“What did you find wrong?”
“Trash on the back porch that should have been in a Dumpster.
That’s it.”
He should have called the company about that, even though Laura
McKay had told him not to.
“That meshes with what the caller said—a blaze on the back
porch.” The siren wailed as they took the corner. “We’ll attack from the alley.
You and Dave can do the entry.”
He nodded. Seth was giving him the rescue. Nice to know his big
brother had that much faith in him, even though their new relationship of
lieutenant to firefighter sometimes rubbed both of them the wrong way.
Of course, if the posting to the arson squad he’d applied for
came through, it would eliminate the problem. He’d have a different boss, a
different job. He hadn’t told anyone about it yet, not sure himself how he felt
about the change.
He pushed the whole business from his mind. There wasn’t room to
think about anything else when he went into a fire scene.
They shrieked up the alley, the backs of the buildings a little
seedy here compared to the polish of the historic district in the next block.
Seth leaned forward, probably assessing what they had to deal with.
Seth’s caution was a good quality for a lieutenant. All Ryan
wanted to do was get in there and make the grab. His body itched with the need
to move.
A bystander in robe and slippers rushed up to the apparatus.
“I’m the one called it in. There’s a woman and kid live there—they didn’t come
out.”
Ryan pulled out his hand ax as his feet hit the ground. Dave
Hanratty was right behind him, both of them fully geared up with masks. Flames
licked at the wooden porch, but the building’s brick walls would slow the blaze
down.
He nodded to Dave and together they charged toward the door. A
couple of quick hits, a kick, and they were in.
Smoke billowed through the downstairs, and a smoke alarm wailed
relentlessly. If Laura heard it, why hadn’t she gotten out by now?
“Stairs.” He pointed with the ax. “Apartment on the second
floor.”
They hit the steps running, their footsteps thundering on the
wooden treads. No flames had reached this area, but the smoke was the danger.
Smoke could kill.
He reached the second-floor landing a step ahead of Dave and
raised his ax. Before he could swing, the door opened.
Laura stumbled toward them. The little girl in her arms was
partially covered with a blanket, but her small face was pinched with terror.
He reached for the child. The woman tried to hang on to her.
“I’ll take her—” Her words died in a fit of coughing.
He grabbed the little girl, ignoring her frightened wail and the
mother’s protests. This was no time for politeness. He passed the child to
Dave, who started back down the steps with her.
He grabbed Laura’s arm. “Is there anyone else in the building?”
“No.” She tried to pull away from him. “You scared Mandy. I
could have carried her out.”
When it came to stubborn, this woman took the cake. He yanked
her to the stairs. “Tell me about it later. Right now we’re getting out.”
Luckily she’d shoved her feet into shoes, so he didn’t have to
worry about her getting cut up. He hustled her down the steps. The front door
stood open now, and together they rushed out into the fresh morning air.
The paramedic unit had already pulled up to the curb, and the
crew from the secondary tank truck was wetting down the adjoining buildings.
He took Laura straight to the paramedics—his sister Terry’s
team, thank goodness. Terry was the best. She was already checking out the
little girl.
Mandy struggled to get away from Terry’s hands, reaching toward
her mother. Laura dropped to her knees on the wet pavement, coughing, and swept
her child into her arms.
The lump in his throat might have been from the smoke, but he
didn’t think so.
Thank You, Father.
He suspected Dave was saying the same prayer. Any day they got
people out safely was a good day.
“You need to let us check you out.” Terry’s voice was gentle but
authoritative as she peeled the little girl away from her mother.
Laura nodded, but Mandy took one look at him and began to wail
again.
Quickly he stripped off the mask and helmet and squatted next to
her. “Hey, Mandy, it’s me.” He pulled off his gloves so he could sign his name.
“Ryan.”
The wailing stopped and the child’s dark eyes widened, some of
the fear leaving them.
“This is just my mask.” He had to gesture to make up for the
signs he didn’t know. “See, Terry is going to give you one, too.”
