The Perfect Match (6 page)

He scowled at her.

She laughed, unfazed. “Pastor, you should know that no one is immune to my matchmaking.”

Her grin was so infectious his scowl turned to a chuckle. “It won’t work, Liza, but thanks for the good intentions. I’m afraid I’m simply not the marrying kind. Almost took the plunge once but—”

“Don’t tell me you came to your senses.”

Well, that about summed it up. Reality had hit him hard and square in the chest, leaving a wound so deep he wondered if he’d yet recovered. “Maybe I just know that the right girl for me isn’t out there. I’m happy single . . .” He moved past her and reached out to Doc Simpson, praying Liza would keep moving.

“Yeah, sure. We all are,” Liza said, then walked away.

Dan tried not to let her words grate at him as he finished greeting his parishioners. He was happily single. Or maybe he simply wasn’t ready to surrender his heart again for a woman to trample. He’d barely survived the first time. Besides, his wife would have to be committed to life as a pastor’s wife. Serving. Letting him keep doctor’s hours, putting up with other people needing his time and attention. It seemed like a job better suited for a single man. No wonder the apostle Paul had urged those heading into ministry to remain single.

He was saying good-bye to Ruth Schultz when he spotted a man, his long dark hair tied in a ponytail and dressed in a tweed jacket, black jeans, and hiking boots standing with his back to him near the vestibule. “Noah?”

The man turned. “Hey ya, Preach.” A wide smile graced Noah Standing Bear’s face as he extended his arm and took two long steps toward Dan. “Glad to see you.”

Dan always felt slightly dwarfed by this man, despite his own six-foot stature. Noah was over six feet tall with the girth of a small grizzly. But his demeanor was pure lamb. A former gang member, Noah worked as a youth pastor in Minneapolis and ran a summer camp on the Gunflint Trail for delinquent inner-city kids. “What are you doing here?”

Noah took a deep breath, as if holding back a flood
of emotions, but his eyes betrayed his secret in a bright glow. “Anne and I are getting married.”

“Yes!” Dan high-fived him. “Not that I had any doubts, but still, she has a mind of her own, and I’m glad to see you get a ring on her finger.”

“You and me both.” Noah looked like the man who hung the moon, all grins and puffed-out chest. Or maybe it was simply his stocky build and standard demeanor. If anyone exuded the joy of salvation, it was Noah Standing Bear. The guy had stories that sent Dan’s chin to the floor in alarm, his heart soaring with the redemptive work of Christ. “Anne and I are getting married in the city, but we want to have a small party here at the church. Do you suppose we could work that out?”

“Are you kidding? When?”

“We’re getting married the weekend before Thanksgiving.”

“That is the best news I’ve heard all year. Where is Anne?”

“She left a couple weeks ago with Katie, one of my staffers.”

“I know Katie.” Dan easily pictured the redhead, a cute ball of Irish spunk and courage. The woman had a way of leading kids to Christ that was simple and understandable. Sometimes Dan wished he could take notes.

“Katie and Anne’s sister are in the wedding, and they had to have fittings for their bridesmaid dresses and iron out a few details.”

“So you’ve been engaged all summer?” Dan frowned at him. “You didn’t tell me.”

Noah shook his head. “Sorry, Dan. We didn’t tell
anyone except a few of the staffers. We didn’t want the kids watching us and forgetting why they were there.”

“Right.” It didn’t take much for street kids who lived soap-opera lives to turn a godly courtship into R-rated gossip. “Well, the church would love to host you. I’ll put it on our calendar. Let me know what I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Dan. Anne will be thrilled.” He curled his program in his hand. “I gotta run. I’m heading down to Minneapolis this afternoon.”

Dan walked with him into the parking lot. Noah unstrapped his helmet from his motorcycle and worked it on. “Joe told me about your injury . . . and your new fire chief.” This time the shine in his eyes had nothing to do with his own love life. “Heard she made quite an impact on you.”

Dan grimaced. “No. Just trying to do my job.”

“Oh, really?” Noah pulled the bike off its kickstand. “And what’s that?”

Dan let the image of Ellie sitting on the beach, the wind teasing her hair, those blue eyes hiding too many secrets pass over him. He sighed. “Keeping people out of trouble.”

“Hmm,” said Noah, his smile dimming. “I guess I didn’t know that was your job description.” He jump-started the bike, then sat and revved the engine. “Well, just so long as you leave something for God to do!” he said over the roar. Then he smiled, flicked a salute, and motored off.

E
llie blinked, her eyes tearing as they adjusted to the fog of debris now settling on the floor. She had landed on her elbows, and they felt like they’d been shattered. Her eyes nearly crossed with the pain that pulsed up her arms. She took a breath. No sharp burning in her chest. Hopefully she hadn’t cracked any ribs. Something heavy lay on her lower legs.

Groaning, she twisted and discovered that the overhead beam to the second floor had given way. Crashing against the staircase, it had scattered the banister beams like bowling pins, raining them down upon her as it fell. The beam then broke and pinned her neatly to the floor.

