Hearts on Fire

by Roz Lee

  “I had my chance, and I blew it. I won’t do that again to anyone, let alone to myself.” She tried to get up, but he held her tight.

  “No, don’t go. I wasn’t suggesting you try to replace what you had. God knows, if I lost Megan, nothing would make up for the loss.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is you’re a young woman. And if there’s one thing I’m certain of, children want their parents to be happy. You didn’t do anything wrong, Shannon. You provided your children with the best home you could. You worked hard to provide them with the things they needed, and I’m sure they loved you and your husband.”

  He hated the words forming in his head, but he had to say them, no matter how much they were going to hurt her. “I’ve seen a lot of house fires, and I can tell you this—you probably couldn’t have done anything if you’d been there. Everyone thinks they can, but they can’t. Even wearing full turnout gear, it’s almost impossible to save people trapped inside a burning house.”

  “I would have heard the smoke alarms. I could have saved them.” Her body heaved with the force of her tears.

  “I know you want to think you could have, but chances are you would have died, too.”

  “I wanted to die. God knows I wish I had.” She pushed out of his arms, and this time, he let her go. She stood, wiping her tear-streaked face on her sleeve. “You see why I can’t do this.” Her finger waggled between the two of them. “It’s not just losing my family. It’s what you do, too. I can’t be with a man who runs into burning buildings for a living. The fear, the constant worry, would be more than I could take.”

  Steve got to his feet. Never once had he wished to be something other than a fireman. He’d wanted to be one since he was nine years old, and the guys from the local firehouse had come out to rescue his sister’s kitten from the big oak tree in their front yard. The men had been in full turnout gear, having just left a fire when they’d gotten the call. Their gear had been covered in soot and smelled of smoke. He’d been in awe of their quiet efficiency and the way they treated a stranded alley cat situation as if lives were at stake.

  “You’re mad at the firemen, too, because they couldn’t save your family.” He got it. He really did, but placing blame where it didn’t belong didn’t sit right with him.

  “Maybe. If they’d gotten there sooner…or made an effort to go in…. But they didn’t. They knew there might be people in the house, and they didn’t go in!”

  He knew someone had explained it to her back when the incident happened, but clearly, she still hadn’t processed the information. “If they didn’t go in, then it had to be too late, Shannon. I wasn’t there, but I can tell you if I had been, and there had been any chance whatsoever of getting people out of the structure, alive or otherwise, I would have gone in. Every firefighter I know would have.”

  Her grief had turned to anger. She placed her fists on her hips and glared up at him from beneath the wide brim of her hat. “I don’t believe you. Besides, you left your own daughter alone in the middle of a traveling faire so you could play macho firefighter. What kind of father does that?”

  She was talking in circles, and all of it was nonsense. She had no idea what she was saying, but he got the gist of it. Grief and guilt had stolen her life just as surely as the fire had stolen her family. She couldn’t change the past, but she could change the future—if she wanted.

  “You aren’t making any sense.” He held out his hands to her, willing her to step back into his arms. She took a step back instead. “Listen to yourself. You’re making excuses for not living and blaming yourself for breathing at the same time. You hate firemen, but you sure didn’t hate me last night. What happened to your family wasn’t your fault, or mine, or your husband’s. It just happened. And, yeah, that sucks. It’s unfair, and it’s cruel, and it’s downright shitty, but you can’t change it. Hating yourself, or me, or the world won’t erase history.”

  A woman with a couple of kids in tow walked by. When she gave him a look then hurried away, he realized his voice had been steadily rising.

  Chastising himself for being an idiot, he lowered his voice. “Punishing yourself for being alive won’t bring your children back.”

  He stood there, waiting for her to slap him, or at the very least, throw sand in his face, but she did neither. She looked at him for the span of two heartbeats then turned and walked away. He watched her until she was nothing more than a speck on the horizon before returning to his truck.

  Should he go hunt her up? She was a grown woman. She had her bag with her, so she had resources. If he did find her, would she let him give her a ride home?

  Shit.

  You fucked that up, mister.

  All the way home, he cursed himself for losing his temper with her. He was a fireman, for God’s sake, not a counselor. What right did he have to tell her how to grieve or how to live her life? He tried to imagine what he would feel like if he lost Megan and couldn’t. All he knew was it would destroy him.

  Just like losing her children destroyed Shannon.

  But she’d come back from the tragedy, coping with it, and, in her own way, making a life for herself. It wasn’t the kind of life he wanted or could understand, but it had been working for her until he came along and…what?

  Reminded her of a life she once had?

  You’re an asshole, Steve. A grade-A asshole.

  He swung the truck around and went back to the beach. After driving along the road several times looking for her, he finally gave up and headed toward the fairgrounds. She’d probably called someone to come get her or hopped the old-fashioned trolley-style busses that shuttled tourists around town during the summer months.

  Not a single light shown in the windows of her motor coach, and if she was inside, she wasn’t answering the door. He knew because he’d been pounding on it for the last ten minutes.

