Little Miss Matchmaker

by Dana Corbit

  Alex lifted a shoulder and lowered it. “Chelsea’s doing fine with it, but I’m about to go crazy.”

  “What do you mean? Pretty tough on you not having any playdates?” One side of her mouth lifted.

  Rolling his eyes, Alex shook his head at her. “Not that. The TV. I can’t even put the evening news on when she’s in the room. Losing privileges is her consequence, but it’s punishing me, as well.”

  “Then it’s a good thing that you’re volunteering at the center a lot in the next week because that will give you something to do in all those TV-free hours.”

  He answered with a frown.

  “It looks like Brandon and Chelsea have already gotten to work.” She pointed to the far corner of the room.

  Chelsea had joined some of the older girls and was busy painting daisies all over a few of the signs. Brandon was bent over a huge plywood board—probably the front of one of the booths—and was using a staple gun to attach lettering to it. A few of the teenage girls had gathered around to admire his handiwork.

  “Are you sure they should trust him with a weapon like that?” Alex said.

  “He’s being careful. He’ll lose his fan club if he starts shooting staples into the air.” She brushed her painted hands together as if to indicate that the matter was settled. “Now we need to put you to work.”

  He glanced at the station where Dinah and her red paint had been last, but when he turned back to her, she put a hammer in his hands.

  “Over there.” She pointed to a few men who were assembling booth sections and other wooden boxes that must have been prize bins or something.

  “Are you sure I can handle all that?” He demonstrated his less than practiced use of a hammer.

  “If you can put on a bunch of gear and run into a burning building, I figure you can handle pounding a few nails.”

  “I can’t promise any of the boards will be flush.”

  “That’s the beauty of this. None of them have to be. We’ll be pulling everything apart again once the carnival is over.”

  Alex made his way over to the guys, took his assigned pile of wood from a guy who appeared to be in charge and started pounding nails. As he worked, he couldn’t help glancing sidelong at Dinah, who had returned to her painting. Messy hands or not, she brushed on the paint with a fluid grace. As he watched her, he wondered if she painted—not signs but still lifes or landscapes or portraits.

  He didn’t know, and the truth was he knew almost nothing about Dinah Fraser. Sure, there were those obvious things that everyone knew: the dedicated teacher, the preacher’s daughter, the volunteer. Then there were the things that everyone saw: the external beauty and the kindness that proved her beauty was more than skin deep.

  But what about the rest? What did she think about when she was alone? What did she hope for? What did she believe about God when no one was watching? What did she pray for? Did she ever question God the way he did? Another furtive glance only made him whack his thumb with the hammer. He stuck the damaged digit into his mouth to keep quiet.

  No, he didn’t know many things about her, but he realized with a shock every bit as surprising as the blow from that hammer that he really wanted to know.

  Dinah stood at the back of her packed classroom as “Firefighter Alex” went through the one-minute-and-thirty-second process of putting on his fire gear as part of his Fire Prevention Awareness presentation. She knew it was only a minute and a half because one of the girls in the back of the classroom clasped a stopwatch in her hand and was holding him to his time limit.

  Stepping through the bunker pants into the steel-shank boots, and pulling on the short waistcoat made of aramid fibers, Alex whipped into the uniform of his profession with an ease and enthusiasm that didn’t suggest this was the fourth presentation he’d given this morning. It was also the fourth time that morning he’d put on and taken off all that gear—donning and doffing, he’d called it.

  Next he added the hood, mask, helmet with its shield and the SCBA—the self-contained breathing apparatus. His heavy gloves he pulled on last.

  “Done. How much time?” He pointed to the second-grader named Kaitlyn who was holding his stopwatch. The mask garbled his words, making his voice sound as if he were speaking in a tunnel and holding marbles in his mouth at the same time.

  The child had clicked the stop button at the right time but appeared to be struggling to read the stopwatch, so her teacher leaned over and whispered something in her ear.

  “One minute and nineteen seconds,” the child announced.

  Alex whipped off the helmet and mask. “Hmm, I can do better than that.”

  Dinah didn’t have any doubt that he could and probably had at one of his earlier demonstrations. The students, however, seemed to think the performance was just fine, and the room rang out in cheers.

  She wanted to cheer, too, but she worried too many people might notice a teacher whooping it up. Still, there was just something about a man in uniform. This was the first time she’d seen Alex in his—the crisp white uniform shirt with a name badge and an insignia on the sleeve, the dark tie and dark slacks.

  She had seen him several times in his fire gear, but she’d never had the luxury of being able to study him at her leisure. Now she could just enjoy his presentation as so many other teachers and students had this afternoon.

  While she continued to observe, Alex slipped his mask and helmet back on and squeezed among the desks, letting each of the second-and third-graders get a closer look at a firefighter in full gear.

  “Did you know all the other gear and the SCBA adds sixty pounds to the firefighter’s weight when he or she goes into a fire? That’s like me carrying one of you on my back while holding my part of a charged line. That’s what we call a hose with water flowing into it. Would any of you want to try to wear all that gear and go into a fire?”

