Through the Fire

by Christine Lynxwiler

  ❧

  Clint glanced over at his passenger and sighed. Every time he offered assistance of any kind, she bristled. Just like the pup she’d sent home with him last night. Food was about the only thing the skittish dog would take from him.

  A fast-food restaurant on the corner caught his eye. He looked at Jessa again. It was worth a try. “You hungry? Could you eat a biscuit if I drive through here?”

  She nodded, then looked down at her lap, where she still clutched her small purse and the stuffed puppy he’d brought her. “I don’t think I have any cash in my purse, but I’ll pay you back.”

  He pulled into the drive-thru lane and didn’t answer. If he disagreed, she’d probably refuse to eat. If he agreed to take money from someone who’d just lost everything in a fire, he’d lose his own appetite.

  “Sausage biscuit okay?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” While he had been looking at the menu board, she’d pulled the plush toy up and was using it for a pillow against the window.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said under his breath.

  Clint ordered the food and didn’t speak again until the young man at the second window handed him the white sack. “Thanks,” he said softly.

  Light snoring drifted from somewhere beneath the red curls that had fallen across Jessa’s face. After what she’d gone through, she had to be wiped out. How tempting it was to take care of her. But she didn’t want him to. He snorted softly. Who was he kidding? Taking care of people obviously wasn’t his strong suit. The best thing he could do was stay as far away as possible from the sleeping beauty in his passenger seat.

  He drove slowly down the lakeshore drive and resisted the urge to circle a few times so she could get some rest. All that was left of the cabin were some ashes and lingering smoke. He wished he could have spared her the painful experience of seeing her former home. Reluctantly, he pulled his Jeep into the spot beside her car. When he turned the key off, she jerked awake.

  “Oh! We’re here. I’m sorry.” She ran her hand over her face, then through her unruly curls in a move Clint found endearing. When she looked out the windshield at the smoking heap, her green eyes widened, then filled with tears. She bit her lip and turned toward her window.

  Clint sat in silence for a few seconds, watching her shoulders shake. Finally, he’d had all he could stand. “Jessa?”

  She shook her head but didn’t turn back toward him.

  “It’s natural for you to be devastated. A fire is like any other trauma. . .robbery or even a violent crime.” A memory of Ryan saying those same words to the men at the station flashed through Clint’s mind. His friend had never doubted, never underestimated the danger of a fire. Clint put his hand on her shoulder.

  She stiffened, and he prepared himself for her to tell him to mind his own business. Instead, she swung around and collapsed in his arms. Her heart-wrenching sobs touched a place deep in his heart where he’d locked away his grief over Ryan’s death. Tears edged his eyes, and as he held her, he acknowledged the pain of his own loss as well.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly.

  For a minute, she didn’t speak, clinging to him as he breathed in the smoke smell from her strawberry-blond curls. Then she drew back and swiped at the tears with the back of her hand. She nodded.

  As Jessa told her story, Clint’s mouth grew dry. She’d risked her life for a stray pup. Had he been jogging down Lakeshore Drive at that minute? Or had he already noticed the smoke?

  “I bathed him and made him a bed in the kitchen, but then when the fire started, I guess he wedged himself behind the china cabinet. And I couldn’t get him out. . .” Her voice rose in panic.

  Without warning, she shivered and buried her head in his shoulder again, as if terrified of the scene unfolding before her mind’s eye.

  He held her quietly for a few minutes, stroking her hair, until she calmed. His own heart clenched as he imagined her trying to get to the puppy.

  “I stretched out on the floor. Smoke was everywhere. I could barely touch him. At first he licked my hand.” Her words were spoken against Clint’s shirt. She sat up straight again, and he released her but held on to her hand.

  “Then I got so tired, I had to lay my head down and rest.”

  “You relaxed in the smoke?” How could that be? When that happened, it was over. Unless a rescuer got there in time. And he hadn’t. Bile rose in his throat. He’d been paralyzed with fear on the lawn.

  “Yes, I remember praying, but then my head was just so heavy, so I rested it on my arm. The next thing I felt was sharp pain at my wrist over and over again.” Her voice held a note of wonderment.

  “Pain from what?” Usually even if victims were rescued after they passed out, they had no memory of pain.

  Jessa’s attempt at a chuckle came out as a half-sob. “The puppy was biting me.” She unclasped her hand from his and turned her arm over. Several red, angry welts on her wrist attested to her tale.

  “And that woke you?”

  “Yes, and I tried one more time to grab the pup. I could barely pinch his skin, but it was enough to unwedge it. When I got him in my arms, I crawled to the front door. But after I opened it, I couldn’t go any further.”

  “And that’s where I came in.” The tightness in his chest eased a notch. He’d been afraid that in her post-fire shock, she’d imagined him coming into the house and rescuing her. But she’d been more right than he’d first known. Using Clint, God had saved her from the fire.

  Jessa relaxed into his embrace again. “Yes,” she whispered. “You saved the day.” Her words were thick with tears.

  Unexpected anger surged through him. What happened to God being no respecter of persons? Why had He allowed Clint to help save a stranger but not his best friend?

