Читать книгу Rescued by the Firefighter - Gail Martin Gaymer - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Paula hesitated before pulling into the driveway when she spotted Devon and Clint near the garage with her uncle. If Clint hadn’t noticed her and waved, she would have backed out and driven away. Today wasn’t a day she wanted to talk with anyone. On top of that, when she thought of him, and it was more often than she wanted, she pictured him with Kaylee and Joey, and it charmed her. He was wonderful with them. Natural, outgoing, relaxed. He looked like a guy who knew how to be a dad. She had no idea how to be a mother and, if she tried, would she be a good one?

She’d been fighting tears for the past hour, tears she resented, and her weakened ability to control her emotions was almost too much. Everything had gone wrong, even the memory of Clint with the kids. That should have lifted her spirit. What had happened to her new lease on life?

She sat a moment, willing her pitiful tears to dry up. Self-pity wasn’t an appealing trait. No one wanted to deal with that, and she didn’t want to, either. She pulled her shoulder bag from the floor where it had slipped and hoped she could sneak into the house.

As she rounded the car, her uncle Fred beckoned to her. Her heart fell as she managed a pleasant expression and headed his way, wondering what he wanted. Devon and Clint watched her traipse along the driveway though forcing each step. “What’s up?”

Her uncle swung his arm toward a large pile of fireplace logs piled into a bin at the side of the garage. “We’re ready for winter. Free firewood. How often does a person have that happen?”

She shrugged, having no experience with fireplaces or logs. “That must have been a good deal.”

“Yep, but we had to move it today. Devon called and said a tree had fallen a few streets over, and they wanted to get rid of the wood.” He clasped his son-in-law’s shoulder and then flopped the other arm around Clint’s. “These two men came to my rescue. I had no way to load this myself.”

She managed a smile at the men. “That was really nice.” She choked on the word. Nothing had seemed nice since she’d awakened, but she wanted to be happy for her uncle and his woodpile. The image caused a true grin to tug her mouth.

“We were glad to help.” Devon patted her uncle’s shoulder.

Clint sidled closer to her and tucked his hands into his pockets, a knowing expression on his face. “How was your day?”

The gentle tone of his voice touched her like a breeze, and words failed her. She swallowed her rising emotion and shrugged. She wanted to run rather than stand beside him whimpering, but she noticed Devon had followed Fred around the corner of the garage, and she and Clint faced each other alone.

“Something’s wrong?” He shifted closer. “I see it in your eyes.”

Having someone read her thoughts triggered her emotion to break free. She looked away, fighting back the lump in her throat and the pressure behind her eyes. “A little.”

His arm slipped behind her and drew her closer. “No luck looking for a job?”

She tilted her head, willing her mouth to form words. “That’s one of the problems, and I’m beginning to sense it’s not going to happen.”

Clint grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. His midnight-blue eyes searched hers, and the dam broke. Tears slipped from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. He glanced behind him and drew her to his chest.

That was all she needed. Sobs broke loose as her tears wet his polo shirt. She sniffed, trying to force back the ache rending her body. Foolish. That’s how she felt. She’d lost control, and her disappointment had knotted into a wad of sickening self-pity. “I’m sorry, Clint. I’m being ridiculous.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“But I’m not a crier. Tears and I are strangers—were strangers—and I want it like that again.”

“Really.” He looked at her with question. “Why?”

“Tears are weak, and that’s something I’m not.” Though she said it, the words felt like a lie. Somehow she’d weakened and had turned into a pile of mush. No one liked mush, especially her.

“Even men cry, Paula.”

The sincere look in his eyes gave her a start. She studied him, confused. Who was this man? Strong, confident and yet tender. The vision tripped in her mind.

Clint glanced toward the garage and then motioned toward the house door. “Can we go inside?”

She sensed he wanted privacy, and Uncle Fred didn’t always know when to vanish. She led the way to the side door. They entered the kitchen, and she pulled two glasses from the cabinet. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Hold on a minute, okay?” He motioned toward the backyard. “I want to see if they’re finished. The more I think of it, I’d rather we go for a ride and talk without interruption.”

