Читать книгу A Firefighter's Promise - Patricia Johns - Страница 11
ОглавлениеAs Matt pulled away, he glanced back at the old house. It needed paint—and a lot more—to look decent again, but he could already see the spark of a family in the old place. Stacks of boxes were visible in the windows, and a pile of cardboard sat outside the garage. If memory served, the big oak tree in the front yard used to have a tire swing that all the neighborhood kids made use of, and he idly wondered if Rachel would put up another one for Chris. Maybe he was already too old for a tire swing. Matt wasn’t exactly in the know when it came to kids. He was the kind of relative who gave his cousins’ kids cash when he saw them because he could never quite remember their birthdays and wanted to make sure he covered his bases.
Matt glanced at the old houses on either side of the street, flower gardens in bloom. A few of the homes sported American flags, rippling proudly in the summer wind, and he sighed. If he got this job, he had to admit, he would miss Haggerston.
His cell phone rang, and he glanced down at the number as he slowed to a stop at an intersection. It was his brother. Matt put the phone on speaker, tossed it onto the seat beside him and eased the vehicle forward again.
“Hi, Craig,” he said.
“Hey, how did that interview go?” his brother asked.
“Really good. They’re taking me seriously.”
“Fantastic.”
“But that wasn’t the most interesting part of my day,” he admitted.
“Oh, yeah?” Craig pried.
“Do you remember that time a few years ago when a baby was dropped off on the doorstep of the firehouse?”
“I think so.”
“Well, he’s back.”
“The baby?”
“Yeah.” Matt chuckled. “Well, he’s about seven now. His adoptive mother moved into town, and they stopped by the firehouse to say hi. I guess she wanted to show him where he was found.”
“How’s the kid doing?”
“Okay.” He paused. “Maybe not so well. His mom says that her husband died a few years ago, and the kid only recently found out that he’s adopted, so that’s been pretty hard on him.”
“Ouch. I’ll bet.”
“So I stopped by their place to—” Matt cringed. This still sounded very much like a date. “I asked them out to dinner.”
“Is that a good idea? They just moved here, and you’re planning to move on.”
“Not like that,” Matt grumbled. “I know how it sounds. I didn’t really get much of a chance to talk to Chris, and I wanted to chat with him a bit. His mother seems to think it will help.”
He signaled at the next stop sign and took a left toward the main road. The houses in this direction were smaller and the yards not as well tended. He knew several of the people on this street, however. Living his entire life in one town had that effect.
“And what about the mother?” his brother pressed.
“What about her?” Matt dodged.
“Still single?”
“Yes, still single,” he replied. “And before you ask, yes, she’s pretty.”
“Aha.”
“Oh, cut it out.” Matt laughed and slowed for another corner. “She’s the widow of a firefighter from Billings, so I feel like I owe her something. It’s not romantic, I swear.”
There was a muffled voice in the background, and then his brother came back. “Gloria’s inviting you to our place for dinner,” Craig said. “Are you interested? I could pop another steak on the barbecue.”
The thought of a barbecue steak made Matt’s stomach rumble, and he chuckled. “Twist my arm, man. I’m on my way. Can I pick up anything?”
“No, we’re ready to go. Just get down here, because I’m hungry.”
“Okay, I’m ten minutes away.”
Matt hung up and smiled ruefully. He’d miss his brother and his wife, too, if he moved out of town. Craig and Gloria had him over for dinner about as often as he’d let them. He begged off more often than not, preferring to give them time to themselves, being newlyweds and all.
He eased forward again and glanced toward the squat elementary school. Brand-new play equipment sprawled on one side of the building, a green field on the other side. A sign in front of the building announced student registration days and encouraged everyone to “Find adventure in reading this summer.” The scars from the fire were cleaned away, and this September, Broxton Park Elementary would reopen for the first time since that tragic day.
He had no idea what anyone else saw when they looked at that building, but in his mind’s eye he still saw the billowing smoke pouring out of broken windows. He still heard the frightened screams of children, the wail of sirens and the desperate, clinging questions of the parents standing in shocked groups on the sidewalk.
