A Firefighter's Promise

“Hi,” Christopher said quietly, and Rachel’s gaze flew back in his direction.

“Hi, buddy,” Matt said. “Did you like the tour?”

The boy shrugged.

“We did,” Rachel answered for him. “Thanks. Come on, Chris. We’d better get going.”

They all stepped outside together into the warm July sunlight, and Matt glanced in the direction of his crew, who were parking the fire truck in the middle of the sunny drive, ready to go through the daily inspection checklist. Mr. Bernard angled his steps in the direction of the truck, but Matt hung back. Rachel tugged the elastic out of her hair, and her dark waves swung down around her shoulders. The effect was drastic, her dark eyes framed with raven hair, and her pale complexion seeming even milkier with the contrast. She gave Matt a polite nod.

“Mrs. Carter—”

“Call me Rachel.”

“Rachel.” He smiled. “Is there anything you need to help you settle in?”

“No, no, that’s not why I’m here.” Her smile evaporated. “I’m fine. It’s all under control. We’re just about settled.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Look, you mentioned helping out a bit around here—”

“Absolutely.”

“Considering that you’re a teacher—” he glanced down at Chris “—and a mom, you’re probably my resident expert on kids. I’m not good with school groups, and I’d really like to buff up my skills. Do you think you could help me out?”

“I’d love to.” A smile broke over her face, and he was momentarily taken aback by the transformation. She was stunning.

“I’ve got your number.” He patted his front pocket. “Do you mind if I use it?”

“Not at all.” Her dark eyes sparkled.

I love that smile. Again, not the most appropriate thought at a time like this, and Mr. Bernard was headed back in their direction.

“I’ve got to get going,” he said, nodding in Mr. Bernard’s direction. “But I’ll give you a call.”

“No problem. I’ll see you later.” She raised her dark eyes to meet his, then turned her attention to her son. Matt raised a hand in a wave as Rachel and Christopher walked down the pavement toward a white hatchback sedan that had seen better days. Chris looked back at him once with an unreadable expression and Matt couldn’t help feeling that he’d unwittingly let the boy down. He wasn’t the hero that Chris was looking for.

He wasn’t the hero anyone else had been looking for, either, and the biggest reminder of that hard fact was Broxton Park Elementary School.

The school was opening again, teachers were being hired and life was going to continue. He understood that it had to, but something inside him just couldn’t move on with everyone else. That fire had done more than gut a school; it had taken the life of a little girl named Natalie Martin—a little girl he’d done his utmost to rescue. He couldn’t forget that soot-streaked face, so ashen and pale, or the ragged sobs of her parents, who stood on the sidewalk outside the flaming building clinging to each other.

Haggerston would never forget Natalie, but it would move on. Matt would never forget Natalie, either, but he wouldn’t be able to move on here. There were too many memories around every corner, and he knew the answer—South Maitland.

Sometimes God provided healing, and this time, Matt was pretty sure God was providing escape. Maybe healing could happen with some distance.

* * *

Rachel dropped the rag back into the sudsy bucket and leaned back on her heels. Renting Grandma’s old house from her aunt had seemed like the perfect solution when she moved back to Haggerston, but she hadn’t factored in the sheer amount of elbow grease it would take to clean the place up. Rachel looked into the freshly wiped kitchen cupboard and nodded in satisfaction. The 1950s farmhouse kitchen still sported the same teal paint from its early days when her grandmother had set up her own home as a newly married woman. The whitewashed walls, now less than white, contrasted with the teal cupboards, and a big, old-fashioned sink dominated the counter space. A Formica table of the same faded teal held buckets and cleaning products, but under it all, Rachel recognized that familiar, sunny kitchen.

“I always did love Grandma’s house,” she said.

Her aunt Louise, perched on a chair to reach the inside of the upper shelves, emerged from the depths of a cupboard and eyed her over her glasses. Short, graying hair curled around her face, and her cheeks glowed with the combination of heat and exertion.

“Why didn’t you move back earlier?” Louise pushed her glasses up on her face with one arm, keeping her rubber-gloved hands free. “This house has been empty this whole time, you know.”

“I know.” Rachel rose to her feet. “But when Ed died, I didn’t want to leave our home. It felt like leaving him behind.”