  Several boys and girls raised their hands, making Dinah smile. They didn’t seem to care about the tough picture he’d painted; they still wanted to be just like Alex when they grew up.

  After he removed the gear and was back wearing only his uniform, he got into the true meat of the discussion.

  “What happens when you pull fire alarms at your school?”

  “We go to prison?” one precocious youngster who’d probably seen one too many episodes of Law and Order offered.

  “Well, probably not, but I’m going for something different here.”

  Off to the right, Chelsea raised her hand and waited, but Alex didn’t call on his cousin right away. He patiently accepted answers from students who’d raised their hands to suggest anything from “You call our parents” to “The school burns down” before he called on her.

  “We might think the next fire alarm is a joke,” she said simply.

  “That’s right, Chelsea.”

  Dinah had hoped she would get that right, especially since Alex had been pounding that idea into her sweet little head ever since the alarm-pulling incident.

  “If someone pulls a fire alarm, the next time we might wonder whether an alarm is real or not rather than focusing on getting out of the building as quickly and as orderly as possible.”

  A boy on the opposite side of the room raised his hand. “Chelsea pulled the fire alarm.”

  Dinah tried to hide it, but Alex looked over in time to catch her grinning. Weren’t kids great? They were always willing to help out, especially when help involved tattling in some way.

  “It’s wrong for anyone to pull the alarm,” Alex said, rather than address that specific instance. “And when an alarm does go off, even if it’s a drill, we must always take it seriously so we can make sure no one gets hurt.

  “Can you guys all promise that you’ll take every alarm seriously?”

  “Yes, Firefighter Alex,” his enthralled audience chimed.

  “Now, how many of you have a fire escape plan at home?”

  A few hands lifted into the air, but from Alex’s expression, Dinah could tell it was too few in
his opinion.

  “Who can tell me what a fire escape plan is?”

  One second-grade boy put it succinctly. “It’s a plan of how to get your family out if your house is on fire.”

  Though the children appeared to be riveted on the man as he discussed escape routes and important safety information such as “stop, drop and roll,” Dinah’s thoughts kept drifting from Alex’s words to the man himself.

  When it came to the subject of heroes, Alex was the real McCoy. It didn’t matter whether he was hauling a heavy hose into a fire or stepping up as caregiver for his cousin’s children or even spending a whole day at Grove Elementary, teaching children lessons that could save their lives, he was there and up for the challenge. Was it just the heroism that he exuded like natural, magnetic cologne, or something more that drew her to him and made her begin each day hoping their paths would cross?

  Have you ever considered that Chelsea might be right? The principal’s words played in her mind as they had more times than was wise in the last few days. What would it be like to date Alex Donovan? Would he be as kind and attentive on a date as he was as a guardian to Brandon and Chelsea or as a presenter to these students? She didn’t know if she was ready to attempt the whole dating-relationship thing again, but thoughts of Alex holding her hand or even kissing her made the idea sound downright appealing.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when the crowd started applauding, signaling that the presentation had ended. She could only hope that whatever she missed in Alex’s speech wouldn’t return to embarrass her later.

  She was standing at the doorway and directing the last of the second-graders, who’d squeezed into her classroom to share the presentation, back to their own classes when Alex sidled up to her, carrying all of his gear. He set it at his feet and indicated the inside of the classroom with a tilt of his head.

  “Hope I wasn’t boring you too much there at the end.”

  “Oh, no.” If he only knew. “Your presentation was really interesting.”

  “Not nearly as compelling for you as whatever you were looking at outside the window.”

  Her cheeks warmed, both from what he’d said and what he didn’t know. “Sorry. It wasn’t your speech. I was just sort of drifting.” To where, she wasn’t about to divulge.

  “Thanks for coming, Firefighter Alex. The children will all be fire safety experts now.”

  “Just what you were hoping for, twenty-four little Smokey Bears running around your class.”

  “Really. Thanks. My students just loved your presentation, especially the part when you put on your gear.”

  “That’s as much for the firefighters as for the kids.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You saw that scary mask, didn’t you? How’d you like to be a six-year-old who is awakened at two in the morning by somebody wearing that mask and saying he’s going to help you?”

  “You’re right. That is pretty scary.”

  “That’s why we put on our gear in front of the kids so they’ll get familiar with it. We don’t want to be the stranger to them during a rescue.”

  Dinah didn’t have any doubt that Alex could convince even the most terrified preschooler to trust him, but she didn’t tell him that.

  “Hey, I was going to suggest that you schedule a field trip to the firehouse sometime soon. The kids would probably get a kick out of touring the station and climbing in the truck.”

  “Can it be all of the third-grade classes? We like to plan the same field trips.”

  “As long as everyone knows that I did it for Chelsea. She has to have some special treatment for having to put up with me at home.”

  “Yes, she does, because that has to be just awful,” she teased, smiling. “If you’re sure, then I’ll put in a request at the office.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, where her students were still quiet so far, and then turned back to him. Alex was studying his thumbnail, which had turned black.

  “What happened there?”

  “A casualty of working at the youth center. Maybe you shouldn’t have trusted me with that hammer.”

