Читать книгу The Firefighter's New Family - Gail Martin Gaymer - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Ashley longed to throw her legs over the mattress and head home. She missed Joey even though she knew Neely and her dad would wrap their love around him. She worried about other damages that might have happened to the house besides the broken front window. And then, a shattered window meant someone could break in and steal... Steal what? She didn’t have anything worth stealing. Except maybe her computer. That was her most valuable possession.

Well, she could purchase another computer. Photographs, little gifts Adam had given her. Those precious items could never be replaced.

Life was precious. She thanked God her life had been spared. Joey needed her. One parent was better than none. One loving parent was a precious gift to a child. She grinned, recalling while growing up how she had been covered in love by her father.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, a heavier step than the cushioned shoes the nurses wore. Was it him? Neely mentioned his name, but she’d already forgotten. She’d seen him before, mowing his lawn a few houses down the street from hers. She shook her head, recalling that when she’d first opened her foggy eyes, she’d thought he had been an angel. Then she’d focused, noticing the dark bristles on his chin, and calculated angels didn’t have to shave. Before the smile faded, her memory became a reality.

He stood in the doorway, looking hesitant.

“Please, come in.” She motioned to the only chair in the room. “I’m sure you’re tired and want to get out of here.” She lifted her shoulders. “I know I do.”

A grin brightened his face, but as he moved toward the chair, she spotted more than weariness in his eyes. The expression aroused her curiosity. “At least I’m more alert than I was when you found me.” She extended her hand. “Sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”

He grasped her hand and squeezed. “Devon Murphy. I live on Drayton, too, a few—”

“I know. I’ve seen you outside sometimes.” On her walks, she’d admired the neat two-story home of redbrick with muted moss-green trim. She’d envied the second-floor balcony and sometimes imagined what it might be like to sit there on a summer day. She had also admired his toned build and good looks. “Neely told me you’re a firefighter. I couldn’t have had a better person than you to find me.”

He shrugged. “Most anyone would have done the same. I’m grateful I came home later in the morning than usual because of the storm. When I saw Joey crying alone in the yard, I knew something was wrong.”

Her heart gave a kick, envisioning Joey confused and frightened. She shook her head and sent up another prayer of thanksgiving. “I’d left him napping on the sofa...and ran out to save his wagon from being blown down the street and to put my car in the garage. I thought I’d be right back inside.” She motioned toward the chair again. “Please.”

“Things don’t always go as planned.” Finally he dropped onto the vinyl cushion and rested his arms on his knees, his fingers woven together. “I stuck around today for Joey. He’s my new buddy.” He gave her a tired grin. “And to be honest, I wanted to know you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” She searched his eyes, curious if he visited all the people he’d rescued. “The fuzz is gone from my brain at least. Only a minor concussion, but then anesthetic can turn gray matter to mush, too.”

Devon gestured toward her leg beneath the sheet. “And the fracture. I’m sorry about that.”

Her leg was another matter. “I’m alive. It could have been worse.” She recalled her confusion. “To be honest, I thought you were an angel when I first opened my eyes.”

His seriousness fled, and he laughed. “Me. I’d be the one with a tilted halo.”

“The Littlest Angel.” If he really were an angel, she would ask for a miracle healing so she could go home.

Devon’s grin faded. “How long will you be here?”

“I’m not sure. The surgeon talked in circles, but I hope they let me out tomorrow.”

He arched an eyebrow. “That would be a miracle.”

Miracle. He’d read her mind.

“You had a surface wound on your thigh and then surgery to set the lower leg with a screw. They’ll want to keep an eye on you for a while.”

“But...” Tears escaped her eyes and hung on her lashes. She lowered her head, hoping he didn’t notice and wanting to be the brave person she’d learned to be when she lost her husband. Before she could wipe the moisture away, tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Ashley?” He sprang up and stood beside the bed, his hand on her arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I—”

“You were being honest.” She raised her head, ignoring the tears. “I’m Joey’s only parent, and what will he do without me?”

“I’m really sorry.”

His compassion touched her. “Adam died in the Middle East. Afghanistan. He never saw Joey. Never knew his son, and—” The words jammed in her throat. “Sorry. It’s been nearly three years, but it still hurts.”

