Rescued by the Firefighter

by Catherine Lanigan

  “You’re welcome,” Chris said and gave the shovel to Rand.

  Rand waited until the boys were out of earshot before he asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Frankly, yes. A lot of somethings wrong.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry for just showing up today. I should have called first.”

  “I’m not talking about that.”

  “You’re not?” He started to smile and dropped it when he took in the hard expression on her face. “Then what is it?”

  “I already warned you not to get too familiar with Chris and Eli. They’re fragile and impressionable. I don’t want them thinking you’re some kind of action hero, and with these grand gestures...”

  “Grand? A couple ball caps and an invitation to tour my station house?”

  “What invitation?”

  He rushed past that question. “I like those kids, Beatrice. I’m beginning to understand what you saw in them weeks ago.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Potential. What if someone did adopt them? What if—”

  “What if what? Are you going to adopt them?”

  “Me?”

  “See what I mean? You could easily give them all kinds of false hopes without meaning to.” She looked away.

  Was that what he’d done to her? Given her hope? He had said he’d call her if he could, but that hadn’t been possible. He’d used his one chance to fulfill his promise to the boys.

  Still, he could tell he’d hurt her, and that had been the last thing he’d wanted.

  “Yes, I see your point. Beatrice, I don’t want to disappoint anyone. My intentions are honorable. I only wanted to help. You do believe me, don’t you?”

  She looked back at him and her blue eyes held his for a long moment. For a split second he thought he’d convinced her.

  Then her eyes clouded and grew stormy.

  “Leaving aside the boys, I was only able to get two thousand from the bank.”

  “But you got something, right?” he said, trying to be cheery.

  “I was hoping for twice that amount. Luke’s bid was more than I’d anticipated. He said it had something to do with the quality of the PVC pipe he used versus that of the inferior grade the city uses. Granted, I want these water lines to last ’til the day I die, but I just didn’t think it would cost so much more.”

  “Luke told you that the city’s bids aren’t necessarily accurate, right?”

  “He did.”

  “And he mentioned he signed his kids up for day camp.”

  She chewed her bottom lip and dropped her eyes. “Yes, but two kids won’t make much of a difference.”

  “So maybe you can get more day campers?”

  “I mentioned that to the banker. He thought it was a good idea. Otherwise he wouldn’t have given me the two thousand.”

  “And I’ve saved you a bit of expense by preparing the trenches.”

  She looked at the trenches. “Yes. Fifteen hundred dollars. Which was very generous of you, but there’s still a large amount to cover...”

  Daringly, he took a step toward her. A mistake. This close, he could smell her sweet perfume. “But that’s not really why you’re angry with me, is it?”

  “Fine.” She thrust her hands on her hips. “You were gone over two weeks and I didn’t hear a word from you. I didn’t know if you were hurt, or dead, or alive, or what.”

  “Would it matter to you?”

  “Would it matter...?” She inhaled and held her breath. Her fists were balled so tight her knuckles were white.

  “You’re really angry with me.”

  “I am. With good reason.”

  “You should be. I said I’d try and call, but I didn’t warn you that that might not be possible.” He smiled. He couldn’t help it. Even when she was angry with him, she filled him with happiness.

  “I am.” Her voice softened.

  Rand felt his chest pinch. He was out of his mind. Toast. Lost it. He’d left town telling this woman he wanted nothing to do with her. He’d purposefully pushed her away. And yet, she’d been worried about him. He’d thought of nothing but her and the boys for days on end. His nights had been ragged and filled with taunting dreams about her.

  Had he been wrong to push her away? Maybe they could be friends at least.

  Standing this close to her, the summer breeze fluttering the skirt of her dress around her shapely legs, he thought he’d lose what minuscule remains of his brain existed. He wanted to reach out to her, hold her. But he didn’t dare.

  She looked like she wanted to slug him.

  “Bee...”

  “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

  “Sorry.” He glanced up toward the dining hall. “I was hoping to invite Chris and Eli to my Sunday barbecue.”

