by Leigh Bale
Looking down at her filthy clothes, Tessa knew she was black with soot and stank of smoke. Except for the fire retardant, she was just as filthy as the men.
“Yeah, right. I almost look like I’m ready for the prom,” she said with a good-natured laugh.
She chopped and scraped with her Pulaski as though this was an everyday occurrence. No big deal. But inside she was muddled. A knot of apprehension tightened at the back of her neck.
She thought about all the times when Sean had kept her safe. Maybe she was viewing this all wrong. Instead of his unwanted attention being a nuisance, maybe it was a revelation into his true feelings toward her. That he still cared for her. And if she was honest with herself, she still cared for him, too. Although she feared Sean was suffering from PTSD and survivor’s guilt, she knew she couldn’t make him love her if he didn’t want to. But was his guilt reason enough for him to break up with her? Maybe he was innocent of doing anything wrong, but he still felt responsible. If so, what could she do about it? She didn’t have a clue how to help him get past it.
* * *
Sean turned away from Tessa, forcing himself to get back to work. To concentrate on his job. But his hands were shaking and he gripped his Pulaski harder as he scraped the ground. Bending over the thick root of a waxy currant bush, he resisted the harsh memories that pulsed over him in crashing waves. Memories of him calling to Zach, begging him to stay with him. Not to run away. To come back and go with him to the safety zone. Sean had screamed Zach’s name over and over until his voice was hoarse and the walls of flame had shut him off from view.
During the burnover, Tessa had reassured him. With her soft voice nearby, he’d felt a quiet peace envelop him. He was supposed to be watching over her, not the other way around. She’d been sympathetic when she didn’t need to be, and that surprised him. He didn’t deserve her kindness, but he appreciated it more than he could say. She’d asked him to confide in her, but talking about it would only make things worse. Wouldn’t it?
“You got us through that burnover just fine, super,” Tank said nearby. “Are you doing okay?”
Sean glanced at the man, noticing that Harlie had stopped to look at him, too. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Sean’s face felt drained of color. In spite of his best efforts, his men must still be able to sense his unease. He was working extra hard because of Zach. They all remembered that horrible day and none of them wanted a repeat. But the last thing Sean wanted was for them to know that he was suffering from PTSD.
He expected the two men to move on, but they both remained by his side. They worked companionably for several moments as though they were offering him their silent support. Then Tank looked straight at him.
“You know it wasn’t your fault, don’t you, super?” Tank asked.
Sean paused, gripping the hickory handle of his Pulaski like a lifeline. “What wasn’t my fault?”
“Last summer, when that big firestorm hit us and we lost Zach,” Tank said. “What happened wasn’t your fault. I just wanted you to know that’s how I see it.”
Harlie nodded in agreement. “That’s right. I feel the same way, boss. It’s time to let it go.”
Sean’s brain stumbled to a halt. Was he so transparent? For some crazy reason, hearing these words of support from members of his crew eased his mind a bit. But how could he let it go? There were some things a man just couldn’t get over. Weren’t there?
And then something amazing occurred to him. Maybe his crew didn’t blame him for what had happened to Zach. Maybe Tessa didn’t blame him, either. And if they could forgive him for not saving Zach, then maybe God could, too. He wouldn’t know unless he finally asked the Lord. But that was only half the battle. Sean still didn’t know if he could forgive himself.
Chapter Twelve
Tessa whisked the cream of chicken soup with a can of water then poured the mixture over the rice and chicken. Opening an envelope of onion soup mix, she sprinkled it over the top of everything. She then ripped off a sheet of tin foil and wrapped it over the glass baking pan before sliding it into the hot oven. After two weeks straight on the fireline, she wanted a home-cooked meal.
As she set the timer, she glared at her double kitchen sinks. It figured that one of them was clogged. The right side was running clear, but the left side with the garbage disposal in it had been blocked since early that morning. Because she didn’t have the right tools, she hadn’t been able to stop and fix it before she had left for work. She was planning to do that now, while her dinner baked.
To clear the blockage, she’d tried a plunger first but made the mistake of not covering the drain of the right sink. The moment she plunged the clogged sink, a geyser of murky water had shot up from the clear side and doused her in the process. She was getting ready to remove the contents of the cupboard so that she could have room to disassemble the pipes when the doorbell rang.
Pushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear, she padded across the living room in her bare feet. “Harlie, it’s about time you showed up. I hope you brought some channel locks. The joints on the pipes are tied together pretty tight and I—” She gasped as she opened the door and stared in confusion. “Sean!”
“Hi, there.”
He didn’t smile. He stood in front of her, still wearing his hotshot uniform and holding a bright red toolbox in one hand. He must have just gotten off work, staying late to catch up on some paperwork or other administrative issues.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying not to sound annoyed. His timing couldn’t be worse.
He showed a half smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I came to help with your plumbing problem.”
She glanced behind him at the stairwell. “But where’s Harlie? He promised to come over and help. I need his channel locks.”
Sean lifted the toolbox. “I’ve got some. He sent me instead.”
