Rescued by the Firefighter Read online

  Warmth seeped along her arm to her chest, leaving a sweet and tender longing.

  * * *

  Clint stood on the gravel driveway and eyed the house. He hadn’t pictured the rustic setting. For some reason, he’d imagined a bungalow matching others on the street of one house after the other. He’d been wrong. The white siding stretched across the front with three sets of double windows flanking the front door. A series of wooden steps rose to the long wooden-railed porch with six posts bracing the blue-shingled roof covered with dried foliage from the surrounding pine trees.

  His attention was drawn to a white-and-blue garage set back from the residence, where a concrete driveway reached the front of the house and connected with a gravel driveway. Why hadn’t they poured concrete all the way to the street? That was a negative for buyers. Scrawny shrubs dotted the beds along the porch and nothing else added color or life to the building. Maybe flowers had bloomed in summer, but he saw no evidence. Loving care could turn the house into a home, but it would take a buyer who wanted to put in some elbow grease.

  “What do you think?”

  Paula’s voice punctured his thoughts, and he turned his attention to her. “I see promise.”

  A scowl wrinkled her brow. “In what way?”

  He’d disappointed her and wished he’d phrased it differently. More positive. “Let’s look inside first. I can’t make a good evaluation this way.” Paula needed encouragement, not doom and gloom. She created enough of that for herself. Maybe today he could learn why.

  He followed her up the steps, gazing at the roomy porch while she unlocked the door. When they stepped inside, he gaped at the appealing open staircase, cherrywood, he guessed, rising to the second floor. His eyes swept the room, a solid stone fireplace with a cherrywood mantel and a marble hearth, flanked by two narrow windows. The far end of the room served as a dining area with broader windows giving a view of another porch, but this one seeming to be enclosed with a solid glass wall looking into the woods beyond.

  A sliding door led outside and a larger one opened onto the porch. He clicked the lock and strode to view the backyard woods, a blend of pines and deciduous trees, some leafless and others bearing a palette of orange and gold in a surrounding of scrub brush. He tried to imagine the setting in other seasons filled with life and color. The seasonal deck, probably best in the three warmest seasons, held easy chairs, a table that would make a great spot for a meal or playing games. A small TV sat in front of two easy chairs, and a long planter, now holding dead plants, would have added charm to the already inviting space. Today a chill hung on the air and he suspected winter meant closing the door until spring.

  He turned and nearly tripped over Paula. She lost her balance, and he grabbed her and drew her close, feeling the softness of her body against his. “Sorry.” He managed a smile, hoping to hide the discomfort he felt from his raging pulse. He righted her, then forced himself to step back. “This is nice, Paula. I’m sure families would enjoy a home like this, and it’s a great place for children who like the out-of-doors.”

  Her concern seemed to fade. “I guess it’ll have an appeal to some buyers. I’m glad you like it.” For the first time since they’d arrived, she appeared to be looking at the room with different eyes. “The place holds too many difficult times for me, and I probably miss the charm.” Her expression softened. “I knew my view was skewed, so I listened to the Realtor. He sees lots of houses in this area so I took his advice on the price.”

  Clint wandered back inside and followed her into the kitchen, a room lacking the counter space and storage many cooks required. “Here’s a negative.” He gestured to the small size. “Not a lot of room here, but it’ll work for some who just cook. Those who like to create may find it lacking.”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “I wouldn’t know about that. Apartments aren’t known for their gourmet kitchens.”

  His spirit buoyed, hearing the lighthearted tone of her voice along with the faint grin brightening her face. He slipped his arm behind her and gave her a squeeze, his chest constricting with her acceptance to his touch.

  “I’m sure you’d like to see the bedrooms and baths.”

  He nodded and followed her. A bedroom and bath, probably the master bedroom, was located in the opposite wing of the house; a window looked out to the side yard and a door opened onto the enclosed porch. One large closet but nothing that would impress buyers and a typical older home bathroom with no convenient counter space or double sink. The shower and tub were combined. Upstairs he found two small bedrooms and a bath in between. He gazed at the bigger one—drab yellow walls with nothing more than a twin bed and dresser.

  “This room was mine.”

  Paula’s expression showed her discomfort, and he didn’t want to linger. He’d seen enough. He stepped back, then noticed the lone kitchen-style chair sitting near the single window. He could imagine Paula on the chair, her shoulder resting against the windowpane as she wished on a star to get her away from the confines of her life in that house. She’d been right. The bits of charm he’d noted below left much to be desired on the second floor.

  When they’d descended the stairs to the living room, she stopped at the bottom. “Well, what do you think?”

  “The house has a couple of nice features—the enclosed porch and this right here.” He ambled to the stone fireplace and rubbed his hand along the attractive mantel, feeling dust beneath his fingers. “People who want a rural setting with some charm will find this a good option, but—”

  “I know. But someone who doesn’t want to live quite this deep in the boonies with a small kitchen and old-fashioned bathroom won’t value charm over practicality.”

  Her jaw tensed, and a faint tic flickered on her cheek. Her eyes were downcast and she didn’t move. He feared she might cry. “Something like that.”