Mandy clutched her mother’s hand, but she let Terry fit the
oxygen mask on her face.
Terry glanced up. “Thanks, Ry. We’re going to take them both to
the hospital.”
“I’m all right—” Laura began, but the words were interrupted by
a fit of coughing.
“Just to check you out,” Terry said gently. “Don’t worry.”
“Listen to my sister.” He gave Laura a reassuring smile. “Trust
me, she knows best.”
She nodded, clasping the little girl close as he and Terry
helped them into the rig. “Thank you,” she murmured, and the door closed.
He watched the unit out of sight. They’d be all right. He and
Dave had gotten to them in time.
He turned back to the building. A sense of relief went through
him. Thanks to their fast response, the crew nearly had the blaze out already.
By the looks of things, the damage probably wasn’t going to be severe.
Still, thinking about the job Laura was trying to do, he felt a
pang of sympathy. She’d already had her hands full. Now, it looked as if her
life had just gotten a whole lot tougher.
Laura trudged up the stairs to the second-floor apartment,
following the yellow beam of her flashlight in the darkness. The staircase
looked like Mount Everest at the moment. Apparently the doctors had been right
about the effects of smoke inhalation.
I’m fine.
That’s what she’d
kept repeating to the doctors all day so they’d let her go.
Mandy was spending the night at the hospital.
Just to be on the safe side,
they’d said.
She’d stayed there, too, until her daughter fell asleep. She’d been tempted to
go to sleep herself in the vinyl chair next to Mandy’s bed.
But she kept thinking about the building. How bad was it? She’d
been told the fire department had doused the flames quickly, but no one had
told her how severe the damage was. She hadn’t been able to sleep for thinking
about it. Finally she’d known she had to see for herself.
So she’d come. She’d change her clothes and get Mandy’s favorite
teddy bear to take back to the hospital, just in case her daughter wakened in
the night. And she’d check out the damage to the only asset they had to their
names.
Then she could go back to the hospital and try to sleep in that
chair, once she knew the worst.
She pushed herself up the last few steps, feeling as if she
carried an enormous weight on her shoulders. The apartment door was closed, but
not locked. Had she closed it in the flurry of getting out, when Ryan had
manhandled her down those stairs? She didn’t remember.
Inside, she swung the light around, half afraid of what she’d
see. Her breath came out in a sigh of relief. The apartment was untouched. The
acrid scent of smoke still hung in the air, but that was minor in comparison to
what she’d been imagining.
Coughing a little, she crossed to the closest window and opened
it a few inches at the top. Cool night air rushed in, fanning her face. She’d
deal with airing out the rest of the apartment later.
She went through into the bedroom. The closet door was closed,
and she pulled it open. Not too bad. The closed door had protected her clothing
from the worst of the smoke.
She pulled out a pair of slacks and a shirt, changing quickly.
She’d showered at the hospital, and a nurse had provided some cast-off clothing
to replace the sooty, smoky pajamas she’d been wearing. She wouldn’t be likely
ever to wear those again.
A shudder ran through her. If the smoke alarm hadn’t gone off,
if someone hadn’t seen the blaze and called the fire department, if—
No. She couldn’t let herself keep reliving those terrifying
moments when she’d struggled awake and run to Mandy’s room. The problem would
be to stop doing it.
She crossed the hall to her daughter’s room, her stomach
roiling. When she’d run in, terrified, Mandy had been awake, huddled under her
quilt, clutching her teddy bear. Why hadn’t she come to her mother when she
realized something was wrong?
The bear, Teddy, lay abandoned on the rag rug next to the single
bed. She scooped him up and held him close, feeling tears sting her eyes. We’re
all right. We’re safe.
She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. She had no
time for crying. The clock was ticking.
In three weeks her prospective buyer would be here to check out
the building. The specialist could call at any time to schedule Mandy’s
cochlear implant. The two most important things in her life sped toward her.
She had to be ready. She suppressed a flicker of panic.
