Rescued by the Firefighter Read online

  “Paula?”

  A soft tap nudged the door. She froze. “Just a minute.” Pulling up her shoulders, she eyed herself in the mirror and worked her face to what she hoped was a casual expression. She would never fool Clint, but maybe she could her uncle.

  When she pulled the door open, Fred held the cordless phone toward her. “Thanks. Is it Devon?”

  He nodded and strode back into the living room.

  She’d forgotten Devon probably didn’t have her cell number unless Clint gave it to him for some reason. Holding her breath, she pressed the phone to her ear. “What’s the news, Devon?”

  “I only have a minute, but I knew you were waiting. They’ve done an X-ray and see no permanent damage they can identify now. They may do a bronchoscopy if he appears to be struggling to breathe, but he’s getting oxygen and they’re hopeful. They’re keeping him tonight.”

  Company? She wanted to know if he could have visitors, but she held back her question.

  “You might be able to see him later if you’d like.”

  Had she spoken aloud?

  “He’s resting now. He’s taken meds for a headache, and they said he’ll sleep for a while.”

  “Thanks, Devon. I’ve been worried.” More than worried. “Is he at Beaumont?”

  “Right. If I hear any more I’ll give you a call. I’m at work so I need to scoot.”

  She thanked him again and hung up. He sounded exhausted. Fighting a fire, especially a bad one, which this appeared to be, had to take every bit of energy the men had.

  Emerging from her room with the phone, she returned to the living room and set it on the cradle, realizing her hand was trembling. “Thanks, Uncle Fred. Devon said they’ll keep him tonight, but he’ll be okay as far as they can tell.”

  He lowered the volume on the TV. “You’ll go there.”

  Question or statement? “He’s resting, and—”

  “And I’m sure he’d love to open his eyes and see a friendly face.” He gave her the baited look she expected.

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “No maybes. The guy’s sweet on you, and you’re just not seeing it.” He gave her one of his coy looks. “Or do you see it?” He guffawed and hit the volume button.

  That was Uncle Fred. He loved to make people squirm. She wondered how his girlfriend, Alice, liked it? Although she hadn’t heard him mention her in a while. Perhaps she’d had enough. That made her chuckle. You’ll go there. His statement resounded in her mind. Maybe she would.

  * * *

  Clint lifted his eyelids and squinted. The light from the hallway speared through the curtain, blinding him. His lungs burning, he rolled over and coughed with a sizzling sting as if lighting a match. He fell back against the pillow, trying to pull the pieces of his memory together. The image seared through his brain—an out-of-business auto repair shop, flames, smoke thick as muddy water, a flash and fire surrounding him.

  He slid his hands over his arms and shifted his legs, testing his limbs for injury. Only his lungs burned. His thankful prayer rose heavenward. In that mess, he could have been seriously burned or dead. Had he been careless? Questions overtook him, and he searched for answers as he dug deep to recall the details of what had happened.

  When he rolled to his side, another raking cough seared his chest, and in moments, the curtain slid back, and a nurse stepped into the room. “How are you doing? Pain?”

  “Just when I cough. It feels like fire.”

  “You’re on medication for the cough, but let’s put you back on oxygen. Once you get this cough under control you’ll be able to go home. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  He nodded as she stepped back through the curtain, and as she did, the light from the hallway shone on a figure seated near the drape-covered windows. He focused, and his surprise turned to pleasure. “Paula.”

  “It’s me.” Instead of rising, she remained seated.

  He beckoned to her and, looking uncertain, she rose hesitatingly. “I’ll be in her way.” She tilted her head toward the curtain, her long hair disheveled as if she’d jumped out of bed to be there. “She’s probably getting the oxygen equipment and will be right back.”

  He wiggled his finger again. “Just for a minute.”

  Though hesitant, her slender frame inched closer, her tender, lovely eyes shifting toward the curtain as if waiting for the nurse to appear again.” Do you need something?”

  A relationship with her was what he needed, but he’d wait on that topic. “What time is it?”

  She pointed to the clock on the wall. “Evening. Nine-thirty.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “Awhile.”

  Her evasiveness let him know she’d been sitting there a long time. His heart turned to mush. “Thanks for coming. He saw question in her eyes. “It means a lot to me, Paula.”

  A grin inched across her face. “I guess some people will do anything for company.”

  His usual wit eluded him. He tried to pull himself up to be more sociable, but exhaustion sent him down again even after all the sleep.

  Before he could ask her to raise the head of his bed, the nurse came through the curtain.

  Paula’s head jerked toward the sound, and she backed away, catching her foot on his tray table.

  She shoved it out of the way and sank into the chair as the nurse entered.

  The woman crossed to his bed and inserted a gadget into the wall and then attached tubing. Though he tried to watch what she was doing, his head felt too heavy to hold up so he lay back down.

  As if understanding, she walked to the end of the bed and he felt his torso rise. “Are you comfortable now?”

  “Thanks. I’m fine.” He had stretched the truth, but if anything made him feel fine while being trapped in a hospital bed, Paula’s presence did.