  “I just got through telling you the boys are vulnerable. I don’t want them to have illusions about you.”

  “It’s just ribs and hot dogs, Beatrice. My family will be there. I don’t see what it could hurt. You were the one who said they needed more than direction and guidance.”

  “The boys have been entrusted to me. They are my responsibility and I’m their protector. I should be with them.”

  “Fine. You’ll bring them?”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “I will. What time?”

  “One o’clock,” he replied, seeing the hard glint of mistrust in her eyes.

  “We’ll be there.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ON SUNDAY, BEATRICE was nervous. She didn’t want the boys to idolize Rand. He was already a hero figure to them, but would more familiarization cause them to have unrealistic hopes?

  Only a few days ago, she’d spoken with Zoey Phillips and had garnered another two weeks tuition for Chris and Eli. Beatrice had submitted a lengthy report on the boys’ improvements in social skills. Zoey told Beatrice that because Chris and Eli had turned around so drastically, she was recommending Indian Lake Youth Camp as an ongoing program for more foster children. Zoey was sending three more foster kids to her camp for the last two weeks in August. Zoey felt that by working together, Beatrice and Zoey could submit a formal requisition to the state for next summer.

  Beatrice wanted the best for the boys. She struggled daily to maintain a professional distance with them, both for her own protection and theirs. It would be wrong for the boys to think of her as a mother figure when she might not be part of their future. As wrenching as a placement out of town would be for them, she already knew it would rip her heart.

  Rand’s involvement in their lives could complicate things even more. If the boys’ attachment to Rand grew too deep and Rand pushed them away, like he’d done to her, they could be forever damaged.

  Still, she couldn’t deny the boys the opportunity to have a good male role model, or to experience a loving family. But she’d been right to insist that she accompany them to the barbecue.

  With Chris and Eli in the back seat, Beatrice pulled up to Rand’s ranch-style house, which was located a couple blocks from Indian Lake. She had to park in the street since his driveway looked like a car dealer’s parking lot. In addition to Rand’s monster black Toyota Tacoma truck, an open-roof cherry-red Jeep Wrangler, a rusted white Ford 4x4 truck, a twenty-year-old black Ford Bronco caked in mud, and a spit-shined blue Electra Glide Harley-Davidson motorcycle filled every inch of concrete drive.

  “Would you look at all that?” Chris said, slipping his seat belt out of the clasp.

  “My belt’s stuck,” Eli said.

  “Chris, help your brother,” Beatrice said as she turned off the engine then gathered her purse and plate of fudge she’d made. “You boys stick close to me.”

  They climbed out of the SUV. Eli held Beatrice’s hand as she walked up the driveway.

  “Wow!” Chris sai
d. “I never saw anything so awesome as this bike.”

  “It’s an Electra Glide,” Beatrice explained. “My father started out as a motorcycle cop. He was always reading a ‘bike’ magazine.”

  “Righteous,” Chris exclaimed. “Do you think it belongs to Mr. Nelson?”

  “I don’t know. It’s vintage. Maybe it was his father’s. He was an admiral in the navy,” Beatrice said as they moved away.

  Rand hadn’t told her much about his family. Only that his father had been rigid. Was Rand mirroring his father with his disciplinary rules and regulations? Or was the softer side of Rand his true nature?

  Beatrice scanned the mud-caked Bronco and then her gaze fell to the gleaming Harley. Obviously, the family consisted of some opposing personalities. But he’d said they all loved his smoked baby back ribs.

  As they went up to the front door, she noticed the precisely trimmed boxwoods and blooming red and white impatiens in the front beds. There were two white Adirondack-style rockers on the front porch with red-and-white-striped pillows that looked quite inviting. Huge Boston ferns hung in white wicker baskets from the porch roof and an American flag waved in the breeze.

  She wondered what it would have been like to have Sunday barbecues for a large family and a mother who cared.

