“We can find a way. I believe that.”
She let his confidence bolster her own. “I believe you.”
Clark’s voice came from the mudroom doorway. “Okay, kids, it’s time for bed.”
Jesse frowned. “And he’s become a total dad.”
* * *
Jesse held up his hand as he sat on the exam table. “Don’t start on me, please. Chief George has been laying into me for the last twenty minutes.” Chief George hadn’t been fire chief for over a year now since his son Clark took over, but no one had ever stopped calling him by that name.
Dr. Craig crossed his arms over his chest. “Let’s just say I don’t agree with your definition of ‘keeping off it.’ You didn’t help yourself last night.”
“Well, no.” George, after his brisk lecture, had been amazingly supportive once Jesse opened up about what happened to him in the heart sense, and yes, in the soul sense—although it felt weird to talk about his own soul—during that long wait on the curb outside of Charlotte’s cottage. Truth be told, Jesse was still grasping for ways to understand what had happened last night and this morning, much less explain it. He just knew his life had made an important turn.
He was glad Chief George seemed to understand. The former chief had unofficially adopted every single guy in the firehouse—and many of the married ones. The GFVFD was his family, even though he was only Clark’s actual father. More than once in the conversation, Jesse had been stung by the thought of what his life might have been like if he’d had a father as supportive as George Bradens. He was pretty sure his own dad loved him; it was just that Dad’s love came with so many requirements before it was paired with approval. Jesse always felt as if he had to earn his father’s affections, whereas George seemed to be so generous in giving his—even if it came with a lecture or two.
“He didn’t help himself at all, medically,” George asserted, placing a fatherly hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “But let’s simply say the evening evened out.” George offered a wink. It made Jesse wonder if Clark had sent his dad for this task by convenience or by design. He’d tried to give Clark a sense of what the night had been for him, but he was far too tired to make much sense. Explanations and talent-show serenades aside, Jesse was pretty sure Clark could have been fast asleep and still have sensed the bond now strung between himself and Charlotte.
And what exactly was that bond? That song at the talent show had shown him Charlotte was different from any other woman. Even as he’d taken steps not to single her out, his gut was telling him he wanted to single her out. Exclusive. That wasn’t a term Jesse had ever cared to apply to women before Charlotte. Did that mean he was in love with her? Maybe. Whatever it was, Jesse knew it was powerful and worth whatever last night had cost him. That didn’t change the worry in the pit of his stomach at the doctor’s scowl. His leg looked awful and felt terrible.
“It’s gonna be okay, right, Doc? I mean, I didn’t do any real harm.” He knew he was fishing for reassurance.
Dr. Craig seemed in no hurry to give it. “I can’t say for sure. You broke it on an angle. Any weight you put on it last night could have shifted the bones and made things worse. How’s your pain today?”
He didn’t want to admit how badly it hurt. “Well...”
“Son,” George cut in, “there are three people you should never hedge your answers to, ever. One’s your lawyer and the other’s your doctor.”
“And the third?” Jesse felt the punch line of a bad joke coming on.
“Yourself.”
Okay, that wasn’t so funny. “All right, it hurts a lot. The medicine takes it down to a dull roar, but I’m dying before I get to the next dose. And...I sort of skipped a dose overnight. I was out at the fire site and I left all the prescriptions back at my apartment.”
Was the pop-eyed shock from the doctor really necessary? “You went to a fire scene last night?” His face went from surprise to annoyance to dismissal in a matter of seconds. “You hero types make my job a lot harder than it needs to be.”
“I’d classify last night as extenuating circumstances, if that helps,” George cut in. “Jesse did what he had to do. We can’t change that, so can we just move on from what we’ve got here?”
It seemed as though Dr. Craig dropped any pretense of gentleness as he bent to examine Jesse’s throbbing shin more closely. His leg had turned a startling shade of purple, among other pessimistic medical appearances, and Jesse fought the nagging sense that the night had cost him far more than he realized. Personally and professionally, he could take an enormous hit here.
“We’ll need another set of X-rays to see if the bone has shifted, but given how it looks—” the doctor doubled his scowl “—and from what you’ve told me, I’d say we’re looking at surgery. Maybe even pins or a plate.”
Jesse slumped back against the examining table, all his bleary-eyed wonder at last night giving way to a rising dread. “It’s just a break. People break their legs all the time.”
“It’s a bad break that you put weight on—all night long, evidently. I’ve half a mind to schedule you for surgery just so I can admit you right now.” Straightening up, the doctor put his glasses back in his lab coat pocket. “Mr. Sykes, would your cooperation be too much to ask for here?”
“I’ll be a good patient from here on in, Doc. I promise.” He folded his hands on his lap, trying to look penitent. “Where do we go from here?”
Dr. Craig picked up a chart and began writing. “I can’t cast you—the swelling hasn’t gone down sufficiently. I’m sending you for X-rays. We’ll change the dressing on that wound and then see what the X-rays tell us. You might get lucky, but I think you should be prepared for the possibility of surgery tomorrow morning.” He put the brace back on, which made Jesse wince. “When was your last dose of painkillers?”
