“There’s not a firefighter I know who hasn’t had a moment of indecision, including myself.”
“A moment of indecision isn’t the same thing as a complete inability to respond.” She lifted his injured hand and turned it over, palm up. “When that burning log rolled onto your friend’s leg, did you hesitate? No. You acted on instinct and did what was necessary to save him without regard to your personal safety.”
“Ernesto’s life wasn’t hanging by a thread, either.”
“Would you have reacted differently if it had been?”
“I hope to hell not.”
“I only wish I could say the same thing and with as much conviction.” Unshed tears stung her eyes. Staring out the small window over the sink didn’t dispel them. Neither did Gage’s compassionate tone.
“I remember feeling like I was walking underwater,” she continued. “Everything was blurry and wavy. Sounds ran together. That’s never happened to me before, and I’ve seen some truly terrible things.”
She stopped for a ragged breath. “Neither Uncle Jesse nor Aunt Maureen regained consciousness, which I suppose was a blessing. Aunt Maureen died first. Her neck broken.”
“That’s awful.”
“What if it’s my fault Uncle Jesse and Aunt Maureen died?” She choked, trying to regain her composure. “How many moments were lost while I just stood there, doing nothing? Moments that could have been utilized to save their lives.”
“Their deaths weren’t your fault,” Gage said adamantly. “They were beyond saving. I know it sounds cruel, but a few minutes, a few hours, wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“But what about the next time I freeze up?” The ball of misery inside Aubrey’s chest expanded until it pressed against her lungs, cutting off her air supply. “And the next?”
“How often has it happened?”
“Often enough.”
“When was the last time?”
“Oh…” She glanced at her watch. “About seven o’clock. In the kitchen when I saw your hand.”
“You didn’t freeze up.”
“No. But I had a serious panic attack.”
“Which you obviously conquered.”
“Covered, not conquered.” She turned toward him, fear welling inside her. “I’m scared, Gage. Scared I won’t be able to practice emergency nursing ever again.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“How would you feel about having to give up firefighting because you couldn’t handle the pressure?”
“I’d hate it and be angry with myself for being such a wimp.”
“Exactly.” Gage had hit the nail squarely on the head. She was angry with herself. Flat-out furious. “I have to go back to Tucson when my leave of absence is up and face this problem. If I don’t, I might lose my nerve altogether. Dad thinks I shouldn’t have left in the first place.”
“He’s not always right.”
“True.” Had Aubrey not been so well acquainted with Gage, she wouldn’t have detected the trace of bitterness in his voice. “But in this instance, he may be.” His hand still lay near her arm, and she clasped it gently. “I’m going back, Gage. I have to. Please understand.”
“I do. I care about you, remember? And I’m behind you 100 percent.” He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. “But I still want to see you while you’re here.”
“I couldn’t take a repeat of the last time I left. My heart isn’t up to the stress, not after the beating it’s had the last couple of months.”
“No strings. I promise.”
“You’re not exactly a nostrings kind of guy.”
“I won’t make a stink when you leave.”
She believed him, or maybe she just chose to because she, too, wanted to see him again.
“Come on.” She stood, pulling him out of his seat. “Finish getting dressed. Then I’ll drive you home.”
“And tomorrow?” Gage drew her into his arms.
“You call me, and I invite you over for dinner.”
“Count on it.”
His kiss was demanding and possessive, verging on wild. Had Aubrey been wearing socks, they would have disappeared in a wisp of smoke. The spellbinding effects lasted only until they left the motor home.
As they walked hand in hand to the community center, Aubrey’s tendency to expect trouble kicked in. She began to question her reasons for sleeping with Gage and inviting him over the following night—not because their farewell would be difficult and sad when she left, but after nearly three weeks of being with him on a steady basis, she might not want to leave Blue Ridge.
What, then, would become of the nursing career she loved?
Chapter 10
Gage jerked back as a flame unexpectedly leapt up in front of his face, the heat from it stinging his skin.
