Читать книгу Their Ranch Reunion - Mindy Obenhaus - Страница 15

Chapter Four

How could this have happened?

Carly stood beside the towering conifer in front of Livie’s house a couple of hours later, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. Staring at Granger House, she felt as though she were fighting to keep herself together. In only a short time, the fire had ravaged her majestic old home, leaving it scarred and disheveled.

At the back of the house, where the kitchen was located, soot trailed up the once beautiful sea foam green siding, leaving it blackened and ugly. Windows were missing and, as she strained to look inside, all she could see was black.

She breathed in deeply through her nose, trying to quell the nausea that refused to go away. If only they would let her go inside. Perhaps she’d find out things weren’t as bad as they seemed.

The loud rumble of the fire engine filled her ears as firemen traipsed back and forth, returning hoses to their trucks. Carly eyed her gauze-wrapped hand. At least it didn’t sting anymore. The smell of smoke would be forever seared into her memory, though. Not to mention the heat of those flames.

Tilting her head toward the cloud-dotted sky, she blinked back tears. Save for a few years, she’d spent her entire life at Granger House. It was more than her home...it was family. An integral part of her heritage. Now she could only pray that the whole thing wasn’t a loss. Even insurance couldn’t replace that.

But what if it was a total loss? What would she do then?

“Can I get you anything? Are you warm enough?” The feel of Andrew’s hand against the small of her back was a comfort she hadn’t known in a long time. From the moment he appeared on the scene, Andrew had yet to leave her side. For once, she was grateful for his take-charge attitude. His presence was an unlikely calm in the midst of her storm.

“No, thank y—”

“Oh, my!”

Carly turned to see Rose Daniels, a family friend and owner of The Alps motel. Hand pressed against her chest, the white-haired woman studied the carnage. Beside her, Hillary Ward-Thompson, a former resident who’d recently returned, appeared every bit as aghast.

Carly knew exactly how they felt.

The dismay in Rose’s blue eyes morphed into compassion as she shifted her attention to Carly, her arms held wide. “I came as soon as I heard.” She hugged Carly with a strength that belied her eighty years. “You poor dear. Are you all right?”

She nodded against the older woman’s shoulder, tears threatening again, but she refused to give in. She needed to stay strong.

After a long moment, Rose released her into Hillary’s waiting embrace.

“I hate that this happened to you.” Hillary stepped back, looking the epitome of chic with her perfectly styled short blond hair and silky tunic. Then again, Carly wouldn’t expect anything less from the former globe-trotting exec.

“How can we help, dear?” Rose shoved her wrinkled hands into the pockets of her aqua Windbreaker. “Just tell us what you need.”

“Besides food, that is,” Hillary was quick to add. “Celeste has already talked to Blakely and Taryn. They’re planning to bring you dinner.” Her daughter, Celeste Purcell, owned Granny’s Kitchen.

Carly hated that she’d added to their already hectic lives. “They don’t have to—”

“Nonsense, darling.” Hillary waved a hand through the air. “That’s what people do in Ouray. You know that.”

All too well. She’d been on the receiving end when Dennis died. Since then, she was usually the one to spearhead donations. A role she was much more comfortable with.

“There’s also a room for you at The Alps should you and Megan need a place to stay,” said Rose.

Carly felt her knees go weak. In the chaos, she’d forgotten all about Megan. What kind of mother did that? How would her daughter react? Would she be scared? Sad?

Andrew moved behind her then. Placed his warm, strong hands on her shoulders. “Thank you, Rose, but that won’t be necessary. Carly and Megan can stay in my grandmother’s house if need be.”

Hillary’s gaze zeroed in on Andrew. “Do I know you?”

Andrew shook his head. “I don’t believe so.” He extended his hand. “Andrew Stephens.”

The woman Carly suspected to be somewhere around sixty cautiously accepted the offer. “Hillary Ward-Thompson.” She let go, still scrutinizing Andrew. “You wouldn’t be related to Clint Stephens, by any chance?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s my father.”

Hillary’s espresso eyes widened for a split second. “You favor him a great deal.”

“So I’ve been told.” Seemingly distracted, Andrew shot a glance toward the house before peering down at Carly. “It looks like the chief might be ready to talk with you.”

“We won’t keep you, dear.” Rose’s smile was a sad one as she moved forward for another hug. “I’ll touch base with you later. Until then—” she let go “—you’re in my prayers.” Turning to leave, she patted Andrew on the arm. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thanks, Rose. So am I.”

Carly was glad, too. Without him, she’d be curled up in a corner somewhere, bawling like a baby, clueless about what to do or where to turn. But why was he glad?

As the two women continued down the sidewalk, Ouray’s fire chief, Mike Christianson, approached. “Good to see you again, Andrew.” The two men briefly shook hands.