She felt for her flashlight, found it, and shone some light on the situation. Two very menacing-looking nails had missed her leg by a fraction of an inch. She could be bleeding out on this carbonized, water soaked floor if it weren’t for providential protection.

Again, God had spared her life despite her foolishness. She had to be setting new records.
Thank You, Lord.

Turning back on her stomach, she reached out for a handhold, something solid.

She hadn’t fallen through the floor, but pinned the way she was in the hallway, nothing but boards and litter filled her grasp. She pulled on a floorboard, but it splintered into black ash in her hands. The smell of ash seeped into her nostrils, and her legs felt like smoldering cinders.

Tasting the sharp edge of panic, she bit it back even as frustration balled in her throat. With a roar she lunged against her pinnings. The sound echoed back at her, lifting the fine hairs on her neck. Fighting tears, Ellie buried her face in the pocket of her folded arms. Why did she let her stubborn pride push her to the edge of safe and sane?

The sudden wave of memories, filled with the smell of smoke and the taste of frustration, took her breath away:

Seth stood in her way as she entered the fire camp, his feet planted, his eyes hard. “Turn around and go home,” he’d said in a tight voice.

“No!” She’d flung her backpack over her shoulder, faked, and sprang around him. He nearly raced her to the administration tent where the firefighters checked in.

“Does Dad know you’re here?”

His question felt like a slap. “Yes. Well . . . okay, no. But it doesn’t matter. I’m nineteen and old enough to figure out how I want to spend my summer.”

“Yes, on the beach or camping with your friends or maybe working at McDonald’s.” Seth seized her arm. She turned, and his expression looked more like panic than fury. “You can’t stay here.”

“I can, and I will.” She’d wrenched her arm out of his grip and walked away, his warning stinging her ears.

“Over my dead body.”

Ellie closed her eyes, listening to his voice fade in favor of the birds chirping and the sounds of the neighbors returning from Sunday services. Lunch would be on the table soon, and the little girls would be told to change out of their dresses. Meanwhile, across the street, the town fire chief would die of starvation and her stubborn pride.

Ellie groaned. It wasn’t like anyone was going to come looking for her. She had no friends in this town, especially after the way she’d treated Dan.

She winced, remembering his words:
And who is going to watch out for you?

At the time she’d thought them invasive. Presumptuous. Chauvinistic.

Now they’d become painfully prophetic.

She knew better than to tromp around a fire scene without a partner. That’s what deputy chiefs were for . . . except she didn’t have one of those. The closest thing she had to an assistant was Franklin . . . or perhaps Mitch Davis, the volunteer captain.

Oh, joy.

He’d certainly have a good time with this one. He and Dan could hold each other up while they laughed at her. She wanted to curl into a ball and hide.

Then again, maybe this was a fitting demise to her dismal start. She barely had her head above water with this job, and this morning she had let her ambitions run away with her brain.

Maybe she could quit while she still had the pieces of her pride. Olaf Growald, the Duluth chief, would welcome her back without a word. She had been a good deputy.

What good would scraping out a spot for a female chief accomplish, anyway? The question hit her like a sledgehammer. Sure, she’d fought like a badger to earn her place, but now at the top of the heap, could she really make a difference in the landscape of Deep Haven life? And would it even begin to erase time or redeem the sacrifices made to get her here?

The empty places in her heart stung with the memory of raucous, infectious laughter and the smile of a boy who seemed to radiate the sun.

She had to make a difference. She owed it to Seth.

And she’d accomplish nothing if she starved to death trapped under a pile of debris.

Ellie lifted her head, spied her pike pole. Stretching, she barely nicked it with her gloved hand. Maybe she could—

“Ellie?”

The voice of salvation—or maybe doom—came from the doorway. Ellie pushed back her helmet, craned her neck, squinted at the dark outline in the doorway.

Tall, broad shoulders, tousled dark brown hair . . . she sighed. “Hi ya, Pastor.”

Dan peered into the gutted house at Ellie’s dark, sooty face, and horror slid over him in a wave. “Are you okay?” He strode into the house, picking his way over charred timbers. “What happened?”

She wiggled, but she wasn’t going anywhere with a layer of wood piled atop her, most of it resting on the now splintered staircase. Weakness washed over him when he saw how close she’d come to being crushed.

“I came to do some preliminary investigation—”

“Alone?” He picked up two pieces of banister wood, piled them at the foot of the stairs. He had no doubt the entire house could cave in on their heads if he dislodged the wrong ceiling joist.

“Yeah, alone. You can quit laughing at me now.”

Laughing? With his heart lodged in his throat? “I fail to see the humor in this, Ellie. You could have been killed.” He continued to work to free her. “Is anything broken? Maybe I should call the guys. We can get a stretch—”

“No. I’m fine. Just . . . just get me out of here.” She wiggled again, and the entire pile began to groan.

“Stay still! I’ll dig you out; just stay still.” What she had obviously failed to see, apparently because of her position, was another ridgepole, burnt to a thread, above her. With the loss of the joist next to it, all the weight could shift and bury them. “Just . . . lie there.”

