Читать книгу Hero Dad - Marta Perry - Страница 11

“This is what you meant by taking me through some safety training?”

Julie watched Seth’s face, hoping for a sign that he was kidding about this. She hadn’t known what to expect when he’d picked her up at her hotel this morning, but it hadn’t been this—a collection of thrown-together buildings on the outskirts of Suffolk, an expanse of asphalt and a hodge-podge of firefighting equipment.

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but this is the Suffolk Fire Academy.” He gestured at the fenced-in area. “Suffolk’s big enough to have a professional fire department, but funding is always a problem.”

“So they skimp on the academy?” It looked as much like a junkyard as anything else. She spotted a group of people in coveralls coming down the side of one of the buildings with ropes. Surely Seth didn’t expect her to do that.

He grinned. “Firefighters don’t expect luxury accommodations. Good thing, because they wouldn’t get them.”

Her journalistic mind began to kick in. “Surely the training is important enough to spend money on.”

“Training, yes. Our recruits go through a tough twelve-week program. But there’s never enough money to go around, and they can learn just as well in a Quonset hut as a fancy classroom.”

One of the people descending the building had lost his or her grip and fallen the last few feet. She held her breath until the person was up again.

“You’re not planning to have me do that, are you?” She nodded toward the group.

“Sadly, our insurance wouldn’t cover that.”

He was probably teasing again, but sometimes she found it difficult to tell. That constant teasing must be part of the firefighter culture. Or the Flanagan culture. They tended to blend.

“You get to meet another Flanagan.” He nodded toward the man walking toward them, wearing the same blue uniform Seth did. A beautiful yellow Labrador walked at his side. “My brother Gabe.”

“Hi, bro.” Gabe slapped Seth’s shoulder, and then extended his hand toward her. “You must be Julie. I’m sorry my wife and I couldn’t make it to dinner the other night to meet you.”

While she murmured pleasantries, Julie compared the two of them. Gabe was leaner than Seth, with lines around his deep blue eyes that suggested he’d seen difficulties and come through them.

She held out her hand to the dog. “Who is this beautiful creature? I thought fire dogs were Dalmatians.”

“This is Max.” Gabe fondled the dog’s ears, and the animal pressed against his leg. “Max is my seizure-alert dog.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—” She stopped, confused. Obviously the private investigator’s report hadn’t included everything.

“I was injured on duty, and the seizures were an unpleasant aftereffect. So now I spend most of my time training service animals and a couple of days a week training firefighters.” He gestured toward the trainees who were waiting for his return. “Join us.”

She followed, very aware of Seth walking by her side. Did he think she’d been clumsy? If she had, it hadn’t been intentional. Gabe’s calm acceptance of his injury must have been hard-won.

And that was another aspect of Seth’s firefighting career that she’d think he’d spend more time considering. Did a single parent really have the right to be in such a dangerous profession?

They reached the group of trainees, who looked at her with mild curiosity.

“This is Ms. White,” Gabe announced. “She’s going to be taking a few photos today. Don’t worry about how you look, just how you perform.”

A few shot her interested looks, but for the most part the recruits focused their attention on Gabe and Seth. Good, that was how she liked it. She pulled out the camera.

That expression in the trainees’ faces when they looked at the brothers intrigued her. Awe came closest to describing it. Gabe and Seth, in their neat blue uniforms, were the men they wanted to be.

“Look sharp, people.” Gabe pointed to a long ladder that lay on the ground. “The fifty-foot ladder. How many firefighters to raise it?”

“Six.” Several of them answered at once. They were leaning forward, obviously eager to knock themselves out trying to put it up.

She slipped to the side, lifting the camera. She might not understand their ambition, but she didn’t need to in order to get a good shot.

The next few moments were a jumble of shouts, groans and straining muscles. The huge ladder seemed to take on a life of its own. It began to sway, almost out of control, and Julie stepped back. She didn’t need the warning glance Seth shot her to know it was dangerous.

