“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Mason assured her.
She nodded, her cowboy hat sliding back and forth as she did so. Clicking her tongue, she nudged the horse beside her and joined the other instructors at the edge of the parking lot.
“Seems we may have more than a one hit wonder on our hands here,” Patrick said.
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Mason said. “This was a much larger fire than the one on Cloudson Drive. You think Arson Mystery Guest is going to up the show each time?”
“They do love a performance,” Patrick said. “That’s half the thrill of setting the fire. Seeing if they can outdo themselves and what kind of an audience it’ll attract.”
“Sick.” Mason pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Gini and meet you at the hospital.”
Patrick joined his team on the truck, whistled for Midas, and watched the blackened remains of the Meadow Cliff barn get smaller and smaller as they headed back to the station. He always wished he could do more. Putting out the fire was first and foremost, but what about afterward? What about the poor families or, in this case, the poor horses and trainers, who now had nowhere to call home base? Sure, the flames were gone, but so was everything else.
Fire took so much. His own parents. His ability to look at himself in a mirror. Julianne’s…He closed his eyes thinking about his sister.
Now Jonah, the first person he’d actually be willing to call a friend, was hurt. Just when Patrick thought he was winning against fire, it laughed in his face.
****
“What do you mean we can’t see him?” Gini’s temper was rising. The only thing keeping it at bay was her fear that Jonah wasn’t going to be all right. That and her father’s arm around her shoulders.
“I’m not saying you can’t see him, Miss Claremont,” the nurse said. “I’m saying the doctor is tending to him, then you can take him home.”
“Easy, Gini,” her father whispered. “There are people here. Lots of them.”
The caution in his voice was clear, the warning to not get angry, and she counted to ten. When she turned back to the nurse, Gini somehow managed a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just concerned.”
“Of course,” the nurse said. “I’ll come back out and let you know when you can collect your brother.”
Collect him? As if he were a lost wallet or something. Gini clenched her teeth as her father’s hand massaged her neck.
“Here, Walter.” Her mother held out a paper cup of coffee to him.
“Thanks, Liz,” Walter said. “Gini, why don’t we sit over there and have ourselves something to drink?” He nudged his daughter to the bright blue chairs in the hospital waiting room and pushed the coffee cup into her hand.
Gini sat and took several deep breaths. I will not lose my cool. I will not get angry. I will only breathe. She told herself this over and over until her muscles relaxed, and the heat of her annoyance dropped away.
“Jonah’s lucky to have gone this long without a firefighting-related hospital visit,” Walter said.
“You’d seen the ER at least ten times by the time you were his age,” Liz added.
“Want to know what I remember most about those ten times, Lizzy?”
“What?” Gini’s mother sipped her coffee.
“You bringing me muffins, cupcakes, pies, and cookies from the bakery.” Walter patted his stomach, a satisfied grin on his face.
“Oh, Walter.” Liz rolled her eyes, but her grin matched her husband’s.
Gini looked from one parent to the other, and the last bit of anger vanished. She could never be pissed for long around either one of them. Fury didn’t stand a chance when they were nearby. Love radiated off them like beams of sunlight warming everything in range.
“Feel better?” Walter asked as he patted her knee.
Gini nodded and tried a sip of coffee. Lukewarm, bitter, and a little gritty. Hospital coffee.
“I saw that face,” Liz said. “It is horrendous coffee, but I’ve spoiled you on the good stuff at the bakery. Now you’re a coffee snob.”
Gini laughed along with her parents, but watched as her mother twirled a finger around the end of her hair and her father’s foot tapped on the sterile white waiting room floor. They put on a hell of show for her, trying to make her feel at ease—keep her from burning the place down—but they couldn’t totally mask their worry over Jonah. How selfish of her to count on them to keep her calm when they did have another child in crisis at the moment.
“I’m sorry,” Gini said.
“For what, honey?” her mother asked.