She knew what he meant.

He turned and hurried down the landing to the side door without giving her a chance to respond. But maybe that was good. Saying it wasn’t necessary would have been dishonest. Being with Clint would be the best experience she’d had all day.

She returned one glass to the shelf, turned on the tap and filled the other. Her mouth felt dry, and she gulped the cool water, wishing away the depressing feelings that had overtaken her.

Though Clint’s offer had met her need, she didn’t want their first conversation since Ashley’s party to be like this, but she needed to dump her worries somewhere rather than lug them with her, and Clint had volunteered. A true rescuer of many kinds.

As she set the glass in the sink, Clint returned and stood on the landing. “I hope it’s okay for you to leave.” He studied her a moment. “Will you go with me? You’re guaranteed no interruptions.”

Her usual resistance had disappeared for once. She slipped her bag over her shoulder and followed him outside.

“By the way, I told Devon and your uncle we were going out for a while. I didn’t explain.”

“Thanks.” She felt protected with Clint. He had a way of making her feel safe.

He motioned her to go ahead and steered her toward his Jeep across the street. There, he held open the door as she alighted, and then he slipped into the driver’s seat. “What about a park? The weather’s great, and it won’t be like this for long. We can pick up a sandwich and drink....” His eyes caught hers. “Or will that mess up dinner? I’m guessing you do the cooking for your uncle.”

“True, but he has plans tonight at the seniors’ center. He has a lady friend.” She pictured her uncle’s boyish charm when he talked about Alice. “She’s from the church.”

Clint pulled away from the curb as he chuckled. “You can’t find a better place to meet someone.”

She shriveled into the seat, and though she knew he didn’t mean to make her feel ashamed, he had. Being a believer was important to him. Fleeting images skipped through her mind, pictures of her and Clint walking into church...maybe with children, but those images weren’t her, and she sensed he was letting her know that if she had ideas about a relationship, she’d better forget them.

He turned onto Hilton Road and pulled into a parking spot to pick up a sub sandwich. When he stepped out, he leaned back inside. “Want to come in and see what they have?”

His church reference had saddened her. Though he didn’t mean it to, she suspected he was right. For a Christian, where better to find friends? She shook her head. “No. Surprise me?”

Arching an eyebrow, he shrugged and closed the door.

If she’d gone inside, she may have been able to dismiss his comment. It wasn’t necessarily a warning. He knew she hadn’t grown up in a faith-filled family. As yet he hadn’t rejected their friendship.

When he exited the sub shop door, he swung the bag and dangled it in the air, a silly grin on his face, and for a moment it caused her to smile. Clint could do that for her.

He slipped into the car and handed her the sack. “Now to Harding Park. It’s close.”

They rode in silence, her mind on him and her problems, and his mind...? She couldn’t even guess.

“Wouldn’t you know.” He motioned toward the park as they approached.

“What’s wrong?”

“Who would think. It’s busy today.” He pointed ahead as they turned the corner.

She spotted the problem. The few picnic tables appeared filled, and some people were playing with toddlers at the nearby swings.

“They’re enjoying the last days of summer.” He waved his hand again in another direction. “Soccer game going on, too. So much for being alone.”

She eyed the food bag he’d handed her. “We could eat in the car.”

“I have a better idea, and it’s close.” He followed the street around a bend and turned at the next corner onto Inman Street. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Before she could figure out what he meant, he pulled into a driveway.

He shifted into Park and turned off the engine. “My house. It’s quiet and I have an umbrella table in the back if you prefer.”

She studied the two-story yellow-sided house with white trim. A castlelike turret jutted from one side, and the porch reflected more old-world charm, with four columns supporting the roof. The architecture was enchanting and different from any home she’d noticed in the area. Intrigued by the look of the house, she pictured Clint inside.

Maybe he had an old-world charm, too. Each time they met, she noted his staunch values and ways. Old-fashioned manners of opening doors and holding chairs, niceties that had been lost by most of the men she’d known. “It’s really pretty, Clint.” She admired the well-kept yard and the turret—it made her feel like a queen.