He’d fought fires for most of his adult life, and the very thought of a blazing inferno only got his adrenaline pumping and made him twitch to jump into his boots. This school represented more than a fire, though. It represented his own personal failure and the death of a child.
Matt heaved a sigh as he passed the building and crossed another intersection. This school always affected him the same way. His stomach curdled and sweat sprang out on his palms. He knew he was a good firefighter. He knew he’d followed all the protocol possible in that fire, and he knew that he wasn’t liable or at fault, but somehow that didn’t change a thing.
Matt willed his pounding heart to quiet, and he signaled for another turn onto his brother’s street.
He’d eat steak. He’d compliment his sister-in-law’s pasta salad, and he’d jokingly rebuff all of Gloria’s attempts to set him up and get him married. It was Wednesday night, and he knew the drill.
Lord, he prayed silently, I need this job.
* * *
The next evening, the aroma of pizza drifted down Main Street, mingling with the scent of the hanging planters that hung from lampposts, dripping a lazy rhythm from a recent watering. Alphonzo’s Pizza crouched on one corner, nestled up against Duggar Jewelers. Golden sunlight bathed the street, contrasting with the long shadows. Six o’clock constituted dinnertime in Haggerston, and the streets were deserted, save for the rumble of the odd pickup truck. Almost all of the local businesses had closed up shop for the evening, with the exception of Alphonzo’s Pizza.
Inside the restaurant, Rachel and Chris sat at a table in the far corner, listening to the distant din of the kitchen. A paper menu in the center of the table showed the meal options—everything from pizza to chop suey—and Chris fiddled with the corner, a bored look on his face.
“Hi, hon,” a young waitress crooned, pulling a pad of paper from her pocket. “What can I get you to start?”
“Could we get my son a pop?” she asked. “What kind, sweetie?”
“Orange, please.”
“Sure thing.” The waitress jotted it down. “And for you?”
“Actually we’re waiting for someone, so maybe I’ll wait until he arrives.”
As if on cue, the bell above the door tinkled and Matt stepped inside, pulling off his sunglasses. He was out of uniform today, wearing a pair of jeans and a blue polo shirt that strained slightly around his biceps. He glanced around the restaurant, his steely gaze falling on them.
“Oh, here he is,” Rachel said and smiled up at Matt as he approached the table. He slid into the chair opposite Rachel, and while they ordered soft drinks and a pepperoni pizza, she found herself studying his face. A pale scar cut past one eyebrow, a detail she hadn’t noticed earlier. He seemed gentler out of uniform, more accessible, less official. His sun-bleached hair had a touch of premature gray working through the front, and as he leaned his elbows on the tabletop, the scent of aftershave lingered.
“So, how are you liking Haggerston?” Matt asked after the waitress left the table.
“I’ve always loved this town,” she said. “I wanted to move here years ago.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“My husband was with the Billings Fire Department, and he was happy there. He was climbing.” She shrugged. “What can you do?”
He nodded. “It’s hard to move on once your life is rooted somewhere else. I get that.”
“This is the perfect tiny town. The flowers on the street corners, the shops where everyone knows each other—”
“You like the idea of everyone knowing you?” he asked with a wry smile.
“Maybe?” She laughed softly. “In some ways it’s comforting, but I’m sure there is a flip side to the coin. What about you? How long have you lived here?”
“I grew up here, so if I’m not related to someone, I probably know them somehow.” He grinned. “Our waitress babysits my cousin’s kids.”
“Seriously?” Rachel looked back at the young woman taking another table’s order. “It’s a small world.”
“It’s a small town,” he corrected with a low laugh.
“Did you know my mom, Mr. Bailey?” Chris locked his gaze on the firefighter’s face, all the intensity of his seven years focused on the man across the table from him, and Rachel shifted uncomfortably. She knew that her son had questions, and it looked as though he was ready to ask a few of them.
“I just met her the other day, with you,” Matt replied, his gaze flickering toward Rachel.
“No, I mean my other mom,” he pressed. “The one who left me at the firehouse. Did you know her?”
