The Defenders

Timmy was still clinging to Jill’s knees and trembling. She bent and wrapped him again for warmth before lifting and balancing his light weight on one hip.

Hugging her neck, he took a shuddering breath, buried his face in the folds of the blanket lying against her shoulder and began to weep.

Tears were a good sign, Jill realized, because that meant he was probably moving beyond his initial anger and shock. Instead of trying to get him to stop crying, she held him close and let him grieve, praying for the right words to eventually help soothe his pain and the wisdom to know when to speak.

She ached for this little one. For all of them. At times like this, when her heart was open and most empathetic, she was even better at relating to emotionally needy children.

Jill knew for a fact that Ellen Pearson had been a sweet person, a loving wife, a dedicated mother. Assuming everyone’s sad assumptions were correct, Ellen had not meant to leave her dear ones. She had merely been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Jill’s own mother, however, had made a conscious choice. Mama had turned her back on her only child and had walked away—forever—without so much as a wave goodbye.

By the time several hours had passed, Mitch was mentally and physically exhausted. The engine crews had managed to preserve most of the factory and all of the separate warehouse but had lost the fight to save the home and business office. That was considered a good result under such difficult circumstances. As far as Mitch was concerned though, they had failed.

He’d grown close to the Pearsons when they’d moved to town a few years back and had started attending Serenity Chapel. He’d coached Timmy and Paul on the church T-ball team and had often envied the family’s closeness.

Standing at the edge of the ruins, he was wiping his sweaty, gritty brow and remembering happier times when a hand clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

“We did all we could,” Chief Longstreet said. “Even with the extra units from all over the county and everything we had in town, it was a tough fight.”

“There’s no chance Rob and Ellen managed to get out?” Mitch asked, unwilling to let himself believe his friends were really gone.

“Don’t think so. Looks like the initial explosion blocked the office exit. If they were in there, they probably never knew what hit ‘em.”

“When we first got the call, I thought a plane had crashed. It’s clear that didn’t happen. So, did a gas leak start all this?”

“Could be. I’ve asked for investigators from Little Rock to come and look things over, just in case.”

Shivers shot up Mitch’s spine. “In case of what?”

Jim Longstreet gestured at the ground in the distance. “You’ve probably been too busy to notice but I spotted a few odd things. See the way some of the rubble is fanned way out from a central area? That doesn’t look right to me.”

“We all heard a blast.”

The chief nodded. “True. And if this turns out to be an accident, I’ll be happy to put that in my report. But until we can pin down a cause I’m going to keep needling the sheriff and anybody else who can give us some answers.”

He concentrated on Mitch. “Look, I know these folks were good friends of yours. Why don’t you go on back to the station and let the fresh crews finish mopping up? Things like this are tough enough when the victims are strangers.”

“I can still do my job.”

“I know you can. But we have plenty of extra help here now. I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

“I want to stay and see for myself first.”

“Sorry. I’m not letting anybody except the coroner poke around in there until there’s been an official investigation. Sheriff Allgood is gonna leave deputies to guard the site 24/7.”

Mitch removed his helmet and raked his fingers through his damp hair. “This has to be accidental. Everybody loved Rob and his family.”

The chief snorted. “I sure hope you’re right.”

Jill was waiting with Becky and the children when she saw a familiar figure approaching. She asked the pastor’s wife to mind Timmy while she stepped away to speak privately with Mitch.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” he said.

“We’re waiting for someone from Children and Family Services to take custody of the kids.” Reaching toward his hand, she stopped herself before they actually touched. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Any sign of other survivors?”

He shook his head slowly, sadly, his sober expression accentuated by the smudges of black ash on his face and the aura of loss that hung over him like a storm cloud.

“I’m so sorry. I talked to Natalie Stevens after she tried to beat up on you. She’s a basket case.”

Mitch huffed. “Yeah. A lot of us are.”

He started coughing so Jill waited for him to quiet before she asked, “Why aren’t you still working?”

“The chief is sending me back to the station early. It wasn’t my idea. I just wanted to check that you were okay before I left.”

How typical of him, she mused, touched by his concern. “I’m fine. I am looking forward to getting home and washing some of this smoke out of my hair, though.” To her delight, that comment made Mitch chuckle cynically.

“Yeah. Right. Me, too,” he said, raising his hand to swipe at the grime on his cheeks. “I guess I got a little dirty, huh?”

“A little?” Jill chanced a smile. “You look like an urchin and smell like a smoked ham.”

“Thanks. You look nice, too, lady.”

She sobered. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you like that. Not now.”

“It’s okay. Cops and firefighters have ways of coping that seem strange to civilians. So do E.R. doctors and nurses. We’re always kidding around, even in really bad times. If we didn’t, I don’t know how we’d stay sane.” He turned away as more coughing racked his body.

