His Mistletoe Family

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His Mistletoe Family Page 12

by Ruth Logan Herne


  Smithy grabbed Brett’s arm. Pointed his light.

  A dog.

  Smithy had tripped over a dog.

  Brett panned his light around the room.

  Nothing.

  But the kid wouldn’t have shut the dog in the room. Brett knew that. Kids reacted instinctively.

  He’d hide from the fire.

  Smithy aimed his flashlight beneath the bed.

  Nothing.

  Brett wrenched open the closet door, half afraid of what he’d find on the other side.

  A boy, older than Tyler. Scared. Crying. Silent wails contorted the boy’s face, his voice no match against the fire’s roar.

  But alive.

  Brett reached in and hauled the boy up. “I’ve got you, fellow. I’ve got you.”

  Smithy cleared the way for them to work themselves back to the window.

  Flames pulsed up the stairway to their left. A crackling roar overhead said the roof was involved. That meant it could come crashing in at any moment.

  Smithy led the way, buddying with Brett, making sure no obstacles blocked their path. They made it into the other bedroom and over to the window.

  The other firefighter stood there, arms out, waiting for the boy. Even backlit from the high-intensity lights now aimed at the house, Brett saw the relief on his face when the boy jerked, showing he was alive.

  He took the boy.

  Brett climbed out and followed, but not before turning back to Smithy. The older man grasped his arm and shook his head.

  Brett knew that look.

  The dog was gone.

  And he knew he shouldn’t have even considered going back in for the animal, but knowing that Derringer sat in the SUV, watching and waiting for his master’s return, made Brett want a full happy ending.

  But as much as he loved Derringer, he understood one thing: Dogs weren’t people. Their job now was to save what they could and pray for that boy and his parents.

  The medics had the boy on oxygen and strapped to a gurney by the time Brett and Smithy made it down. The boy’s mother was wrapped in a blanket and someone’s coat. The father had been given a sweatshirt. As Brett advanced, a neighbor came running up the driveway with warm clothes for the parents.

  “Nick! Oh, Nick!” The mother threw her arms around the boy. Tears streamed down her face, joy mixed with hysteria. “Oh, baby, I was so scared! Let me look at you....”

  The medic stepped back. “Quickly, ma’am. We need to keep him on oxygen.”

  Nick’s cough underscored the medic’s concern, but the boy reached up a hand to his mother. “Where’s Bailey?”

  The mother straightened. Chagrin and sorrow deepened lines in her face. “Oh, Nick, I—”

  “Is that your dog, son?” Brett asked.

  The boy nodded as they loaded him into the back of the rescue wagon ambulance. “Yeah. She wouldn’t let me out. I kept trying, but she laid down in front of the door and growled at me.”

  The mother shook her head. “Bailey would never growl at you, Nick. She loved you.”

  Oh, she’d loved him, Brett realized. Enough to lay down her life for him. He stepped alongside the mother and put a hand out to the boy. “She saved you, son.”

  Nick frowned, not understanding.

  Brett thrust his chin back toward the burning house. “She laid down against the door so you wouldn’t go through it. The hall was on fire. The stairs were already collapsing. There’s no way you would have made it out.”

  Brett shifted slightly and met the mother’s gaze. “The dog blocked the door so Nick couldn’t get out and smoke couldn’t get in. But she was gone by the time we got into the room.”

  “She’s...” The boy’s face crumpled as realization set in.

  Brett nodded. “I’m sorry, son. But I can tell you one thing, that dog loved you till the end.”

  The man gripped his wife.

  Tears streamed down the little boy’s cheeks. His mother and father were no better.

  The medic intervened. “He needs this.” He held up the oxygen mask and settled Nick back into a reclining position. “You folks hop in. Let’s roll.”

  “But—”

  The man turned as if wishing he could do something. A second medic climbed into the back. “Sir, leave it to the experts. They’ve got the gear. Let’s get your boy looked at, okay?”

  The father nodded agreement. The mother bent low, checking her child, her face sad but no longer tormented.

  They’d lost their home, but homes could be re-built. They’d lost their dog, but as sad as that was, Piney Hitchcock kept plenty more down at the pound in Wellsville. The main thing was that they’d kept their child and that was reason enough to thank God right there.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brett was avoiding her.

  Haley drew that conclusion when Charlie showed up the next morning to get the boys. Sure, he said Brett had a fire call, but Haley knew they’d left things at an uncomfortable impasse two days before. To her, Brett’s avoidance made perfect sense, but one way or another, she’d talk to him. Hash this out.

  “Do you have to work again today?” Tyler whined the question into more syllables than could ever be considered necessary.

  “I do.” She rumpled his hair. “But once Christmas is over, life will settle down.”

  “I don’t even fink Cwistmas is coming,” objected Todd. He looked around their austere apartment as Charlie handed him his jacket. “It doesn’t wook wike Cwistmas here.”

  Nailed by a three-year-old. Haley sighed and made a face of commiseration. “I know. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. Maybe this weekend we can do some decorating.”