If she had to be brutally honest with herself, she was pretty angry with Ed, too, for having left her behind. They were supposed to grow old together. Ed’s dying wasn’t part of the deal.

Her aunt nodded. “This is good for Christopher, though. He needs family.”

Rachel glanced upward, toward the boy’s bedroom on the second floor. Overhead, the odd thump echoed down through the ceiling from his unpacking efforts.

“I hope so,” she said softly.

“You need family.” Aunt Louise shot her a pointed look.

Rachel grinned. “I know. And here we are.”

Louise gave a curt nod and disappeared back into the cupboard once more. Rachel stood motionless, her mind moving over the memories of childhood summers. Hot apple pie, sweet iced tea, old family stories, visits to the graveyard, where she used to read the inscriptions on her great-grandparents’ gravestones, feeling connected to the generations who came before her... Haggerston had been a warm, safe place for Rachel, and she hoped that somehow her own pleasant memories would morph into something more tangible for her son. Was it even possible to channel her happy childhood memories into his boyhood years?

A knock from the front door echoed through the empty house, and Rachel peeled off her rubber gloves and dropped them onto the side of the bucket, then went to answer the door. She paused at the foot of the stairs, just able to make out her son’s legs as he scampered down the upstairs hallway. She smiled to herself and pulled open the front door.

Matt Bailey stood on the porch, his navy blue uniform shirt open at the neck and the summer breeze ruffling his sun-bleached hair. He dropped his gaze, then lifted his eyes to meet hers tentatively.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello.” A thump overhead drew both of their attention, and she chuckled. “Chris is unpacking up there.”

“Sounds like he’s enjoying himself.” He glanced upward, in the direction of the thumps. “Sorry to just stop in on you like this. I saw your car, so I figured you’d be here.”

Rachel looked past his broad shoulders to her white hatchback, rusting around the wheel wells and badly in need of a wash. “You found me. I’m just renting right now, but this is actually my grandmother’s old house, so—”

From the kitchen, Louise called, “I told you a thousand times, Rachel, I’m not accepting a penny from you!”

Rachel laughed and shook her head. “That’s Aunt Louise. She has ears like a cat. Be warned.”

Matt’s eyes crinkled in a warm smile. “Sounds like you’re in good hands.” The smile faltered, and he met her gaze frankly. “I wanted to apologize about today.”

“Oh, it’s no matter.” Rachel batted her hand through the air.

“No, it is.” He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t expecting to meet Chris today, and I wasn’t at my best. Is he okay?”

Rachel’s mind went to the silent drive home she and Christopher had shared—a quiet boy fiddling with a paper plane in the back of the car, his usual noisy exuberance dampened. She wasn’t about to make that Matt’s problem, though. “He’ll be all right.”

“Okay. Good.” Matt cleared his throat, and his gaze softened. “It was nice to meet you. Both of you.”

Inside the house, the phone rang, and Louise picked it up with a singsong “Hello?” Rachel angled her head toward the door and stepped outside. Matt followed. One side of the porch was overgrown with a lilac bush, the clustered blossoms breathing out fragrance, and the other side basked in the shade of a mature oak tree. She let her gaze wander over the yard, a little overgrown and in need of mowing, and then back to her tall guest. Matt’s uniform shirt was wrinkled up the back, and his chin glistened with stubble in the late-afternoon sunlight.

“I should apologize, too,” she confessed. “I didn’t mean to come on so strongly back at the firehouse. I get something into my head, and I just go full steam ahead. I guess I’d hoped—” She brushed some errant wisps of hair away from her forehead. “I don’t even know what I hoped. I’m sorry about that.”

“No, it’s okay. It sounds pretty complicated, actually.”

“It is.” She pushed her fingers into her snug jeans pockets. “But that isn’t your problem. I’ll take care of it.”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded curtly and took a step back, his eyes moving over the wooden porch, paint flaking away from the sagging boards. “Did you know that I knew your grandmother? I don’t know why you and I never met.”

“Did you? I didn’t realize that. I used to come to visit in the summers for a couple of weeks, but never for terribly long.”

“That would explain why I don’t remember you.” He shot her a boyish grin, and for a moment she thought he might be flirting, but then he looked away. “Your grandmother was a nice lady. She used to bring us homemade cookies at the firehouse.”