Okay. Carrying the bear, she started back downstairs. She’d take
a quick look at the damage and then head back to the hospital. And tomorrow—
She frowned, swinging the beam of light around the front room of
the downstairs. Water from the fire hoses hadn’t mixed very well with the dirt.
Would she be able to bring Mandy back here tomorrow? Maybe, if the power
company restored the electricity.
If not, that would mean a motel, and how she’d pay for that, she
couldn’t imagine. The panic flickered again and was beaten down. She could do
this. She’d find a way.
Little as she wanted to, she had to check the back of the
building, where the worst damage was. She picked her way carefully across the
littered floor, feet moving in the yellow circle cast by the flashlight.
A loud thud sounded at the back of the house. Her heart stopped
for an instant and then started thumping wildly. She heard a scuffling sound,
then the rumble of a masculine voice, followed by several loud bangs.
The sensible thing was to run out and call the police. She wasn’t
feeling very sensible. Instead, rage surged through her. It wasn’t bad enough
that she and her child had been forced out of their home by the fire. Now some
lowlife was trying to get in and rob them. Well, he’d get more than he’d
bargained for this time.
The flashlight beam touched a two-by-four about as long as a
baseball bat. Perfect. She grabbed it and advanced on the door to the old
kitchen.
Light gleamed from around the swinging door. Apparently her
thief had come well-equipped.
Running on anger and adrenaline, she shoved the door open,
raising her improvised weapon threateningly. A dark figure stood at the back
door.
“What do you think you’re doing? Get out
of here!” He swung around, and her breath caught. Ryan. Ryan Flanagan stood
there, a hammer in one hand.
R
yan lifted his
hands. “I give up. Don’t shoot.”
Laura’s heart pounded, as if once the adrenaline started to
flow, she couldn’t stop it. “I’m sorry.” She realized she was still holding the
two-by-four. It hit the ragged linoleum with a clatter.
He lowered his hands cautiously, probably not sure she was
really disarmed. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you were at the
hospital.”
“I came back to check the house.”
He nodded toward the teddy bear that was clutched under her arm.
“And to find something important, I guess.”
She held the bear a little tighter. “He’s important to Mandy.
She likes to sleep with him.”
“How is she?” Ryan leaned against a sooty counter, hands braced
against its edge, apparently not minding the dirt. He’d exchanged his uniform
for jeans and a dark-blue knit shirt, and he’d picked up a streak of soot across
the front of the shirt, presumably since he’d entered the house. The
concentrated light of the torch cast his strong face into sharp relief.
She forced herself to concentrate, her wits still scattered
after finding him here so unexpectedly. “She’s going to be all right. The
doctor thought she should stay until tomorrow to be sure there aren’t any
aftereffects from the smoke.”
“That’s good.” He studied her face. “You look as if they should
have kept you, too.”
“I’m fine.” She was getting tired of saying that. “I don’t want
to be rude, but what are you doing here?”
“Fixing the door.” He gestured toward the door that led onto the
porch, and she realized belatedly that the powerful torch he’d set on the
counter was trained on the opening. The door sagged on its hinges.
“You don’t have to do that.”
He shrugged. “I broke it. Seems like the least I can do is fix
it.”
“I can take care of the door. I don’t need any help.” She had to
sound strong, because she was unaccountably weepy at the thought that Ryan
Flanagan had actually come back to do something for her.
“Not even from an old school friend?” He gave her the easy grin
that charmed so readily.
She blinked, startled. “I thought you didn’t recognize me.”
“You’re Laura Jane Phillips. At least, it used to be Phillips.
You were a year behind me at Suffolk High. Am I right?”
She nodded. So he had remembered her. Or perhaps someone had
told him who she was.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were yesterday?” His eyebrows
lifted. “Or didn’t you remember me?”
“No one could forget the Flanagans.” She answered the second
question first, evading his eyes. “I just— didn’t think it was appropriate to
get into old home week when you were here on business.”