He jumped out, came around to her side and opened the passenger door. “Thanks.” He motioned toward the side of the house. “Let’s go in back.”

Though disappointed not to see the inside, she walked beside him. When she rounded the corner, a flagstone patio extended from what might be a kitchen door. A table and four chairs in deep green and a matching umbrella took most of the space. Farther left, he had two outdoor recliners sitting in the sun with a small table between them.

She settled onto a chair, and he used a napkin from the bag to brush off the tabletop that already looked clean.

“I hope you like turkey and ham with cheese.” He slid a wrapped sandwich in front of her.

“It sounds good. Perfect.” She folded back the paper as he set a napkin next to the wrapper. Her stomach rolled a low growl. “I didn’t realize how hungry I am.”

“And I bought you a lemonade. I hope you like it.”

She chuckled, seeing his concern.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

His expression brightened as they sat in silence, unwrapping the meat-and-cheese subs thick with lettuce, tomato and cucumbers. Even a pickle peeked from beneath the multigrain crust. She took her first bite, tasting the blend of flavors, and washed it down with a sip of the lemonade, amazed she’d almost forgotten her less-than-perfect day. Keeping those thoughts to herself, they chatted about his landscaping and house, topics that drew her attention away from her earlier upset.

With her appetite sated, she managed to finish most of the sandwich before she gave up. “Thanks for suggesting this. Otherwise I would have gone inside Uncle Fred’s and wallowed in my misery.”

He shook his head, a half smile on his face. “I can’t picture you wallowing.”

“Oh, but I do. It’s something new, another weakness, that’s happened since my cousins encouraged me to move here after my mother died.”

His grin faded. “They’re nice ladies. Devon and Jon caught two good ones.”

A grin slipped to her mouth. “You make them sound like fish.”

His belly laugh surprised her, and she chuckled along with him. “I’ve always been very private, and talking about my problems is something I’ve never done. I’ve tried to understand why I’m compelled to open up to you.” Though blunt, the truth had to be spoken. She wanted him to understand her struggle.

He reached across the table and slipped his hand over hers. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. I don’t mean to pry. I only thought it might—”

“I know you’re not prying. I’m the one who blubbered all over your shirt.” She leaned closer with her free hand and placed it on his chest. “It’s dry now.” Warmth rushed through her palm to her fingertips as his well-toned physique stirred beneath the knit shirt.

“If it were drenched, Paula, I wouldn’t care.”

His expression washed over her—kind, tender, honest—the kind of look that she’d missed with Vic. Seeing Clint’s sincere ways, she should have known Vic was using her, but at the time she didn’t care. When desperate, blocking reality had a value, but lately she’d begun to face the truth. She’d been hungry for love, a kind of hunger that turned lies into hopes. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind the next time I need to cry.”

“I hope you do.” His eyes captured hers.

Like a cord binding them, she felt close to him, a feeling she couldn’t explain. A kinship, perhaps. The silence lingered, a comfortable quiet only disturbed by a chirping bird and the breeze ruffling the shrubs nearby. “Would you like to hear about my second problem?”

“If you’re ready to talk.”

“The buyer for my mother’s house backed off. No sale.” The words caught in her throat. “I hate to tell Devon and Ashley. They were so excited that I planned to buy the house.”

He turned his head as he focused into the distance for a moment until his eyes met hers again. “Remember, it’s only been on the market for a short time.”

She nodded. “But I have no guarantee when it will sell. So many homes take years. They don’t want to wait that long. I hate to tell Ash and Devon.”

“But it’s smart thinking. Waiting makes sense. You don’t want to jump into something you can’t handle. When it comes to finances, I...”

She brushed her knuckle across her eyes where tears had begun to form. “I’m just disappointed. I’ll get over it. I always do.”

“You probably don’t want my opinion, but you’d be smarter to stay with Fred, even rent a small apartment, until you can make a secure move into your own house. My parents taught me to be sensible. Having savings means more than—”

She flexed her palm, not wanting to hear his lecture. “I really want that house, Clint. It’s close to family. Ashley and Devon are right down the block, and—”

“You’ll find another house close by when you can afford it. Never take chances when it comes to security.”

