Rescued by the Firefighter

by Catherine Lanigan

  “My siblings and I have been known to be a rowdy bunch. A bit intimidating to outsiders.”

  “Why? Do they all look like you?”

  “Not my sister. She’s slim and blonde.”

  “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that—you being so tall, dark and—I mean, you’re, uh, the opposite.”

  Rand laughed, watching her stumble over her words. He hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable. But he did want to win her trust. And a whole lot more.

  For Rand, there was no doubt in his mind—he’d never met a woman like Beatrice. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t ever had a serious relationship. He’d told himself it was because of his career. He was always on the move. But perhaps that wasn’t it at all. Perhaps he was just particular.

  He wasn’t commitment-phobic. No. He wanted a wife and family one day. Funny how that “one day” had moved into his present.

  But he’d only just met Beatrice. He strove to keep the conversation light for now, until he could get out what he’d come to say.

  “Cassie looks like my mom. She gets her green eyes and hair from her. She’s got a soft heart like my mom, too.” And like you.

  “Oh.”

  Beatrice worried her bottom lip and looked away from him. She hugged herself with her arms tightly.

  He rose but remained a distance from her. “Look, Beatrice, you’ve got to be overwhelmed by everything that has happened to you. The fire, nearly getting killed, the risk the kids took out there in the forest. The legal threat to them. Your burns.” He pointed to her foot. “Not to mention your foot.”

  “Don’t forget my burned hair.” Her laugh was forced.

  She was on the edge of losing it.

  “I came out here tonight, Beatrice, because I want to help you.”

  She snorted. “You? Want to help me? After that citation?”

  “I had to do it, Bee. It was my job. My duty.”

  She dropped her arms. “I know. And truthfully, I get it. But the fact is, I’m broke, Rand. I can’t afford these repairs. I can barely keep these kids fed.” She pointed to the cabins. “They deserve the best from me. And I failed.”

  “No.” He moved closer. “You didn’t fail. Not in the least. This is just a hiccup.”

  “Yeah. A nearly four-thousand-dollar hiccup that will choke the life out of my camp.”

  “Hear me out. I have a friend, Luke Bosworth, who has a construction company here in town. He’s a gifted carpenter, but he takes on all kinds of jobs. I’ll talk to him tomorrow and get him to give you a bid. He can get this set up for you, maybe for less than the city quoted you.” He took another step toward her and put his hand on her elbow. “Please, Bee, let me do this for you.”

  “Beatrice,” she insisted.

  “Bee fits you better,” he replied. He looked down into her blue eyes as the moon’s silver beams danced across her face, making her look ethereal. Angelic.

  She took his breath away. He had to get a grip. This wasn’t the time to allow romantic fantasies to cloud his mind. She might be softening to him, but in the end, he was still the bad guy to her.

  “What do you say, Beatrice?”

  Her eyes scanned his face as if she was looking for a flicker of a deceit. Some offense to charge him with.

  “You really do want to help me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like you. Okay?” He dropped his hand from her elbow and shoved both hands in his jeans pockets. “And right now you’ve got me pegged as an evildoer, right up there with Darth Vader and Bernie Madoff. I don’t want to be the bad guy.”

  “Always the hero?”

  “Why not?”

  She heaved a sigh. “I don’t know that I need a hero right now. I need a miracle.”

  “You could play the lottery.”

  “Now you’re making fun.”

  “I was. I apologize. This is serious and I’m all in.” He leaned his face toward her until their noses almost touched. “Say yes.”

  She pursed her lips to hold in a chuckle. “Okay. I accept.”

  He straightened. “Good. I’ll call Luke and see if he can help. Can I call you tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good,” he replied and started down the porch steps.

  “I’ll walk you to your truck,” she said and turned to grab her crutches from the porch railing.

  “No need. I can see the way.”

  “Good night vision, too, huh?”