Rachel’s stomach dropped. He’d been asking about his birth mother lately, and she somehow hoped that he would never need to know more about the woman than she’d already told him and that she could be enough. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t have the answers, either. All she wanted right now was to be able to fill in the gaps for him, to help soothe his unease and confusion.
“Uh...” Matt looked up at Rachel uncertainly, then back to the boy’s earnest gaze. “I never did find out who she was, buddy. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Chris shrugged. “I just wondered.”
“You have a really good mom right here,” Matt said. “She loves you a whole lot.”
“Yeah, I love her, too.” Chris leaned back in his chair, but his eyes were still clouded.
The food arrived. A large pepperoni pizza oozing melted cheese and still sizzling from the oven was deposited in the center of the table. After everyone was served and Chris took a big bite of pizza, Rachel sucked in a deep breath.
“I know that Chris wants to hear about how he was found,” she said. Chris’s attention snapped up.
“Sure.” Matt cleared his throat. “Do you know anything about that night, Chris?”
“A little bit,” the boy replied past a cheek full of food.
“I was working the night shift, and I was watching a training video. Someone buzzed downstairs—a woman—asking me to come down. I didn’t know what to expect, so I went on down.”
“Was that my mom?” Chris asked after swallowing.
Every time Chris referred to his birth mother as “his mom,” it stung just a little. Rachel had imagined these conversations countless times over the years, but she’d never fully appreciated how difficult it was for a mother to share her child. She should have been discussing this with him long ago, and if she hadn’t been so crushed by Ed’s death, she would have.
“I’m assuming so,” Matt said with a nod. “When I got down there, she was gone, and you were there. In a box.”
“Was I small?”
“You were pretty tiny, buddy.”
“Did I cry?”
“A little bit. You were hungry.”
“So you fed me?”
“We had some bottles and formula on hand in case of emergency, and I guess you counted as an emergency. So I sat in a big armchair, and I fed you your bottle. You slurped that thing back like nobody’s business, and then you settled in for a nice nap.”
“How long did you hold him for?” Rachel asked softly.
“It took about three hours for Social Services to arrive. So I just sat there and held him. He was cold.” He glanced at Rachel uneasily, and she suspected there was more to the story, details he couldn’t share in front of Chris.
“What’s that services thing?” Chris asked.
“Social Services take care of people when they need help. They came to get you, and they found you a good home where you would be safe and loved. That’s how your mom and dad got you.”
“We got a call that night.” Rachel continued the story. “They said a baby needed a safe home, and they asked if we’d take care of you. We drove down and picked you up, and I knew the moment I saw you that I’d never let you go.”
“But what about my mom?” Chris asked, and Rachel pushed back the sting.
“I don’t know, Chris,” she said quietly. “Your birth mother left you at the fire station, and no one ever found out who she was. But I know that she wanted you to be safe. She brought you to the one place she could be sure that someone would take care of you.”
Chris put his attention back into his pizza, and when Rachel glanced back in Matt’s direction, she found his warm gaze enveloping her. He reached across the table and took her hand in his broad, warm grasp, giving her a squeeze. He released her fingers almost as quickly as he’d taken them, but she was grateful for the gesture.
“Chris, I saw some video games over there in the corner,” Matt said. He leaned back in his seat and fished around in his pocket, his hand emerging with a fistful of quarters. “Do you want to try them?”
“Can I, Mom?” Chris turned bright, exuberant eyes onto Rachel, the previous heaviness apparently forgotten.
She smiled and nodded. “Sure, sweetie. Have fun.”
Chris accepted the quarters into his cupped palms and headed off toward the video games. They looked almost antique—Pac-Man, some racing games and a claw that dipped into a vat of dusty plush toys. He looked so grown up, standing there with his quarters, and yet so small, all at once.
This move to Haggerston was supposed to give Chris the stability he craved, yet even here, she felt his struggle. He couldn’t put words to it—he was too young to even try. She knew what was in his heart, though.
Who did he belong to?
And her heart replied with every beat, You belong to me.
* * *
Matt leaned his elbows on the table and stabbed at some ice cubes in his glass with a straw. Rachel looked toward her son, and when her gaze flickered back in his direction, color rose in her cheeks. She was gorgeous—and every time emotion sparkled in those dark eyes, he found his thoughts sliding into dangerous territory.