“I’m sure it does. I can’t imagine.” His face filled with tenderness as a distant look in his eyes assured her that he understood her sorrow.

She swallowed, hoping to control her emotions, and she dug deep for strength. “With a toddler, I was blessed to find work I could do at home—secretarial work for a couple of small businesses. And I have a stack of things they need soon. The job’s been a lifesaver for me. No need to hire someone to care for Joey. Setting my own work schedule.” Schedule. Her sister’s image flew into her mind. “And Neely. I’ve really messed up her wedding.”

Devon’s jaw dropped. “How did you do that?”

She pictured the lovely dress Neely had selected for the attendants. “Her wedding. I’m the matron of honor.” She flung her arm toward her leg. “Can you picture me hobbling down the aisle? I’m supposed to be her hands and eyes. But now, my hands will be on crutches and my eyes focused on not falling over.”

His concerned expression unraveled and he laughed. “I’m sorry, but you have so many other things to worry about. The wedding doesn’t seem like your worst problem. Your sister will love you anyway.”

She narrowed her eyes and shot him a glare. “You don’t understand.”

He drew back, giving her a cockeyed look. “I probably don’t.”

His expression tickled her, and her irritation slipped away. “I...I shouldn’t have taken my self-pity out on you. It’s certainly not your fault.”

A tender look filled his eyes. “When’s the wedding?”

“August. I doubt if I’ll be—”

“Think positively. You never know. You could be dancing at the wedding. That’s more than two months away.”

She shrugged. “I hope. But I can’t help think of all the wedding plans I’m supposed to help with...and Joey. Now here I am in the hospital.”

“One day at a time.” He looked uneasy. “You have Neely’s help, and I’m sure—”

“And my dad. He’s so good with Joey, but he has things to do.” She felt foolish with her uncontrolled emotions as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I just want to go home.”

Devon drew a tissue from the box on her tray table and wiped away the moisture. “I know you do, and you will soon enough. Getting around on crutches will be the trick.”

“I can do it. If I can lift that boy of mine, I can handle a crutch.”

He chuckled again. “He is a heavyweight.” He dropped the tissue into the paper receptacle taped to the tray table. “And if either your sister or your dad needs help with Joey, I’ll be happy to entertain him for a few hours when I can. I work forty-eights hours on and forty-eight hours off with an occasional Kelly Day thrown in.”

“Kelly Day? What’s that? An Irish holiday?”

“No holiday or relationship to my Irish surname. Since we aren’t paid overtime, we receive extra days off so our workweek meets the Fair Labor laws. A myth says the surname Kelly came from the Chicago mayor who revamped the firefighters’ schedule and improved their wages and benefits.”

Seeing his grin, she realized he was even more handsome than she remembered. She tried to shift her leg so she could roll to her side, but as always the bandage and ache waylaid her. She appreciated how Devon’s playfulness distracted her from her worries even for a little while.

He stood above her, his hand returning to her arm. The warmth rushed to her heart for his kindness. “I’m going to leave and get some shut-eye, and I hope you get well fast and can get home soon.”

Ashley pressed her hand against his. “Before you leave, I want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. You’re an A-1 example of a good neighbor. I’ll be forever grateful.”

“Just get well.” He straightened and gave her a wink. “See you soon.”

She lifted her hand in a feeble wave, hoping she would see him soon. It sounded nice. But as his broad shoulders swept through the doorway, the familiar guilt came back. Even when she tried to reason with herself, her late husband, Adam, filled her mind. She felt as if she were cheating on him when she enjoyed another man’s company. One day the feeling might pass... Would pass, but for now, she couldn’t shake it off.

She feared that having a male friend would crush the new life she’d built for herself and Joey. She’d learned to stand on her own, to be strong and determined. On the other hand, Devon made her smile, and his kindness couldn’t be measured. He was an angel in a way, but friendships with the opposite sex, though aimed at being platonic, often led to romance. Months earlier she’d talked herself into a relationship that turned into a disaster. She’d been overconfident he was the real thing. She’d been duped. Even Neely’s warning had flown over her head, but her sister had been right. The guy proved to be a lustful drunk, a real snake in the grass.