  He decided he didn’t want their time together to end, so he stood at the bottom step as she followed him down. “You’re getting pretty good with those things.”

  “I’m trying,” she said and walked alongside him to his truck.

  He stopped, turned and moved so close to her he could smell her floral scent. And was that peanut butter on her breath?

  “What I meant to say, Rand,” she breathed, her eyes falling to the ground, “was thank you for saving my life. Eli’s life... Chris’s...”

  Before she said another word, his lips touched hers in an excruciatingly soft kiss that sent Rand’s mind tumbling as if he’d been pitched over a cliff. He was falling and he didn’t want to ever hit bottom.

  He deepened the kiss and felt a jolt of excitement and warmth straight through to his heart. She kissed him back with an eagerness he’d never experienced.

  She broke the kiss, but kept her lips next to his so that he felt every movement of her breath against his lips.

  He kissed her again with the full comprehension that this could be the most irreparable decision of his life.

  It was Beatrice who tore herself away once again. She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back. Not so far that he felt shunned, but far enough that he knew she wanted distance.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For...offering to help, or for the kiss?”

  “The kiss. I don’t know what came over me.” He rushed on. “I’m going to blame it on the moonlight.”

  She shook her head. “Too much of a cliché.” Her face was mirthless.

  Had he gone too far? After all, they didn’t know each other all that well, though now he sure as heck wanted to change that. No, she’d enjoyed that kiss as much as him.

  “What is it, Bee?”

  “Maybe,” she began, “you only kissed me because you feel sorry for me. My finances... My foot and being dependent on these stupid crutches.” She looked down. “Which are lying on the ground now.” She kicked one of the crutches. “Useless as they are.”

  “Nah.” He pulled her close and kissed her one last time to get him through the long night. “That’s definitely not why I kissed you.”

  He turned and opened the truck door. He had to escape, and fast, before he was completely overwhelmed by her.

  He climbed in, shut the door and rolled down the window. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Silver strands of moonlight wove through her golden hair and her eyes sparkled as if reflecting starlight. He knew she hadn’t the slightest idea how magical she looked.

  “Just remember I’m here for you, Bee.”

  He started the engine.

  She leaned toward the window. “You saved my life, Rand. But helping me? I think that’s over your pay grade. Good night.” She spun away, picked up her crutches and hobbled toward her cabin.

  He watched her in the rearview mirror. She didn’t believe him. She didn’t believe in him. And that bothered him. A lot.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I DON’T WANT to leave you, Miss Beatrice,” Susan Kettering said, sniffing back a sob as she clung to Beatrice’s neck. “I’m having too much fun.”

  “Me, too.” Jessica was next to bury her face in Beatrice’s neck, her cheeks wet with tears. “We were going to stay the whole summer, but when we finally told Mom about
the fire yesterday, she wanted us to come home.”

  Both girls were set to leave camp that morning.

  “You have to talk to her, Miss Beatrice. You just have to,” Susan pleaded. “Miss Maisie was starting knitting lessons and I really like it.”

  “And I painted a rock hippopotamus like Mr. Bruce taught us.”

  “I know.” Beatrice hugged them tighter.

  The Kettering girls weren’t the first kids whose parents had wanted them to return home after learning about the fire. Little Ricky’s parents had left with him less than an hour ago.

  Luckily, none of the parents so far had asked for their money back, but Beatrice’s real fear was that they wouldn’t send their kids to the camp again next summer. And if they spread the word to other parents that the camp was unsafe, more cancellations could follow.

  Beatrice had spoken to Ricky’s mother, but she hadn’t managed to convince her that Ricky was in no danger. She had to do better with Mrs. Kettering.

  The Mercedes sedan pulled to a stop in front of the dining hall. The driver’s door opened and Rhonda Kettering—tall, model-slim and dressed in white slacks, a silk aqua-colored blouse and yellow espadrilles—whipped off her designer sunglasses as she spied Beatrice and her daughters.