Jill took the chance he wouldn’t mind and patted him lightly on the back. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. I always am.” She saw him look past her and zero in on the truck where Becky and the children waited. “Call me later and let me know how it goes with the kids, will you? I’ll be at the station.”

“Sure.”

She yearned to give him a hug of consolation the way she had the boy but subdued the inappropriate urge. She and Mitch were merely good friends. He’d made his position clear at the outset of their relationship and she was in total agreement. She’d lost her mother at a young age and, just when she finally thought she’d gotten her life back on track, the love of her life had been killed in a freak accident. Twice was enough. Given Mitch’s dedication to his dangerous profession, she was not about to open her heart to him and chance losing another loved one. As far as she was concerned, remaining alone was far better than risking a broken heart.

He bid her goodbye and walked away. Watching him go shouldn’t have been so hard for Jill but it was. She knew what was wrong. She cared far more deeply for the valiant fireman than was wise.

Jill had greeted her exuberant little house dog, Mugsy, and was heading for the shower to try to wash the smell of smoke from her long, blond hair when her phone rang.

She almost let the answering machine take the call, then decided it might be important. “Hello?”

“You made it? You’re okay?”

He didn’t have to announce who he was. “Hi, Mitch. Yes, I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you call me like you promised?”

“I was going to. I just walked in the door.”

“Oh.”

Sensing poignancy underlying his simple words her heart fell. “Did they find what you were afraid they would in the ashes?”

“We don’t know anything for sure. Nobody does. Since neither Rob nor Ellen have surfaced, we have to assume the worst.”

The sadness in his voice cut her to the quick. “I’m so sorry. I know you were close to the whole family.”

“Yeah.” She waited patiently while Mitch cleared his throat and prepared himself to go on. “I was just wondering about the kids. How are they doing?”

“Probably better than you and I are. Paul and Megan were sound asleep and Tim was only sniffling a little when the social worker finally showed up. She said she was going to take them straight to the county hospital to be checked out. I haven’t heard anything more.”

“Do you expect to?”

“Probably not tonight. I did put in a good word for myself, though. There’s a chance they’ll place the kids with me, at least temporarily, especially because I’m not fostering any other children right now.”

“That’s good news.”

Jill knew he was deeply concerned so she tried to sound reassuring. “I’ll stay in touch with the powers that be and make certain the kids are happy and well cared for no matter where they’re sent. I promise.” She smiled at the telephone as if it were Mitch’s friendly face. “We should be celebrating the fact you saved all three of them, not fretting about a system that’s only in place to keep them safe.”

She chose not to elaborate about some of the less than ideal foster situations she’d found herself in while growing up. Mitch already had enough to worry about. She wasn’t going to add to his burdens.

“How soon do you think we’ll know?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. A lot depends on whether or not their parents had made prior arrangements with relatives or close friends in case of emergencies.”

“You mean like choosing godparents?”

“Yes. Do you happen to know if they did?”

“Hmm. I don’t think so. The kids were never very keen on their aunt Natalie and their uncle Thad hasn’t been back in the States for very long, so I doubt they considered naming either of them as guardians.” He huffed. “Young parents expect to live long enough to see their children raised.”

“Yes, I suppose they do.” Starting to think about her husband’s untimely demise, she fell silent.

Sometimes it seemed as if that part of her past was little more than a dream; at other times pain pierced her all the way to her core. Lately, those uncomfortable moments had grown further and further apart and had hurt less. She supposed that was a good sign, although it meant that she was slowly forgetting the man she’d vowed to love and cherish for the rest of her days. That seemed wrong.

A softly spoken comment from Mitch brought her out of her reverie. Too bad she had no idea what he’d just said. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said take care of yourself. Get some rest.”

“You, too,” Jill told him. “You must be exhausted. It’s been a rough night.”

“I have had better. Thanks for taking over with Tim so I could go back to work. I didn’t dare let go of him. He wanted to run back inside to look for his folks.”

“I understand,” Jill said, recalling memorable parts of the evening. “What do you know about Natalie Stevens?”

“Not much. Why?”

“Because, like I told you, she sure wasn’t acting normal when I spoke with her.”

“People get irrational under severe stress,” Mitch said with conviction. “I’ve seen it happen over and over. They either deny that there’s been a tragedy or try to place the blame on others. It’s always tough. Especially when they show up on scene the way Natalie did.”

“I’m so sorry she took her anger out on you.”

“I have broad shoulders,” he said, but Jill could tell the woman’s unfair accusations had hit him hard. That, added to the fact that Mitch tended to blame himself whenever any task wasn’t accomplished to his high standards, would weigh heavily on him for a long, long time.

“God’s shoulders are even broader than yours,” Jill said, trying to sound kind as well as wise. “Don’t take too much on yourself.”

“I have a job to do.”

“I know. Since you keep telling me the Lord gave you that job, why can’t you believe He also trusts you to do it well?”