“Hey, buddy,” Marty said from beside him. “Watch it. You almost lost an eyebrow.”
“You think I’d know better.” Gage adjusted the controls on the front of their gas barbecue grill. The blue flame flickered once then promptly extinguished with a soft puff. Gage cursed under his breath. “The automatic ignition on this thing has never worked right.”
“You guys ready for these?” Kelli came across the lawn toward them carrying a large platter heaped with hamburger patties.
“Not yet.” Marty leaned over and gave his wife a peck on the check. “Gage can’t get the grill lit.”
“Firefighters.” Kelli rolled her eyes and handed her husband the platter. “Here, let a layperson have at it.”
Turning the knob ever so slowly, she depressed the ignition button twice in rapid succession. A small flame appeared, caught, then spread evenly beneath the artificial coals.
“Okay.” Kelli straightened and swiped her hands together. “Give that a few minutes to warm up, and we’re ready to rock and roll.”
Gage looked first at her, then Marty. “Did she just whip my butt?”
“Hard,” Marty said and broke into laughter.
“How’d you do that?” Gage asked. The temperamental grill had been giving the Raintree family grief for years.
Kelli waved her hand in the air. “Magic fingers, my friend.”
Gage took out a scrubber and began to clean the grill. “Maybe after we eat you can show me your magic fingers again.”
Marty put a possessive arm around Kelli’s waist. “You got your own girl. Go play magic fingers with her and leave mine alone.”
Yeah, thought Gage, he did have his own girl. At least for another two weeks.
“And speaking of girls…” Kelli sidled closer to Gage, who’d finished cleaning the grill and was now coating it with a nonstick spray. “I like Aubrey. A lot. I can’t believe you two ever divorced.”
“Kelli,” Marty warned.
“I’m sorry.” She gave an apologetic smile. “But you two are just so cute together.”
“It’s all right,” Gage said, setting the can of spray down and picking up the hamburger patties. “I’m glad you like her.”
When faced with the prospect of a rare Sunday afternoon off work, Gage had invited Marty and Kelli out to the ranch for a cookout. Now that he and Aubrey were officially dating, he wanted her to get to know his friends and for them to know her.
His mother, delighted with the prospect of entertaining Gage’s captain, had outdone herself, whipping up her special recipe potato salad, pineapple coleslaw and corn on the cob to go with the hamburgers. Aubrey had brought two kinds of dessert. She and her grandmother were in the house helping his mother, along with Hannah. Gage’s father, also in the mood to relax for once, was watching a ball game on TV.
“You going to ask her to stay in Blue Ridge with you?” Kelli smiled expectantly.
This time her husband’s warning was accompanied by a stern scowl. “None of your business, sweetheart.”
“I’m fond of Gage, I like seeing him happy. Aubrey makes him happy.”
Gage couldn’t agree more. Aubrey did indeed make him very happy.
The burgers sizzled as he set them on the grill. Kelli observed him with an eagle eye and when he was finished, went behind him with the spatula and rearranged all the hamburgers.
“I didn’t know burgers cooked better in straight rows.”
“That way the heat is more evenly distributed.” She sighed impatiently. “Clearly you two only know how to put fires out, not cook with them.”
“Is she this obsessive-compulsive at home?” Gage asked.
“Worse.” Marty knocked back a swig of iced tea.
Both he and Gage would have preferred a cold beer but they made it a practice to avoid alcohol during fire season.
“Well, just so you know,” Gage said, stepping aside so Kelli could more closely supervise the cooking hamburgers, “I’m not asking Aubrey to stay.”
“Why?”
“Because she has her job to return to, for one.” The conversation he and Aubrey had in the motor home last week came back to Gage in bits and pieces. “It’s not fair of me to ask her to give it up.” He didn’t mention her freezing problem.
“I suppose you could commute and have a long-distance relationship.” Kelli sprinkled seasoning on the hamburgers. “Vacations, holidays, three-day weekends.”