“You, too, Mike. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

Carly swallowed hard as her former schoolmate turned his attention to her. Now married with three kids, Mike was a good guy. She knew he wouldn’t sugarcoat anything. Though the harsh reality was what she feared the most.

His features softened as his weary green eyes met hers. “The good news is that the fire never made it to the second floor.”

Her shoulders relaxed. That meant her guest rooms were okay. But what about her and Megan’s rooms on the first floor? The kitchen, parlor and family room?

“Most of the damage was confined to the kitchen and family room.”

“How bad?” She absently rubbed her arms.

He hesitated, his gaze momentarily falling to the ground before bouncing back to hers. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to stay here for a while, let alone host any guests. Kitchen is a complete loss.”

So far, Carly had managed to keep her nausea in check. Right about now, though, she was quickly losing that battle. She didn’t know which was worse—not being able to stay at Granger House or not hosting any guests. No guests meant no income, but to have her home taken from her...

Where was that oxygen mask?

As though sensing she needed help, Andrew slipped his arm around her while he addressed Mike. “Do you know what caused the fire?”

Mike nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. “As most often happens, it was a cooking fire.”

Confused, Carly shook her head. “Cooking? But I wasn’t—Oh, no.” She felt her eyes widen. Stumbled backward, but Andrew held her tight. Her hand flew to her mouth, horror flooding her veins. “The chicken.” The earth swirled beneath her. Sweat gathered on her upper lip. “I forgot.” She looked at Mike without really seeing him. “And I went to the bank.”

A churning vortex of emotions whirled inside her. A feeling she’d experienced only one other time in her life. The night she learned that Dennis had died. And just like that time, this was all her fault, and poor Megan would be the one paying the price for Carly’s mistake.

* * *

Andrew recognized the self-reproach that settled over Carly the moment she learned the cause of the fire. He was all too familiar with the hefty weight of guilt. He’d carried it for the last two years, since the day he’d given work a higher priority than his dying mother. When he’d finally made it to her bedside, it was too late. He never got to say goodbye or tell her how much he loved her.

He shook off the shame as the fire trucks pulled away. He had to do everything he could to help Carly. He could never turn his back on her. Especially now.

Still standing in his grandmother’s front yard, he eyed his watch. School would be letting out soon. And if Megan came walking up here, unaware of what had happened, Carly would blame herself even more.

He wasn’t about to let that happen. “What do you say we go meet Megan?”

Carly’s deep breath sent a shudder through her. “I guess that would be best. Give me an opportunity to prepare her before she sees the house.”

As they walked in the direction of the school, the extent of Carly’s nervousness became clearer. The constant zip, zip, zip sound as she fiddled with the zipper on her jacket was enough to drive anyone crazy.

Still a block away from the school, he touched a hand to her elbow to stop her. “Anything you care to discuss?”

Her blue eyes were swimming with unshed tears as she peered up at him, her bottom lip quivering. “What am I going to say to her? I mean, what if she hates me?”

Seeing her pain made him long to pull her into his arms. “Hates you? Why would Megan hate you?”

“Because the fire was my fault.” She crossed her arms over her chest and held on tightly. “Because of me, my daughter won’t be able to sleep in her own bed tonight. Won’t be able—”

“Now hold on a minute.” Using their height difference to his advantage, he glared down at her. “It’s not like you meant to start that fire. Being absentminded one time does not make you a bad mom.” Softening his tone, he reached for her good hand. “Instead of focusing on the bad, play up the good. She’s nine years old. Kids that age love sleepovers, don’t they? Tell her she gets to have an extended sleepover at my grandmother’s.”

Lifting only her eyes, she sent him a skeptical look. “That’s the only good thing you could come up with?”

It did sound kind of lame. “Well, I haven’t seen the extent of the damage yet, but it sounds like you might be getting a new kitchen, too.”

“Like Megan’s going to be impressed with that.” She started walking again, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I’m just going to have to trust God to give me the words.”

When they met Megan at the school, she was her typical exuberant self. Obviously no one had mentioned anything to her about the fire. In a town as small as Ouray, that was unusual. Good, but unusual nonetheless.

The kid walked between them, her purple backpack bouncing with each step. “Did you make cookies today?”

He glanced at Carly to find her looking at him, her expression teetering somewhere between nervous and petrified. Did she really believe her daughter would hate her?

Hoping to reassure her, he offered a slight smile and nodded, as if to say, You can do this.

She nodded back. “No, sweetie. There was a little problem at home today.” Stopping, she looked into her daughter’s eyes. “A big problem, actually. There was a fire. In the kitchen.”

Confusion marred Megan’s freckled face.

“The fire chief said we’re going to have to stay somewhere else for a while.”

Megan looked up at her mother through sad eyes. “Where?”

“At Livie’s.”

The girl turned to Andrew then. “But where will you stay?”

“At the ranch.”

Her eyes went wide. “You have a ranch?”

“No. It’s my dad’s.”