  “Maybe not.” Strange how she was tempted to reach over and touch it, but she decided it wasn’t the best idea.

  Another peek over her shoulder told her that her students were becoming more rambunctious. From experience, she knew she only had a few minutes before true chaos erupted, but she risked it for the chance to talk with him a little longer.

  “Was that your last presentation today?”

  “I have one more, to the sixth-graders.”

  “Ooh, tough crowd.” The oldest group, the one that ruled the school, wasn’t known for its graciousness to guests. In fact, Mrs. Pratt would probably attend that session to help the teachers keep order.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t handle it.”

  “Then thanks, at least for not saying I couldn’t.”

  “You know what I meant.” But there was mischief in his eyes, so she didn’t bother explaining.

  “Well, break a leg,” she said, as she would to any performer preparing to go onstage. “On second thought, don’t.”

  He laughed at that as he gathered up his gear again and started out the door. A few steps away, he glanced back over his shoulder. “If I happen not to be in the hospital having my femur reset, I’ll be bringing the crew to work Saturday at the youth center. Will you be there again?”

  “I’m on duty every day until the carnival.”

  “Then we’ll see you there.”

  The noise in her classroom was growing to a dull roar now, and students who had stayed in their seats for longer than she expected were beginning to get antsy.

  Alex followed her gaze and then turned back to her. “Looks like the fire safety experts are getting restless.”

  She nodded.

  He took a few more steps away and then turned back a second time, gesturing for her to step outside the door.

  Dinah shot a worried glance into the classroom but couldn’t help taking those few steps toward him. “If I don’t get in there soon, my classroom’s going to combust.”

  “Before you go, I have another quick question.”

  “What’s that?” she managed, while her pulse hurried along at a pace that couldn’t be healthy. She waited, but he didn’t say anything right away. If he called this a quick question, she couldn’t imagine what he would think was a long one.

  “Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

  “Tomorrow night?” she croaked. Her palms were suddenly sweaty—a reminder of how far out of the dating loop she’d been in the last few years.

  “Why? Is another night better?”

  “No. Tomorrow’s fine.”

  “Good. Then it’s a date. I’ll pick you up at seven.” He was grinning at her now.

  Dinah cleared her throat and demanded that her squirming insides become still that instant. She had a question of her own that needed answering. “Don’t you think it would be rewarding Chelsea’s bad behavior for us to go out now, after everything?”

  He moved his head to one side and then to the other as if considering. “I’ve thought about that, and I’m sure it is to some degree.”

  “Then should we just for—”

  “Forget it?” he finished for her. “Do you really want to forget it, Miss Fraser?”

  Now that wasn’t fair. Not only did he look at her with eyes that could have swayed even a Supreme Court justice, but even the way he said her name was like another appeal. She chewed her lip and then shook her head.

  “Me, neither,” he said, his smile kind. “I realize our going out might reward Little Miss Matchmaker, but our not going out would be just like the TV.”

  “Like the TV, how?”

  “Remember when I said that taking away Chelsea’s television privilege felt like it was punishing me, as well?” He waited on her nod before he continued. “Well, our not getting the chance to kn
ow each other better would be just like that. It would be punishing us.”

  Chapter Seven

  A lex parked across the street from an unassuming tan brick colonial, crossed his arms over the steering wheel and buried his face in the middle. Could this day get any worse? He lifted his head up from the pile formed by his arms. Maybe he shouldn’t ask.

  “Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to go get her?” Brandon asked from the backseat where he was probably still sulking with his arms folded over his chest.

  Brandon had been brooding ever since Alex had picked him up from school detention earlier. The call that Brandon had earned the after-school privilege hadn’t exactly been the high point of the night.

  It had gone downhill from there. A babysitter debacle and one brand-new scorched dress shirt later, here he was. Here they all were.

  “Yeah, Uncle Alex, she’s waiting for you.” Unlike her brother, Chelsea was bouncing in the seat, so much so that the car rocked.

  “I’m going. Just give me a minute.” Alex took a deep breath and unfastened his safety belt. Some date this was shaping up to be—that was if she still agreed to go once she heard his tale of woe. Steadying himself, he climbed out of the car and crossed the street.

  Though it had at first appeared ordinary, the house before him seemed to exude warmth. Everything about it was inviting, from the oval-shaped window in the front door that refracted light from inside to the mature oaks on either side of the house.

  He continued up the walk, past a planter of yellow mums on the steps, and stopped at the door. It flew open before he had a chance to ring the bell, but instead of the auburn-haired beauty he was expecting, a pretty young woman with copper hair and a dusting of freckles looked out at him.

  “You must be Alex.” She waved him inside and closed the door behind him. “I’m Dinah’s sister, Ruth. Her much younger sister, of course.

  “I go to Hollins University, a women’s college in Roanoke, but I’m home for the weekend.”

  Because she hadn’t taken a single breath until then, Alex spoke while he had the chance. “It’s nice to meet you. Is Dinah here?” He glanced around the house that looked just as comfortable on the inside as it had outside. It had a clean but lived-in look that reminded him of his childhood home.