Читать книгу Second Chances - Valerie Hansen - Страница 8

An orange glow danced across the night sky. Flames curled around the three-storey frame structure, licking the thick layers of old paint and bubbling them to ashes, then consuming the dry wood beneath. Firelight radiating through the window of eighteen-year-old Belinda Carnes’s bedroom turned the pale pink interior walls a sickly yellow.

Shocked awake, she bolted out of bed, ran to the window and stared at the fire next door. In the street below, her father was shouting, pleading, “Somebody do something. Dear God, do something!” The sound of his anguish tore at her heart, making her temporarily forget the terrible quarrel they’d had only hours before.

“Daddy!” Grabbing her robe, Belinda made a dash for the stairs. Their house was full of smoke, making it difficult to see or breathe. Maybe it was on fire, too!

She rocketed into the street, auburn hair flying, her robe clutched around her slim body, her feet bare. “Daddy! Where are you?”

The first fire truck was already shooting water on the flames as others arrived. “Get back!” someone shouted. Belinda ignored the order. She had to find her father. He was all she had left.

A team of volunteer firefighters ran by, dragging a bulging hose. Several of the men were part of her father’s congregation. Gasping to catch her breath, Belinda looked at the church that had been her second home since before her mother had died. She didn’t have to know much about firefighting to know the historic building, her father’s pride and joy, was beyond saving.

Blossoming spray from the hoses drifted over the appalled onlookers like icy mist over a river. Wending her way through the crowd, Belinda overheard more than one angry person place the blame for the terrible inferno on Paul Randall, the misfit teenage son of a convicted arsonist.

They were wrong. They had to be. She was sure Paul had left town right after her father had ordered him out of their house and out of her life for good. The bitterness of that altercation echoed in her throbbing head.

“Leave my daughter alone,” her father had shouted just hours ago.

Paul had stood his ground, feet planted firmly apart on the front walkway, fists clenched in defiance. “We’re in love. We’re going to get married, with or without your blessing. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“I’m leaving town tonight and Belinda’s coming with me,” Paul had said flatly.

“No, she isn’t.” Her father had held out his hand to her, his commanding voice as forceful as if he were warning his congregation about the wages of sin. “Belinda is going to go away to college in the fall, just like she promised her mother. By the time she gets her degree she’ll be wise enough to make the kind of choices that will affect her whole life. Right now, she’s far too young.”

Caught between her vow to her late mother and the angry young man who insisted they marry immediately and run away together no matter what the consequences, Belinda had felt trapped. Weeping, she’d stepped to her father’s side. No words were necessary. Her actions had spoken for her.

“Fine. I’ll go,” Paul had yelled, cursing to accentuate his mood. “But I’ll show you. You’ll be sorry. You’ll both be sorry. You just watch.”

Even now, Belinda imagined she could still hear the echo of Paul’s vehement threats. When he’d lost his temper and threatened her father she’d glimpsed a side of him she’d never seen before. A part of his character that had truly frightened her. And now the church was on fire. Thank goodness Paul was long gone! If he were still in town, he’d be the first one she suspected, too.

Belinda was so distraught she could hardly breathe, hardly think. Blinking back tears, she worked her way through the twisted maze of hoses lying in the street. Behind her, the upper windows of the old church began to shatter from the intense heat and the pressure of the water being hurled against them.

As she drew closer to her father she saw two men restraining him to keep him from trying to enter the burning building. “Thank you, God. He’s safe,” she whispered, grateful beyond belief.

All she could think about was getting to her father so she could tell him how sorry she was about the church and how much she loved him, in spite of their recent argument.

Suddenly, strong, masculine hands grasped her from behind. Held her fast. Told her, “It’s not safe to be out here barefoot.”

Panicking, Belinda twisted to stare at him. Her eyes widened. It couldn’t be Paul…but it was. She immediately tried to jerk free. “Let go of me!”

Scowling, Paul released her, held his hands in the air and took a step back. When he said, “Sorry,” it sounded a lot more like sarcasm than penitence.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard the sirens so I came by to make sure you were all right.”

Fire reflected in the depths of his almost-black eyes, making him appear sinister, dangerous. Belinda’s already broken heart hardened at the sight of him, at the realization that all her wonderful excuses for his innocence were useless now that she knew he was still hanging around the area. “Stop lying, Paul,” she countered. “You came here to gloat and you know it.”

He combed his fingers through his long, thick, dark hair, pushing it back as he shook his head. “You have a really low opinion of me, don’t you?”

“I only know what I see. You said you were leaving town hours ago. Why didn’t you go?”

Paul’s jaw clenched, but he kept his outward cool. “I was packing. I knew your father banished me from this town but I didn’t know he was timing me or I’d have hurried.”

“Leave my daddy out of this. Haven’t you done enough to hurt him already?”

“Me? Hurt him? All I did was fall in love with his daughter!”

Paul saw Belinda’s tear-filled glance dart briefly in the direction of the burning church before returning to him. Suddenly understanding, he nodded. “I should have known. I thought you were different but you’re just like the rest of them, aren’t you?” His arm swept in an arc that took in the whole chaotic scene. “You blame me for this. All of you do.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his worn leather jacket. “It figures. My father made a mistake and went to prison for arson, so I’m guilty by association. Right?”

The unfair accusation stung, made her even more defensive. “You said it. I didn’t.” Standing firm, she refused to let him off the hook. “You were supposed to be long gone by now. Admit it. You only hung around so you could watch my father suffer.” Pent-up emotion made her tremble. “Get away from me! I never want to see you again. Ever.”

“Fine with me. I’m glad your old man decided that I’m not good enough for you. He did us both a favor. Goodbye, Belinda. Have a nice life.”

With tears running down her cheeks, Belinda pressed her fingertips to her lips to stifle her sobs as she watched Paul elbow his way through the throng of hostile onlookers, mount his motorcycle and roar away. She realized she was saying goodbye to more than Paul Randall. She was also giving up the naive belief that her love was enough to change him, to save him from the negative effects of his dysfunctional upbringing.

Admitting she’d been wrong about him was breaking her heart.