Jane’s Gift
Karen Erickson
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Karen Erickson. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
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Suite 109
Fort Collins, CO 80525
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Edited by Stacy Abrams
Cover design by Jessica Cantor
ISBN 978-1-62266-989-9
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition October 2012
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Walmart, Milk Duds, Coke, Henley, iPhone, Kleenex, Sunset, “Jingle Bells,” Etsy, Disney.
To my readers: I’ve changed gears on you, guys. I hope the people of Lone Pine Lake—especially Jane and Chris—touch your hearts as much as they touched mine.
Prologue
“Jane.”
Someone called her name. Repeatedly. An echo in her head, it didn’t stop. Hurt her brain. Hurt her entire body.
It all hurts so much…
“Jane. Wake up.”
She tried to lift her lids, but it felt as if concrete blocks sat atop them. Where was Stephen? Where were her children? Usually they were tackling her in bed by now. At least one of them slept wedged between her and Stephen on a nightly basis.
“You’re in the hospital.” The gravity in the new person’s voice was severe. The sound of the voice was familiar; she thought it might be her brother. But why would Patrick be in her bedroom?
“You were hurt in an accident.” Her brother drew closer—she heard him, smelled him—and she swore he spoke directly into her ear. “Wake up, Jane. You’ve been asleep long enough. We need to talk to you. You need to come back to the living.”
Slowly she opened her eyes, slamming them immediately shut again when she caught the light. “Too bright,” she croaked, her throat painfully dry. It felt as if she hadn’t spoken or drunk for months.
“Close the curtains,” Patrick ordered. He sounded upset. But why?
“Why…are…you…here?” Every word was a struggle, and the pain that radiated throughout her body was excruciating. Yet she couldn’t move.
It was as if she were strapped down in the bed. She noticed a continuous beeping noise, the quiet murmur of other voices talking. Inhaling, she caught the unmistakable antiseptic scent of a hospital.
Panic flooded her veins, making her forget the pain, the confusion. “Where are the children?” All weakness in her voice was gone. She struggled to sit up, but gentle hands touched her shoulder and settled her back down.
“The kids are fine, Jane.” Another familiar voice, this one her mother’s, and she heard the transparent sadness. “They’re staying with us for the time being.”
“I don’t understand.” She opened her eyes once more, her vision out of focus, though she saw the beloved shape of her mother sitting right next to her. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.” Confusion swamped her, so overwhelming she didn’t want to face it.
“Your house was on fire.” Patrick spoke again, terse and strained. “You’ve been in the hospital.”
“The house?” She tried to frown but it hurt too much. And was there a bandage on the side of her head? “Where’s Stephen?”
Patrick started to speak, but their mother cut him off. “Don’t. She needs to be eased into this.”
“Eased into what?” Jane tried to reach for her mother but she couldn’t. “What happened to me? What happened to Stephen? And the children?”
“Shhh,” her mother soothed, reaching out and resting her hand on top of Jane’s arm. “Your babies are fine, I promise. But they miss their mother. We need you back.”
“I—I didn’t know I was gone.” She closed her eyes, exhaustion threatening to take over. Since when had speaking a few words worn her out so quickly? What was wrong with her? She didn’t understand.
“We need to tell her the truth, Mom. She deserves to know.” Her big brother touched her, a brief brush of his fingers over the top of her head. Sadness engulfed her before he even said the words. “The house fire—it happened two months ago. The kids got out right away; Stephen made sure of that. He ran back inside to get you and…”
“Stephen’s dead, isn’t he.” It wasn’t a question. She knew it; she could feel it. He was gone. She was alone.
A muffled sob sounded out and she knew it was her mother crying. “He’s gone, Jane,” Patrick whispered. He sounded as if he might break down as well. Her big strong brother—had she ever heard him cry?
She closed her eyes tight, tried to ignore the sounds of her mother sobbing. What did her brother mean, the fire happened two months ago? Why didn’t she remember it? Why couldn’t she remember being in the hospital that long?
“You’ve been in a medical-induced coma,” Patrick said, as if he could read her mind. “You burned over thirty percent of your body…”
His words faded as her mind drifted. It was as if she couldn’t feel or think or talk, as if she wasn’t a whole person, just a shell. Her Stephen was gone. Her life as she knew it was over.
“Don’t leave us now. You need to be strong. You need to get better for your kids,” Patrick urged, his voice firm, almost scary. “Jane. Jane!”
She could hear him but she couldn’t answer. Didn’t want to. Would rather slip back into that safe, warm place where she didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel.
Didn’t have to be.
Chapter One
TWO YEARS LATER
“I want to ride in the truck!”
Jane smiled at her six-year-old son, Logan, as she watched him in the rearview mirror. His eyes were wide as saucers and energy radiated off his body in waves. He couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat and even his voice shook. She knew he couldn’t wait to get to the fire station. “I don’t know if they’ll take you for a ride, but they’ll definitely let you check out the truck.”