  “Really?”

  “You mean it?”

  Uh-oh. They were looking for promises. Promises she wasn’t sure she could keep and therefore should not make. “I said maybe. That means I’m not sure how work will be going, so we’ve got to balance things out.”

  Tyler scowled. “I don’t think we’re very balanced.”

  Haley knew what he meant, but had little recourse. “We’ll get more balanced after the holidays. That I will promise.”

  Charlie herded the boys out the door. “They’ll be fine. Mother’s making Christmas cookies with them this morning.”

  Todd’s face lit up. Tyler’s grin made Haley feel two feet tall. Such a little thing, to make cookies with the boys. If only...

  Charlie waved and winked. “They’ll be fine. Stop beating yourself up. Haven’t you heard it takes a village to raise a child?”

  But it shouldn’t, Haley realized. Not under ideal circumstances. It should take a set of parents, equally invested.

  Because that hadn’t been the norm in her world, she wasn’t certain such a thing still existed except in commercials, where a whole happy family gathered around the amazing scent of freshly brewed coffee on Christmas morning.

  It’s a commercial, made to sell a product. Do a reality check, Haley. You’ve got a growing business, the boys are settling in, and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. What more could you possibly want? You’re living your dream.

  The answer hit as she rounded the corner of the former furniture showroom and saw Brett’s house tucked behind a copse of trees.

  She missed him, which was silly because she saw him yesterday, right? But she missed the easy warmth, his steady look, the gentle strength that surrounded him.

  And now, knowing about his son...

  She turned into the co-op, wishing she had guts enough to march across the street and wake him up. Make him listen to her. Apologize for being nervous and drawing back.

  And make a fool of yourself? Really? Is that what you’re after? Because that’s what’s going to happen. Plan your work. Work your plan. That strategy h
as worked so far. Why change things?

  “Haley, good morning!” Maude McGinnity walked toward her from the employee parking area.

  “Maude.” She hurried to the older woman’s side and offered her arm to help the elderly woman through the slush. “Don’t park over there. Park closer.”

  “And admit I’m old?” Maude drew back, feigning surprise. “Not on your life, child. But I do appreciate your help. This slush is rough on old feet.”

  “The boys are hoping we get real snow soon,” Haley added as they made their way in. “The forecast says more rain, so this will be gone by nightfall most likely.” She slowed her step to match Maude’s and felt good doing it. Almost like she could calm down and take a breath with the older woman. “And we got the boys outdoor gear last week, so they can play when it does happen.”

  “These are the days to remember,” Maude told her. “And they fly by, Haley. Don’t let this—” she aimed her gaze toward Bennington Station’s front door “—overshadow that. Make time for both.”

  Haley saw the wisdom in the words, but it wasn’t as easy as it sounded. “This is a tough time of year to be taking time off from a new business, Maude. There’s so much to do. I second-guess myself. I wonder if we should have waited and not pushed to open for this Christmas season.”

  “Financially, this was the smartest move,” Maude replied. “But then you got those precious boys and it’s a wonder how to handle both.”

  “It is.”

  “Let folks help more.” Maude walked through the door that Haley swung wide, and turned back once inside. “Be willing to accept help here.” She swept the gracious, country entryway a thoughtful look. “And with those boys. You’ve got people lined up around you, wanting to do more. All’s you’ve got to do is knock down a few of those walls you’ve built and let them, honey.”

  Haley met Maude’s gaze. “That obvious, huh?”

  Maude smiled, patted Haley’s arm and turned toward her mini-shop on the first level. “Blatantly, but because you remind me a lot of myself at the same age, I’m going to just keep praying and know you’ll find a way to handle things. My suggestion?”

  Haley waited, knowing she didn’t really have a choice, but that was okay because Maude McGinnity was one of the nicest people on Earth. “Trust the people around you. If one fails you here or there, you’ve got plenty more to pick up the pieces.”

  Trust.

  There was that issue again, the same one Brett raised the other night. The night she drew back and hurt his feelings.

  “I’ll try harder.” She reached out and hugged the older woman. “Promise.”

  “Good.”

  Maude’s smile of confidence gave Haley an emotional boost. In fact... “Maude?”

  “Yes?” Maude turned back, an eyebrow raised in question.

  “I’m going to run a quick errand. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

  “Plenty of us will be here to run things if it takes longer than that, honey. You do what you have to do.”

  “I will.” Haley walked back out the door, diagonally crossed the parking lot and the street, then made her way to Brett’s door. She paused on the step, uncertain, wondering if she should just do a quiet about-face and head right back to the co-op where she belonged.

  “Let me know when you’ve decided and I’ll get you coffee.”

  She turned, flustered.

  Brett stood framed in the back door of the convenience store, a red plaid flannel and blue jeans making him look country rustic and altogether good but tired. Oh, so tired. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  He considered that statement, then aimed his gaze at the house. “So you wanted to wake me?”

  “No.”