  Her upbringing had not been one any kid would choose. Her parents had argued. Her mother was self-absorbed, and her father had had his own priorities. Her mother’s fear that he would die while on duty grew to an obsession that slowly extinguished her love for Beatrice. For self-protection, Jenny’s world eventually became only about Jenny. And what if Beatrice had felt cherished as a child, would she have developed such a deep passion for her camp? Would she need her camp kids as much?

  She looked down at Eli’s trusting blue eyes as he smiled up at her.

  Yes. She would love her kids even if she’d had the best family life. She squeezed his hand. “Ready to meet Mr. Nelson’s family?”

  “Oh, yes!” the boys said in happy unison.

  Beatrice rang the bell and waited. She smoothed the front of her navy capri pants. She’d worn a navy-and-white-striped short-sleeved T-shirt and clipped her hair up so she wouldn’t be hot in the ninety-degree temperature.

  She rang the bell again, but still no one came to the door.

  “Nobody’s home?” Chris asked.

  Eli sniffed the air. “I smell food. Someone must be here.”

  Just then, she heard a deep boisterous laugh. It was the first time she’d ever heard Rand’s laugh so fully and raucously. She’d witnessed him chuckle once or twice, but she’d never made him laugh.

  “I bet everybody’s in the backyard,” she said.

  “Let’s go see!” Eli said, dropping her hand and running down the porch steps.

  “Eli!” she shouted.

  “C’mon, Miss Beatrice,” Chris said as he followed his younger brother.

  Beatrice couldn’t help but smile. They were more than excited about their first barbecue. She was happy for them but her nervousness remained.

  She took in the detached garage and a six-foot-high white resin picket fence as she walked to the gate.

  Voices, both male and female, filled the air—talking, teasing and laughing. Eli was too short to reach the gate latch.

  “Here, let me,” she said to him and opened the gate. “Hello?” She ventured into the backyard.

  Just then a dog barked and a Jack Russell terrier came rushing up to them.

  “Hey, there,” she said and petted the dog’s head as he swished around her air boot.

  “A dog!” Chris said excitedly and reached to pet him.

  Eli hugged the dog immediately. “I didn’t know Mr. Nelson had a pet. Aren’t you glad we got asked to come, Chris?”

  Chris stroked the dog’s head. “I am.”

  Then the dog rushed off.

  Beatrice tracked the terrier’s progress to a large flagstone patio filled with people. Happy people. Three good-looking men dressed in jeans, shorts and T-shirts. No question they were all related. The men were drinking beer, laughing at a joke.

  Rand was at the double, long, stainless-steel grill. Next to it was a black cast-iron smoker. He wore a tight navy blue T-shirt and khaki shorts. Around his narrow waist was a food-stained white apron. On his feet were leather sandals. The aroma of smoking meat wafted to Beatrice’s nostrils and made her salivate.

  “It smells so good,” Chris said.

  Eli shuffled closer to her legs and looked up at her warily. “It’s a lot of people.”

  She touched his hair and smoothed it down. “You’ll be fine,” she assured him. His smile was faint yet trusting.

  There was also a young woman with a drape of shining blond hair nearly to her waist. She was dressed in skinny jeans, black motorcycle boots with stainless-steel chains around the ankles and a black tank top. As they approached, the woman held a margarita glass to her lips and laughed at Rand. She punched his shoulder and he leaned over and kissed her temple. Beatrice guessed she was his sister and the Harley belonged to her.

  A short, round-faced older woman with huge green eyes and streaked, cropped hair turned to Beatrice as they approached the patio. The older woman gifted her with a blazing smile that was so similar to Rand’s that Beatrice knew in an instant this was his mother.

  “Rand?” she called. “Your guests are here.”

  He spun around, holding up a long pair of tongs, and said, “Hi! You found us!”

  “We did. I rang the bell, but clearly...”

  “Sorry. I should have told you to come to the back. We never stay inside.” He put down the tongs and walked past his brothers, who parted for him. They each lowered their beers and stared at her. Then at the boys.