Then Seth and Gabe took hold of the thing and in an instant it smacked against the building. Seth stepped back, grinning, and dusted off his hands.

“Attitude, people. Attitude. You don’t let the Fifty know you’re not confident.”

It took a second for Julie to realize the Fifty was the ladder. He made it sound like an ally.

Gabe lifted an eyebrow at his brother. “Pretty cocky, aren’t you? Let’s see how you do against me in a hose relay. Pick your three.”

Seth pointed to two of the trainees. Then he pointed at her.

“Oh, no.” She didn’t know what a hose relay was, and she had no desire to learn.

“Yes.” Seth took the camera from her and set it atop the camera bag. “You’ve been watching long enough. Time to get your hands dirty.”

He didn’t think she’d do it. He was looking at her with a challenge in his eyes, and he thought she’d turn him down.

She should. She hadn’t been physically challenged in years. Mentally and artistically, maybe, but not physically. She was offended at the idea that he’d judge her on the basis of brute strength, but worried at the same time about that strength.

Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me what to do.”

He clapped her shoulder the way Gabe had clapped his. It nearly made her stagger.

“All right. Come with me.”

Gabe had already picked his team, and they stood waiting.

The relay actually seemed simple enough. Grab the hose, race forward with it on the signal to the next member of the team, and pass it on. The first team across the line Gabe had drawn in the dirt won.

A few minutes later Julie was outfitted in one of the blue jumpsuits. She waited with dancing nervousness on the mark Seth pointed out to her.

Seth had put the two trainees first. She had the third leg and he had the fourth. Obviously he expected her to lose ground that he intended to make up.

She jogged a few steps, loosening up. Seth just might be in for a surprise. She might not haul fifty-foot ladders, but she did run every day.

Gabe checked the positions of both teams. Then he blew his whistle. The first two trainees raced forward. She watched intently, jogging in place. Obviously the challenge lay in hauling the hose, not in running. The runners sweated and panted as they passed off, almost in a dead heat.

The woman who was second on their team ran toward her, making it look easy until her foot somehow tangled with the hose and she stumbled. There were a few catcalls, then cheers as she righted herself and charged on.

Like a race at school, Julie told herself. Nothing to be nervous about. The woman reached her, thrusting the hose into her hands.

Don’t trip, don’t trip. She ran forward, hauling the hose. It felt like a living creature that dragged at her arms, unwilling to move.

Then she realized that the others were cheering for her. Had anyone ever cheered for her before? For some reason the sound pushed her forward. Panting, forcing her legs to move, she reached the line and handed off to Seth.

She leaned over, gasping for breath. The other woman on her team pounded her on the back. “Good job. You gained us a couple of feet.” She ran on, cheering Seth as he headed for the finish line.

I did? She pushed herself toward the line as Seth crossed it several feet ahead of his brother.

She was swept into a melee of high fives and cheers. Seth lifted her off her feet in a hug. “Good job, Julie. Good job. Who would think a little thing like you could run that fast with a hose?”

“Hey, bro, you only won because you brought a ringer with you.” Gabe pounded her back. “Good work. Next time you can be on my team.”

“No chance.” Seth slung his arm around her shoulders in a casual hug. “I saw her first.”

She felt a contrary wave of pride. They’d won a race. What difference did that make?

For some reason, Paul’s words popped into her mind. “Seeing that I am surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, I run the race that is set before me.”

There was more realism in that comparison than she’d seen before. You did run faster when you were aware of people cheering you on.

And maybe Seth had taught her something she needed to know about firefighters. That purely visceral response to a physical challenge was part of their everyday life. Without it, they probably couldn’t do what they had to do, like raise a fifty-foot ladder, haul a bundle of hose up a flight of stairs or race into a burning building without looking back.

Seth needed that kind of competitive response on the job. But what about turning it off when he went home to his little boy?

