table.

  “Mack.” She jostled him. “Mack,” she screamed. He barely moved, his eyelids flickering in response. Maggie checked for a pulse in his neck.

  Strong. Thank You, Lord.

  The looming smoke inched closer.

  Maggie coughed and tucked her head down and away from the smoke. “We have to get out. Now, Mack.”

  She unlocked the front door and propped open the screen. Frantic, she glanced around, spotting a large quilt on the couch.

  She tossed it on the ground and half dragged, half carried Mack from the chair onto the quilt. Fire horns sounded in the distance, followed by sirens.

  The Paradise Volunteer Fire Department. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  Engine Number One never sounded so beautiful.

  All she had to do was get Mack out of the house.

  Give me the strength to do this, Lord.

  Drag him. That’s all I have to do. A few more inches to the door.

  Maggie panted with the effort. Sweat dripped into her eyes, blurring her vision and she wiped it away with a raised shoulder.

  The threshold. Just have to get him across that threshold.

  “Sorry, Mack. You’re going to have a few bruises in the morning. This is a bumpy ride.”

  “We’ve got him, Maggie,” Duffy said from behind her. “Grab the ends,” he directed two firemen, who lifted Mack away from the house.

  “I need a gurney and some oxygen, stat,” Duffy yelled.

  Around her, the noises of firemen pulling hoses and ladders as they began to attempt to extinguish the fire filled the air.

  Maggie blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “Oh, Duffy, thank you for coming so fast.”

  “Maggie, what happened?”

  “I drove by on my bike and saw smoke.”

  “The window?”

  “I broke the glass and jumped into the house.”

  His eyes popped open as his gaze moved from the window and back to her. With a sweeping glance he assessed her and frowned. “Medic! We’ve got a laceration. I need another gurney over here,” he called out.

  “For who?” Maggie asked, glancing around.

  “Maggie—” he winced “—you’re bleeding all over the place.”

  * * *

  The room was dark, the only real illumination coming from a sliver of light visible at the bottom of the door. Maggie blinked, orienting herself. The patient controls rested on the bed, glowing red and green. Next to her an IV pump beeped at intervals, the digits flashing a constant rhythm as the machine counted the drips.

  She reached up and touched her face. A bandage covered her right temple. Gingerly moving her fingers lower, she stopped at her right cheekbone and discovered another bandage. The area around that eye was swollen and definitely painful to the touch.

  Shifting on the sheets, she grasped the controls, examining them and finally pressing a button to turn on the lights above her bed. Maggie squinted and adjusted to the brightness. Another button and the bed slowly rose, lifting her to a sitting position. She winced at the aches in her ribs where she’d sailed across the floor at Mack’s house.

  Outside the room voices echoed. Her ears perked. One was a familiar male.

  Jake?

  Instinctively Maggie began to lift an arm to run a hand through her hair. But which arm?

  Her right hand was effectively taped to IV tubing, which connected her to the blue machine next to her bed. It winked, as though enjoying her predicament.

  The left hand, while free, had a thick layer of gauze and tape covering the arm from her wrist to her elbow. Resting on a pillow, the arm throbbed with any movement.

  She chose the lesser of two evils. Her right arm, though her fingers kept getting caught in the snarls on her head. A tiny piece of glass fell onto the bed and Maggie picked it up and placed it on the over-the-bed table.

  Two taps on the door preceded a harried nurse in navy blue scrubs into the room. The young woman slipped in, then rested against the closed door.

  “Miss Jones,” she said, exasperation lacing her voice. “The chief of the Paradise Volunteer Fire Department is here. I’ve informed him it is after visiting hours, but he insists upon seeing you right now.”

  “It’s okay, he’s a friend. He’s not here to take a report or anything.”

  “Are you sure you want to see him?”

  “Yes,” Maggie nodded. “Handsome, isn’t he?”

  The nurse’s eyes widened for a moment. When she answered, her voice held a hint of a smile. “Well, yes, but he’s also obstinate and impatient.”

  “True. We better let him in.”

  “Are you sure? He seems pretty scary.”

  “Jake?” Maggie laughed. “He’s all bark.”

  “I’ll take your word for that.” She gave Maggie a doubtful look as she reached for the door. “Be back to take your vital signs in about an hour. Do you need anything for pain?”

  “No. But could you tell me why I have this?” Maggie asked, cocking her head toward the IV pump.

  “Antibiotics.” She pulled a folded paper from her pocket and reviewed it. “The report I got from ER is that the gash on your arm is pretty nasty. You have quite a few stitches under that dressing. The doctors debated about transfusing due to blood loss and decided to pump you with fluids and see if you bounced back on your own.”

  “So when will you know?”

  “We’ll draw your blood again in the morning and notify the doctor. However, the fact that you are awake, sitting up and excited to see a handsome fireman tells me that you’re a fast healer.”

