Hometown Family

by Mia Ross

  Kicking himself for screwing up yet another good thing, he decided to take his bike out for some fresh air. After leaving a note telling John he’d meet him at the track, Matt took the long route, hoping the winding roads would help clear his mind. Women came and went, he reminded himself as the wind whipped past his helmet. That was how his life worked.

  The problem was, it didn’t work that way anymore. When had that happened? He still hadn’t come up with an answer when he arrived at the fairgrounds. He strolled along the front of the grandstand and found John in the third row from the top, waving like a maniac.

  “You’re just in time for the second feature.” Grinning, his little brother offered up a plate of greasy fries. “Want some?”

  The cars fired, and Matt knew his voice wouldn’t carry over the sound, so he settled for shaking his head. John shrugged and focused on the action as the green flag dropped. Most dirt-track races were wrecks waiting to happen, so it didn’t take long for trouble to strike.

  “Oh, man!” John exclaimed as a car hit the retaining wall. “That’ll leave a mark.”

  “No doubt,” Matt said absently, pulling his phone out of his jeans pocket to check for messages. Nothing.

  “That’s like the tenth time you’ve done that,” John chided. “I could’ve come with Annie Granger, but I put her off to hang out with my big brother.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Are you waiting on a call or something?”

  “No, but if it rang I wouldn’t hear it over the cars.”

  John gave him a knowing guy’s grin. “You should’ve made her come. Caty loves the races, and she could use a night out for some fun.”

  “Yeah, well, she said no.”

  “She’s good at that,” John agreed, as the man in front of him stood to go down to the concession stand. Taking advantage of the clear space, John stretched his legs out over the seat. “Y’know, she’s the only girl who ever turned me down.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  John’s lazy mood suddenly shifted, and he whipped around to face Matt. “What did you do?”

  “Calm down, Goldilocks. It wasn’t like that.”

  His hotheaded little brother cooled a few degrees and sat back. “Then how was it?”

  “I wrecked things.”

  “How?”

  “How should I know?” he snarled. John looked doubtful, and Matt realized he wasn’t being honest. With himself. To avoid John’s eyes, he looked down at his phone while he flipped it over and over in his hands. “She said when we started getting closer, I pulled away.”

  “I’ve seen you do that before. Like you don’t wanna get too attached to people and then lose them. The girls and I do it, too, but you’re the worst.”

  Matt met his brother’s sympathetic gaze, and John smiled. “Caty told you not to come over, didn’t she?”

  “Very clearly.”

  He chuckled. “She’s got a lot of spunk. That’s what I like most about her.”

  Matt finally cracked a smile. “Yeah, me, too.”

  “Let her cool off, go over tomorrow,” John advised, folding himself back into his spot so the guy in front of him could sit back down. “She’s stubborn, but she’s got a real soft heart. Give her a chance to remember what she likes about you, then talk to her. It’ll go better that way.”

  Matt suddenly had a newfound respect for John’s take on women, Caty in particular. “When did you get to be so smart?”

  “Learned most of it from you,” he replied with a broad grin. “Except for the arguing part. I’m no good at that.”

  The whole time they’d been discussing Caty, Matt had a vague prickly feeling under his skin. Thinking it was from his peeling sunburn, he scratched it, but it wouldn’t go away. He sat through another feature, thinking it would pass if he distracted himself. It didn’t.

  When his thoughts drifted to Caty, the weird sensation intensified. It was probably nothing, just that he felt bad about upsetting her. Forgoing John’s advice, he decided to stop by on the way home and see if she might still be up. She’d been on her way to bed a couple of hours ago, but maybe she’d changed her mind.

  So he made up an excuse about being tired, which he was, and getting out ahead of the crowd. Shaking his head, John grinned and wished him a good night.

  Something was wrong.

  Matt didn’t know what, exactly, but his instincts were all on alert as he hurried out to his bike. The roads were empty, so he pushed the Harley far past seventy and made it into Harland in record time. Main Street was quiet, its single traffic light blinking amber this time of night. On one of the side streets, something else was flickering a more ominous color.

  When Matt turned onto Oak Street, his heart shot into his throat. Flames were pouring through the open lower windows of Caty’s house, and inside he could see them licking the ceiling.

  Forcing himself to think, he shut off the bike and let it fall while he pulled out his phone and dialed 911. “House fire at 14 Oak Street in Harland. Hurry.”

  The operator was still talking when he dropped the phone and ran toward the back of the house. An old oak was silhouetted in the eerie flickers, offering him a way up. Some of the branches creaked under his weight as he scrambled up, but they held. Standing on the back porch roof, he pounded on the closed window.

  “Caty!”

  He waited a few seconds, then pounded again. Nothing. He tried the window, but it was either locked or painted shut. Glancing around, he looked for another way in. There wasn’t one.

  Most of the volunteer fire department was at the fairgrounds, and it would take them a while to get here. Matt peeled off the flannel he was wearing over his T-shirt and wrapped it around his hand. One shot put him through the old window and the jagged glass raked his arm in retaliation. Ignoring it, he reached in to unlock and raise the window before climbing through.