Gini looked up at Liz. People often confused the two of them at a distance. They shared the same coloring and body type. Long, blond curls bounced around both their faces, and they had both been accused of walking around as if they owned the universe. Gini hoped she looked as good as her mother did when she was her age. She also hoped she’d eventually inherit a fraction of her mother’s compassion and patience.
“For getting all riled up.” Gini took another sip of the coffee, made a face again, and put the cup down on a table beside her seat.
“It’s okay.” Walter rubbed her forearm.
“No. I’ve got to get a better grip on myself. I’d been doing so well. I don’t know what’s going on lately, but I feel…” Gini glanced up and saw Patrick standing at the front desk with Mason.
“You feel what, sweetie?” Liz leaned forward.
“Umm…off balance.” Gini stood without consciously deciding to and ignored her parents’ voices as they called after her. She just knew she had to be next to Patrick. If she could stand next to him, she was sure she’d feel better. More centered. Less lost.
Mason turned around first. “Hey, Gini. How is he?” He gave her a hug, but Gini kept her eyes focused on Patrick whose hazel eyes studied her.
Gini took a step back. “The doctor’s with him now.”
“He’s going to be fine?” Mason asked.
Gini nodded. “Broken collarbone. In about twelve weeks, he’ll be back in business.”
“Good.” Mason leaned on the front desk, but pushed back to standing. “Your mother is waving me over. I’m going to say hi.”
Gini stepped out of Mason’s way and watched Patrick shift his weight from one foot to the other. His hair was wet and a fresh, soapy smell hung around him.
“Were you with Jonah?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Patrick stuffed his hands into his pockets. “We were doing a sweep of the barn at Meadow Cliff. On our way out, a rafter swung down and knocked him off his feet.”
“You got him out?” She inched closer and drew in Patrick’s scent. Cut wood and soap.
“Not without him swearing.”
Gini thought of the words her brother tried—unsuccessfully—not to use.
“Thank you.” Before she could stop herself, Gini was taking another step closer. Sliding her arms around Patrick’s waist. Pressing herself to his chest.
It didn’t feel as if he were breathing. He was so still at first. His heartbeat filled her ear, and the rhythm of it soothed her. She didn’t want to let go, but realized she had to. She couldn’t hold on to him. He wasn’t hers.
As she loosened her grip, Patrick’s arms came around her. His hands slid across her back, his fingers warm against the skin peeking from her tank top. He rested his chin on the top of her head for a moment, and Gini felt completely protected. From everything.
“Want to get some air?” Patrick stepped back so he could see Gini’s face.
“Yes.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own.
Patrick slipped his hand into Gini’s and tugged her toward the doors. Once outside, he led her to an iron bench and sat. He patted the space next to him, and Gini eased down. Patrick stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankles. The creases in his uniform pants made Gini smile.
“I would have pegged you as an ironer,” she said.
Patrick looked down and thumbed the crease. “I’ve got a thing ab
out wrinkles.”
“Allergic to them?”
“Something like that.” His hands rested at his stomach, and Gini watched his calloused fingers spread out. She thought about the way they’d felt against her skin a moment ago and had to look away.
“Anyone else get hurt today?” She focused her attention on the parking lot across the street.
“No. An instructor was treated for smoke inhalation, but that was it. Amazing considering the size of the fire. Mason wants us to investigate.”
“Another suspicious blaze?” Patrick’s use of the word us intrigued Gini. Did he mean they were a team? Could they be?
“Maybe. Won’t know until we get photos and Midas and I dig through the scene.”
“As soon as I see Jonah’s all right, I’ll get my cameras. I know you probably want to get in there and collect evidence.”
“The evidence will be there whenever we get to it. Your family needs you right now.” He stood. “Had enough air?”
When Gini nodded, Patrick took her hand again and led her back into the hospital. As they approached the waiting room, he released her hand and let her go in first. A doctor led Liz away when they entered.
“What did he say?” Gini asked. “Where’s Mama going?”
“They’re going to bring Jonah out in a few minutes.” Walter glanced over Gini’s shoulder at Patrick.
“Oh, this is Patrick Barre,” Gini said. “Patrick, my daddy, Walter Claremont.”