  Maggie smiled. “What time is it?”

  “Midnight. You came up from ER about an hour ago. We’re waiting on the results of the X-ray and scan.”

  An hour ago? She barely remembered the emergency room. Barely remembered the ambulance. She did remember the fire.

  “How’s Mack?”

  “Mack?” the nurse asked.

  “Mack MacLaughlin. Chief MacLaughlin’s father. It was his house fire. Was he admitted?”

  “Not that I know of and this is a small hospital.”

  Relieved, Maggie leaned back against the pillows. “Good.”

  The nurse left and discussion erupted again in the hall, voices rising.

  When the door creaked open Jake stuck his head in.

  “Jake?” The man who entered looked the antithesis of the Jake MacLaughlin she’d come to know and—yes, she sighed.

  Love.

  There it was. She couldn’t deny the way her heart thumped into overdrive at the mere sight of him. The thought of never seeing him again had haunted her when the smoke poured into Mack’s house and she struggled to save herself and Mack.

  Jake.

  He gave her a lopsided grin. A five-o’clock shadow darkened his face, and his amber eyes were bleary and bloodshot. His short blond hair stuck up at angles, as though he’d run his fingers through it a million times and finally gave up. His rumpled shirt was buttoned wrong and from what she could see, where his jacket
didn’t cover him, the shirt was half tucked in and half out of his wrinkled blue jeans.

  “Good grief, what happened to you?” she asked.

  Jake rubbed a hand over his face. He stared at her for moments before answering, assuring himself that she was indeed alive and well.

  Finally his breathing slowed and his heart rate returned to normal. He slowly shook his head.

  Leave it to Maggie to try to turn the tables on him again. He bit back the answer that came to him.

  You. You’re what’s happened to me, Maggie.

  Instead he said, “Me? Look at you. Duffy said you were playing Superman. Did you really dive through a plate-glass window?”

  “I have no idea what plate glass is,” she said. “I reacted. That’s all.”

  Maggie was every bit as pale as the white sheets and hospital gown she wore. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face. But there had been no mistaking the pleasure in her eyes when he’d walked into the room.

  Yeah, he was glad to see her, too. Relief had slammed into him like a fire truck, the moment he realized she was, indeed, okay.

  Jake shook his head. He should have never left to go fishing. So much for his plan to keep Maggie out of his life and his heart.

  Their eyes met and he flinched at the blue-and-purple bruise and the swelling that decorated her right eye and cheekbone. She’d be sporting that shiner for at least a week or two.

  “Is there a place on you that isn’t bruised or bandaged?”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “No, I’m not. And according to the report I got from Sam, you’re a hero.” He walked closer to her bed. “You saved my father’s life.”

  Her eyes widened at his words.

  Jake stared hard at Maggie. He’d never for the rest of his life be able to forget the moment he got the call from Bitsy informing him about the fire. He’d quickly called Duffy and managed to impatiently interrupt him several times to get to the important facts on Maggie and his father.

  She saw the smoke as she biked by his father’s house. How had she managed to single-handedly pull an unconscious man out of the house?

  He shook his head. Maggie has two left feet, so naturally she fell while doing it, cutting herself on the glass from the window she’d broken to get in the house in the first place.

  As he’d listened to Duffy, Jake realized one thing. Maggie Jones meant much more to him than he ever planned. More than he could quite comprehend.

  More than he was prepared for.

  He paced back and forth at the foot of her bed. Hospitals. They plain made him nervous.

  “Have you seen your father?”

  “Huh?” The question pulled him from his silent reverie.

  “Your father?” she asked again.

  “Bitsy is with my dad. They gave him a couple of respiratory therapy treatments and released him. He’s at my house.”

  “Good.” Maggie breathed her relief aloud. “What caused the fire? Do they know?”

  Jake continued to pace, hands thrust into his pockets, trying to recall the conversation he’d had with Bitsy.

  “Jake.”

  He stopped and jerked his head toward her.

  “What caused the fire?”

  “Dryer vent caught on fire.” Jake approached the bed and looked around, looking at everything except the woman in the bed.

  “Sit down, Jake.” Maggie repeated the words, her voice gentle and soothing.

  He sat down on the edge of the mattress. Then he got up. Then he sat down again. After a moment he relaxed, head bowed, and let out a breath of air. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  It startled him when her hand touched his arm in a gentle caress of comfort. He should be comforting her.

  Jake lifted his head and stared at Maggie before finally making an admission. “I want to hold you but I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

  “It’s okay.” She dropped her hand to his, gripping tightly. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

  This time his slow silent inspection dared to examine her more closely, first one arm then the other, then her face and scalp. He looked deep into her eyes. What he saw there shook him to his core.

  Maggie Jones wore her heart in her eyes.

  Finally, his gaze moved beyond her and to another place, another time. Another woman he’d loved. Could he risk his heart like this all over again?