“That sounds like Grandma.” Rachel chuckled. “She fed absolutely everyone.”

She also had a soft spot for firefighters, something that Ed had always appreciated.

“No complaints here.” Matt crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “She made the best macaroons in town. That included my own grandmother’s macaroons.”

“That’s some high praise, then.” Rachel smiled. “This seems like a great place for a kid to grow up.”

“The best.” Something flickered deep in his eyes at those words, but before she could think more of it, a window scraped open on the second floor over their heads, and Christopher’s voice hollered down, “Mom!”

Rachel trotted down the steps to look up at her son’s smiling face.

“Are you exploring up there?” Rachel asked with a laugh.

“Yeah, I found old hats.”

“That’s fun.”

“And a really big spider.”

Rachel shuddered. “Don’t touch it.”

“I can’t reach it,” Chris replied, which meant that he’d have caught it already if it had been lower to the floor. She could be thankful for small mercies.

“Mr. Bailey came by to say hello,” she said, and Matt ambled up next to her, his warm arm emanating heat against her slender shoulder.

“Hi.” Chris’s tone turned shyer.

“I was hoping I could take you and Chris out for dinner tonight,” Matt said, his gaze moving from Rachel to Chris and back again. “If you aren’t busy, that is.”

“Actually Aunt Louise is cooking for us,” she replied. “It would have been nice, though.”

“How about tomorrow evening?” he asked.

Rachel nodded with a smile. “That would work. Thanks. I’m sure Chris would like the chance to talk to you a bit more.”

“I don’t know what to say to Chris, but I’ll do my best,” he confessed, his tone dropping low enough for her ears alone.

Rachel shrugged. “Don’t worry too much. You’re already a hero in his eyes.”

A smile slid across his rugged features and he looked up at the boy in the open window. “See you later, Chris. I’m glad I got to meet you.”

Chris wordlessly raised his hand in a wave, and Matt turned back to Rachel.

“What time should I pick you up tomorrow?”

Rachel paused, uncertainty flickering deep inside her. This felt too familiar already, too intimate, and dating was the furthest from her intentions. She had a little boy who needed some stability right now, and this handsome firefighter didn’t exactly fit into her plans for some peace and quiet. Besides, she’d been married to a firefighter once already, and loving him as she had, she’d promised herself that she’d never marry another one. She didn’t think she could handle losing another man she loved to the perils of the job.

“Why don’t we meet you at the restaurant?” she countered.

He nodded. “Sure. Does Chris like pizza?”

“Yes!” Chris hollered from the window above, and Rachel chuckled.

“You have your answer there.”

“Great. Alphonzo’s Pizza is on the corner of Main Street, right across from the drugstore. Do you know the place I mean?”

Rachel held up her phone. “I’ll find it with my GPS. How does six o’clock sound?”

“Perfect. See you then.” He shot her a grin, then ambled back toward his truck. With his hand on the door handle, he turned back and called up to the second-story window, “Chris, they’ve got ice cream, too. Just saying.”

Rachel smothered a laugh and watched as Matt hopped up into the cab of the white pickup, a red fire-department seal emblazoned across the side. The vehicle roared to life and he pulled away from the curb. As she turned back toward the house, Rachel stopped short when she saw her aunt standing in the doorway.

“You startled me.” She chuckled. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I know.” Louise raised an eyebrow teasingly and turned back into the house. “Handsome young fellow, isn’t he?”

“He’s a firefighter, Auntie. It’s not going to happen.”

“I always liked firefighters... So did Grandma,” Louise pointed out with exaggerated casualness.

Rachel rolled her eyes and followed her aunt indoors.

“I know, I know...”

And so it starts, she thought wryly. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that a town filled with aunts, uncles and distant cousins would never sit idly by and leave her business alone. That was too much to ask.

Chapter Two

As Matt pulled away, he glanced back at the old house. It needed paint—and a lot more—to look decent again, but he could already see the spark of a family in the old place. Stacks of boxes were visible in the windows, and a pile of cardboard sat outside the garage. If memory served, the big oak tree in the front yard used to have a tire swing that all the neighborhood kids made use of, and he idly wondered if Rachel would put up another one for Chris. Maybe he was already too old for a tire swing. Matt wasn’t exactly in the know when it came to kids. He was the kind of relative who gave his cousins’ kids cash when he saw them because he could never quite remember their birthdays and wanted to make sure he covered his bases.