He moved another banister rail, but she wasn’t having any of his orders. Grunting, she twisted against her shackles. Dan heard the pile shift again. “Ellie, please trust me, will ya? I promise I’ll get you out of here.” His crisp tone cut into her efforts and she froze. “You’re going to bring the roof down on us.”

He stepped over her, examining the timber that trapped her.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded tight, as if she were holding in her fear.

“I was headed up to my cabin. Saw your Jeep.” He didn’t add that he’d sat at the stop sign long enough to pile up traffic before he’d turned her way. Something about her bold yellow vehicle sitting alone outside the house had triggered a sharp—and rightful—concern.

More than one timber had fallen, and the one pinning Ellie was still connected to an adjoining timber that looked like it might decide to follow. “Uh, Ellie, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to lift this end of the beam as best I can. You wriggle out.”

He crouched, gripped the end, lifted.

She moved like a soldier, fighting against the claw of the joist. “No good. I can’t figure it out. My legs are free but I can’t budge. I think my bunker pants are caught.”

“So wriggle out of them.”

She shot him a dark look.

“You
are
wearing something underneath them, right?”

She nodded but had managed to color an interesting crimson. “Um . . . okay, long johns.”

He smirked. “That’s appropriate attire for this neck of the woods. C’mon, shed those bunker pants.”

She made a face at him but somehow managed to pull off her turnout coat, then drop the suspenders from her waist. She squirmed out of the pants like a lizard shedding its skin, and a second later stood in the doorway in her stockinged feet, free and, by the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes, dying on the spot.

He lowered the joist. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What about my pants?”

He walked over, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her out onto the porch. The afternoon sun glinted off the gathering storm in her blue eyes. “You in your pajamas and alive is a thousand times better than a fully dressed casualty. We’ll get the city to shore up the house; then you can go in after your . . . um . . . pants.”

She looked so utterly ridiculous, however, standing in her turnout coat, which effectively managed to cover
most of her backside, her face grimy and her helmet levered back on her head like it might be her father’s, he couldn’t help but laugh. Now safely outside the hover of danger, he saw the humor.

She punched him square on the shoulder.

“Hey, is that how you treat your knight in shining armor?” He rubbed his shoulder but couldn’t work up a frown.

“You’re not my knight. You’re just . . . oh!” She turned away, her fists clenched. Poor woman. She looked like she might haul off and slug him again . . . or perhaps cry. Her jaw tight, her eyes didn’t meet his and he thought he saw actual fumes spiraling from her ears.

Lifting her helmet, he leaned down to her eye level and tried to pull a smile out of her. “Sorry, Chief. I hope I didn’t offend you by, you know, rescuing you or anything.”

She looked up at him, her face red. He fought the urge to duck. What was it about this woman that refused to appreciate the ironic humor in this situation? Especially after her declarations of independence the night before. He wasn’t even going to attempt a lecture on safety. He liked all his teeth in his mouth, thank you.

Ellie finally worked out words. “Well, now, I suppose all the guys at the station will have a good one on me.” Again, the clenched jaw, and this time did he spy tears?

“Wait. You think I’ll turn you into the town laughingstock?” The last thing he wanted to do was listen to Mitch run her down. Dan would go to his grave with this episode if that’s what it took to protect her.

She swiped away an errant tear in lightning speed. “Tell them what you want. I don’t care.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to tell them anything, Ellie. I promise. That’s what friends do. Pull each other out of scrapes and keep their secrets.”

The gaze she turned on him was so searching he felt it spear right through him to the soft tissue of his heart. He could barely breathe, let alone speak.

Finally, she smiled. Tentative and just enough to make him believe the sun might rise again in the morning. “You’re my friend?”

“I thought we ironed that out last night on the beach.”

She looked down at her stockinged feet. “And you’re not going to tell the guys that I’m running around town in my jammies?”

He scratched his chin, as if mulling it over. She whacked him again on the shoulder and nearly toppled him off the porch. But there was a genuine light-up-the-world smile on her face.

“Well, it’ll cost ya,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes, the smile dimming. “What?”

“Dinner.”

“I can’t . . . um . . . well, I’m not the greatest cook.”

“Oh, c’mon. You’re a fire chief. You’re supposed to be able to make five-alarm chili. I thought it was part of the job.”

She winced with one eye closed.

He laughed. “Calm down, Miss Good Housekeeping. I was planning on doing the cooking—or maybe picking up some sub sandwiches. But I have a cute place up the trail I’d love to show you.”

“Can I change out of my jammies?”

“Ellie, you can wear anything but your badge.”

Her smile disappeared. The light in her eyes blinked out, and her playful expression faded with a twitch. “Then I guess I’m going to have to say no.”

He felt a chill shudder through him. He’d meant it as a joke . . . well, okay, not a complete joke. It would be nice to get to know the woman without the internal armor that came with her job. But if he had to chip away at it, he’d take her fully armed and outfitted for battle too.

“I was just kidding, Ellie,” he said, but he nearly heard the lock turning in her emotional barricade. She turned away from him, hopped off the porch, strode across the yard, and hopped into her Jeep. He watched her in silence, his heart sinking.

But he didn’t miss the quick swipe of her hand across her face as she gunned the engine and tore past him.