Tilting her head to one side, she frowned. That morning she’d told Harlie about her clogged sink and he’d offered to come over right after work. She didn’t really need his help, but she could sure use his tools.
“Why would he do that?” she asked.
Sean stepped past her into the tiny living room without being invited. She was forced to move back to give him room.
“He sends his apologies. He can’t make it because he had to help his mom instead,” he said.
Tessa closed the door then lifted a hand to rest on her hip. Suspicion fogged her brain. What was Harlie up to by sending Sean over here?
“Help his mom do what?” she asked.
Sean walked into the kitchen, his gaze whipping over to where she had set the table for two. She’d planned to feed Harlie supper, but Sean was a game changer. She wasn’t prepared to share her meal with her ex-fiancé.
He set the toolbox on the counter next to the sinks. “Apparently her dog got out, so she called Harlie to help her find the animal.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean that giant mastiff that got arrested for chasing livestock last year?”
The dog was huge and loved to chase cattle. Harlie’s mom had been fined a couple of times before. One more offence and animal control had warned her that they would have to put the animal down.
Sean nodded. “The same. Knowing he couldn’t come over here, Harlie asked me to do it.”
Okay, she would forgive Harlie this time. She hated for his mom to lose her dog.
“You don’t need to fix my clog,” she said. “If I can just borrow some of your tools, I’ll take care of it myself.”
“I know you’re capable of handling it, Tessa. I just came over to help.” He lifted his face and breathed in deeply. “Are you cooking something?”
“Yes, chicken and rice casserole,” she said.
Which happened to be one of Sean’s favorites. She hadn’t made the recipe i
n ages for that exact reason. Now he’d probably ask for an invitation.
But he didn’t. Instead, he flipped open the metal toolbox then studied the two inches of standing water in her sink.
“Have you tried plunging it yet?” he asked without looking up.
She chuckled and indicated her damp hair. “Oh, yes. Unfortunately, it didn’t help.”
As he looked at her, his lips twitched as though he was trying not to laugh. Tessa felt a flush of heat suffuse her face.
“Have you got a couple of towels and a bucket I can use?” he asked.
“Sure.”
She walked down the hallway and retrieved the towels and mop bucket from the bathroom then returned. She found him removing all of the cleaning items and other junk she’d stashed beneath the sink and setting it aside so he could better access the pipes. Once he’d cleared an opening, he laid one towel inside the cupboard and placed the other towel close by, in case he needed it to sop up water. He then set the bucket beneath the pipes.
“Can we bail out some of the water in the sink?” he asked.
“Yes, of course.” She moved into action. Retrieving a plastic cup from the cabinet, she dipped water over to the sink that still drained well. It took only a couple of minutes. When she’d sieved off as much of the excess water as she could, she looked up and found him watching her intently.
“What?” she asked.
A wry smile creased the corners of his mouth. He gestured to the cup she’d been using. “I like your frilly little cup.”
Tessa glanced down and gave a small groan. She’d grabbed the first thing that had met her fingers. Her bright pink princess cup. It was old and scratched and slightly warped from the heat of the dishwasher, but she couldn’t bring herself to part with it.
“Zach bought it for me when he went to Disneyland with his football team in high school,” she said.
He arched one brow, looking quizzical. “A princess cup? It doesn’t seem to suit you.”
She shrugged, unable to prevent an embarrassed smile. “Not now, but it did in those days. I was very into princesses as a little girl.”
She didn’t mention how she’d daydreamed that her prince charming would one day come and carry her off into the sunset. With her father leaving when she was so young, she’d always hoped she might find someone to love. And when she did, it hadn’t ended well.
He smiled. “I can believe that. You know how to fight fire with the men, but there’s a gentle, feminine side to you, as well. You dress up real nice.”
The compliment startled her and a warm, pleasant feeling swept over her. She liked that he knew that about her. In fact, maybe they knew a bit too much about each other. Which reminded her that she was longing to ask him about his PTSD. Because frankly, she was worried about him. And for some crazy reason worrying about him made her forget her own anger and pain. It made her want to help him.
“Let me take a look at this clog.” He got down on the floor and shimmied into the cabinet. Lying on his back, he looked up at the pipes.
Tessa crouched at his feet, peering in at what he was doing. “I’ve already tried to loosen the joints, but they wouldn’t budge.”
He reached up and gripped one pipe, trying to loosen it with his bare hands. He gave a low grunt. “You’re right. They’re really snug. Can you hand me the channel locks?” His voice sounded slightly muffled.
She rummaged around in his toolbox and retrieved the tool then handed it to him. Within moments he had the joints loosened. A slow trickle of water dripped down onto his face and he blinked, moving his head to the side.
“Can you hand me the bucket?” he asked.
She did so and he placed it on his chest, letting the water drizzle into the container. Tessa saw that he was holding the P-trap steady, patiently waiting for it to drain a little bit before he opened it up. He then removed the tube and looked inside.