He leaned casually against the filthy counter, as if ready to
stay and chat all night. “It bugged me all day, trying to figure out why you
looked so familiar to me. How are your folks?”
“They’ve retired to Arizona. My dad’s health isn’t very good.”
The usual pang of concern gripped her heart at the thought of her father.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I guess otherwise he’d be here doing
the renovation for you.”
She nodded. It wasn’t necessary to confide in Ryan that her
father didn’t know she was doing the rehab herself, for that very reason. If
Dad knew, he’d try to come and probably kill himself in the process.
As for her mother—well, she’d stopped trying to figure her
mother out a long time ago. She just knew she couldn’t count on her for help
with this or anything else.
Ryan relaxed his long frame against the counter, not seeming in
any hurry to get on with the door-fixing. “Anyway, I didn’t know you’d come
back to Suffolk. I thought you were living in Philadelphia.”
“How on earth would you know that?” She hadn’t imagined he’d
remember who she was, let alone know where she’d gone after school.
He grinned. “You’re forgetting my mother, with her encyclopedic
knowledge of anyone who’s ever attended our church. Once I mentioned you, she
trotted out everything she knew, including the fact that you were married and
living in Philly. She was surprised we haven’t seen you in church since you’ve
been back.”
Siobhan Flanagan had taught her in church school twice—once in
kindergarten, then again in junior high. She had a gentle manner, a warm smile
and a love that extended to even the most rebellious of teens.
Still, however warm her memories of Ryan’s mother, she was not
going to defend her failure to attend church to him. “Please greet her for me.
And really, I can take care of the door.”
He shoved away from the counter in a smooth, even movement.
“Tell you what. You hold the boards and I’ll pound. We’ll have it secure in no
time.”
That was probably the fastest way to get him out of here, so she
set the flashlight and teddy bear down and went to the door. The acrid scent of
wet, burned wood from the back porch sent a wave of nausea through her, and she
forced it down angrily.
Ryan had apparently brought a few two-by-fours with him, because
the wood gleamed new. He put one of the boards against the door, and she braced
it with both hands.
He used the hammer with quick, effective strokes. The board
vibrated from his force, jolting her hands.
“So, after your husband’s death, you decided to come home and
buy this place.” The pounding punctuated his words, and she felt the flex of
his muscles where his arm brushed her shoulder.
“Not exactly. My husband had bought the building a couple of
years ago for some business venture he had in mind, but he never got around to
doing anything with it. So I decided to fix it up.”
She wouldn’t add that this building was the only legacy Jason
had left her and Mandy. That everything else he’d received from his father had
been frittered away on one foolish scheme or another, until his father had
finally cut him off, saying Jason would have to pay for his own mistakes.
Apparently he’d put her and Mandy in the mistake category.
“You plan to live here?” Ryan propped another board across the
door, and it gleamed palely against the blackened frame.
“I’m fixing it up to sell. I have a buyer who has an option, if
I can get the renovation done before she loses interest or finds something
better.”
Ryan paused, looking over his shoulder at her. Her pulse gave a
little jump. Her hands were planted next to his on the board, and his face was
only inches away.
“And then you’ll leave Suffolk again?” He looked at her as if he
really wanted to know. As if it might matter to someone what she did.
Her mouth was dry. From the smoke, she assured herself. Not
because Ryan Flanagan had any effect on her.
She moistened her lips. “I haven’t decided yet. Mandy is going
to have a cochlear implant—at least I hope she is, if all the tests go well. I
can’t plan beyond that right now.”
The implant could give Mandy a chance at a normal life. How
could she think of anything else?
“At the hospital here?” His eyes lit with interest. “That’d be
Dr. Marsh, I guess.”
“You’ve heard of him.” She was faintly surprised. Franklin Marsh
was well-known to parents of deaf children, but why would Ryan know of him?
“My sister-in-law, Gabe’s wife, trains animals to work with
people who have disabilities. She introduced me to Dr. Marsh at a benefit. I
understand he does good work.”