  His frown made fun of her. Just a little. “You didn’t want to wake me.”

  “No, I—” She paused and hauled in a breath. Why did this seem so easy when Maude was urging her on? Face-to-face with Brett? Suddenly not so simple. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Ah.” He moved forward. Up close, she saw the weariness shadow his eyes. She longed to smooth the angst away, ease the tightness she sensed in him, but she had no right to do either.

  He opened the door.

  The scent of old smoke hit her in the face.

  He turned before she could hide her reaction. “Sorry.” He grabbed a pile of things, carried them out to the back porch and tossed them there, then closed the door. “I was called out last night and didn’t throw that stuff in the washer. I know it smells bad.”

  “You weren’t expecting company.”

  “True.” He held out his coffee cup. “I meant what I said. I’ll be glad to get you coffee. Ramir just made fresh carafes of house blend and hazelnut.”

  Haley tried to downscale how good the latter sounded. His hinted smile said she failed, but also gave her a whisper of hope. “Hazelnut. Please.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She walked around the train room while he was gone. Derringer opened one eye, saw who it was and promptly went back to sleep. Dog and master were both physically drained.

  She turned as Brett came back into the house through the back door. “Two creams, two sugars and an extra flavor shot.”

  “My hero.”

  He winced.

  Haley inhaled, set the coffee down, grabbed his hand and led him over to the recliner. “Sit.”

  “Because?”

  “I’ve got something to say and you make me nervous when you pace like a caged bear. Sit.”

  “You’re bossy today.”

  It was Haley’s turn to make a face. “Every day, actually. According to Maude. And that’s why I want to talk to you, Brett.”

  “Because Maude thinks you’re bossy?”

  “Because I am bossy,” she admitted. “And I don’t like to accept help. And I try to do everything on my own.”

  “True on all counts. Why is that, Haley?”

  He stayed in his seat, watching her, his face showing little emotion. His nonreaction made the conversation more difficult and she felt a surge of sympathy for miscreant soldiers who ever had to do a face-to-face with their colonel. “I’ve always had to do things on my own. The whys aren’t important now, but I want you to know how much I appreciate your help. And that when I get cautious and bossy, I’d really like for you not to get all stiff-necked and standoffish. Because I don’t know how to handle that.”

  “An impasse, then.”

  “Are we?” Haley wanted him to say no, to stand up and tell her that he understood her cautious nature and her fears and could overlook them.

  He did none of those things. “I enjoy helping with the boys. They enjoy being with me. We can keep it that simple.”

  Suddenly she didn’t want simple at all. Seeing him there, a steady, solid leader whose face showed a night of wear and tear, she realized how immature she must seem to a man of accomplishment and experience. For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why he might have been interested in her in the first place. “So. Simple.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” She turned to move toward the door, the silence weighing heavy.

  “Haley.”

  “Yes?” She turned, wishing her voice didn’t sound so hopeful and expectant, as if waiting for him to drop a crumb in her direction.

  “Your coffee.”

  “Oh.” She walked back, picked up the to-go cup and held it up. “Thank you again.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He didn’t look a bit pleased, but then neither was she. The more she thought about it on the way back to Bennington Station, the more agitated she became. She’d walked over there, humbled herself, kind of asked forgiveness in an offhand way and got a cool rebuff for her troubles.

  Her phone rang. She pulled i
t out of her pocket, hoping it was Brett.

  The same out-of-area-code number flashed in the display. Haley scowled, pushed ignore and put the phone away. She meant to check out the number the other night, but she’d forgotten. Later, she promised herself. She went to work, determined to put on a Christmas face for today’s customers, the bread and butter of a new enterprise. Walking into the co-op, the prettiness of the hallway struck her a low blow.

  Her business was fully decked out for the holidays.

  Her apartment was bare.

  The shoppers and vendors got full advantage of her love of Christmas.

  The boys came home to empty walls and no tree. And she’d used her Nativity set in the co-op, so they didn’t even have a manger scene to remind them of the holiness of the upcoming day. Jesus’s birthday.

  Soon, she promised herself. One way or another she’d make time to decorate. Pretty things up. Help the boys enjoy the anticipation of Christ’s birth. She wasn’t sure when they’d get to it, but she made a mental promise to prioritize it.

  * * *

  He was a jerk.

  Brett realized that when he woke up around three hours later.

  Haley had come over. She’d tried to make amends. And he’d rebuffed her because he was tired and ornery and had just found out that both accident victims died overnight. Despite their best efforts and quick response, both drivers lost their lives.

  He shouldn’t have talked to her. He should have ducked back into the store when he saw her knocking, but he’d ignored the internal warning so he could see her.

  And he’d blown it, big-time.

  The Bible lay open from where he’d left it the night before. A passage from Psalm 18, perfect for a soldier’s heart and soul. “The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield. I called to the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and I have been saved from my enemies. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me.”

  Had he? Brett wondered. Had God delivered him through multiple deployments and assignments, from years of doing good, to shy away from a challenge now?

 

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