  Four

  As she’d told Clint what happened in the cabin, Jessa’s heavy heart had grown considerably lighter, but she still couldn’t believe she was crying in Clint McFadden’s arms. What had happened to her philosophy of standing on her own two feet? Counting on God and no one else? Along came a little trouble, and she’d tossed her newfound independence out the window.

  She pulled back from his embrace and willed the sobs to subside. “I’m sorry.” A shuddering sigh cut off her next words, and she gave Clint a teary grin. “My mom always called that ‘snubbing,’ and I couldn’t ever keep from doing it after the waterworks stopped.”

  With his thumb, he gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. “It’s kind of cute if you ask me.”

  She was startled by his words, and if the red that crept up his face was any indication, so was he. “Thanks. I think.” She nodded toward the cabin. “Do you think we could look around?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. Not at the actual site anyway. It’s not safe.”

  “What about the outbuilding? I think it would be okay to check out the things in there, don’t you?”

  “Sure.”

  He opened his Jeep door and jumped out. She unbuckled and located her keys in her purse, but before she could touch the handle, he was at her side, holding the door for her.

  They walked together across the green lawn. She tried to ignore the smoking heap that had been her home, keeping her eyes instead on the old red storage shed that housed what was left of her belongings. She kicked a dead limb and stared out at the lake. “I’ve been looking forward to autumn here. The crispness of the air, the gorgeous fall colors, the smell of burning leaves. . .” She sniffed the still acrid air. “Right now I’d just as soon never smell anything burning again.”

  “I feel the same way.” Clint’s voice was quiet.

  Jessa cast a sideways glance at him. Something about this whole thing had definitely touched a nerve with him. His solemn expression went beyond sympathy for a neighbor who’d had a fire. She remembered that day she’d seen him in the flower shop. Even then he’d seemed mysterious. What was his story?

  Whatever it was, he was every bit the gentleman. As they approached t
he padlocked door, he motioned to her for the key, and she handed it over. He opened the lock, then stood back for her to go in first.

  Even in the dank, musty surroundings, Jessa felt like a kid in a toy store. She’d forgotten how many things she’d stored here due to the compact nature of the cabin. For a few minutes, she just soaked in the joy of ownership while Clint looked on with a smile.

  Her bicycle was propped against the paneling. She touched its cool surface, then quickly moved on to her next find. Plastic boxes of pictures, neatly labeled, were stacked along one wall. She remembered how she’d struggled with putting them out here, but now she was so glad she had. She slipped the top off one and pulled out a handful.

  She’d almost forgotten Clint’s presence until he spoke. “May I?” He indicated the pictures she had in her hand.

  She glanced down at them. Her random sampling had produced mostly photos of her youth. An odd thing to share with a relative stranger. But for some reason, she didn’t think of Clint that way anymore. The embrace in the car, combined with the fact that he saved her life, had broken the ice.

  “Sure.” She handed them to him and grabbed another bunch from the box.

  They looked through the photos in silence for a few minutes. Then Clint frowned. She instinctively looked to see what picture had elicited the response. It was a picture of her with her parents and sister. They were standing in front of a brick wall that Jessa knew all too well. The only part of the building’s name that could be seen was G-E-N-E-R. The memory was not a happy one for Jessa, but why would Clint frown?

  Before she could ask, he held the picture out to her. “Were you in the hospital when you were small?”

  “What makes you think that’s a hospital?”

  “Well, I figured the letters probably spelled ‘General,’ which is often in the name of a hospital.”

  Jessa glared at him, inexplicably irritated by his reasoning. “It could be the General Foods headquarters.”

  “Yeah, except for the plastic bracelet on the adorable little redhead’s arm.”

  “Yes, I was in the hospital.” Jessa stuffed the rest of the pictures back in the box, suddenly disenchanted with her walk down memory lane.

  Clint deposited the batch he held into the plastic container as well and carefully closed the lid. At least he appeared to be perceptive enough to let it drop.

  Jessa turned to the opposite side of the shed. “My kayak!” She grinned at the boat she’d suspended from the ceiling with a simple pulley system in one corner. “You old sweetie.” She reached up and patted the fiberglass hull.

  Clint ran his hand over the sharp grooves on the bottom. “From the looks of those grooves on the bottom, it’s done some whitewater rafting. Do you take it out on the river?”

  “Every time I get the chance.”

  “By yourself?” His worried voice irritated her. She understood why her family thought she was so fragile, but why would a stranger?

  “Sometimes. It converts into a two-person craft, so occasionally I have a friend go with me.” She grimaced. “Or I did in Georgia anyway.” She stopped polishing an imaginary smudge with the tail of her T-shirt and looked back at the tall man in the doorway. “Do you ride the rapids?”

  He shook his head. “I did when I was younger but not anymore. Doesn’t that seem a little risky to you?”

  Uh-oh, here it comes. “That’s too dangerous for you, Jessa.” No matter where she went, she couldn’t seem to escape it.

  “I’ve taken enough of your time.” She wiped the dust off her hands onto her flannel pants and stepped out of the building. She waited for him to exit, then pulled the door shut and secured the padlock. “Well, thank you for bringing me out here.”