“Yay!” Logan raised his arms and pumped his fists, looking pleased as punch.
His older sister, Lexi, on the other hand, had a sulky expression on her face, her arms crossed in front of her. Three-year-old Sophia slept blissfully in the car seat between them, with not a care in the world.
“I don’t wanna go,” Lexi said for what felt like the millionth time. “I don’t care about stupid trucks. I wanted to go to Kylee’s house and play.”
Sighing, Jane turned onto the road that led to the fire station. “I know, but this was Uncle Mac’s idea. We don’t want to disappoint him, do we?”
“No!” Logan shouted, nearly bouncing out of his seat.
“I don’t care. He won’t be mad if we change our minds,” Lexi said. “Kylee was so sad when I told her I couldn’t come over.”
Jane ignored Lexi’s complaint. She’d been going on about Kylee’s hurt feelings since breakfast that morning. “The firefighters are doing this specially for us. Giving us a tour, letting us check out the station and see what they do. We have to be respectful, Lexi.”
Her daughter didn’t answer, just turned to stare out the window, her arms still crossed in front of her, lips pursed. Jane let her wallow in her misery and instead, concentrated on the winding road that followed along the southwest side of the lake in her little hometown.
It was still hard for her t
o believe she’d permanently moved back to Lone Pine Lake. Of course, she never thought she’d survive a horrific house fire, either. Or that she’d be left alone to raise three children under the age of eight.
Well, she wasn’t really alone, and that was the reason she was back—most of her family was still living in Lone Pine. Her parents could help her, along with her brothers and sister. She needed her family’s help, though she was loath to admit it. It had been almost two years since the devastating fire that had taken her husband’s life, and her body was still recovering.
As were her heart and mind.
She shook her head, pushed the memories away, and looked around. Jane rarely came over to this side of the lake. A few restaurants and boat launches, along with cabins for rent, proved this part of Lone Pine was clearly for the summer folk. And Jane was once again a townie.
Nerves ate her insides and she tugged at her hair, bringing it across her right cheek as best she could. The scars weren’t as noticeable anymore, at least to her. Most of the burns she’d suffered on the right side of her face had been second degree; she’d looked as if she’d been horrifically sunburned for months on end.
But along the left side of her face, her temple, down across her cheek to her jaw, she had third-degree burns, which had necessitated skin grafting. And skin grafting meant scars. They’d warped and marbled her skin. She tried her best to hide them, styling her hair a certain way, holding her head at a tilt so maybe no one would notice.
She didn’t like to think of the scars that marked the rest of her. Her left side had taken the worst hit. Her arm, her torso, down her thigh, stopping at just above her knee, she was covered. Her back, too.
And then there was the all-consuming guilt that hung over her like a dark, foreboding cloud. She’d survived; Stephen hadn’t. She’d put her family through years of torture and misery…
“Are we almost there?” Logan’s voice rang so loud in the car that Jane winced when she saw Sophia give a startled jump in her sleep.
“Almost, Logan, yes,” Jane said, using her best quiet voice, even though she knew it wouldn’t matter. Logan had only one volume—loud.
He gave another shout and Lexi yelled at him to be quiet. “You’re hurting my ears!”
They were both hurting Jane’s ears, but she tried to ignore them. Chose to focus instead on the gorgeous fall Saturday, the vivid red, orange, and yellow shades of the turning leaves. A breeze rustled through the trees, even the surface of the lake rippled with the wind, and she was thankful she’d made everyone wear a sweater—much to the protest of Logan, who, it seemed, would spend every season clad in a short-sleeve T-shirt and shorts if he could.
Her younger brother, Mac, had organized the trip to the state wild land fire station as a way to combat the strong fear her children had for fire. Fire was what took their dad and damaged their mom, and it scared them tremendously. The captain of the station was a good friend of his, Mac had said. A little tour would help ease their fears, he was sure.
Jane wasn’t so convinced. Her children had every right to be afraid. She was afraid of fire, too: she didn’t burn candles anymore, though she used to. Her family liked to get together for giant bonfires in the fall, but she avoided them now. And the house they were living in, her brother Patrick’s home that he kept for his family’s holiday visits, had a grand, majestic river-rock fireplace that demanded to be lit during the cold winter months that were ahead.
She couldn’t even look at a lighter without flinching, let alone try to start a fire.
Up ahead, the station loomed, an older structure painted in faded shades of industrial pale green with forest green trim. It was a large building, standing right off the side of the road, directly across from the lake. She pulled into the gravel lot, parking her SUV in front of the building. A porch ran the entire length of the front of the station, and Jane immediately envied the view. Large lounge chairs carved out of smooth wood were scattered across the porch, and she imagined those who worked there sat out front on a daily basis watching the lake.
Lexi unbuckled her seat belt but didn’t move, while Logan tugged and jerked against the restraints of his booster seat. Jane climbed out of the SUV and went to the passenger door behind her. Going for Sophia’s car seat first, she unbuckled it carefully so as not to disturb her.