  He opened his arms and approached her, and his heartbeat surged when she stepped into his embrace. She rested her head on his chest, and he moved his palm across the tension in her back, kneading her taut tendons below his fingers.

  She breathed a sigh and eased her head upward. “Thanks. I can always count on you to know what I need.” She tilted her head back, searching his eyes, and he couldn’t stop himself. His lips met hers, a feathery touch he longed to continue, but he eased back.

  Her eyes opened, a puzzled look settling on her face, but she stood in place as if she didn’t know what she wanted. He opened his mouth to apologize but knew it would be a lie. “I’m glad I came with you today. I think your Realtor was generous with the price. I know dumps are selling for a fortune when they’re on lakefront property. Though this one is close to Higgins Lake, it’s not on it.”

  “You’re right. Being close enough to walk to a beach was what saved me. In winter, I wanted to scream. It was too cold to go anywhere, and I didn’t have a car. Counted on what boys I could find who had one. Not always the greatest experiences.”

  His head filled with questions, but she’d closed up, so he let them drop. “You’re lacking a full driveway, too, and I think that’s a downfall.”

  “It does get muddy in the spring—all seasons, I suppose—except some of the wonderful summer days.”

  She gestured for him to sit, and he sank onto the worn sofa before she asked her question. “What should I do about the counteroffer?” She slipped into a nearby chair.

  “You did the right thing. You halved it. Let’s see if they want it badly enough.” He ran his hand over the corded upholstery, his finger catching on a loose thread. “They may counter your offer again.”

  Her downcast eyes edged upward, showing no sign of a smile. “And you think I should accept.”

  He nodded. “I do if you want to sell.”

  “You know I do.”

  Emptiness seeped through him. Watching her face, he knew her mind was filled with unknown concerns a
nd a story that would help him understand, but she didn’t trust him enough to share it. His gut knotted. Would she ever trust him? He pulled himself back. “Paula?”

  Her head snapped around to face him. “What?”

  “I am curi—” What was the point? She had to be ready. To trust. To unload her burden on someone, and she didn’t trust God any more than she trusted him.

  Her presence absorbed the air from his lungs until he realized he was holding his breath.

  “What’s wrong, Clint?” A deeper frown slipped across her face. “And don’t tell me nothing.”

  “I don’t understand you. You’re bottled up inside, and I’m afraid if you don’t pull the cork, you’ll blow up. I’ve tried to give you good advice, haven’t I? I listen.” He lowered his head, shaking it back and forth. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Do noth—” A stream of air shot from her throat. “I don’t know what to tell you, Clint. I don’t know what you’ll think of me or...”

  “I’ll think you’re like I am, Paula. Everyone in this world has problems, things we try to hide. We make horrible mistakes. We don’t trust. We doubt ourselves and, even more, we doubt others. We can’t imagine that anyone could love us or even care about us.” He forced his eyes to meet hers. “But that’s not true. It’s an illusion we create to avoid opening our hearts and souls. We protect ourselves from vulnerability, and what we do is become even more vulnerable.”

  Her eyes widened, darting from him to the window and back. She lowered her chin as her eyes closed. “That’s true.”

  He bit his upper lip. In his argument, he’d admitted his own weaknesses. He wanted closure with Elise. Speculation didn’t give him contentment. Living life while wondering what he’d done wrong meant not living life at all. He’d bound his life with fear of failing again. Of looking weak. Of being unworthy. Hearing Paula’s admission that he was right didn’t ease his concern. It made him less confident in himself and even more in their relationship. Whatever it was.

  “You know my father wasn’t in my life. I barely remember him.”

  Her voice jerked him upward. “That was difficult, I’m sure.” He searched her face, hoping to read her emotion.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. I have a vague memory of someone there and gone, but then that was my mother’s life, too.”

  His chest constricted. “She walked out on you?”

  “No, but all her men came and went.”

  All. The word said everything. He managed to keep his mouth from dropping open. He didn’t speak for fear of stopping her.

  “Mother had no income except government aid. I realized that when I got older. She often dropped me off with one of her friends and wouldn’t pick me up for a couple of days. When she finally returned to take me home, a man would be there, his eyes bloodshot—matching my mother’s. She’d feed me better food than we usually had and send me to bed. When I woke in the morning, the man was still there. I thought he was my father, but in a few weeks, another man replaced him. When the men were there, my mother had money.”

  His stomach churned, envisioning the horror of that life for Paula, a child who didn’t understand.

  “I’d watch them kiss and play around. I always wanted someone to kiss me and hug me the way the men hugged my mother. But my mother never touched me other than to give me a slap for asking a question she didn’t like or doing something she thought I shouldn’t.”

  Her face grew dark, and he froze as if his body had turned to ice. Words failed him. No child should endure that life, but there was no point telling her. She’d known even then. A young child who’d witnessed too much. Every response that came to mind rang empty and useless. He’d never experienced a life like that. Though he wasn’t naive about bad things happening—he’d witnessed horrible situations in his work—sitting face-to-face with a woman he’d grown to care about killed him.

  She stood. “That’s enough. Let’s leave. This place only makes memories more vivid.”