  “Have you got a comb?” she asked.

  “A comb?” He blinked and looked at her blankly. “A comb?”

  Maggie nodded.

  “I’ll ask the nurse.”

  A moment later he returned, triumphant, a black comb and a large white towel in his hands. The nurse he’d argued with earlier practically thrust them at him, when he’d asked. She seemed delighted to have him go away.

  He’d apologize to her tomorrow for his gruffness. Maybe have Bitsy bring all the staff pies. Tonight he wasn’t himself, that was for sure.

  “Seems like a strange time to be concerned about combing your hair.”

  “This isn’t about vanity, it’s about comfort.”

  When Maggie held out her hand for the comb he shook his head. “I’ll do it. You can’t reach with both your arms tied up.” He gently lifted her hair and placed the towel around her shoulders. She stiffened for a moment.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “A bit.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not you. I have aches in places I didn’t know existed.”

  “You dragged a one-hundred-and-eighty-pound man from the house to the front porch. You ought to hurt.”

  “Pure adrenaline. Unfortunately he’s going to hurt tomorrow, too.”

  “Mack is from sturdy stock. He’ll be fine.” Jake looked at Maggie’s head. “You’ve got glass in your hair. Why didn’t the nurses take care of this?” he growled.

  “I’ve only been in the room an hour. I’ve been asleep until now. Then you arrived.”

  Jake grunted and starting working, combing carefully near her scalp. He dropped a few small shards onto the over-the-bed table.

  Maggie closed her eyes as he fingered through the strands. He worked with a quiet precision, moving slowly to remove glass, then combing, all the time lost in thought.

  An angry tension simmered beneath the surface of his being as he considered just how precious life was. At times he couldn’t understand any of it. Nor could he do anything to change things.

  Maggie’s voice broke through his conflict.

  “Are you going to lose your job?”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, going around the bed to finish the other side of her head. “Why would I lose my job?”

  “Another fire that lists me in the incident report. The commissioner. Are you going to lose your job?”

  Jake fumed at her words. “Who told you about that?”

  She shrugged.

  “I know who told you.” He frowned. “Once again, this explains a lot. That’s why I got the cold shoulder. Right? You were trying to protect me.”

  Maggie looked away.

  Carefully, he rolled up the towel and placed it on the bureau. “All done. Sally-Anne and the Emporium don’t have to worry about me stealing their business.”

  He offered a rueful grin while looking at the disarray he’d created. “But it sure beats sleeping on glass.”

  Maggie touched her head, running her fingers through the strands, shoving them into a semblance of order.

  “Much better.” She sighed. “Thank you, but you didn’t answer my question.”

  “My job is secure. You are a hero. Remember that.” Jake stood next to the bed, hands stuffed in his back pockets. He cleared his throat. “There’ll be plenty of time for talking later. I mean that. We will talk, Maggie. As soon as you’re out of here.”

  “Will we?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “No problem. Thought I’d give you a little time to get your strength back.” />
  She raised a brow.

  “Quit thinking. Maybe you should try to get some sleep now.”

  “What about you?” she asked.

  He dragged a large, orange vinyl hospital-issue chair close to the bed and sank into it. “I’ll sit here a while.”

  “The nurse will make you leave.”

  He laughed. “Let her try.”

  Maggie smiled serenely.

  Jake gave her a wink as she leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Without thinking, he reached across the blanket to touch Maggie’s slim fingers. They warmed him as they curled around his own. His thumb brushed her wrist feeling the pulse strong and bounding. With Maggie’s small hand tucked protectively into his he relaxed in the chair and closed his eyes.

  If only he could keep her safe always.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A quick glance around the hospital room confirmed to Maggie that Jake was no longer present. He’d been there at six when the phlebotomist woke her to get a blood sample.

  Now he was gone. Disappointment settled in her heart. Already Maggie missed him.

  She lifted the cover on the breakfast tray that was in front of her. Rubber pancakes, runny blueberries and a little container of orange juice. She opened the juice, and then pushed the breakfast tray away. She’d kill for hot coffee and muffins or scones from Patti Jo’s. In fact she could almost smell them. She must be hallucinating.

  The door creaked open and a silver head peeked in.

  “Are you awake?”

  “Aunt Betty?”

  “And company. Come on in, girls.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened as Bitsy held the door and half of the members of the Paradise Ladies Auxiliary marched into the little hospital room. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, the gray-haired brigade filled the place.

  “Dear me, Maggie. You look like you wrestled with the devil and he won,” Bitsy stated.

  “Nonsense, Bitsy. Maggie won. The righteous always prevail,” Aunt Betty stated.

  Maggie smiled at the exchange.

  Bitsy stepped forward and placed a white box and a pile of napkins on the over-the-bed table. Aunt Betty added a tall covered container of coffee to the mix.