Seth caught the pitch Ryan sent his way and tossed the ball underhand to Mary Kate’s oldest. The little girl missed the catch but ran shouting after the ball, chased by her younger brother. The ball disappeared into the thick cluster of fallen leaves under the maple tree in Gabe and Nolie’s side yard, and they scrambled into the leaves like a pair of puppies.

This might be the last Sunday afternoon picnic of the fall at Nolie’s Ark, the farm where Gabe and Nolie raised and trained their service animals. The picnics had become a tradition in the few short months since their wedding. Seth hated seeing it come to an end, but the days were getting cooler already.

The expanse of green lawn was studded here and there with beds filled with the bronze and gold of mums. A couple of miniature horses, a goat and a donkey grazed in the fenced pasture, lifting their heads now and then to watch the Flanagan clan at play.

Seth saw Gabe and Nolie come out of the red barn, and Gabe caught his wife close for a quick kiss before they parted, with Nolie heading toward the kitchen and Gabe coming toward him. Watching them was bittersweet.

Would he and Lisa have had that incandescent happiness if she’d lived? Or would the unhappiness that had often shadowed his wife’s eyes have gotten worse with the years? He would never know.

“I see she’s still taking pictures.” Gabe, reaching him, nodded toward the group under the trees. The kids played like puppies, and Julie knelt, her gold sweatshirt blending with the leaves, snapping away.

“That’s why she’s here.” He glanced at the picnic tables, where his mother and Terry were spreading tablecloths. “She’ll have to stop long enough to eat, or Mom will be unhappy.”

“She gave up the camera at the training academy, didn’t she?” Gabe elbowed him. “She surprised you.”

“Well, I asked her to participate. I just didn’t think she would.”

He also hadn’t thought she’d do as well as she had. Hauling hose at a dead run wasn’t easy, but she’d managed. That deceptively fragile air of hers had thrown him.

“You were trying to scare her off.” Gabe’s assessment was blunt, as always. It had never been any good trying to put something over on his big brother. “Why?”

He shrugged, not even sure himself why he wanted to discourage Julie. “I guess I don’t like the idea of being put on display in some magazine.”

“Me, either.”

The quiet words made him ashamed. Gabe had more reason than he did to shun the spotlight, but Gabe had conquered his initial frustration with his disability. He even voluntarily went out on speaking engagements with Max, knowing that his actions helped other people with disabilities.

“She’s just doing her job.” Gabe nodded toward Julie, who had gone over to the tables and was talking to his mother. “Give her a break, will you?”

“I guess you’ve got a point.” Seth bent to pat Max’s head. “Maybe I should start cooperating.”

Gabe grinned. “A lot of guys would be happy to work with someone who looks like Julie. Loosen up.”

“I’ll try.”

In fact, he’d start trying right now. He crossed the lawn toward the tables, wondering what had drawn a little crowd.

Then he got close enough to see. Julie’s laptop. She was showing them the digital photos she’d taken.

He leaned over his cousin Brendan’s shoulder to have a look. One photo after another flashed on the small screen like a slide show. Julie leaned back a little, as if to say that she wasn’t responsible for how people reacted to her work.

He leaned closer as the pictures she’d taken at Davy’s preschool began to show. They were close-ups, most of them, that cut out the background clutter to catch the little faces. Davy, his face so alight with mischief it seemed he’d walk out of the picture, made a mock grab at his father’s uniform patch.

“Wow. Julie, these are great.”

“Wonderful,” his mother breathed. Her eyes misted with tears at a photo of his dad leaning against an engine. Something about the image almost seemed to say that the man and the machine were one.

“Julie, you’re a terrific photographer.” Brendan smiled at her. “Of course, I guess you already knew that.”

Seth looked at Julie to see how she was taking their praise. Her expression grabbed his heart.

She was so obviously both pleased and embarrassed at their words. The woman was such a blend of cool professional expertise and personal—what? He stopped, at a loss for the right word.

Shyness didn’t seem to quite fit. He continued to watch her as Nolie announced that the food was ready and everyone began to hustle, setting plates and bowls on the table.