Jesse had yearned to swallow a double dose the moment he woke up from his nap earlier. The twenty minutes it took for the stuff to kick in felt almost longer than the wait for Charlotte to pull into Gordon Falls last night. This morning. Had it all really just happened? He felt as if he’d lived a year in the space of those hours. “Six this morning. I’m due. Believe me, I’m due.”
George padded the pocket of his windbreaker. “I’ve got ’em right here.”
“I’ll have the nursing assistant bring you some water when she comes in to change the bandage. You’ll want them—the boys in radiology aren’t known for their tender touch.” He closed the chart. “I’ll see you back here afterward and we’ll talk about next steps.”
“Okay, Doc.” Jesse tried to look cooperative and hopeful, but it was hard with his leg screaming at him. In five minutes he’d down those capsules without water if that nurse hadn’t shown up yet. The pain—and his doubts—were beginning to make it hard to keep his trademark humor.
As the examining room door closed, George pulled his cell phone from his pocket and began tapping with youthful speed. “Time to call the cavalry.” The former chief had taken to texting with enthusiasm; he sent more “Gexts”—as the firehouse had come to call the numerous electronic check-ins the man was prone to send—than most of the teenagers Jesse knew.
“Huh?”
“Church.”
He’d heard stories about the ladies of GFCC swooping in to care for people, but he wasn’t sure casseroles were what he needed right now. “You don’t need to do that.”
George kept typing. “Oh, yes, I do. We need to pray that leg into cooperation. We want those X-rays to show you haven’t hurt yourself further by what you did last night. That’s going to take prayer.”
This was foreign territory. People praying for him? Him praying for himself? For Charlotte? The world had tilted in new directions overnight, and Jesse still wasn’t quite sure how to take it all in. “Um...okay...I guess.” It probably was going to take divine intervention to keep him off th
e operating table. “I’ll be okay, though, if I have to go under.” He rubbed his eyes, reaching for a way to explain his foggy thoughts. He looked at George. “I mean, it was worth it.”
One end of George’s mouth turned up in a knowing grin. “I agree. But I’m still lighting up the prayer chain for that leg of yours. After all, you’re part of the church now.”
He was part of a church. Jesse waited for that to feel odd, or forced, but it just sort of sank into his chest like a deep breath. “I guess I am. Not such a bad thing, is it?”
George’s grin turned into a wide smile that took over the old man’s entire features. “Best thing there is.”
Chapter Nineteen
Charlotte found her way to the kitchen, hoping for a cup of steaming tea to face what was left of the day.
“Hey there.” Melba looked up from feeding Maria. “They prayed for both you and Jesse at service this morning. Feeling better?”
Charlotte walked over to the sink and began filling the kettle. Did she even have a teakettle at the cottage anymore? What kind of person has a life that destroys two teakettles in so short a time? “Not really. Less exhausted, but now I feel like I have twice as many thoughts slamming through my head.” She sat down at the table opposite Melba and Maria. They looked so peaceful and happy.
“You’ll be okay, Charlotte. You know that, don’t you?”
She ran her hands through her hair. Even with a long hot shower, Charlotte felt as though she still smelled of smoke. “It’s a little hard to see today.”
“Maybe today’s not a good judge of everything. Clark says it takes two days for the shock to wear off, longer for some people.” She looked at Charlotte with such warmth in her eyes. “You can stay here for as long as you need to. Really.”
Charlotte knew she meant it, but Melba and Clark had played host to her long enough. She didn’t want to stay any longer than absolutely necessary. They deserved to be a family on their own again. “Thanks. I know I need a few days to get my feet underneath me, but I’ve still got my place in Chicago.”
That wiped the warmth from Melba’s eyes. “I hate the thought of you being back there. I hate the idea of you going to Vermont even more. I know it’s selfish of me, but I really feel like you belong here. Even with everything that’s happened.”
Charlotte didn’t have an answer. Her brain felt far too clouded to think. She was grateful the kettle’s whistle gave her something to fill the silence.
Melba settled Maria on her shoulder and began patting the baby’s back to burp her. “You want to tell me what happened with Jesse last night? And don’t say nothing, because it’s all over both of your faces, not to mention what Clark told me last night.”
Turning to her friend, Charlotte asked, “What did Clark tell you?”
“That Jesse went crazy with worry when the call came and they realized it was your cottage. That he ignored the doctor’s orders and walked to the scene because Clark had already left. That he was frantic to know you were okay, and it was all the guys could do to keep him from trying to help.”
Mo, who had thankfully made fast friends with Melba’s cat, Pinocchio, darted into the room to weave his way around Charlotte’s legs as she set the tea to steeping.
“And that he hobbled around the neighborhood calling for Mo when no one was found in the house.” Melba stood up and walked over to Charlotte. “That man has it bad for you. And you have it bad for him.”
“It’s just that after the display at the talent show, and all he said about not wanting to get serious with any one woman—well, he didn’t come right out and say that, but it wasn’t hard to guess—I didn’t know if I could trust his charm. I don’t want to be dazzled.”
“But he’s gotten to you, and he cares about you—a lot, obviously. I know it’s not perfect, but do you really want to walk away from that?”