Enough of him. She blotted him from her thoughts and replaced him with Devon’s kind face. He had these mahogany eyes, canopied by straight eyebrows. His lips curved to an amazing smile that made her smile back. If she ever fell in love again, Devon would be the kind of man she would want. He reflected the wonderful attributes she’d loved in Adam.

But Devon had one huge strike against him. She would never align herself with a man whose career put him in danger every day. Adam had been a soldier. Devon, a firefighter. Both careers screamed danger. She wouldn’t do that to herself. Not again. Ever.

* * *

The red digital numbers pierced his vision and Devon closed his eyelids again. A three-hour nap was all he’d had and even that had been restless. Each time he woke, he relived hearing Joey’s cries earlier in the day and finding Ashley under the tree. Too often, the images intruded. He wasn’t alone. Every firefighter dealt with the same horrible recollections.

At least he’d done as he promised. When he’d pulled into his driveway from the hospital, he’d checked Ashley’s window. As Mr. Wells had promised, he’d patched it with pieces of plywood that had seen better days, but it worked. Still the window required repairing, and the tree needed to be cut and removed. When Ashley came home, he didn’t want those problems hanging over her.

He slipped his arm beneath his head and gazed at the ceiling. Even there he could see Ashley beneath the tree. At the hospital when he saw her after the surgery, he’d been blown away by her beautiful eyes, wide-set and as brown as dark chocolate, and arched by brows as sculpted as a bird’s wings.

Knowing sleep evaded him, he slipped his legs over the edge of the bed, stretched his arms to the ceiling and dragged air into his aching chest. The short nap would suffice. Dusk hung outside the window. He glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty. Daylight savings time had given him an extra hour of light.

He ambled into the kitchen, filled the coffeemaker and stared into space. Though needing to eat, he wasn’t interested in food. Instead, he wondered how Joey was faring and if Ashley had rested after they’d said goodbye earlier. She needed rest since they would have her up soon for physical therapy. She would learn to use crutches, to walk up the stairs and move around on her own. When she mastered the undertakings and healed to the physician’s satisfaction, the reward would be to return home. That was what she wanted, and her drive guaranteed Ashley would do all she could to make it happen. He’d already recognized her staunch character, her determination.

Grateful for the day, he wanted to see what he could do to help with Ashley’s house. His own place needed dusting and vacuuming, maybe a load of laundry, but Ashley’s home needed more. His own tasks could wait.

The coffee’s gurgle roused him. He filled a mug with the pungent brew and pulled out his cell phone before settling at the kitchen table. He searched the call log, spotted Neely’s number and hit it. As it rang, he reviewed what he could do to help. After three rings, he raised his finger to end the call. Instead, a man answered. Question sounded in his voice.

“Hi, I’m the firefighter who found Ashley this morning. Is this her sister’s number?”

“Devon. That’s your name, right?” His tone became friendly. “Thanks for your help. We’re grateful.”

He assumed the voice belonged to Neely’s fiancé. “No need to thank me. I was at the right place at the right time.” He paused. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m a bit forgetful.” He chuckled. “I’m Fred Andrews, Neely’s dad. I’m glad you called. You were a hit with Joey.”

“He made a hit with me.” Devon chuckled. “He’s an amazing kid. So smart.”

“He is. You can tell I’m a proud grandpa.” His voice muffled a moment. “Hang on. Neely wants to say something.”

A rustle of noise was broken by Neely’s greeting. “I’ve talked to Ash, and I thought you’d want to know she’s doing okay. She slept after we left, and she’s a fighter. She’ll get out of there as fast as she can. Meanwhile, we’ll be with Joey. My dad’s available to help, and if he’s busy, I can take time off work. Jon, my fiancé, would take a day, too.”

His disappointment surprised him. “No other problems then?”

“Well...” She drew out the word. “Now that you ask, the house is another issue, and—”

“That’s why I called.” His disappointment faded. “I’ll be happy to pitch in where I can. I don’t have a key, but if you trust me, maybe—”

“Trust you.” She sputtered the words with a chuckle. “Goodness, you’re more than trustworthy. But I don’t want to take advantage—”

“I’m volunteering. I have a couple of days off, so I can help. I know a guy who cuts trees—unless you have someone in mind—and I know another guy who can replace the window. I can give him a call about the situation if you’d like.”