“Oh, yes. Here’s the problem.” He tilted it so she could see the potato peelings, egg shells and black sludge clogging the pipe.
“Yuck,” she said. “Did I do that?”
He tapped the pipe against the bucket and the clog popped right out. He chuckled. “You must have, unless you’ve got someone sneaking into your house and clogging your sink when you’re not at home.”
She laughed and it felt good. So comfortable. So natural. They’d been sad for so long. Maybe too long.
“Yeah, that’s what it must have been. Someone sneaking into my house,” she said.
“But seriously, potato peelings go through the garbage disposal a whole lot easier if you put them in that side of the sink,” he said. “They don’t go down the regular drain very well.”
She felt a flush of embarrassment suffuse her face. “I’m usually careful about it, but I guess some of the peelings got into the wrong sink.”
“It’s a common mistake.” He shifted his long legs so he could put the P-trap back into place.
Tessa backed up to give him more room to work. She knew she could have cleaned out the clog, but having him here made her strangely content and happy inside. And for a few moments she wondered where those feelings came from.
The timer went off and she quickly opened the oven door so she could peer inside at her casserole. A blast of warmth struck her in the face. Ten more minutes and dinner would be ready. She could hear Sean rummaging around the pipes beneath her sinks.
“Let’s check the garbage disposal while I’m down here. I’ll have you turn it and the water on.” He paused for a moment. “But not quite yet.”
Too late. She’d already switched on the disposal and turned the tap on full boar, so she lunged to turn everything off. But not before water spewed out from beneath the cabinet.
“Whoa!” he yelled.
Thud!
His legs jerked and she knew he must have hit his forehead on the pipes above him. His hands dropped to his sides and he lay very still.
“Sean!” She knelt beside him and leaned into the cabinet.
His eyes were closed. A red goose egg was forming on his forehead.
Leaning near, she patted his cheek. “Sean, are you okay?”
He opened his eyes and looked up at her, their noses almost touching. Lifting his hand, he rubbed the bump gently. “Ouch! That hurt.”
“Did I knock you out?”
“No, I was just stunned for a moment. I wasn’t expecting to get soaked like that.”
He was okay. What a relief. She reached for the extra towel and wiped the water off his face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
He gazed into her eyes. So close that she could feel his breath whisper past her cheek. Warning bells chimed inside her head, but she ignored them. He looked as startled as she felt. She longed to forget all the sadness between them. She wanted to comfort him. To make him happy. To see him smile and laugh again.
A dubious frown pulled his eyebrows together. “Tell me you didn’t do that on purpose.”
She laughed. “Okay. I didn’t do that on purpose...or did I?”
She didn’t know why she was teasing him. The words just seemed to come out.
A smile widened his handsome mouth. “Next time I’ll let you clean out the clog and I’ll turn on the water.”
“Deal. There isn’t much you and I can’t do together,” she said.
His smile evaporated, and his eyes filled with so much sadness that she wanted to cry. She realized that her hand rested lightly against his chest. She could feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath her fingers. Her common sense told her to pull away now. Being this close to him was dangerous to her heart. But his gaze was mesmerizing, drawing her closer like a magnetic pull. His sorrow reached out and slowly reeled her in like a fish on a line.
She kissed him. Or he kissed her. She wasn
’t sure which. Softly. A gentle caress as she breathed deeply of his spicy scent. All that mattered in that moment of time was Sean. His pain. His hopes and dreams. Helping him heal enough that he could finally talk about what had happened to him. And then she would need the courage to accept whatever he told her.
He shifted closer to her. She could feel his fingers twining through her long hair. Could feel the soft warmth of his lips against her own. And then he pushed her away.
“No, Tessa. I can’t. It won’t work.” A shudder trembled over him and he quickly scooted out from beneath the cabinet so he could stand.
Tessa’s face heated up like road flares. She felt scalded. Like she was a naughty little child. Embarrassed and hurt.
She stood up, too, and turned away, her mind swirling with emotions she couldn’t understand. She felt confused and humiliated.
They didn’t look at each other and she made a pretense of checking the oven again. Trying to pretend the kiss never happened. Trying to regain the resentment she’d felt toward him when she’d first returned to town. To keep blaming him for Zach’s death. But somehow she just didn’t feel that way anymore. Anger wouldn’t bring her brother back, nor would it help her or Sean to heal from their loss. Now all that remained was the aching sting of Sean’s rejection. And being close to Sean like this would only make it worse. But maybe he shouldn’t have broken up with her. And she wondered if he might regret it, just a teensy bit.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “How do you cope?”
His question stunned her. “With what?”
“The loss. Missing Zach.”
Wow! This was a first. She didn’t expect such queries from him. And maybe it was good that he’d asked. It opened the door to some of the questions pounding her mind.
* * *
Sean waited for Tessa’s response. A part of him knew her answer already, but another part of him wanted to hear it one more time.
“I’ve coped because the Lord has carried me through,” she said. “It hasn’t been easy, but I know He’s been there with me through it all. He’s made the loss more bearable.”