No point in being so careful, though, since Sophia’s big brother wouldn’t stop shouting or moving, and the flurry known as Logan woke his baby sister. Jane hurriedly undid Logan’s seat belt and he scrambled out into the parking lot, his little feet kicking up gravel as he sped toward the building.
“Logan, wait!” Jane yelled as she helped Sophia out of the car and then stood. Logan was already zooming up the steps and onto the porch, his little feet pounding a booming rhythm on the wood rafters.
Shaking her head, she slammed the door but realized Lexi still sat in the car. She rounded the end of the SUV and opened the back passenger door to find Lexi sitting in her seat, her arms still crossed in front of her, little hands clutched into tight fists. The typical pose her child had held since she’d first heard of this idea.
“Are you coming inside or are you sitting out here in the car?”
Lexi’s eyes widened. “You’d let me sit in the car? All by myself?”
Jane shrugged, adjusting her hold on Sophia. “If you really don’t want to go in, then okay, I guess.”
“But someone could…” Lexi swallowed hard. “…snatch me.”
“I’ll lock the doors.”
Lexi’s eyes went wider. “And you’d leave me alone?”
“You don’t want to hurt the fire captain’s feelings, do you?”
Lexi was quiet for a moment, absorbing her mother’s words.
“So what’s it going to be? We need to get going before Logan busts into that fire station by himself.” Wasn’t that the truth? She wouldn’t be surprised if he started pounding on the front door.
“Fine, I’ll go. But only because I don’t want to hurt the captain’s feelings.” Lexi trudged out of the car, dropped onto the ground with a little hop, and then ran up to the front porch like her brother had.
Jane’s lips curved into a faint smile as she hit the lock button on the keyless remote. Her feet crunching noisily on the gravel, she headed toward the porch, noticing how quiet it was. The wind whistled faintly through the trees and the sound of an occasional car driving a few miles away shushed in the distance, but there was no traffic on the main lake road.
Tourist season was long over. The fire station probably saw very little action. Mac had told her the seasonal staff had already been laid off, only those who worked year-round remained—they were few. No wonder they didn’t have a problem giving a local family with big fears a quick tour.
“Anybody home?” Just as Jane predicted, Logan knocked on the front door, his tiny fist beating a mighty tattoo against the wood-trimmed screen door. Jane practically ran up the steps, ready to stop Logan from his antics before he took it too far.
“Logan, stop,” she hissed as she reached out to grab him and yank him away from the door…
The very same door that suddenly swung open with a cranky groan of hinges. Jane took a step backward, jerking Logan along with her and bumping into Lexi in the process. Her gaze zeroed in on big, booted feet as they crossed the threshold, the hem of navy blue uniform pants curled around those dusty dark shoes.
She did a slow perusal up endlessly muscular legs, her gaze landing onto lean hips and then a broad chest and shoulders. Shoulders that seemed to go on forever, clad in a sky blue uniform shirt. A nametag was pinned at the top of one shirt pocket, a badge onto the other, and she squinted, barely able to read his name.
Again, she smoothed a hand along her hair. Thankful it hit just above her shoulders so she could curl it around her face and almost hide her scars.
Why am I so afraid to look him in the face? But she could answer her own question almost before it formed—he would surely notice her scars, something
that still made her nervous when she met someone new. Plus, it had been a while since she’d been in the company of a man who wasn’t a blood relative, in-law, or of the medical profession. A combination of fear and worry made her leery.
Plus, there was his reputation. The fire captain was known around town as a hot catch, a bit of a playboy. Her oldest friend Chloe had described him as one of the few good-looking, single men in town. He set all the women’s hearts a-flutter with his hero-type job.
The last thing she wanted to see from this guy was sympathy. Or worse, pity.
When her eyes finally lit upon his face, she couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. Dark-as-night hair, tanned skin that showed he spent most of his time outdoors, and defined bone structure. Strong nose, jaw, and cheekbones, though his mouth appeared soft…
“Mrs. Clark?” Those soft-looking lips curved into a welcoming smile.
Jane nodded, but his greeting made her feel like an old woman. She had a first name—why didn’t he use it?
He let the screen door slam behind him as he stepped out onto the porch, his hand extended toward her. “I’m Captain Christian Nelson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Shifting Sophia in her arms, she held out her hand and he took it. The touch of his rough fingers, the press of his wide palm against hers, sent a jolt of electricity up her arm. She let go quickly, as if it had scalded her, but his smile stayed easy, his stance casual, confident.
The captain appeared very comfortable in his skin and she envied him that. When he flicked his head in Logan’s direction as if to ask permission, she gave her consent with a slight nod. He knelt down so he was eye level with Logan.
“Hey buddy, what’s your name?”
“Logan!” Her son’s yelp made Jane wince, but the smile on Captain Nelson’s face grew even wider.
“Nice to meet you, Logan. I’m Captain Nelson.” He offered his hand and Logan took it, his little arm moving in two jerky pumps.
“Can we see the fire truck now?”
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