  “She isn’t there.” The woman’s voice startled him. He turned to see the gypsy whose tent he’d tried to save standing just a few feet away.

  “Have you heard from her?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I sense turmoil around her.”

  He didn’t have time or patience for this woman’s hoo-doo, voodoo shit. “If you know where she is, please tell me. I need to talk to her.”

  “She needs time. Go home. She’ll come to you when she is ready to see what is right in front of her.”

  “And what is that, exactly?” He narrowed his eyes at the gypsy.

  “A man who can take care of her. A family that needs her. A life.”

  A sense of calm stole over him, and he relaxed for the first time since he’d come to his senses and gone back to look for Shannon. “You think I’m that man?”

  “The crystal doesn’t lie, Mr. Rankin.” She looked pleased with herself, though nut cases usually did. “She’ll come around. Go home and wait for her.”

  Shaking his head, he brushed past the old woman. What choice did he have but to leave? He couldn’t wait around forever for her to come back, and there was no guarantee she would talk to him if she did. Besides, Megan and his mother would be home soon. Spending time with his daughter was by far his favorite pastime, and one he wouldn’t pass up for anything.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Shannon stared at the paper umbrella resting on the rim of the glass in front of her. It was too early to be drinking, and truthfully, after ordering the fruity concoction, she couldn’t bring herself to down it. Mike had looked for answers in bottles, and nothing good had come of that. She couldn’t blame the demise of their marriage on his drinking. Doing so wouldn’t be fair to him. There had been enough blame to go around after the fire, and she, of all people, understood a good portion of it belonged on her shoulders.

  She lifted the glass to her lips then instantly wished she hadn’t. The drink tasted like the bitter dregs of regret.

  “Is something wrong with the drink?” The bartender’s concerned inquiry surprised her.

 
“No. Why?”

  “You made a face. If it’s not to your liking, I’ll make you something else.”

  Shannon waved away his offer. “It’s fine, really. I think I made a mistake.”

  The bartender took the glass she pushed across the polished wood. “Would you like something else instead?”

  Shannon dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the counter then slid off the barstool. “Thanks, but no.”

  She hurried out the door. The soft soles of her sandals made little sound on the walkway as she made her way back to the faire set up on the edge of town. One of the local trolleys stopped ahead of her to discharge a load of tourists and pick up others waiting at the neat bus stop. She kept on walking.

  Until she’d met Steve, she’d been content with living out her remaining days always on the road, weaving her cloth and going through the motions of life. One night with a man who didn’t see her as a victim, but as a woman, had changed her.

  Ever since the fire that claimed her family, she’d believed her body incapable of feeling and her heart incapable of loving again. Thanks to Steve, she knew neither to be true. He’d awakened her body and broken through the barrier of grief around her heart to show her a future she’d never thought possible.

  In her more rational moments, she knew everything he’d said on the beach was true, but it was so much easier to be angry than to accept. It was easier to blame than to forgive even if the one most in need of forgiveness was herself.

  The colorful tents of the faire came into view. Shannon slowed, taking in the place she’d called home for the last few years. In their own way, the other permanent members of the traveling show had welcomed her into their midst, but she hadn’t allowed herself to get close to any of them. Some had tried to befriend her. Several of the single men had asked her out, but she’d kept her distance. If she was close to anyone, it was Nadya. The quirky fortune-teller knew most of Shannon’s story, but not all.

  No one knew all—except Steve.

  A familiar looking pickup turned the corner in front of her. Her heartbeat sped up as she recognized the man behind the wheel.

  Steve.

  As the vehicle pulled to the curb and stopped, she clutched her purse strap in a death grip. He’d come from the campground. Had he been looking for her? The thunderous expression on his face when he came around the front of the truck was all the answer she needed.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  His anger washed over her. She closed her eyes, absorbing the real emotion, savoring it. It had been so long since she’d lived in a world where people experienced the full spectrum of life. His footsteps halted a few feet away. She opened her eyes.

  God, he looked fabulous—all six-feet plus of him. The anger was still there below the surface, but she sensed it wasn’t the only emotion ruling him. His hands were on his hips as if he was afraid to touch her. She’d given him no reason to think she would welcome his touch—not the way she’d ranted at him on the beach. “I went for a walk.”

  “I looked for you.”

  Four simple words that meant so much to her. Somehow, she knew Steve Rankin was the kind of man who would always look for her, no matter what. Yes, he had a dangerous job that would make her crazy with worry, but life didn’t come with guarantees—just surprises. Like the man standing in front of her.

  “I’m right here.” Tears blurred her vision, and she swayed on her feet. Strong arms closed around her.

  “God, Shannon. I’m an ass. Can you forgive me?”

  His heartbeat beneath her cheek was rapid but steady. For the first time since she’d lost everything, she felt safe.

  “There’s nothing to forgive. Everything you said is true.” She pushed against his chest. He eased his hold on her but kept her in his embrace. “I’m alive, but I haven’t been living—not in a long time. In all the years since…since the fire, I haven’t wanted to live. Not until I met you.”