“He’s the best.” She wouldn’t trust her daughter’s hearing and
her future to anyone who wasn’t. “If he decides Mandy will benefit from an
implant, it will make all the difference in the world to us.”
And if he did accept Mandy for the procedure, she somehow had to
come up with the over fifty thousand dollars the process would cost. The
minimal insurance program she was able to afford would cover Mandy’s stay in
the hospital, but it didn’t cover a cochlear implant.
As if he felt all the things she didn’t say, Ryan put his hand
over hers where it rested on the board. “I hope it works out.”
“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I appreciate that. And
really, I can finish up the door. I’m sure you have other things to do with
your evening.”
“I’m free as a bird.” He pounded another nail in place. “And
anyway, as far as I can see, it’s finished.”
He stood back, smiling at her. He was right. The door was
secured.
He’d shaken off her protests and done exactly what he’d said he
would. And he’d gotten more information from her than she’d confided in anyone
in months.
She raised her eyebrows at him, dusting her hands off. “Do you
always get your own way?”
His smile broadened into a grin. “If you remember my family, you
ought to know that I grew up fighting a bunch of siblings to get what I wanted.
I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“I remember that you used to charm the teachers into letting you
get away with murder.”
Now why had she said that? The man would think she was flirting
with him.
“Lies, spread by my brothers, no doubt.” His smile assumed an
angelic aspect. “I was always a serious student.”
“Somehow I find that difficult to believe.” And she also found
it difficult to believe that she was standing here smiling at him, after
everything that had happened this day.
“Why is it no one will take me seriously?” He dropped the hammer
into a duffel bag and picked up the flashlight.
“Maybe because you don’t take yourself seriously.”
“Ouch, that hurt. A woman who sees right through me. I’d better
watch out.” He hefted the bag. “Anything else I can fix while I’m here?”
“Everything’s fine.” Well, it wasn’t, but he ought to know what
she meant. “I guess we’d better go out the front door, since you’ve nailed up
the back.”
He nodded, and then he unexpectedly clasped her hand in his. His
face was very serious in the dim light. “I wish you and your daughter the
best.”
“Thank you.”
Ryan’s words had been the kind of simple statement anybody might
make. They shouldn’t make her throat go so tight.
She turned away quickly, feeling him behind her as she headed
for the door to the living room. Ryan Flanagan had a way of slipping through
her carefully prepared defenses as if they weren’t even there.
So it was a good thing she wouldn’t be seeing any more of him.
“Listen, Ryan, are you sure Laura McKay isn’t going to mind our
breaking into her house this way?”
Ryan’s brother Gabe paused, leaning on the shovel he’d been
using to scrape soot and crumbled plaster from the ground floor of Laura’s
building. Max, the yellow lab who was Gabe’s seizure-alert dog, sniffed at a
pile of rubble, tail waving.
“Why would she? We’re only trying to help.”
Ryan suspected Laura wouldn’t see it that way, given her strong
streak of independence. But no matter how much she might insist she didn’t need
help, she was wrong. By the time she got home from the hospital with Mandy, he
hoped they’d have much of the fire clean-up done.
A handful of Flanagans had offered to come along today along
with several other firefighters. His cousin Brendan had used his clout as
pastor to round up some more volunteers from the congregation.
All told, probably twenty or thirty people hustled around
Laura’s property, sweeping, mopping, carting away fire rubbish. Now if he could
just persuade Laura to accept the help they offered, everything would be fine.
Well, he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. He clapped his
brother on the shoulder. “Come on, put your back into it. They’ll be home from
the hospital soon.”
Gabe shrugged and went back to shoveling.
Their mother looked up from the broom she was wielding. “I’m
sure Laura will be happy to see us.” Siobhan Flanagan smiled. “And I’ll be glad
to see her. I remember her from church school, years ago. Laura was always such
a sweet, shy little thing.”
“She’s changed since then, Mom.”
“Well, of course people change. Being the single mother of a
deaf child would make someone grow up in a hurry, I’d think. Poor child.”