  He couldn’t see a thing.

  Smoke immediately clogged his throat, and he tied the shirt around his face. Something wet hit his cheek, and he vaguely realized it must be blood. Pushing the thought aside, he felt his way along the wall. Bathroom. Spare room. He pivoted and carefully avoided the head of the stairs as he crossed the hall.

  Without sight, it was tough going, but he found the open door to Caty’s room and felt his way over to her bed. Squinting to keep some of the smoke out of his eyes, he tried to shake her awake. When that didn’t work, he put a hand on her back to feel her breathing.

  Nothing.

  Panic swelled in his chest, and with effort he swallowed it back. Light as she was, he lifted her easily and put her over his shoulder in the fireman’s carry he’d seen in movies. Then he crept through the hallway, searching for the window. A pale shaft of moonlight penetrated the smoke, and he corrected his course to head in the right direction.

  How he got down the tree without dropping Caty, he’d never know. But when he came around the side of the house, the Harland engine was just pulling up, with an ambulance close behind. He knew enough to stay out of the way, so he dragged himself to the Fairmans’ side porch steps and sank down in relief.

  While his lungs coughed out the worst air they’d ever taken in, he rested Caty’s head on his shoulder so the fresher air could revive her.

  “Come on, shortcake,” he begged, hoping the nickname would get a rise out of her. “You’re okay now.”

  But she wasn’t. She was pale and unconscious, and he still wasn’t sure if she was breathing. Shaking with fear, he gave her up to the EMTs, waving them off him so they could focus on her.

  They strapped an oxygen mask on her and whisked her into the ambulance, which took off at the kind of speed that told him this was a true emergency. Leaning back, Matt watched them go as the second floor of Caty’s house fell into t
he living room. Still struggling to breathe normally, he tilted his head back and stared up at the clouds of smoke billowing into the black sky.

  And then, from nowhere, he heard his own voice.

  “I don’t know if You’re still listening to me, but don’t You dare—”

  No. You didn’t threaten God.

  With a sigh, Matt swiveled off the porch and hit his knees. The humble pose made him feel vulnerable, but he did it anyway. This was for Caty, and he wanted to do it right. Resting his elbows on the top step, he ignored the tears rolling down his cheeks. Silencing the protest clanging in his head, he let his heart decide what to say.

  “Please don’t let her die.”

  “Matt!”

  He looked back to find John racing toward him. John skidded to a stop beside him, landing on his knees with an arm around Matt’s shoulders.

  “Are you okay?”

  “More or less. They took Caty to the hospital.”

  Without hesitation, John tipped his head down, and for once Matt envied the way his brother could open himself up so readily. Maybe it did make life easier, the way Marianne insisted.

  “Come on,” John prompted as he stood. “I’ll drive.”

  It was a total reversal of their usual roles, John taking care of him. Out of habit, Matt almost refused. Then he realized it meant a lot to John to take over this way. “Okay. Thanks.”

  When they turned to go, Matt saw the glint of something in the grass. Leaning down, he fished out Caty’s silver necklace. In the swirling glare of emergency lights, he read the inscription.

  If you can believe, all things are possible.

  Now he remembered where he’d read that before. Ethan’s devotional book had been open to that verse the day he died. It was easy to think that, like Caty, this was one of his father’s favorite sayings. It summed them both up perfectly. Always believing, never giving up, even when it might be the most sensible thing to do.

  Crazy as it seemed, in his heart Matt knew his instinct to check on Caty had been no accident. God had known she was in danger, and He sent Matt to save her.

  As he folded the necklace into his fist, he knew this was the answer to his desperate prayer. Despite everything he’d done wrong, all the mistakes he’d made, God was still listening.

  * * *

  Where was she?

  Caty tried to move, then blearily realized her feet weren’t on the ground. A thick fog enveloped her brain, making it hard to think. She fought her way through it, like a diver reaching for the surface. When she finally broke free, she cautiously opened her eyes, wondering what she might see.

  “Hey, there.” Leaning forward from a small chair, Matt smiled. “Feeling better?”

  Was she sick? Caty wondered. When she tried to ask, she realized there was something covering her face. She reached up to move it, but he stopped her with a gentle hand.

  “Leave it be, Caty. You need it.”

  “Why?” she asked, her voice muffled by a plastic mask.

  He didn’t want to tell her. She could see it in his eyes. Now that her brain was starting to function more normally, she noticed the creases of black on his face, more traces of it on his clothes. Trying not to panic, she repeated her question more insistently.

  “There was a fire,” he said finally. “But you’re gonna be fine.”

  As he pulled the light blanket up for her, she saw the raw cuts on his hands and forearms. Ignoring his protest, she pulled the oxygen mask aside. “You got me out, didn’t you?”

  He cracked a pale version of his wry grin. “Well, I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by.”

  “And rescue me from a burning house,” she finished. “Even though I explicitly told you not to come over.”