Julie moved the laptop out of the way, but she didn’t seem to know whether she should do anything otherwise. She just hung back, awkward.

He touched her elbow, moving her out of the way of Mary Kate and an enormous platter of fried chicken. “Relax, you don’t have to help. You’re a guest.”

Her smile was grateful, as if he’d really done something for her. “I’d like to do my share, but they’re so well organized that it’s intimidating.”

“Believe me, when it comes to getting food on the table, the Flanagans are experts.”

Claire, Brendan’s fiancée, laughed. “To say nothing of how expert they are at putting it away. Before I got involved with this crowd, I thought Sunday dinner meant a salad and a piece of broiled chicken.”

Brendan pulled her into a hug. “You love every minute. Admit it.”

“Why I haven’t gained ten pounds since meeting you, I’ll never know.” Claire gave him a quick kiss and shooed him out of the way. “Go help Nolie carry out the coffee urn. You have to do something to earn your meal.”

Seth smiled at their interplay. Love. Everyone seemed to be falling in love recently.

But not him. He’d already had his love, and he didn’t expect God to send that his way again, but it wasn’t fair for Davy to be without a good mother.

That role definitely didn’t apply to someone like Julie. But he glanced at her, only to find that Julie was sitting on the ground, intently studying the maple leaf that Davy held out to her.

His son’s tiny palms held the leaf carefully, as if he feared he’d tear it. He was smiling into Julie’s face, apparently confident that she’d find it equally intriguing.

As for Julie—

Julie looked as if she’d just been handed the best present of her life.

She’d made a big mistake in all her careful planning, Julie thought, pushing back from the table after the enormous meal was finally finished. She hadn’t begun to realize how Lisa’s child would affect her.

My nephew, she’d wanted to say when Davy had entrusted her with the maple leaf he’d found. I have as much right to hold you, to love you, as anyone else.

She hadn’t said it, of course. For an instant, tears blurred her eyes. She blinked them quickly away. She couldn’t let herself begin imagining that she’d ever have any right to tell Davy who she was. She’d known that from the start. She just hadn’t known how much it would hurt.

“See, Julie, see?”

Davy ran ahead toward the pasture fence, while she and Seth followed along behind. Seth had suggested his son have a nap after dinner, but Davy had shaken that idea off, insisting that Julie had to see the donkey.

At least, she thought that was what he’d said. Davy’s language was sometimes difficult for her to understand, although the rest of the Flanagans didn’t seem to have trouble interpreting it. Even Mary Kate’s two young children were quick to announce what Davy wanted.

“I wish I had that much energy.” She watched as the child darted forward, doubled back to check on a dandelion’s puffball and then ran ahead of them again.

“I’m telling myself that I can’t keep up with him because I ate too much.” Seth patted his flat stomach. “But it might just be because I’m getting too old to keep up with a two-year-old.”

“Three next week. That’s what he told me when I asked how old he is. Three next week.”

Her smile lingered on her lips. It was probably silly to be so affected because a small child had shared his discovery that leaves turned color in the fall, but she couldn’t help it. So maybe she’d better just concentrate on enjoying this brief span of time with her nephew, instead of mourning that there wouldn’t be more.

Actually, it was amazing how relaxed she felt. It could have been that moment of connection with Davy, or the excellent meal or maybe the beautiful surroundings.

Or maybe she was simply happy to be walking across a field with Seth, watching his son romp through the grass.

Seth’s attitude toward her seemed to have changed, and she wasn’t sure why. She just knew that slightly edgy watchfulness of his had eased. He accepted her.

“A birthday’s pretty special when you’re that age.” His voice seemed to warm. “Will you still be around then? We’d like to have you come to the party, if so.”

“I’ll probably be here another week, at least.” She said it carefully, fearful of making a commitment she wouldn’t be able to keep. “I’d love to come to Davy’s birthday party, if you’re sure you want me.”