“Patrick.” Walter shook Patrick’s hand, but his jaw muscles tightened. Gini knew he remembered Patrick’s name, that he was the one who’d caused her to set the bush on fire at the fire department. Her father didn’t forget threats to his daughter’s—his family’s—safety.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Patrick said.
“New to the department, right?” Walter asked.
“New to Vermont.”
“Like it so far?”
Patrick hesitated for a moment. “Yes. I believe I do like it so far.”
Gini knew her father was about to launch into his zillion question interview, but her mother came back into the waiting room.
“Who do we have here?” Liz looped her arm around her husband’s waist.
“Patrick Barre,” Walter said. “My lovely wife, Liz.”
Patrick took Liz’s hand, but looked back at Gini who smiled.
“Go ahead,” Gini said. “Say it.”
“You look just like her,” Patrick said.
“No doubt I’m her mama, huh?” Liz wrapped her other arm around Gini.
“No doubt at all, ma’am,” Patrick agreed.
“Now whom do you get your fine features from?” Liz cupped a hand to Patrick’s cheek as only a mother could get away with.
“Suppose I’m a little of what they both were.”
Liz clamped a hand onto Patrick’s forearm. “Oh, honey, your parents are no longer with us?”
“No, ma’am. Died when I was sixteen.”
Gini fought the urge to touch Patrick. He looked so vulnerable as he answered her mother’s questions. Made sense now why Raina had said he put protecting his sisters before his own needs. He’d probably had to.
“My, my.” Liz shook her head. “I hope Vermont is kinder to you, Patrick.” She patted his arm. “Well, it has to be kinder if you’ve made friends with my Jonah and Gini.”
“And now I’ve met you,” Patrick said.
Liz giggled. “What’s your favorite pastry, Patrick?”
Patrick’s brows furrowed as he looked to Gini.
“Tell her and she’ll make sure her bakery is well stocked with your favorite.”
“I see. Blueberry muffins,” Patrick said.
“Oh, Walter.” Liz’s face bloomed with a delighted smile. “Another blueberry muffin guy.”
“Yeah, well, he better keep his hands off my muffins.” Walter glanced at Gini.
“There’s plenty of muffins for everybody, Walter. Be nice.” Liz gave Patrick another smile, but whirled around when the doctor spoke.
“Here we are. One Jonah Claremont, slightly damaged, but still in good condition.”
Jonah sat in a wheelchair, his right arm in a sling that wrapped around his torso, bracing the arm to his side. He was a little rumpled, but Gini watched three nurses at the front desk send him interested glances. He managed some winks back to them. He was going to be fine.
“Poor baby,” Liz said as she took over wheeling Jonah. “Mama’s going to make you soup and fresh bread.”
“Because that mends bones,” Gini said, causing Patrick to clear his throat to mask his laughter.
“Hush, Gini,” Jonah said. “You know Ma’s soup is magic.”
“Ought to be,” Walter said. “The way she boils it up in that cauldron of hers. The question is can she get eye of newt this late in the season?”
“You go ahead and make fun,” Liz said. “When Jonah is up and around faster than is medically possible, we’ll see who’s laughing then.” She waggled a finger at all of them, Patrick included, and wheeled Jonah to the door. “Get the car, Walter.”
“Yes, dear.” Walter left and Jonah held out his hand to Patrick.
“I owe you one, man.”
“Consider it payment for the walls you removed this morning.” Patrick shook Jonah’s hand.
“Nah, dragging my ass out of a fiery barn is worth more than that.”
“I’ve got more work for you when you’re able.”
“Deal.” Jonah yawned.
“Want to come to our house, Jonah?” Liz asked.
“No, thanks, Ma. I want to go home. I’m tired.”
“Okay, sweetie.” Liz wheeled him outside where Walter had pulled the car up to the curb. “One of us can stay with you.”
“Actually,” Jonah said, “I had a specific nurse in mind.” He looked to Gini, who dug her cell phone out of her enormous purse.