“Like? It’s perfect, and by the way, I called the insurance company so they know what happened. So, if you’re willing...” She covered the mouthpiece a moment and then returned. “How about this? Jon just arrived. He can meet you at the house in ten minutes and give you the key. Will that work?”

“Sure does. I’ll watch for his car.”

“It’s light beige.”

“Got it.” When he hung up, he rose and dug into the refrigerator. He pulled out bread and slapped salami and pepper jack cheese between the slices. Dinner with no fuss. With a refill on coffee, he walked to the living room window and waited.

His interest in the project boggled him. Dealing with injured people and property damage was a daily event, and he tried to harden himself to it. Otherwise it would eat him raw.

But today he’d experienced a sense of mission, almost as if he had been called to serve in a special way. It had to be the boy. Kids could twist hearts around their tiny fingers. He’d been twisted already when he’d looked at the little boy’s face.

His daughter, Kaylee, filled his thoughts again. He should have picked her up today, but her mother had called and asked him to skip the visitation this week. She’d sounded different—slow and calculated. He shouldn’t have agreed, but she riled easily. To keep peace, he’d agreed to the change. He’d do anything to avoid arguing. He would see Kaylee on his next days off, but he still didn’t like it.

When headlights reflected on the road, he chomped down the final hunk of sandwich. Though the night darkened by the minute, he could make out a light-colored SUV. He swallowed the last of the coffee, set the mug on the lamp table and stepped outside.

The vehicle pulled in front of Ashley’s house, and as Devon neared, Jon slipped from the driver’s seat. The man stood tall with broad shoulders and a shock of dark hair.

Devon crossed the street and greeted him in the driveway.

Jon dug into his pocket and dangled a single key from a key ring. “This is kind of you.”

“I’m happy to help. I know Ashley is a single mom, and—”

Jon dropped his gaze. “She’s been through too much. This kind of thing doesn’t help.”

Not seeing Kaylee today arose in his thoughts. “It doesn’t.” But he’d admired Ashley’s bravery from the moment they’d met. Questions filled Devon’s mind, but he resisted and he hadn’t needed to.

Jon released a long sigh. “Adam was a great guy. Kind, loving, faith-filled. He would have been a model dad.” Sadness filled his eyes. “He never had a chance. I know that made it more difficult for Ashley. But she only grew stronger. Instead of falling apart, she threw her energy into raising Joey.” Pride replaced his sorrow. “The boy’s bright like his daddy—not to say Ashley isn’t smart—but Adam had something special. I think his son has it, too.”

Devon coughed to cover his unexpected emotion and changed the subject. “I’ll make those calls I mentioned to Neely, or if you—”

“Yes, thanks. If you’ll get estimates, I’ll call her insurance company for approval to proceed.” Jon extended his hand.

Devon grasped it. “Good plan. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

Jon clasped his shoulder. “Thanks again.” Jon shook his hand again and turned down the driveway to his vehicle.

Devon waited until he pulled away, and though temptation to go inside lured him, he didn’t. When he was wound up, his body kicked into endurance mode, and the sleep he needed might never come. Tomorrow made more sense. With that settled, he headed home. Maybe if he tried to read or watch a movie, he’d drift off in his recliner. That seemed to happen when he didn’t want to sleep. Maybe tonight it would work in his favor.

* * *

Devon turned the key in the lock and pushed open the side door. Even though he had permission, walking into someone’s house when they weren’t home gave him the creeps. He wondered if burglars felt the same way. He took the two steps into the kitchen. A carton of milk sat on the countertop and a loaf of bread stood nearby. Ashley said she’d been in the kitchen when everything happened. He poured out the milk and tossed the carton into a trash can he found beneath the sink. He added “buy milk” to his task list.