Stopping Clint served as much purpose as holding back the tide. Hopeless. Still, she looked at his expression and read his meaning. “I’m like a little kid, Clint. I want things when I want them. I know a woman of my age should know that it’s not the end.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Definitely not the end. It’s only the beginning.”

The beginning. Her hopes rose again, but she pushed them aside. The man wanted a woman he’d met in church, not one who trusted a jerk like Vic, who’d knocked the stilts out from under her with his treatment. But Clint received support from his family. He had no idea what it was like to learn from making mistakes and then having to repair them.

She didn’t want a lecture, but she’d learned one thing about Clint. He was a straight arrow, a man of honor, although she found herself questioning his advice. Somewhere along the way, she’d picked up some warped judgments. Maybe she could undo them. Her mind slipped back into her pre-Vic mode. She’d been far more open and trusting then, even though her life was a mess.

“You’re quiet.” Clint searched her face, his look reflecting his own confusion. “I didn’t mean to bring you down.”

She’d done that herself. “I’m questioning my judgment. Maybe I should think things through without being nestled in the family’s embrace. You know?” She analyzed his expression and questioned whether he understood or not. “Sometimes I ask myself if I should stay here. I’ve never been dependent on anyone.”

“No.” His hand rose, his palm flexed.

Though his face reflected concern, his vehemence startled her. “What are you saying? I don’t think you understand what we’ve been talking about. I have no job. No house. No assur—”

“Have you always run away from problems, Paula?”

She’d never called it running away, but maybe that’s what she did. She gave a nod, assured that trying to hide reality from Clint was useless. He always read the truth in her face.

“If you’ve spent your lifetime running, you’ve given up hope. Being hopeless isn’t the kind of life that makes anyone happy. How many times have I seen you laugh when you’re with Fred and your cousins? The day I met you, you said things that made me chuckle. Life can be filled with joy. Fun. But you’ll never find it if you don’t take a chance. Stay in one place and deal with problems. Running solves nothing. Confronting does. I’ve run away, too, Paula, in my own way.”

She tried to recall what she’d said to trigger his adamant comments. But it didn’t really matter. Letting his message soak into every pore, she was nourished by the images that rose in her mind and she could only utter a truth. “I have loved it here.”

“I’m not challenging you, Paula. I only want you to dig deep for the answers. Nothing comes to the surface without a willingness to dredge up the sludge and find the gold. Running stomps down character. Standing firm builds it.”

She drew up her shoulders, recognizing the truth he spoke. Though his words stung, Clint had a way of stating the truth. “You’re right. I know you’re right, but sometimes it’s easier to walk away than deal with it.”

“Give it time. The house will sell, and I’m sure that Devon and Ashley won’t be fazed. I guarantee.”

“You are sure of yourself.” She managed a grin, longing to lighten the moment.

“Firefighters have to be confident.”

Though she’d never given it thought before, she would want a person who saved others to be sure-footed—even someone rescuing her. A chill shivered down her spine. Was saving her Clint’s mission? Did he want to rescue her from herself? She met the questions with confusion, even disappointment.

Though she’d grappled with her feelings for him, she wanted his friendship if nothing more. At this time in her life, she needed a friend, a person who could choose to like her without feeling an obligation. She appreciated her cousins treating her like a third sister, but she was family. They really didn’t have a choice.

While her mind raced with questions, Clint had risen and extended his hand. “The sun moved and we’re in the shade. It’s too cool for you out here. Would you like to see the inside?”

The offer intrigued her. Clint had anticipated her wish again. She needed a distraction from their serious conversation, and his awareness, his overall thoughtfulness, calmed her. While her hand remained in his, his strength became hers. “I’d love to.”

* * *

Clint’s eyes blurred as he viewed the training video. He’d seen this one numerous times, yet reviewing the skills he needed to be a firefighter headed the top of his “important” list. But today his mind drifted back a few days to when he showed Paula his home. Maybe he’d been wrong to give her a tour as if he were rubbing her nose in the lack of her own place.