Marty murmured, “Give it a rest,” under his breath but she ignored him.
Gage tried to remember the last three-day weekend he’d had off and couldn’t. Hell, he hadn’t had a Sunday afternoon off in two months.
“I’m sure we’ll work something out,” he said with far more assurance than he felt.
Because of his promise not to pressure Aubrey, he hadn’t brought up the subject of life after Blue Ridge with her. Lately, however, as the days flew by, he’d begun to question his ability to hold out.
The back door opened, distracting Gage. Aubrey emerged with Hannah in tow, the two of them carrying plates and bowls and chatting a mile a minute. They headed for the table and chairs they’d set up earlier under the branches of a sprawling cottonwood tree.
She smiled at him from across the distance, and Gage felt a strong emotion tug at his heart. He wasn’t just going to miss Aubrey when she left, he was going to be lost without her.
Again.
From inside the house, the phone rang. Gage could hear a distant echo of it coming from the barn. He told himself to relax. A ringing phone didn’t automatically mean a fire. After all, his radio hadn’t gone off and his cell phone remained silent.
But when his mother rushed through the back door, concern written all over her face, Gage knew this phone call wasn’t social.
“Christine Peterson’s on the line. Their haystack is on fire.”
“Get a hold of the guys,” Gage hollered to his mother. “Tell them I’ll meet them at the station. And tell Mike to ready the engine.”
In a small town the size of Blue Ridge, there was no dispatcher. Calls for the volunteer fire department came by telephone.
Before Gage could turn all the way around, Kelli took the spatula from his hands.
“Go,” she said without preamble.
“I’ll come with you.” Marty jogged alongside Gage.
“You don’t have to.”
“This is a volunteer fire department, right? I’m volunteering.”
Gage didn’t refuse. They could always use the help. Hay fires could smoulder for days or turn nasty and burst into flames.
He spotted Aubrey on their race to his truck. “Come with us,” he shouted. “In case there are any injuries.”
She paused, uncertainty shadowing her features. It lasted only a second, long enough for Gage to wonder if he’d asked too much of her. In the next second she passed her stack of paper plates to Hannah and ran to join Gage and Marty at the truck.
The three of them piled into the cab and, without another word, tore out of the yard.
*
They could see the plume of white smoke for several miles before they arrived at the Petersons’ place. Aubrey sat in the backseat of the engine, squished between Marty and Kenny Junior. Gage was up front with Mike, who drove, and Gus rode on the top. Aubrey hoped to God everything would be okay.
It had been over twenty minutes since the call had come in at the Raintree ranch. Fire could cause an amazing amount of damage in that time. And while it seemed to take forever, the Blue Ridge Volunteer Fire Department was the closest help. The only help. A house would burn to the ground long before an emergency vehicle from Pineville arrived.
Their wailing siren had drawn numerous onlookers. Adults spilled from their houses to watch the engine pass, and children waved at them from front yards. Two cars followed closely behind, to help, Aubrey hoped, not hinder.
The Petersons’ place was in the middle of town on six acres. The possibility of the hay fire spreading to neighboring houses was slim, but the proximity of the Petersons’ house and barn presented a danger. Burning embers carried on the breeze could easily ignite a roof, tree or woodpile.
As the engine screamed toward the driveway, someone Aubrey didn’t recognize pushed open a rolling gate. A half-dozen horses, evidently freed from their stalls in the barn, trotted around the front yard, bucking and kicking, and whinnying at all the commotion.
Mike drove the engine across the finely manicured lawn and past the small herd of horses to the barn in back of the house.
“Holy crap,” Marty said when they got near the barn, his fingers poised on the door handle.
The reason for his expletive became quickly clear. The shade covering the haystack was in flames, the wooden posts and trusses holding the tin roof ablaze. Smoke poured from the haystack in a huge funnel, going up at least thirty feet before veering off at an angle.