  “I want you in my life. Every day. I’ve been down that road before—with Megan’s mom. She’s God-only-knows-where, trying to find herself. I won’t live like that again.”

  The mention of his daughter struck a chord of fear in her gut. “I don’t know if I can be who you want me to be.”

  “I’m not asking you to marry me. Not yet, anyway. I’m asking you to stay in Somerset, to give us a chance. I think I’m falling in love with you, and the idea of you out on the road where I can’t hold you, where I can’t protect you, scares the shit out of me.”

  She slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. He felt so solid, like someone she could depend on, and what he was asking didn’t seem unreasonable. Staying in one place for any length of time was a scary proposition, but when she thought of seeing Steve and Megan every day, the idea didn’t sound so frightening.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “I’ll stay.”

  “Thank God.” Steve captured her face between his palms, forcing her to look up at him. “I’ve never been so scared in my life as I was when I thought I’d screwed things up with you for good.” The sincerity in his gaze and his words melted her heart. She leaned into him. He bent, taking her lips with his in a kiss both tender and unmistakable in its hunger.

  She felt like Sleeping Beauty, awakening with a kiss. Every cell in her body came alive, sweeping her into the present, giving her a glimpse of her future. When they broke apart for air, she tried to pull away, but he kept her close, giving her his strength.

  “I’m sorry I left you on the beach this morning,” she said. “No one has ever been as honest with me as you were. It took me a while to realize how lucky I am to have found you. I don’t want to walk away from you, but I won’t lie and tell you everything is fine. I’m scared. I’ve already screwed up once. I don’t want to do it again.”

  “You didn’t screw up. I saw the way you were with Megan the other day. I know you were the best mom you could be. The rest was a tragic accident—nothing more. Let the guilt go, babe. You owe it to your children to keep their memory alive.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. I received a huge insurance payout. I handed it over to my financial planner to invest. He’s been after me to do something with it. Maybe I could use it to honor Michael and Tessa’s memory.”

  She didn’t protest when he led her to his truck, opened the door, and helped her into the passenger seat. When he drove away from the curb, she didn’t even question where he was taking her. Anywhere would be okay with her as long as they were together.

  “What did your kids like to do?”

  For the first time in years, she opened her mind to the memories. They came flooding back so fast, she felt lightheaded. Smiling faces, tear-streaked cheeks, angry tantrums—they were all there, stored, but not forgotten.

  “Michael loved to skateboard. He would have slept with his board if I would have let him.” She smiled, remembering how proud he was of the new board he’d gotten for his birthday a few months before the fire.

  “And the girl? What was her name again?”

  “Tessa. She was all girl like your Meggie. She loved to dance. I’m not sure if she loved her dance classes or if she went because she got to wear her pink tutu.”

  “If there’s enough money, maybe you could do something with both those ideas. Maybe donate to the YMCA. The one here in town has a skateboard park, and I think they have dance classes, too.”

  She liked that idea. “There’s plenty of money. More than enough for what you have in mind. I think it’s a good start.” She turned in her seat to face him. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not seeing me as the person I had become.”

  “But I am seeing you for the person you’ve become. It’s you who have been seeing yourself in the wrong light. You’ve been hurt, and you handled it the best way you could. It’s taken a while, but I think you’ve been ready to live again for some time.” His smile was pure wickedness
. “And I’m damned glad you came back to life with me.”

  Her lady parts began to hum with need, and she couldn’t help but return his smile. “Where are we going?” She glanced at the quiet, tree-lined residential street and was instantly reminded of another neighborhood she had once loved. It had looked much like this one, but the houses had been larger, the landscaping tended by gardeners while the yards in this one showed signs of the individual owners’ tastes.

  “Home.”

  “Home,” she said, trying out the word. “I like that.”

  Steve turned into the driveway and shut off the engine. Shannon took in the small, white clapboard house set well back from the road. Old-growth trees shaded a front yard that looked like it saw a lot of use. A kid-sized tree swing hung from a low branch, and a pink bicycle with training wheels and plastic streamers on the handlebars sat off to one side of the driveway.

  The house itself had a wide porch that wrapped around on the side she could see. Large, sectioned windows would provide a view of the lawn. She could picture Steve living in a house like this one. It looked sturdy, as if it could weather any storm—just like its owner.

  “Megan is out with my mother for the day.”

  She nodded, understanding they had the house to themselves. The implied question was, “Do you want to spend that time naked in bed with me?” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Going inside would be a big test for her. She hadn’t been able to spend more than a few minutes inside a real home since the fire. Her parents couldn’t understand why the home she’d grown up in now suffocated her. She couldn’t explain it herself.

  “I don’t know if I can do this.” She told him about her phobia.

  “Do you want to give it a try?”

  “I want to be with you,” she said. “Even if I can’t walk through the door, I want you to know it isn’t because I don’t want to be with you.”

  “I understand.” He opened his door. “I’ll be right beside you, every step. If you can’t do it, we’ll park your motor home in the driveway. I won’t lose you over a house, Shannon.”