  “I’m not good at taking orders.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “I’m with you on that one,” he quickly agreed.

  From him, the comment came as a complete shock. She shook her head in amazement, which made her dizzy. She stopped, but it took a few seconds for the world to quit spinning. “What happened?”

  “No clue. When I got there, the whole first floor was gone. I went up that tree in back to the window at the head of the stairs.”

  “But it was painted shut.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Ignoring the IV line in her arm, she reached for his battered hand. It took more strength than it should have, but she caught it between both of hers for a grateful squeeze. “Thank you.”

  It was as though a breeze came through and blew the gray clouds from his eyes, leaving behind the vivid blue she’d come to adore. “You’re welcome.”

  After a few relatively normal breaths, she asked, “What made you think to stop by?”

  He shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  There was something he wasn’t telling her. She knew it by the way his gaze had dropped to their intertwined hands. Ordinarily she’d press for details, but she didn’t have the heart to harass him when he’d risked his life to save her.

  Instead she asked, “How bad is it?”

  “I’m not an expert or anything.”

  “How bad?”

  He hesitated, then lifted his head to meet her eyes. “John and I left just after the second floor caved in.”

  The news hit her like a physical blow, and she was grateful for the pillows holding her up. She absorbed it as well as she could, fighting off tears, which would only make her choke and cause some kind of medical alert she wanted to avoid. Right now she wasn’t up to sharing her room with anyone but Matt.

  “I found this out front,” he said, holding up her necklace. Reaching around her neck, he fastened it for her. “The nurse said you could have it back once you woke up.”

  She tried to thank him, but she didn’t have the strength to form the words. Someone knocked on the door, and she recognized the Harland fire chief.

  “I’ll handle him,” Matt offered.

  “Leave the door open.”

  “Sweetheart—”

  “Leave the door open,” she repeated, “or I’ll talk to him myself. And don’t call me that.”

  He muttered something unspeakable, then said more loudly, “Stubborn isn’t the word for you, y’know that?”

  “Lucky for you,” she reminded him as she sank back into her pillows. “Anybody else would’ve given up on you the first time we met.”

  He gave her something between a scowl and a smile. “Put that oxygen back on.”

  The room was starting to spin again, and she gladly complied. Matt left her room but held the door ajar with his boot.

  “How’s she doing, Matt?”

  “Okay, more or less. They’re keeping her overnight just to be safe.”

  “Good idea.”

  “How’re things at Caty’s place?” Matt asked. “Are all your guys okay?”

  “A few cuts and bruises, but mostly they’re fine. The house is another story. We’re still not sure what happened, but it smells like a chemical plant in there.”

  “She’s been redoing the floors,” Matt explained. “The sealer was still wet.”

  “That explains it. Old house like that, it was probably electrical. It wouldn’t take much to ignite those solvents, and with the sealer all over it would’ve spread fast. The carport fell in, but we managed to move her car, so that’s something.”

  “How’d you move it without the keys?”

  “Same way you would, son.”

  They both laughed, and their conversation switched over to the chief’s beloved ’57 Chevy. Once they started talking cylinders and pistons, Caty lost interest.

  Ironically, she’d bought smoke detectors to replace
the old ones but hadn’t gotten around to installing them. They were probably lumps of melted plastic on the kitchen counter, sealed in their boxes. Assuming she still had a kitchen counter.

  Despite her best efforts to hold them back, tears spilled over and down her cheeks. She wasn’t into material things, but anything she did value was in her house. She could buy a new phone and computer, and her important files were locked inside the heavy, fireproof cabinet. The pictures and antiques, wrapped up in memories of the only home she remembered, were irreplaceable.

  Over the years, she’d lost the people she loved most one by one. Now the house that embodied her entire history was gone. Even in her state, she knew it was irrational, but she couldn’t help feeling as though another member of her family had died, leaving her to figure out a way to keep going. Feeling abandoned and lost, she wept because she simply couldn’t stop.

  Once more the little girl uprooted by tragedy, she felt completely and utterly alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Caty slowly opened her eyes, wondering where on earth she was. She lay in the middle of an enormous bed, the covers twisted around her as if she’d been fighting with someone all night long. She closed her eyes, and images faded in and out of her groggy mind like the scene montage at the end of a movie. Endless feet of stained boards, hazy sirens and red lights, the heart-wrenching reality of the fire.

  She turned her head away from the horrific memory and into the pillow. It smelled like fresh hay and soap, and she pulled it closer, burying her nose in the comforting smell. Now she remembered.

  Last night they had released her from the hospital. Matt had brought her back to the farm and settled her in his own bed. He had sat with her until she fell asleep, and had probably checked on her several times, even though he needed some rest himself. No doubt he’d fielded a hundred anxious questions from his family so she wouldn’t have to face them.

  That meant it was Monday. According to the rehab expert on HGTV, she would have been able to walk on her floors today. But it hadn’t worked out that way. She was in someone else’s house, wearing someone else’s clothes. Figuring she had a right to wallow, she started a mental list of everything she’d lost.