Matt glanced at the old houses on either side of the street, flower gardens in bloom. A few of the homes sported American flags, rippling proudly in the summer wind, and he sighed. If he got this job, he had to admit, he would miss Haggerston.

His cell phone rang, and he glanced down at the number as he slowed to a stop at an intersection. It was his brother. Matt put the phone on speaker, tossed it onto the seat beside him and eased the vehicle forward again.

“Hi, Craig,” he said.

“Hey, how did that interview go?” his brother asked.

“Really good. They’re taking me seriously.”

“Fantastic.”

“But that wasn’t the most interesting part of my day,” he admitted.

“Oh, yeah?” Craig pried.

“Do you remember that time a few years ago when a baby was dropped off on the doorstep of the firehouse?”

“I think so.”

“Well, he’s back.”

“The baby?”

“Yeah.” Matt chuckled. “Well, he’s about seven now. His adoptive mother moved into town, and they stopped by the firehouse to say hi. I guess she wanted to show him where he was found.”

“How’s the kid doing?”

“Okay.” He paused. “Maybe not so well. His mom says that her husband died a few years ago, and the kid only recently found out that he’s adopted, so that’s been pretty hard on him.”

“Ouch. I’ll bet.”

“So I stopped by their place to—” Matt cringed. This still sounded very much like a date. “I asked them out to dinner.”

“Is that a good idea? They just moved here, and you’re planning to move on.”

“Not like that,” Matt grumbled. “I know how it sounds. I didn’t really get much of a chance to talk to Chris, and I wanted to chat with him a bit. His mother seems to think it will help.”

He signaled at the next stop sign and took a left toward the main road. The houses in this direction were smaller and the yards not as well tended. He knew several of the people on this street, however. Living his entire life in one town had that effect.

“And what about the mother?” his brother pressed.

“What about her?” Matt dodged.

“Still single?”

“Yes, still single,” he replied. “And before you ask, yes, she’s pretty.”

“Aha.”

“Oh, cut it out.” Matt laughed and slowed for another corner. “She’s the widow of a firefighter from Billings, so I feel like I owe her something. It’s not romantic, I swear.”

There was a muffled voice in the background, and then his brother came back. “Gloria’s inviting you to our place for dinner,” Craig said. “Are you interested? I could pop another steak on the barbecue.”

The thought of a barbecue steak made Matt’s stomach rumble, and he chuckled. “Twist my arm, man. I’m on my way. Can I pick up anything?”

“No, we’re ready to go. Just get down here, because I’m hungry.”

“Okay, I’m ten minutes away.”

Matt hung up and smiled ruefully. He’d miss his brother and his wife, too, if he moved out of town. Craig and Gloria had him over for dinner about as often as he’d let them. He begged off more often than not, preferring to give them time to themselves, being newlyweds and all.

He eased forward again and glanced toward the squat elementary school. Brand-new play equipment sprawled on one side of the building, a green field on the other side. A sign in front of the building announced student registration days and encouraged everyone to “Find adventure in reading this summer.” The scars from the fire were cleaned away, and this September, Broxton Park Elementary would reopen for the first time since that tragic day.

He had no idea what anyone else saw when they looked at that building, but in his mind’s eye he still saw the billowing smoke pouring out of broken windows. He still heard the frightened screams of children, the wail of sirens and the desperate, clinging questions of the parents standing in shocked groups on the sidewalk.

He’d fought fires for most of his adult life, and the very thought of a blazing inferno only got his adrenaline pumping and made him twitch to jump into his boots. This school represented more than a fire, though. It represented his own personal failure and the death of a child.

Matt heaved a sigh as he passed the building and crossed another intersection. This school always affected him the same way. His stomach curdled and sweat sprang out on his palms. He knew he was a good firefighter. He knew he’d followed all the protocol possible in that fire, and he knew that he wasn’t liable or at fault, but somehow that didn’t change a thing.

Matt willed his pounding heart to quiet, and he signaled for another turn onto his brother’s street.