“Well, who wouldn’t want a professional photographer at a kid’s birthday party?” He caught her hand in his, swinging it lightly. “We might actually end up with some pictures we can see, instead of Ryan’s out-of-focus blobs.”

“No blobs, I promise.” She felt ridiculously lighthearted. The warmth of Seth’s hand seemed to extend right up her arm.

An outrageous thought flickered tantalizingly through her mind. What if she told him? What if she came right out and told him she was Lisa’s sister? He seemed to be accepting her. Maybe he could accept that. If Lisa had told him about her family—

The thought stopped there. She didn’t know what Lisa had told him. She only knew what Lisa had told her.

A spasm of pain gripped her heart. She hadn’t heard anything from Lisa after that letter saying she was getting married. She hadn’t known about Davy.

She hadn’t even known about Lisa’s death until she’d realized Lisa hadn’t drawn any funds from the trust she administered for her. That had roused her concern enough to make her hire the private investigator to find her.

“See, Julie?” Davy danced in front of the pasture fence, waving his arms. “See?”

“I see.” She shaded her eyes. “I see the donkey and the goat, but what are those other things?”

“Don’t you recognize a horse when you see one, city girl?” Laughter filled Seth’s voice. He leaned against the split-rail fence, propping his elbows on it.

“Okay, they do look like horses, but they’re no bigger than Max is.”

She leaned against the railing next to him. He moved closer, tilting his head toward her. The sunlight brought out red highlights in his brown hair. He’d folded back the sleeves of the flannel shirt he wore, and the light gilded his skin.

“Miniature horse is the correct term, I understand. Nolie has started training them.”

If he kept using that soft, laughing tone with her, she was in big trouble. “For what? The circus?”

“Believe it or not, she hopes to use them instead of dogs for people who are blind. She says the breed of horses is intelligent and longer-lived than dogs, and should make good guides.”

“Seeing-eye horses. Well, I guess that’s no more astonishing than anything else I’ve seen around here. Nolie’s Ark, according to the sign.”

“She wanted to change it when she and Gabe got married, but he wouldn’t agree. He says Nolie’s Ark gave him back his life, and he won’t have the place called anything else.”

Davy was swinging on the bottom rail of the fence, crooning a song softly to himself as he watched the animals.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass your brother by mentioning the dog the other day. I didn’t know about his disability.”

“You didn’t embarrass him. He’s adjusted to it now. At first—” Seth’s face sobered. “When it looked as if Gabe couldn’t fight fire any more, we didn’t know what to do to help him. Then Nolie gave him a reason to go on living.”

She shivered in spite of the warmth of the September sun. “That could have been you.”

She regretted it as soon as the words were out. He’d closed her out before when she’d mentioned the dangers of a job like his for a single father.

“I guess it could have.” He stared absently at the goat, which seemed to be trying to eat its way through the fence. “You can’t think about results like that on the job or you’d be worthless. To fight fire, you need a certain belief in—well, your own invincibility, I guess.”

She thought again of the way he’d stepped in to put the heavy ladder up, casually confident in his body’s ability to do what was needed. She had to admit, that air of confidence was very compelling.

“But you have a son.” She couldn’t hold the words back. “If something happened to you—”

He shrugged, pressing his arm against hers and sending another wave of warmth flooding her. “Every firefighter faces that. In my case, I’m a single father, but I do have family.” He nodded toward the picnic tables, smiling. “Lots and lots of family. If something happened to me, they’d take over.”

“And your wife?” It took an effort to keep her tone casual. “Would her family help out?”

For an instant he didn’t move, didn’t answer. Her question hung there, like the bumblebee that was poised over a flower at her feet.

“No.” His tone brought her gaze to his face, and what she saw there chilled her. “My wife had a mother who left her, a father who controlled her every move and a sister who deserted her. She didn’t want to have anything to do with her family. And neither do I.”

His words were totally implacable. All the friendly laughter had been wiped from his face. He meant what he said.

So she couldn’t tell him the truth. Ever.