  At her abrupt words, he frowned. “Can I follow you into town? I know you can’t be feeling all that great.”

  “No, thanks. I’ll be okay.”

  She started walking back toward the vehicles, hoping he’d take the hint.

  They retraced their steps across the yard in awkward silence.

  At her car door, she stuck out her hand in a purposely businesslike manner. “Thank you again for all you’ve done.”

  He looked at her proffered hand for a few seconds, then shook it firmly.

  She slid into her car seat, closing the door behind her. He held her gaze through the window, then slowly turned toward the Jeep.

  Amazing how badly she’d wanted him to continue holding her in those strong arms. How could she be interested in someone who would obviously protect her at all costs? Getting involved with a man like that would be the death knell to her fight for independence. In her mind, she paraphrased the warning she’d always felt coming from her family. Only this time it was true.

  He’s too dangerous for you, Jessa.

  ❧

  Clint stared through the car window at the woman who had fallen into his shattered heart last night when he’d carried her to safety. For the first time since Ryan’s death, he knew something besides rage and sorrow.

  Her freckles stood out against her alabaster skin, and her green eyes looked huge. She’d be okay? He thought that was definitely debatable, but he didn’t want to start an argument.

  He opened the Jeep door and saw the stuffed puppy and her purse lying in the passenger seat. He grabbed them, along with one of the biscuits from the sack.

  She was adjusting something on the dash but looked up when he tapped on the window. The glass rolled smoothly down, and she reached for her purse and the toy. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Here’s your biscuit, as well.”

  “Oh.”

  He could see from her expression that she didn’t quite remember the stop at the fast-food place. It was a wonder she hadn’t forgotten her own name with all she’d been through.

  “I have some cash at the shop. . .”

  He pushed the biscuit into her hand. “We’ll deal with that later. You go get cleaned up and get some rest.”

  She nodded, weariness filling her eyes.

  He waited until she was on the road, then drove the short distance to his parents’ house. He called his mom from the cell phone to tell her Jessa wasn’t coming. He just wasn’t up to going to the main house right now.

  When he opened the door to his garage apartment, Jessa’s puppy barked a greeting and ran toward him. Clint reached down to give him a pat, but the skittish animal darted behind the couch. Like owner, like pet, he thought wryly.

  He would have to rig up some kind of leash in order to take the dog outside. There was no way he could be trusted to return, once loose.

  “I’d better do that right now,” Clint muttered to the shivering lump of fur behind the couch. Then he headed to the closet. “Before you make a mess and I have to clean it up.”

  A knock on the door brought him back into the living room empty-handed. “Hold on, Sport. I promise I’ll find something.”

  His mother stood on the doorstep with a leash and collar in her hand. “This was Sparky’s. I thought you might need it.”

  He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom. You always could read my mind.”

  She frowned, worry lines creasing her normally smooth forehead. Without waiting to be asked, she sank to the couch, so he followed suit.

  “Well, I can’t anymore. For example, I have no idea what you’ll think about the decision your dad and I made this morning.”

  “What decision?”

  “We’re going to stay at the lake house until Christmas instead of going back to the ranch right away.”

  “Because of me.” He knew the words sounded flat, but he couldn’t help it. The last thing he wanted was to throw a cog in his parents’ life.

  His mom reached over and took his hand. “Not just because of you. You know we love to do things out of the ordinary once in a while. It keeps life exciting.”

  “And?” The word had been unspoken, but Clint could feel it.

  “And because of Jessa.” She grimaced. “What an awful sit
uation she’s in.”

  “I told you she refused to come here.” Clint wondered if his mom had misunderstood their cell phone conversation earlier. “How can you help her?”

  “Your dad and I are willing, and she needs help. God will work out the how.”

  A rush of bitterness flooded Clint’s heart. Like He worked things out for Ryan when He put Clint within yelling distance but not close enough to reach Ryan through the fire? Clint’s belief in God had never wavered, but these days he found himself questioning His willingness to look after His own. “Sometimes, even God can’t help. Or won’t.”

  His mom squeezed his hand, pulling him back to the present. “Do you remember when you were little and used to tell me all the time that you wanted to ‘take care of fires’ when you grew up?”

  Clint nodded. He had wanted to be a fireman for as long as he could remember.

  “One day when you said that, I couldn’t resist. I looked into your solemn little face and said, ‘Who will take care of you in the fire, Clint?’ And I’ll never forget what you said. Do you remember?”

  Clint shook his head.

  “You said, ‘Don’t be silly, Mama. Same as always. God will.’ ”

  She brushed away a tear and hugged him. Then she stood. “Even though you’re grown now, it’s still true, Clint. Same as always. God will.”

  After the door closed behind her, Clint didn’t move. Had every remnant of that courageous little boy with the adult-sized faith died in the fire with Ryan?

  Five

  Jessa parked behind the shop and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. She’d made it with thirty minutes to spare. No time for a nap, but she could get cleaned up a little before Doris arrived. Close on the assistant’s heels would be walk-in customers. The monthlong Grand Opening celebration continued to bring in a lively crowd. Jessa was thankful for the success, but today she’d be happy with some peace and quiet.