“He’s growing up so fast,” she said.
Matt nodded. “I can only imagine.”
“He’s been asking about his birth mother a lot lately.” She breathed a sigh. “This isn’t easy.”
“She did what was best for him,” he said. “I didn’t want to say this in front of Chris, but he was in rough shape when I found him. He was in a wet cardboard box. His sleeper was soaked, his diaper was dirty and his bottle was rancid. He shivered in my arms for a full hour, and he drank bottle after bottle. I doubt he was getting enough milk before he was dropped off at the firehouse. He was so desperate for human touch that once he figured I’d protect him, he wouldn’t let anyone else touch him.”
She froze at those words, and he immediately regretted them. “I’m sorry. That was probably too blunt.”
“No, no...” She shook her head, blinking back the tears that sprang to her eyes. “I was told about his condition by the authorities, but hearing it from you—” She swallowed, not finishing the thought.
Idiot, he chastised himself. She didn’t need to hear it like that.
“She brought him to the right place,” he said, his voice low. “And he went to the right home.”
Her dark gaze met his, and he was struck by those liquid eyes. Long lashes brushed her cheekbones with each blink, and a soft pink tinged her cheeks. She gave a weak shrug.
“I’d do anything for him. He’s really struggling.”
“You’re a good mom,” he replied. “He’ll be okay.”
She nodded and sucked in a deep breath. “I think Haggerston is just what Chris needs. I keep saying that, but I really do believe it. Sometimes a fresh start is just the ticket.”
Her words struck on the deepest longing inside him, too. She wanted to start over here in Haggerston, and he wanted to start over as far from this town as he could get, but they both wanted the same thing. They wanted to leave behind the old barbs and wounds and start over again—get another kick at the can without the pain that weighed them down. Was it even possible? He sure hoped so, because it was his last hope.
“Couldn’t agree more.” He reached for another slice of pizza.
“I was wondering about something.” She paused, a frown creasing her brow. “When they hired me at Broxton Park Elementary, they mentioned that it had a fire a few years ago.”
Matt nodded. “A big one.”
“That’s scary. Were you there for it?”
“Yeah.” There for it was an understatement. He returned to that dreadful morning in his dreams, where he endlessly searched with his gloved hands, through the murky darkness. He pushed back the memories.
“That had to be terrifying for everyone. How do you do that?” Her thoughtful gaze moved over his face.
“It’s my job.”
“I know, but...” She paused, her intent eyes fixed on him. “Aren’t you scared in situations like that?”
“I’m well trained.” The training was intense. A firefighter learned to react before he felt, to obey an order and question it later. Like in the military, a quick response to command was the secret to success, and for a firefighter, success meant getting everyone out alive.
“I understand the training because my husband went through it, but I never could quite understand how someone could subvert every instinct in his body telling him to get out of there. That’s just simple self-preservation.”
She was right about that, but it was something they didn’t talk about. Being afraid was part of the job, but if they talked about it and fed it, then they were useless in the face of an emergency. Firefighters didn’t talk about fear; they talked about preparation.
“I’m suited up, I’ve got a buddy system and I’m much better prepared for that heat than the victims are. I’m pretty much just focused on finding people and getting them out.”
“You must have a lot of stories.”
Matt chuckled. “Most of the job is paperwork. We do prefire inspections, public education, that sort of thing. I do a lot of reports. Like this restaurant, for example.”
He glanced around them, quickly estimating the risks in the room. Rachel looked around the dining room, following his gaze.
“There are two exits—the door I came in, and a door out the back.” He hooked a thumb toward the front door. “These tables would be like an obstacle course, especially through the smoke. The kitchen is worse, but those prefire safety inspections give us a lay of the land, so to speak. We want to know a building’s layout before we have to stampede in there in full gear. We have a job, and we know what we have to do.”
“So you’re saying you’re too focused to get scared?” she asked.
He chuckled again, amused at her tenacity. She wasn’t going to let this go, was she? He shrugged. “We’re too well trained to admit to it.”
Rachel was silent for a moment. “So, was that the training taking over the first day we met you?”