Her house plans and her financial situation tumbled like a house of cards. When they’d talked earlier, her attitude about finances concerned him. Though she’d captured a piece of his heart, certain aspects left him thinking. Why didn’t she have savings? Yes, she’d apparently cared for her mother and perhaps had to take a leave from her job, but still...

He’d been raised to save money and budget. At first, Paula’s decision to buy the house had been made without thinking it through. Her drive to own a home blanketed the need to have a solid plan to pay for it. He rubbed his neck, remembering he’d probably said too much to her, but she’d been clinging to the edge of common sense. Still, her sensitivity preceded her ability to handle a lecture. Learning to shut his mouth was a necessity, or he’d damage the new friendship they’d developed. She needed a friend, but then so did he. She’d already been through the loss of her mother and uprooting herself to Ferndale. His comments had verged on a turnoff for her. He could have uprooted their fragile friendship with his blabber—his know-it-all attitude—and he would never forgive himself.

And then he may have added fuel to the fire, not something an intelligent firefighter wanted to do. When he’d invited Paula inside, he’d been aware of her guarded reaction to things, but he’d suggested it anyway, anxious to see Paula in his home, to see how she looked in the kitchen or seated in his family room. Sometimes he pictured her there beside him. Foolish, he knew. The images troubled him at times—another conundrum—a bittersweet moment, like dreaming the impossible dreams he’d heard about in song.

He pressed his back against the less-than-comfortable chair, facing an awareness he’d had during their talk. Though he’d encouraged Paula to relate her problem, he had also understood that Paula wasn’t the only one running. He hadn’t felt at peace since his marriage plans had collapsed.

Life had passed him by after Elise left. He went to work, did the laundry and kept the house somewhat clean, but his social life had sunk into an abyss. He didn’t want to date. Having fun seemed impossible so he stayed home. He’d even passed on going to the movies or to dinner with Devon until one day Devon put his foot down and wouldn’t accept his refusal. That day began his uphill climb.

Paula needed something...someone. Perhaps encouragement to stick it out and fight for what she wanted in life rather than give up. She’d made it clear that running sometimes seemed easier than standing still and grasping for the future. But truth be told, they both needed to stop dwelling on things they couldn’t change and get on with life.

Maybe Paula and he could find answers in each other. He couldn’t think of anyone more lovely to heal with. As she had told him about the house sale falling through and her thoughts about moving away from Ferndale, he longed to take her in his arms and hold her. He wanted to understand the depth of her problem. Running hinted that something else caused the reaction, something more dire. It wasn’t her mother’s death or her lack of savings. Those were situations in her past she couldn’t change. Or was she trying to run away from herself? That seemed impossible. Paula had strength that could fight off many battles. He’d seen hints of it. So what was it that nearly did her in?

His eyes flew open as the video ended. The others rose, rustling papers and sliding their chairs into place. He looked around, hoping no one had witnessed his lack of attention. Not a single person gave him any notice so he breathed a relieved sigh. As he rose, he sensed someone behind him. When he turned, he saw Devon leaning against the door frame and watching him.

Guilt skittered up his back. The man knew him too well, and he waited for the question.

“What’s going on?”

“Thinking.” He shrugged. “Sorry, I know I need to watch the—”

“You’re seasoned, Clint. We show the videos as a review, especially for the newer guys although it helps all of us to stay on our toes.”

Clint found no meaningful response, and he trailed along with Devon heading for the day room, his mind on his tasks for the shift. Before he made the turn, Devon paused and rested his hand on Clint’s shoulder. “You’ve been spending time with Paula. I’m glad. She needs friends.” Devon eyed him with obviously more on his mind. “How’s it going?”

His face heated, a giveaway to the feelings he’d tried to hide, but he wasn’t fooling anyone, especially Devon. “She needed to talk, and I offered to listen.”

“Good excuse.” Devon chuckled. “I’m happy to see you stepping out a little, pal. You’ve been harbored too long. Time to get the paddles working.”

“She’s nice. I like her, but really, she needed to talk and I—”

“Don’t explain. I know.” He squeezed Clint’s shoulder and lowered his hand. “I’m guessing it was about the house sale falling through.”