  Rhonda waved. “Jessica! Susan!” She rushed forward without closing the car door, clearly concerned about her children. A summer breeze blew Rhonda’s shoulder-length curls around her face.

  “Mom!” Jessica waved back but held on to Beatrice’s hand.

  Susan just stared at her mother and stepped back a pace.

  The kids were holding their ground. Beatrice hadn’t expected support troops, but she had them.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Beatrice saw Maisie and Cindy come to the kitchen screen door to watch from the sidelines. Amanda was bolder. She pushed past them, stepped outside onto the steps and pretended to dry her hands on a kitchen towel. Bruce appeared from inside the boys’ cabin.

  Beatrice realized her staff knew the significance of the Ketterings’ leaving early. They were depending on Beatrice to win this confrontation.

  Beatrice held her breath, trying to think of the most persuasive argument, but nerves jangled up and down her spine. This was worse than racing into a burning inferno. She’d relied on guts then. This was a matter of confidence, and right now, Beatrice had none.

  “Mrs. Kettering. Rhonda. How was the drive?”

  “Not bad. Though all those semitrucks make me nervous.” She looked down at the girls. “Don’t I get a hug?”

  Jessica tightened her grip on Beatrice’s hand. “We want to stay, Mom. We have the rest of the summer. We’re learning so much and having a good time.”

  Well, Beatrice thought. Maybe she didn’t have her arguments planned out, but Jessica did. The kid should go to law school.

  “Yeah, Mom. We’re just fine.” Susan looked up at Beatrice with admiration in her unpatched eye. “And I really like the kids here.”

  Rhonda had opened her mouth to speak but closed it. “You do?”

  “Yeah,” Jessica insisted. “And they like us. You know how hard it’s been for us to make friends.”

  “Yes, but...” Rhonda examined Beatrice. She took in the fact that both her daughters were practically clinging to Beatrice. Rhonda strode closer. “Is this true? They’ve been making friends?”

  Beatrice smiled down at each child. “Of course. The other kids love them. What’s not to love? You have the sweetest, most endearing kids I’ve had the pleasure to know. The counselors and Amanda, our cook, we all love them.”

  “And they obviously return the sentiment.” Rhonda paused.

  “Mrs. Kettering, the fire was an unfortunate incident, but we are taking enormous safety precautions to make certain all the children are protected.”

  “But Ricky’s mother said two of the other children started the fire. What safety precautions are you taking against these troublemakers?”

  “The boys started the fire by accident. They wanted to make s’mores. They’d never had a s’more in their lives and were fascinated and delighted when I served the treat to the children at our weekly campfire. They tried to make it for themselves and inadvertently sparked the fire.”

  “They’d never had a... Why, it’s nearly hard to believe.”

  “The boys have had to survive without a lot of things. They don’t have a loving mother like you, Rhonda, who would drop everything and drive all the way here at a moment’s notice to see to the welfare of her children. They’ve been abandoned. Forgotten. I want to show them that someone cares. I care.”

  Beatrice’s passion had run away with her mouth again, and that familiar clump of tears in her throat returned, choking off her words. She took a deep breath.

  “Now you make me feel heartless, Beatrice.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “I know you didn’t.” Rhonda went over to Jessica and pulled her into her arms. “I love you very much, Jessica.” She held out her left arm for Susan to join in her hug. Susan went to her mother and flung her arms around Rhonda’s neck.

  “I love you, Mommy,” Susan said. “You are the best mommy. Just like Miss Beatrice said.”

  Rhonda looked up at Beatrice. “They do love it here, Beatrice. When they came home last summer they started counting the days until they could come back.”

  Now there were tears in Rhonda’s eyes as she rose and put her hand on Beatrice’s arm. “You believe these boys are not a menace?”

  “I believe they’re good kids,” Beatrice said confidently.

  “Then I’ll take you at your word.” She gave the girls another hug. “You and Susan can remain until the end of the summer.”