  Then they stared at Rand. Gaping.

  Rand walked up to the boys and held out his hand to Chris. “I’m glad to see you, Chris. And, Eli, how’re you doin’?”

  “I’m good,” Eli replied, still clinging to Beatrice’s side, his eyes sweeping across the group of people.

  Beatrice captured Rand’s attention. “He’s a bit shy today. What with so many unfamiliar faces.” She nodded toward Rand’s family, all of whom were staring at them.

  “I’ll introduce you guys. My family is anxious to meet you.”

  “Why?” Chris’s shoulders instantly braced.

  Rand leaned down. “Because I told them what a great help you were to me.”

  “Oh,” Chris said.

  To break the tension, Beatrice offered the plate of fudge to Rand. “I made this for you.”

  “That was very nice,” he said, his gaze latching on to hers as he took the plate. He blinked. “You look really pretty.” He smiled.

  “Thank you. I like your apron.”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. It was my dad’s.”

  “So he smoked his meat as well?”

  “Yes. But he wasn’t as good at it as I am.” He looked at the boys. “Come meet my mom.” He turned. “Mom!”

  The older woman walked over. “I’m Laura. Mother to this brood of rascals.”

  “Beatrice.” She held out her hand.

  Laura shook her head. “In this family we hug.”

  Before Beatrice knew what was happening, Laura embraced her. Then to the kids she said, “This must be Chris and Eli. Give me a hug, boys.”

  Chris remained stiff as the older woman wrapped her arms around him, but Eli fell into the hug easily.

  His siblings approached next.

  Rand slapped one of his brothers on his wide shoulder. “This is my brother Ed. He’s one year younger than me.”

  “Thirteen months,” Ed corrected.

  “Nice to meet you, Ed,” Beatrice responded.

  “Oh, very nice to meet you, Beatrice. You must be pretty special to get my brother to pay attention to anything other t
han the next forest fire or his barbecue.”

  “So are the boys,” Rand said.

  “We’ve heard a lot about you kids,” Ed said. He gave them each a quick wave.

  A sandy-haired man held out his hand. “I’m David. This is Jonas. Pleased to meet you.”

  She shook hands with David and Jonas.

  Finally, Rand’s sister elbowed her way past her brawny brothers. “They always leave me to last since I’m the youngest.”

  “The runt of the litter,” Ed joked.

  “Cassie Nelson.” She hit Ed on the bicep, and though he flinched, Beatrice believed it would take more than a fist to cause that man any real pain.

  “I’m glad to know you, Beatrice,” Cassie said. “All these guys can get on a girl’s nerves after a while. Just blow them off for a few hours. They come whimpering back.”

  “Is that a fact?” Rand scoffed.

  “True words,” Laura said and leaned over to Beatrice. “All my boys have soft hearts.”

  Not all of them. Beatrice kept her smile in place. “How can I help?” She glanced over at a table where food preparations were taking place.

  “Oh,” Laura said. “Cassie and I were working on the salad. You can cut up the cucumber.”

  “But they’re homegrown so you have to take the seeds out,” Rand said, putting a hand on each of the boys’ shoulders. “Come with me and I’ll show you everything I’ve learned about smoking the world’s best ribs.”

  Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s modest. Eli, stay back from that heat.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Rand opened the grill hood and turned ears of corn on the cob. “I hope everyone likes the corn. I’ve got a new recipe.”

  “What was wrong with the way Dad used to do it?” Jonas said. “Grilled in the husk for twenty-eight minutes, turned one quarter every seven minutes.”

  Laura nodded. “That’s exactly right.”

  “Well,” Rand said with a proud lift of his chin, “this way we can infuse the corn with flavor as its cooking. If it’s bad, we trash it and go back to the old way.”

  “Goodness, what kind of recipe is this?” Beatrice asked, moving to stand next to Rand as he smeared a gooey mess on the cobs.