He passed through a small dining area into the living room and faced the boarded window. A lamp lay on the floor beside a toppled side table. Across the carpet, glass shards glittered in the daylight from a side window. He righted the table, moving it away from the glass, and surveyed the lamp. No damage. The contents of a candy dish lay scattered nearby. He turned over the dish and replaced the wrapped candies, then set the bowl on the table. A photograph lay facedown. When he lifted it, his heart lurched. A good-looking young man, wearing his Class A uniform, blond hair showing beneath his cap. Adam. He’d been right about Joey’s hair color, and now he noticed the similar jawline. A father who had never seen his son.

Though he’d learned to control his emotions, pressure pushed behind Devon’s eyes. He closed them and set the photo on the table, refusing to weaken. A crying firefighter was useless, but hardening his heart was tough.

He walked into the kitchen, and near the backdoor where he’d seen stairs to the basement, he found a small broom closet. He opened it. No vacuum cleaner. He followed his instincts deeper into the house and located another closet, mainly linens with a small space to squeeze the Hoover. He pushed it into the living room, plugged it in and stepped on the button. The machine’s hum filled the silence as he worked it back and forth. When the carpet looked free of glass, he attached an edge tool and inched it along the space close to the wall. Joey played on the floor, he was sure, and he didn’t want the boy to get cut.

Standing back, he surveyed the window. Though difficult to measure, he pulled the measure tape from his pocket and did his best to estimate the size in each direction, one large window and two smaller panes. He’d let the expert worry about accurate measurements.

Devon made the two calls before he left the house. Both men promised to call back and come by today as soon as they could, so all he had to do was wait.

After returning the vacuum cleaner to the closet, he passed another row of photographs sitting on a small buffet in the dining room. He walked closer, his stomach tightening. Ashley and Adam’s wedding photo wrenched his heart. Two smiling faces beamed into the camera, their arms entwined, a bouquet of white orchids tinged in pink, dark green vines twining between pink rosebuds. A lump formed in his throat, and at that moment, he realized the tears were for himself.

His marriage had ended more strangely than he could ever understand. He and Gina had never argued other than the typical little squabbles all couples had. They’d been in love...he’d thought. When he tried to sort it out, the only clue he found came after her pregnancy. She called it postpartum depression. He’d known of the illness, but had no idea the stress it would add to their lives. Days came when she didn’t want to get out of bed. She had lost interest in everything. Her mood swung from anger to withdrawn silence. Even toward Kaylee. Because of his work schedule, she suggested living with her sister who could help her. He watched her go, but he’d tried everything to bring her home. Instead of getting better, she became worse.

The memories tore through him, weighting his chest and curdling his stomach. He loved his daughter. He’d loved Gina, but the love had died. She’d become a woman he no longer knew. He’d failed her. Even prayers and pleading with God had reaped no answer, and finally he stopped, sensing that her choice was God’s will. Had he been wrong to think it had been the Lord’s decision? He still had no answer to the question.

Thinking of her call, he’d heard a new desperation in her voice. Something prodded him to call her and demand Kaylee today. He could fight for custody. He turned his eyes to the one window open, which added light to the room. As he looked at the blurred scenery, tears rolled down his cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his hand, frustrated that he’d allowed himself to succumb to self-pity.

Or was it really pity? Love for his daughter burned in his heart.

He forced himself away from the photographs, not liking the feelings they’d exposed. He scanned the other rooms. Everything looked in order, a few things here and there like any home. Ashley hadn’t planned an injury and days in the hospital when she walked out the side door to move her car and salvage Joey’s wagon.

Joey. The child would need clothes if he stayed with Neely, and he had the key. He’d call and return it. As the situations organized in his mind, a noise alerted him. He glanced out the front door and saw the window repairman. Once he was gone, he’d leave for the store to pick up milk. Or maybe he’d wait until he learned Ashley’s release date.

With Ashley on his mind, he opened the door for the window installer and led him to the living room. While he watched the man work, he reviewed the thoughts skittering through his mind. He wanted to get to know Ashley better. A lady friend sounded nice. A sweet sensation rolled through his chest, but for now, he could only handle friendship.

He had offered his babysitting services to Neely again, thinking about Kaylee and Joey playing together, but the bonus to his plan offered him a chance to bond with Ashley. He liked her. A lot. Though Kaylee was almost a year older, Joey’s skills for a three-year-old equaled hers, he was sure. They would get along fine.

But what if they didn’t? That could be the end of his plan.