He’d eat steak. He’d compliment his sister-in-law’s pasta salad, and he’d jokingly rebuff all of Gloria’s attempts to set him up and get him married. It was Wednesday night, and he knew the drill.

Lord, he prayed silently, I need this job.

* * *

The next evening, the aroma of pizza drifted down Main Street, mingling with the scent of the hanging planters that hung from lampposts, dripping a lazy rhythm from a recent watering. Alphonzo’s Pizza crouched on one corner, nestled up against Duggar Jewelers. Golden sunlight bathed the street, contrasting with the long shadows. Six o’clock constituted dinnertime in Haggerston, and the streets were deserted, save for the rumble of the odd pickup truck. Almost all of the local businesses had closed up shop for the evening, with the exception of Alphonzo’s Pizza.

Inside the restaurant, Rachel and Chris sat at a table in the far corner, listening to the distant din of the kitchen. A paper menu in the center of the table showed the meal options—everything from pizza to chop suey—and Chris fiddled with the corner, a bored look on his face.

“Hi, hon,” a young waitress crooned, pulling a pad of paper from her pocket. “What can I get you to start?”

“Could we get my son a pop?” she asked. “What kind, sweetie?”

“Orange, please.”

“Sure thing.” The waitress jotted it down. “And for you?”

“Actually we’re waiting for someone, so maybe I’ll wait until he arrives.”

As if on cue, the bell above the door tinkled and Matt stepped inside, pulling off his sunglasses. He was out of uniform today, wearing a pair of jeans and a blue polo shirt that strained slightly around his biceps. He glanced around the restaurant, his steely gaze falling on them.

“Oh, here he is,” Rachel said and smiled up at Matt as he approached the table. He slid into the chair opposite Rachel, and while they ordered soft drinks and a pepperoni pizza, she found herself studying his face. A pale scar cut past one eyebrow, a detail she hadn’t noticed earlier. He seemed gentler out of uniform, more accessible, less official. His sun-bleached hair had a touch of premature gray working through the front, and as he leaned his elbows on the tabletop, the scent of aftershave lingered.

“So, how are you liking Haggerston?” Matt asked after the waitress left the table.

“I’ve always loved this town,” she said. “I wanted to move here years ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“My husband was with the Billings Fire Department, and he was happy there. He was climbing.” She shrugged. “What can you do?”

He nodded. “It’s hard to move on once your life is rooted somewhere else. I get that.”

“This is the perfect tiny town. The flowers on the street corners, the shops where everyone knows each other—”

“You like the idea of everyone knowing you?” he asked with a wry smile.

“Maybe?” She laughed softly. “In some ways it’s comforting, but I’m sure there is a flip side to the coin. What about you? How long have you lived here?”

“I grew up here, so if I’m not related to someone, I probably know them somehow.” He grinned. “Our waitress babysits my cousin’s kids.”

“Seriously?” Rachel looked back at the young woman taking another table’s order. “It’s a small world.”

“It’s a small town,” he corrected with a low laugh.

“Did you know my mom, Mr. Bailey?” Chris locked his gaze on the firefighter’s face, all the intensity of his seven years focused on the man across the table from him, and Rachel shifted uncomfortably. She knew that her son had questions, and it looked as though he was ready to ask a few of them.

“I just met her the other day, with you,” Matt replied, his gaze flickering toward Rachel.

“No, I mean my other mom,” he pressed. “The one who left me at the firehouse. Did you know her?”

Rachel’s stomach dropped. He’d been asking about his birth mother lately, and she somehow hoped that he would never need to know more about the woman than she’d already told him and that she could be enough. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t have the answers, either. All she wanted right now was to be able to fill in the gaps for him, to help soothe his unease and confusion.

“Uh...” Matt looked up at Rachel uncertainly, then back to the boy’s earnest gaze. “I never did find out who she was, buddy. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Chris shrugged. “I just wondered.”

“You have a really good mom right here,” Matt said. “She loves you a whole lot.”

“Yeah, I love her, too.” Chris leaned back in his chair, but his eyes were still clouded.

The food arrived. A large pepperoni pizza oozing melted cheese and still sizzling from the oven was deposited in the center of the table. After everyone was served and Chris took a big bite of pizza, Rachel sucked in a deep breath.