“And he’s a firefighter. I know that’s okay for you, but—”
“And then there’s the whole faith thing, and that’s big, too—especially now that he’s made the first steps, from what I’ve heard.”
“That’s just it. Those things are sort of working themselves out. And for the first part...what he told me, the way he treated me last night at the fire, you can’t fake that. His heart is true, I know that now. Only, is that really enough?” She told Melba the entire story of Jesse’s night, how he’d come to terms with the God she knew had been pursuing him since the night of the talent show. “It wasn’t really God Jesse was resisting, it was his preconceptions of church and judgment. His father’s been putting him down for years. That made it hard for him to grasp a Father who loves unconditionally, you know?” She remembered him holding her in the destroyed kitchen, singing a gospel song she’d never heard before but now felt engraved on her heart. What could be a deeper truth than that? “He has such a huge heart, Melba. It’s been aching for grace for so long.”
Melba started to get mugs down from the cabinet, only to stop and look straight at Charlotte. “Do you think you’re in love with him?”
Charlotte leaned against the counter, squinting her eyes shut for a moment. “Shouldn’t I know if I’m in love with him?”
“I think it slams some people clearly like that, but I think more often it is something that slowly takes shape. Like knitting with a striped yarn—sometimes you don’t see what it really looks like until you get further along.”
“The attraction is certainly there.” Charlotte thought of the head-spinning serenade that had made it hard to breathe back at the talent show. “The man knows how to sweep me off my feet, Melba, but just because he can doesn’t make him the right man for me.” She poured the tea into the pair of mugs Melba set on the counter. “You know how impulsive I am. Vermont was going to give me the space to think about this. Maybe it still should.”
“Are you running to or running from?”
“What?”
“It’s something Clark always says. About jogging or even guys at a fire. People rarely get hurt running to something, but they often injure themselves running from something. If you go to Vermont, are you running to what could be a good job or running away from what could be a good man?”
Melba had managed to boil the whole storm of Charlotte’s thoughts down to one piercing question. Was she really enthused about Borroughs’s offer, or was it just an escape from facing the scary prospect of loving a man who risked his life for others? “I don’t know. I don’t even know how to figure it out.”
“Maybe that’s why you ought to talk to Abby Reed this afternoon. She’s coming by in an hour if you’re feeling up to it.”
“Abby?” Abby had a reputation as a notorious matchmaker. If she’d taken Jesse on as her newest project, Charlotte didn’t see how she’d lend any clarity to the situation. “What’s she got to do with any of this?”
Melba’s smile was sweet but a little secretive. “I think you’d better hear that from Abby herself. I’m going to go put Maria down for her nap. Why don’t you go sit on the deck and just relax for a while. It’s a beautiful day, and you need all the doses of fresh air you can get.”
The next thing Charlotte knew, someone was gently tapping her on the shoulder as she lay slouched in one of Melba’s back deck lounge chairs. She forced her eyes open. “I must have dozed off.”
“I’ll bet you needed a nap.” Abby Reed sat down on the chair opposite Charlotte, a kind smile on her face and a bag of chocolate-covered caramels in her hands. “I know chocolate doesn’t make everything better, but it makes most things better.”
Charlotte sat up and accepted the bag, reaching in for one of the sweets. “I guess it pays to be good friends with the candy lady.”
“Jeannie wants to help in any way she can. She’s been through a fire, too, you know. She lost everything a while back, and she knows how it can pull the rug out from underneath
you.”
“I keep trying to remember I haven’t lost everything, but it still feels like I have. There’s soot over everything.” She smoothed her hair out, thinking she probably looked like a mess today. “The fire was my fault, you know—food that I left in the oven and forgot about. I’ve made such a mess of things with my own stupidity. I used to think of myself as such a clever person.”
“You’re still a clever person. You’re just a clever person in a tight spot. We’ve all been there. Gordon Falls is full of people who are great helps in tight spots.”
Charlotte knew that. She could feel the pull of Gordon Falls’s tight-knit community calling to her even before her house filled with smoke. “I’m not going to end up with a refrigerator full of church-lady casseroles, am I?” She winced. “I don’t think I even have a working fridge anymore, much less a stove to heat them in.”
Abby laughed. “You might. GFCC is good at crisis management with food. It’s a universal church thing, I think. Jeannie will tell you one of the blessings of a crisis is all the help that comes to your side. I know it may not feel like it this morning, but I’m sure you’ll come out of this fine.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Then I’d have another caramel if I were you.”
No one had to twist Charlotte’s arm. When the delicious, sticky confection allowed her to talk again, she prompted, “Melba said you had something you wanted to talk to me about?”
Abby settled her hands on her lap. “I’ve had an idea for a while now, and before last night I was going to wait until the fall. Now I think I shouldn’t wait. Charlotte, I’d like to ask you to consider running a new shop for me. I want to expand the store to open a full yarn and fabric shop in the space next to mine. I’m looking to knock the wall out between the stores and create two connected spaces—one dedicated to gifts and art, the other for crafting. Only I can’t run the both of them—really, I don’t want to. When Ben finally moves out, I don’t want to spend my newly earned free time behind a cash register or in a stock room.”
Saved by the Fireman Page 17