He raised an eyebrow, considering. “I guess so, yeah. I’ve learned to lean back on the training when I feel—” He stopped, uncertain of even how to decipher the complicated emotions he felt when seeing Chris again for the first time.
“Scared?” she suggested.
He shrugged. “Scared? Maybe. Nervous. Uncertain. Off balance. Anyway, I either knock down doors or spout statistics. As you found out.” He smiled and she laughed softly.
“It makes sense. And thank God for your training—it saves lives.”
“Not enough lives,” he replied. All the training in the world couldn’t bring back Natalie Martin. He’d seen countless school pictures around town of the little girl, clean and brightly smiling. That wasn’t the face seared into his memory, however. He would always remember the face smeared with grime, eyes streaming from the smoke and her hair a tangled mess. He’s see her ashen cheeks as she lay unconscious in his arms. He couldn’t remember what he felt in those exact moments. He felt it later, when he lay in his bed that night after the fire had been extinguished, the day’s events playing through his mind. That was when the reality of the situation hit him.
“Amen to that,” she said quietly, and his gaze snapped up to meet hers. He’d momentarily forgotten about her husband, and he winced.
“I’m sorry. I forgot about your husband.”
She shook her head. “I have to admit, I’m still angry about his death.”
“It was pointless,” he said.
“Exactly. Pointless. But that’s what firefighters do. They put themselves in harm’s way in order to save people.”
“Did they save lives that day?” he asked. The risk was worth it if lives were saved—that was what kept a firefighter going.
“The truck driver didn’t make it out...” She looked away toward her son, playing video games. “They both died that day.”
No rescues. Two deaths. His stomach sank.
“When you’re in that kind of situation,” he said, “your training has to move faster than your emotions do. You let your brain catch up when there’s time. Your husband was in the zone. He wouldn’t have been afraid, if that helps you at all.”
“It does, actually.”
He could tell that she hadn’t made her peace with everything yet, and he couldn’t blame her. It had been a year since Natalie Martin’s death, and he still hadn’t made his peace with it. She hadn’t been the first person to die in a fire, and she wouldn’t be the last. They were only people putting it all on the line for other people’s families, but somehow this one little girl had gotten past all his defenses.
“Are you a Christian, Matt?”
Matt pulled his mind back from the precipice. “I am.”
“Me, too.” Rachel’s gaze roamed over the restaurant, settling on her son across the room. “Does it help?”
“I suppose my faith is a part of everything I do,” he said quietly. “But even faith doesn’t answer every question, does it?”
“I suppose not.” She pushed her glossy waves away from her face. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”
“There are people who have gone through far worse than I ever have.”
An image of Natalie’s grief-stricken parents arose in his mind. They’d been in shock, their faces white, their eyes begging him to take it all away as if that fire-retardant suit gave him supernatural power. But he couldn’t. Natalie was part of the reason why he needed to learn about children. Natalie had run from him when he came to rescue her...and he never wanted that to happen again.
“Look,” Matt said, tearing his mind away from those old wounds. “Do you think you could give me some of those tips for working with kids?”
“Now?” She took a sip of her pop.
“How about tomorrow? If that isn’t too soon.”
“I’d be happy to.” She nodded. “I can bring by a few resources, if I find the right box tonight. What time works for you?”
“How about two at my office?”
She smiled. “Sure.”
Chris came dashing back across the room, zigzagging around tables. He arrived at their table, out of breath and with a grin on his face.
“I won something!” He held up a small stuffed rabbit in a victorious display. As the boy exuberantly showed his mother his hard-won prize, Matt fell gratefully silent. He’d done enough talking, more than he’d ever intended. He took a deep breath, mentally steeling himself.
“It’s really hard to get one,” Chris was explaining. “It came down like this—” He used his hand to mime the game. “And then it went like this...”
Rachel’s gaze flickered in Matt’s direction and her gentle eyes crinkled into a smile. Before he could catch himself, he felt his own return grin tickling the corners of his lips. He picked up the dessert menu, a sundae awash in chocolate sauce and crowned with fluffy whipped cream emblazoned across the top.
“Let’s order that ice cream. What do you say?”