  He rose and moved beside her. “Don’t you want to take time while we’re here to make decisions about what to keep and what to give away?” He rested his hand on her shoulder and kissed her hair, praying he found a way to soothe her struggle.

  “I want nothing. Let’s go.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her cheek, longing to hold her and kiss her enough to fill all those lost years. How could he deny he cared more about Paula than any woman in years? Maybe even more than his feelings for Elise.

  Chapter Five

  Paula carried the dark thoughts into their ride south, but Clint didn’t let it last long. He talked about things he did as a child, including visiting Frankenmuth between Thanksgiving and Christmas each year to see the decorated trees in every room of the Bavarian Inn and in the restaurant across the street. His enthusiasm would have captured hers, except she felt guilty knowing she’d avoided telling him the worst part of her story.

  But Clint knew how to make her happy, and he’d prepared her with his own childhood stories. As Clint rolled down the driveway to the parking lot of Bronner’s Christmas Wonderland, the year-round Christmas store he’d told her about, she couldn’t control her squeal. “Clint, you’ve taken me to the North Pole.”

  She’d heard about Frankenmuth, but she still couldn’t believe the Christmas scenes that lay before her in October. They’d passed a snowman four times taller than the couple who stood beside it, and towering Christmas trees drenched in colorful lights. Where the building faced the highway, the white wall made a backdrop for a nativity scene with larger-than-life figures—angels, shepherds, sheep, donkey and Wise Men huddled around the manager with Joseph and Mary looking down at the baby Jesus.

  Her chest tightened, watching little children staring in awe at the giant toy soldiers and gigantic nutcracker characters that lined the paths. Santa and his sleigh delighted even the adults.

  “Like it?”

  Clint’s voice drew her back. “It’s amazing. Seeing it is the only way to believe it, but it’s true, and if Bronner’s Christmas Wonderland looks this amazing in October, I can’t imagine what the Christmas season would bring with real snow on the ground.”

  Slipping his arm around her back, he drew her closer. “I told you it would bring out the child in you.”

  His gentle voice swept her away. The dark memories faded as he’d promised, and the child in her focused on the colors and novelty of the display and filled her with amazement. “Seeing it did more than make me a child again, Clint.” It wasn’t really taking her back to childhood at all. That was a place she didn’t want to be.

  When his gaze caught hers, she read the question in his eyes. “I don’t care about the past today. I want to be covered by the happiness I feel here.”

  He faced her, his arm still holding her close. “I hope all of your days will be filled with the kind of happiness I see in your face right now.”

  Tears edged her eyes, but they were tears of joy. “I hope you’re right.”

  He leaned closer, his mouth nearing hers, and desire rose for the touch of his lips on hers. Instead, he kissed her cheek and gave her a hug. She managed to smile. “I like your optimism. Can I buy some of that here?” She swept her hand toward the huge building.

  “If you could purchase happiness, this would be the place.” He lowered his arm and grasped her hand, weaving his fingers between hers. “You’ll see.”

  She followed him through the entrance, and her first view overwhelmed her. Angels rose above her, playing harps and flutes while carolers holding their songbooks rocked to the music they sang. Santas and elves stood in mounds of snow bending their heads and moving their arms at the passersby. She gazed at Clint and shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “Bronner’s sells these animated figures to stores and businesses for window
displays. It is a wonderland.” He pointed ahead. “They have every kind of Christmas decoration or ornament you would ever want.”

  She followed his lead, her eyes taking in the displays, trees decorated with lights and colorful balls in shades of blue or white with crystal, musical instruments, nutcrackers or patriotic ornaments. Farther ahead she spotted a huge display of the famous Goebel Hummel figurines, each hand painted and each unique, and she wandered the displays of handblown balls, wooden ornaments from Germany, wreaths and trees for purchase. Her head spun. She stopped and caught her breath.

  Each display captured her interest, and she didn’t notice the time until she saw Clint eyeing his watch.

  He squeezed her hand. “Ready to go? You’re beginning to look dazed.”

  She chuckled and squeezed back. “Okay, mind reader. Christmas is now embedded in my brain.”

  “Better than other thoughts using the space.”

  “You know, you’re right. I haven’t thought about anything else since we pulled into the parking lot.”

  “And I’m glad, but my stomach is—”

  “Mine, too, and you promised me some German food.” She hadn’t realized how long it had been since they’d eaten.

  The quiet and fresh air wrapped around her as they walked to the car. “You seem to know what it takes to cheer me up.”

  “Distraction, but it’s too far to drive here all the time. I’ll have to think of other ways to preoccupy you more often.” He grinned, his index finger tapping his cheek. “How about...”

  She took advantage of his pause. “How about you being my distraction?” Her pulse skipped as the thought grew and the words slipped out.

  He looked surprised but it faded to a wide smile. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time. I’m happy to do the job, ma’am. I promise to be one big distraction from now on.”

  She loved his smile. “I hope you keep your promise.” He opened the car door and she slipped inside, aware that telling him about her mother had lifted a burden from her shoulders. She’d never told a living soul, and he’d listened without judgment, making her feel less guilty than she’d felt in years.