  “Oh, Mommy!” Susan squeezed her mother’s waist. Jessica did, too.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Kettering. Your faith in me and this camp means a great deal.”

  Beatrice tapped Jessica’s shoulder. “You girls take your duffels back into the cabin. If I’m not mistaken, Miss Amanda is going to teach you girls how to make pie crust.”

  “Yay!” the little girls chorused and after kissing their mother, they raced off to their cabin to drag their bags inside.

  Rhonda glanced at Beatrice. “Pie crust? From scratch?”

  “It’s to die for. Flaky and delicious. She uses lard.” Beatrice winked at Rhonda.

  “Really?” Rhonda’s eyes widened. “Maybe I should stick around.”

  * * *

  RAND CLATTERED THROUGH a group of tools in his garage searching for his pickax, a sledgehammer and the new sharp spade he’d bought last month. Finding the tools, he put them in the back of his truck alongside the wood stakes he’d bought at the lumberyard. He also had four balls of twine, blue chalk markers, sheers and four gallon jugs of water.

  The sun winked across the eastern horizon, but Rand spotted clouds in the distance.

  “A good rain would make my job easier,” he said to himself as he climbed in his truck, started the engine and drove out of his driveway.

  Last night he’d confirmed with Luke Bosworth that his friend had made it out to the camp and had come up with a competitive bid. Unfortunately, Luke had told Rand that the city’s estimate was fairly accurate. But Luke would do what he could to reduce the bill if he could keep costs down.

  That was when Rand had come up with his plan.

  He wanted to help Beatrice. Yes, even impress her. Apparently, carrying her out of a fire wasn’t enough. Nope. There was no hero worship in her eyes when she looked at him now. He saw distrust. Guarded fear.

  He had to prove to her that she could count on him. But he had to do it without compromising her pride.

  She was the kind who didn’t ask for help, otherwise she would have done just that a thousand times already. She’d been on her own for so long, rebuilding that wreck of a camp when no one in their right
mind would take on such a task. But she’d done it. Admirably. There was personal victory in such an accomplishment.

  Rand figured the best way was just to show up and start putting his plan into action. Better to ask for forgiveness...

  Rand pulled his truck to the side of the road in front of the camp and turned off the engine. He took out the city engineer’s survey drawing of where the water lines should be placed. As dawn crept over the land, he saw the tiny blue flags the city surveyor had placed for the proposed hydrants. Orange spray paint ran in two lines from the blue flags to a larger yellow flag, purportedly the water main.

  Rand took out a hammer, the twine and the stakes. The ditch for the water lines needed to be eighteen inches wide and two feet deep. He measured the distances and placed stakes at three-foot intervals and then curled the twine around the stakes to make certain his trench was straight.

  He took his tools out of his truck and placed them on the ground next to the staked-out water lines he would dig.

  Slinging the pickax over his head, he chopped the first hunk of dirt. The first six inches was like hacking through rock, but below that, the soil softened.

  After forty-five minutes of cutting through the earth, Rand’s T-shirt was soaked with sweat, the sun blazed in the east and the clouds he’d seen earlier had disappeared.

  “Dang! Just my luck.” He swiped a palm over his forehead to wipe off the sweat. He slid his hand down the side of his shorts.

  Behind a row of elderberry bushes to the left of him, he saw movement and an unmistakable red shirt and blue camp shorts. A dark-headed boy peeked through the berry bush.

  “Eli?”

  The boy went rigid.

  “Is that you?”

  Rand wiped the stinging, salty sweat that had rolled into his eyes and peered at Eli. As his focus sharpened, he saw Chris standing several paces behind Eli.

  “Chris?”

  “Hello, Mr. Nelson,” Eli said, straightening from his crouch position. He stepped away from the elderberry bush.

  “How long have you been there?”

  “Not long. The counselors watch us like hawks. After the fire...” Eli said.