  His eyes fixed on her quiet form sitting in the most comfortable chair by the window. The nurse worked beside him doing something he didn’t care about anymore. Finally, she faced him and attached the nasal cannula into his nose, a prong in each nostril. The sting in his chest remained, but breathing took less effort, and he was grateful for that. She checked the airflow again and gave him a wink as she slipped past the curtain.

  He hesitated a minute to make sure she was really gone, then turned his attention to Paula, who had filled his thoughts for weeks. He patted the bedside. “I can’t see you way over there.”

  “Are you sure she won’t be right back?” She shifted her eyes to the curtain. “I don’t want to be in her way.”

  “You’re not in my way, and I’m the only one here at the moment.” Though he knew he looked terrible with the tubing and prongs in his nose, now wasn’t the time for pride. Paula beside him was far more important than his ego.

  He’d longed to kiss her earlier before any kind of oxygen apparatus was attached, but despite his reservation, he beckoned her again, trusting that if the Lord had plans for Paula and him, who was he to doubt his gut feelings? “Did I lose a day?”

  She shrugged. “It’s still October fourth.” For the first time since he’d noticed her, a faint grin slipped across her face.

  “I’m glad I only lost hours and not days.” He beckoned her again. “Pull your chair over here.”

  She rose and walked to his side. “Can I do something for you?”

  He nodded, his pulse quickening as he looked into her eyes.

  “What?” She looked at the tray table, then the nightstand.

  He gazed at her, hoping his eyes told her what he longed for.

  A questioning look wrinkled her forehead, and then she flushed. He assumed she caught his innuendo, seeing his silly expression behind the tubing.

  Digging deep for courage, he pointed to his lips, and his finger
hit the IV tubing. He chuckled. “Do the best you can?”

  Before leaning over, she glanced at the curtain again, still concerned about the nurse’s intrusion. Her lips touched his as gentle as a fluttering moth. Her eyes captured his, and she lowered her lips again.

  His heart went wild with cartwheels. When he caught his breath, he drew her hand to his and kissed it. “How about pulling that chair closer?”

  She glanced behind her, then walked to the window and slid the chair next to the bed.

  Each movement pleased him—her easy gait, her nervous glance, her rosy lips. The pressure of her mouth remained on his, and when she sat, he drew her hand into his, weaving his fingers between hers. “You have something on your mind.”

  Her look acknowledged he was correct. “I know firefighters are brave, but are you really okay?” Her eyes probed his heart.

  “What do you think?” He gave her a toying look, hoping their kiss would answer her question. “I’m more than okay now.”

  A faint flush tinted her cheeks though worry still appeared on her face. “I can’t help being concerned.” She grazed her index finger over his hand. “I want to know what happened to you today.”

  He drew back as the burn sizzled in his lungs. He muffled the cough, not wanting to add to her concern. “Didn’t you talk with Devon? I thought he’d fill you in on the details.”

  “Me?” Her eyes widened. “I only knew you were being treated for smoke inhalation. Devon was still at work and had to hurry.” She lowered her eyes a moment. “I didn’t know a thing and that’s why I wanted to come, but I didn’t think it was appropriate for me to be here.”

  “Inappropriate?” He tried to cover his scowl.

  She pressed her lips together. “To be honest, Uncle Fred was the one who insisted I visit you.”

  He pictured Fred with his playful manipulation. “He’s a good man.”

  An uneasy smile sneaked to her face. “Well, I’m not your...you know....” She paused, as if wishing she’d not said what she did. “After my uncle’s harassment, I decided I’d better get here and find out what happened.”

  “I’m glad you minded him. Otherwise I’d be lying here alone.”

  “None of the crew came to see you?”

  “They’re still on duty. The chief called to make sure I’m okay. A few may stop by tomorrow when they’re off.” He shook his head. “Really, I’ll be fine. No permanent damage.”

  “I hope.” She gave his fingers a squeeze. “But you still haven’t told me what happened.”

  Though reassured that she did care about him, he’d already worked through the experience without much success. The memory of the day lay like a lump in his mind as he struggled to make sense of it all. “The building was some kind of empty car repair place or a warehouse. It was full of grease and oil, grunge all over the floors. Flammable. We knew it was combustible, because the smoke was thick and black.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “I got into my SCBA and regulated the air before—”

  “What’s an SCBA?”

  “Self-contained breathing apparatus. It’s a device we wear to avoid smoke inhalation, especially smoke like that, so thick. Like mud.”

  She nodded, her eyes still flashing concern.

  The dusky images became clearer. “I couldn’t remember much when I first woke, but I’m recalling more now. I think I was trying to locate the source of the fire—it was basically an empty building—and we—”

  “Were you the only one who went inside?”

  “No, but I was ahead of them. Some were dragging out hoses while we assessed the situation.” He wished he could answer more clearly. “The next thing I remember was the roof crashing around me. Praise God, it missed me, but it blocked me in. No escape except through fire. The next thing I know my SCBA isn’t working like it should. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, and I had to pull it off.”

  “Why?”

  He studied her then realized what she meant. “It’s rare that something goes wrong with the apparatus. We check our gear every morning. I didn’t find a problem. I’m sure they’ll go over it and find out what went wrong.”