“Oh.” Her gaze drifted away, then quickly shot back to him. “Can I see it sometime?”

He couldn’t help laughing. Whoever said kids were resilient was right. “Sure.”

Several minutes later, with gray clouds moving in from the west, hinting at snow, the three of them stood at the back of his grandmother’s drive, staring at Granger House. The charred back door stood slightly ajar, windows in both the kitchen and family room were gone, and soot marked the window frames where the flames and smoke had attempted to reach the second floor.

Carly rested her hands upon Megan’s small shoulders. The girl’s blue eyes were wide, swimming with a mixture of disbelief and fear, her bottom lip showing the slightest hint of a tremor.

Poor kid. The fire hadn’t just robbed her of her home. It had robbed her of her security, as well. He had to find a way to make her feel safe again. To protect both her and her mother from any more pain. And standing here staring at the ruins of their beloved home wasn’t going to do that.

He rubbed his hands together. “It’s getting chilly out.” He stepped between the two females and Granger House. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you two go on inside my grandmother’s house and make yourselves at home while I survey things at your place?”

Both sent him an incredulous look.

“The fire chief said it was fine. I’ll just see what kind of damage we’re talking about.”

“I want to go with you.” Carly looked at him very matter-of-factly. “I’m going to have to see it eventually. Might as well get it over with so I know what I’m up against.”

“Okay.” He still didn’t think it was a good idea, but... “What about Megan?”

“I want to go, too.”

Carly smoothed a hand over her daughter’s strawberry blond hair. “Are you sure, sweetie?”

The girl nodded, not looking at all sure of anything.

“All right, then.” Still skeptical, he went to his truck to retrieve some flashlights from the toolbox in the bed. With the electricity out, it was likely to be pretty dark in there. “We’ll go through the front door. Perhaps you’ll each want to gather up a few things.”

“Such as?” Carly watched him as he pulled out the flashlights.

“Whatever you can think of. Clothes. Toiletries.” Assuming they hadn’t been consumed in the fire. “Things you use day to day.” He closed the lid on the large metal box. “Okay, let’s go before it gets dark.”

The trio climbed the wooden steps onto the front porch.

As soon as Andrew pushed the antique door open, they were met with the strong odor of smoke.

“Eww...” Megan held her nose. “It stinks.”

Carly put an arm around her. “I know, sweetie.”

Inside, the parlor looked unscathed for the most part, save for the slight tinge of soot on the walls. He turned on his flashlight and aimed the beam around the room for a better look.

“Don’t worry.” He glanced at Megan now. “They have people who can take care of that and make everything smell like new.”

“Really?”

Killing the light, he gave her his full attention. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

That earned him a smile.

They moved collectively into the dining room, where all the antique furniture appeared to be intact. But as they neared the door to the kitchen—

“Can I check my bedroom?” Megan’s room sat off one end of the dining room, while Carly’s was on the opposite end.

Carly glanced his way. “Would you mind going with her while I grab some things from my room?”

The fact that she trusted him with her daughter meant a lot. “Not at all.”

Megan turned on her own flashlight and slowly moved into her room.

Andrew followed, relieved to see that, like the parlor and dining room, the mostly purple bedroom remained intact, though perhaps a little damp from all the water the firemen had used.

“Go ahead and take some clothes. I know they’re probably wet or smell like smoke, but we can toss them in the wash.”

While she opened drawers and pulled out items, all of which seemed to be purple or pink, with one random blue piece, he tugged the case from her pillow to hold the clothes.

“Oh, no.”

He stopped what he was doing. “What is it?”

Head hung low, the girl frowned. “My cards. I left them in the family room.”

If cards were her greatest loss, he’d count himself blessed. Still, they were important to her. “No worries. I’ll pick you up a new deck tomorrow.”

Her gaze shot to his. “Really?”

“Cross my heart—” he fingered an X across his chest “—and hope to die.”

She threw her arms around his waist. “You’re the best, Andrew.”

The gesture stunned him. Or maybe it was the intense emotions her hug evoked in him. He’d never had much interaction with kids. But this one was definitely special.

A few minutes later, when he and Megan returned to the dining room with a pillowcase full of clothes and shoes, he dared what he hoped was a stealthy peek into the kitchen. And while it was too dark to see everything, what little he did glimpse didn’t look good. Or even salvageable.

“Ah, good. You got some clothes.” He jumped at the sound of Carly’s voice. Turning, he saw her standing beside the table, holding a large tote bag.

“We did, so it looks like we’re ready to go.” He did not want to allow Carly in the kitchen. At least, not now. Maybe tomorrow, after the shock had a chance to wear off.

“Not yet.” Carly set her bag atop the dining room table. “I’d like to see the kitchen.”

“Let’s do that tomorrow. It’s getting dark outside anyway, so you won’t be able to see much.”

Leaving her bag behind, she took several determined steps toward him and stopped. “I want to see it. Now.”