He nodded, hoping he hadn’t overstepped her confidence.

“I’m sure you knew we wouldn’t stop her from buying the house. A job will come, and her mother’s house will sell eventually.”

“That’s what I told her.” But he’d also told her not to buy the house until she had the finances, and not just finances but a solid savings. He fidgeted in his pocket, trying to pull out his hankie. He didn’t need it, but it gave him something to do. He considered Devon a best friend, but at the moment, he felt cornered.

“Have you thought about asking her out?” Devon searched his face. “On a date, not just to talk.”

“You’re too nosy, pal.”

“Just getting even. I remember a year or so ago, when I was getting the sly questions and winks from you prying into my visits with the ‘young woman trapped under the tree.’ Remember?”

Clint chuckled, his discomfort easing. “I think you quoted that verbatim.”

“Close, at least.” Devon gave him an elbow. “But being serious, Paula’s been through a lot.”

“I know a little about her family life but not much more.” His anticipation grew as he wondered what Devon might know that he didn’t. “How about you? Any details?”

“Paula holds things in. I’m not sure Ashley knows much more than I do.” Devon glanced at his watch. “Paula needs time to trust people. At least that’s my take on it.”

Clint nodded and let it drop. Even if Devon knew something, he’d probably not feel right sharing it.

“No matter what, she can use a wise, steadfast friend, and as you know, I think one Clint Donatelli can be that person with the help of a quick kick in the pants. Life is in front of you, buddy, not behind.”

“Thanks for your sage advice, Mr. Cupid.” Though a ripple of heat unsteadied him, he winked at Devon. “I’ll take your comments under advisement.”

“Good, and to help you along, Ashley has invited you over for a wild game of Sequence. Can you make it Sunday evening?”

“Never heard of the game, but Sunday night’s open.”

Devon grinned. “Not anymore.”

Clint let Devon’s lightheartedness spirit his attitude. He turned toward the day room but halted when Devon called his name.

“In case you didn’t guess, Paula will be there, too.”

Clint’s stomach tightened. “I suspected.” He raised his hand and didn’t look back. All he needed was someone pushing him when he needed time to let the idea grow. At this point, the idea of a friend felt good, but he wasn’t totally confident it was what he should do or what he needed. First, his old baggage needed to be dumped.

He hesitated before continuing through the doorway. That wasn’t it at all. The truth nettled him. It had nothing to do with need, and good intentions weren’t a factor. His heart attested to that every day. Getting involved with a woman left him uncertain what direction he “could” go. Though questions still battered his mind, answers might ease his confusion and strengthen his confidence.

He saved lives for a living. Why couldn’t he save his own?

* * *

Paula watched the last couple arrive, one she didn’t know but remembered from the wedding.

“I think you all know Sal and his wife, Maureen.” Devon gazed around the room and stopped at her. “Paula, do remember them? Sal is one of our crew.”

She hated being the focus of everyone’s attention, especially Clint’s. He’d sat nearby, but they’d only talked a short time before Neely and Jon arrived and Clint shifted to his seat. “From the wedding, I think.” She sent them a smile, hoping it looked sincere. As happened too often at these events, she’d slipped into her distant mode. Groups made her uneasy, but then she’d rarely been involved in social situations. Her life had been mainly one-on-one.

After they were settled and had poured something to drink, Devon introduced the game. Most everyone knew it except Clint and her, so everyone had to go through the rules while she and Clint tried to understand the game.

Ashley stepped into the living room through the dining room archway. “We play in couples.” She grinned at the group. “Sal and Maureen, Neely and Jonny.” She paused, her eyes shifting from Clint to her. “Paula and Clint and Devon and me.” She pointed to the dining room. “Sit across from your partner.”

Paula rose and had started toward the doorway when Sal clasped her arm. “So what’s the secret here?” She realized he’d also nabbed Clint with the other hand. “Man, you got this beautiful woman and never said a thing at work.” He dropped his hand and guffawed. “Some men are too possessive.” He gave Paula a wink and followed his wife into the dining room.