  “So you were breathing that horrible smoke.”

  His pulse lurched as the recollection overwhelmed him. It was that or suffocate. He lifted his shoulders, feeling the need for more air. “Thank the Lord, the guys pulled me out. I don’t know how. The fire was spreading....” He drew in a breath to conquer his emotions. “And I would have been gone.” He squeezed her hand, wishing he could promise it wouldn’t happen again. It was a part of his job to save lives in dire situations, and he’d joined the other men knowing that.

  She rested her cheek on the bed railing. “I want you to feel better and get home.” She glanced at the clock. “Tomorrow?”

  “I hope.” Worry etched her face. He drew a deep breath, and fire raked through his lungs again. He struggled to hold back his cough.

  She rose while an unreadable expression washed across her face. “I’m going to let you rest. I’ll call you tomorrow or—”

  “I have my cell phone. I can call you when I learn something.” He hated to see her go, especially since her mood had changed so rapidly.

  She leaned over the railing and brushed her hand across his hair. “I hope you rest well tonight.”

  His lips ached to have her kiss him again, but she drew back, stood a moment and, with a wave, slipped around the curtain.

  He listened until her footsteps faded. Loneliness enveloped him. Paula had impacted him in a way that was hard to explain. She’d captured him for many reasons. The most touching part was her vulnerability. He didn’t need to be a psych major to recognize that. He hadn’t escaped being susceptible, either, but he’d succeeded in hiding it better than Paula. Even now, he felt it. Though he’d lived alone for a long time, as she walked away tonight, he felt empty without her.

  * * *

  Paula had lain awake half the night, sorting through her feelings. No matter what she did, she couldn’t dismiss the truth. Clint made life worth living. She hadn’t felt so much a part of anyone’s life in years, not even her cousins and Uncle Fred, who’d saved her in their own way.

  She pulled the stollen bread and a package of link sausage from the freezer and, though she suspected Clint had eggs at his house, she didn’t want to take a chance. Just in case, she wrapped four eggs in paper towel and found a small container they fit inside safely, she hoped. Though nervous about her visit, when she heard he’d be home by late morning, she’d promised him breakfast, and he’d readily agreed. She piled her wares into a grocery bag, tossed her purse over her shoulder and headed outside.

  A chilly breeze ruffled her hair and the scent of moldering leaves and grass filled her senses. Flower beds looked empty except for some mums and remnants of a few brave petunias. She loved spring, when tulips and hyacinth gave way to purple coneflowers and daisies and the air filled with the sweet fragrance of roses and lavender. Yet even in autumn, nature had put a stamp of approval on the changes in her life. Like autumn, the old was dying and the new was waiting for spring to return, both outside her and inside.

  She unlocked her car, rested the food bag on the front seat and latched the seat belt around it. Smiling at her passenger, she backed out of the driveway and made her way into traffic, her excitement rising as she neared Clint’s house.

  A positive feeling comforted her. She wanted to get things out in the open. Clint’s asking for a kiss, his continual tenderness meant something. How could she doubt his feelings? And yet, she’d been duped before. Not just Vic, but a few others along the way. She’d been gullible. The fear of it happening again stole her confidence. She questioned her common sense at every turn.

  Clint’s lovely home came into view; a few roses still clung to the thorny limbs and the broad le
aves of hosta, some in dark green, others variegated in whites and greens, hadn’t given up yet. The landscape looked fresh and neat. Clint worked hard on his days off to make his property look attractive, but the attractiveness didn’t end there.

  She’d grown to love his slightly salt-and-pepper hair, a contrast to his youthful features. The look added confidence and balance to his demeanor. He had a solid head on his shoulders. She’d become aware of his concern for her security and financial situation, and after noticing her irritation, he now tried to hide it. He’d failed, but she couldn’t fault him for that. His morning call had lifted her spirits, and now she had one piece of good news for him, which lightened her worries though she knew better than to count on it until she was positive.

  She unlatched the grocery bag from the seat belt and headed inside.

  Clint met her at the door with a hug. “You kept your promise. I like that.”

  “You like it most when it has to do with food.” She cast him a smile as she flashed past and headed for the kitchen. His raspy voice hadn’t improved. She heard it now and earlier on the phone, and she couldn’t help but worry.

  His footsteps scuffed behind her. “What’s in the bag?”

  She flashed him another grin. “Think back. I’m sure you’ll remember.”

  His smile broadened. “French toast with a German influence, I hope.”

  “Correct on both counts.” She spread the ingredients on the island. “I need a bowl, a cutting board and bread knife, and a fry pan with about a half-inch of cooking oil.”

  He moved away, pulling out what she’d requested while she went to work on their breakfast.

  When Clint had done as she asked, he hovered beside her, and though she loved his nearness, she knew he should be resting. Besides, she’d probably do something stupid by her distraction with him so near. Nothing worse than burned food. “You’re recuperating. You need to sit.” She pointed to the stool on the other side of the island.

  He questioned her with a look, but rounded the counter and settled on the seat.

  She shifted her attention and beat the eggs. “How long will you have the rasp?”