John Peterson stood between the burning haystack and the barn, spraying water on the fire with a garden hose. He could have been spitting on it for all the good he did. A single garden hose was no match for this inferno.
Before the engine came to a complete stop, the guys were already piling out and donning the rest of their gear. Within the next minute, they had the hose unrolled and hooked up to the water tank on the engine. Kenny Junior turned a valve, and a blast of water a hundred times the size of the garden hose exploded from the nozzle.
“What can I do to help?” Aubrey asked. Since none of the Petersons appeared injured, her nursing skills weren’t in demand.
“Unload the other hose from the back of the engine and unroll it,” Gus told her. “We may need to pump water from the Millers’ stock pond across the street if the tank runs dry.”
“Okay.” Aubrey glanced over her shoulder as she headed to the back of the engine. Gage held the nozzle, his feet planted solidly in place, and aimed it at the fire. Kenny Junior backed him up. The rest of the guys cleared the area around the fire, dragging, pushing, or driving anything and everything away.
“Jeremy, come back,” Mrs. Peterson cried. She ran after a young boy—Aubrey assumed he was her grandson—who’d escaped the confines of the house.
The boy, no more than three, must have had aspirations to be a firefighter when he grew up. He refused to listen and kept running up the hill leading to the barn until he was alarmingly close to the fire.
“Get the hell out of here,” his grandfather yelled. He’d gone over to the barn wall closest to the fire and was wetting it down with the hose.
Jeremy stopped in his tracks, evidently startled by his grandfather’s brusque outburst, and began to cry.
“Come back,” his grandmother called, huffing and puffing. She’d lost speed halfway up the hill, unable to catch her agile grandson.
Aubrey dropped the hose and bolted. She reached Jeremy and swooped him up in her arms.
“I’ve got you, sweetie pie.”
Jeremy didn’t want to be rescued. He wiggled and squirmed and hollered, “Snowflake,” over and over in Aubrey’s ear.
She was more than a little glad to present him safe and sound to his grandmother.
“Jeremy, honey, I told you to stay in the house. It�
��s not safe out here.”
Aubrey glanced back up the hill to the fire. The flames still raged despite being saturated with water. The four wooden posts holding the shade covering blazed like giant matchsticks.
Other than on TV, she’d never witnessed firefighters in action. A burning haystack might not compare to a city skyscraper in terms of danger, property damage and potential loss of life. But it was nonetheless terrifying, especially when Gage and his crew ventured close to the flames.
Beside Aubrey, Mrs. Peterson struggled to hold on to her rambunctious grandson. “He wants to find Snowflake.”
“Is that one of the horses?”
“Heavens, no,” Mrs. Peterson exclaimed. “She’s our barn cat. A stray we recently took in. And wouldn’t you know it, she produced a litter of kittens three weeks ago. In the haystack of all places.”
Aubrey had been watching Gage fight the fire, only half listening to Mrs. Peterson. The older woman’s last remark, however, had Aubrey paying rapt attention.
“The cat and kittens were in the haystack?” she gasped in horror, unable to consider the dire consequences.
“They got out. At least, we think they did. John saw Snowflake carrying one of the kittens into the barn right when we first noticed the smoke.”
“One?” Aubrey asked. “How many did she have?”
“Four,” Jeremy answered. He’d quit wiggling quite so much and hung on his grandmother’s arm, attempting to move her. She stood steady as an iron post.
“He’s been enthralled with the kittens,” she explained. “Playing with them all week.”
“Cats are very resourceful,” Aubrey said. “And resilient. I’m sure Snowflake’s fine.” And at least one of her babies.
“Can’t we go look for her, Grandma? Please?” Jeremy’s whining intensified.
“No.”
“But the kittens…”
Her voice softened. “We’ll look for Snowflake the minute the fire’s out. I promise.”
“It is out.” Though not fully extinguished, the firefighters’ efforts had started to pay off. Already, the fire looked smaller in size and considerably less threatening.
Just Kate: His Only Wife (Bestselling Author Collection) Page 28