“I’m on it, Jonah.” Gini winked as she dialed. “Hiya, Haddy. Got a favor to ask you.”
As Jonah let Patrick help him out of the wheelchair and into the car, he said, “If Haddy’s got a nurse’s uniform, this might be an excellent night. Chicks dig a man in need.”
Another nurse sent Jonah a smile as she rolled the wheelchair back into the hospital.
Patrick closed the door. “Chicks just dig you. Period.”
“When you got it, brother, you got it.” Jonah grinned, but Patrick caught the wince as he shifted in the back seat.
“Yes, he asked for you,” Gini said. “I swear to the Goddess, Haddy.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, hold on.” Gini held out the phone to Jonah. “She doesn’t believe me.”
Jonah smirked and took the phone. “Haddy, are you saying you don’t want to take care of me?”
Gini heard Haddy’s muffled, “Jonah! You’re really hurt?” While Jonah talked, Liz climbed in the passenger seat, and Walter started the engine.
Gini looked at Patrick. “You want to meet at Meadow Cliff later?”
“If you’re available.” Patrick’s hands slid into his pockets, which disappointed Gini. After holding his hand earlier, she wanted his hands to be…available.
“Once he convinces Haddy to come over, he’ll be all set. Besides, Mama will make sure he’s well-fed and hydrated and medicated and whatever else her motherly instincts tell her he needs.”
“She’s used to tending injured firefighters, huh? Jonah told me your father was chief before Warner.”
Gini nodded, thinking now about injured firefighters. Be careful, that voice inside her head warned.
Hush, she told it.
“Seven o’clock all right?” she asked. “I’ve got to stop home to feed my horses and get my other camera.”
“Sure.” Patrick pulled his keys from his pocket, and Gini flicked a glance to the way his fingers moved over the keys. How would those fingers feel trailing over her skin?
Chapter Twelve
Patrick stopped home and made a quick sandwich in the small kitchen, which would eve
ntually be a tavern-like room, complete with a pool table and dartboard. He had figured the less he had to leave his home, the better. Now he didn’t know if that was the right strategy any more.
He’d gutted the actual kitchen on his second day in the house, happy to have another kitchen to use in the interim. He couldn’t wait to get started on the maple cabinets he’d begun to design on his laptop the other night.
Now he sat at the wobbly table alone, munching his sandwich and thinking about Gini and her family. Her mother’s soft hand on his cheek as she asked about his parents. The protective look in her father’s eyes as he told Patrick to keep his hands off his muffins. Gini and Jonah must feel so loved all the time.
You have love too. His sisters. He loved them both and knew they loved him, but the sense of unity that comes from an intact family was not something they had. Lost it about twenty years ago. No getting it back. Sure, his grandparents had done a fine job raising Raina, Julianne, and him, but it wasn’t the same as having one’s parents around. Nana and Papa were always a couple steps behind on the important matters with a generation between them and their teenage grandchildren. They did the best they could, and Patrick loved them for it.
But his grandparents were gone now. He and his sisters were truly alone. He’d pushed that thought away, but seeing Gini’s parents tonight and the way they all pulled together for Jonah left Patrick wanting. Wanting what, he wasn’t quite sure.
He finished his sandwich, downed a glass of grape juice, and fed Midas. Deciding that jeans and a T-shirt would be more comfortable for crawling around a burned barn, Patrick changed out of his uniform. As he pulled off the Burnam Fire Department polo shirt, his fingers brushed against his scars. Funny how he never got used to feeling them, seeing them. He always remembered they were there, but each time he made contact with the mangled skin, fresh revulsion surfaced from deep inside him. How could anyone else ever look at him and like what they saw?
Patrick washed his face at the sink in the bathroom and slipped on a T-shirt and jeans in the bedroom he was using. It’d be awhile before the master bedroom was ready. The mattresses stacked on the floor in the smaller bedroom were lumpy, but they were a place to sleep. He’d removed the mirror Raina had hung across from the makeshift bed the other morning. Hauled it out to the garage where he figured its next step was to the debris pile. The less mirrors in the house, the better.
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