There was nothing but silence on the line for what seemed like forever. Finally, Mitch simply said, “Night, Jill. I have to go,” and hung up, leaving her staring at the receiver in disbelief.

She paused, then made a silly face. “Okay, mister, have it your way. Beat yourself up for every little thing, whether you really made a mistake or not. Be stubborn. See if I care.”

She shook her head, disgusted mostly with herself. She did care. For Mitch, for the children, for the traumatized family, for the whole town. This tragedy would affect practically all of them in some way.

Yet it was Mitch’s feelings that tugged the hardest at her heart. After all, he was a good friend and he faced danger often.

Picturing him as a victim instead of a rescuer, she suddenly experienced such a deep, personal sense of loss it made her literally ache.

The tears she had denied all evening returned and slid down her cheeks as she finally allowed herself to mourn for the lost—and for the survivors.

THREE

During a restless night, Jill had dreamed at least once of braving danger in order to save nameless, faceless children. By morning, she awoke feeling less rested than she had before the Pearson tragedy.

Coffee hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped it would, at least not so far. Refilling an enormous mug that had belonged to her husband, she took it with her and headed for the barn to begin her morning chores. There was nearly enough new spring grass to satisfy the few cattle she pastured but she still needed to be sure they had dry, baled hay to supplement their diet or they’d make themselves sick gorging on the fresh growth.

Shaggy, brown Mugsy danced along at her heels, his eagerness making her smile the way it always did. He was soon joined by her larger, black-and-white sheepdogs, Salt and Pepper.

Spring was clearly on the horizon. Slim buds were poking skyward from amid the thick daffodil foliage at the base of the well house and the forsythia bush was starting to look as if its drooping branches had been sprinkled with bright yellow confetti. Jill smiled contentedly. That was one of the perks of living on the old farm. There were often surprises popping out of the ground or bursting into bloom to cheer her just when she needed a lift. Flowers even appeared in the lawn sometimes, as if God had strewn the seeds there to bring more beauty into her life and remind her she was loved.

She was just coming out of the barn, still accompanied by Mugsy as well as the ranch dogs, when the ringing of the cell phone in her pocket startled her. She fumbled and slopped coffee in her haste to answer.

“Hello?”

“Jill. It’s me, Mitch.”

“You sound upset. What’s wrong?”

The moment he said, “They gave those poor kids to Natalie Stevens,” Jill understood completely.

“No way. How did that happen?”

“I heard she showed up at the hospital and claimed them. I’m headed over there now to get some answers.”

“Where? The hospital or Natalie’s house?”

“The hospital. Some social worker named Brenda Connors is supposed to meet me there.”

“I know her. She’s the one I gave the kids to last night at the fire scene. I can’t believe she’d allow someone to just take them away like that.”

“Neither can I.”

Clasping the little phone tightly, Jill didn’t stop to censor her response. “Swing by here and pick me up on your way. I’m going with you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Wait! That’s too …” She was listening to dead air. Making a face at the phone she began to jog toward the house. Ten minutes?

She wasn’t prissy the way some women were but even she needed longer than that to get ready for a foray into the legal system surrounding the placement of homeless children.

“I can do this,” Jill told herself firmly. “To help a nice guy like Mitch, I can do practically anything, including make myself presentable in less than ten minutes.”

That statement made her smile. She wasn’t preparing to help someone like Mitch, she was going to help him.

A part of her wanted to keep denying how special he had become to her while another part of her argued about how much his friendship and kindnesses had meant since Eric’s accident.

She knew Mitch well enough to surmise that it was his sense of personal responsibility that had led him to pay so much attention to her. She didn’t care what his motives had been. Not really. She just knew that she thanked the Lord daily that she’d met him, the same way she gave thanks for her Ozark home and the loving folks who had embraced her as part of their family and community when she’d been left all alone in a strange town.

Without a husband, Jill had wondered if she could make it in such rural surroundings. Yet whenever she’d had a need, there had always been someone ready to offer help. Usually Mitch Andrews, she added, although many other members of Serenity Chapel had also pitched in.

As she paused in front of her closet and reached for a favorite, jacketed blue dress, she closed her eyes for a moment and whispered, “Thank You, Jesus,” meaning every word from the deepest reaches of her heart. Her life might be nothing like she had imagined, but it was good.

Mitch’s hands tightly gripped his truck’s steering wheel as he drove. It wasn’t Natalie’s everyday reputation that worried him most, it was her erratic behavior at the fire scene. The woman had acted as if she could barely take care of herself, let alone look after three small children. The boys might be all right if she let them fend for themselves, but little Megan was far from self-sufficient.

He skidded to a dusty stop in front of Jill’s white-painted farmhouse. She ran off the porch and climbed in the passenger side of his pickup before he had a chance to get out and open the door for her. Her blue eyes sparkled, her hair shimmered like gold and her face glowed as if she were embarking on an exciting adventure instead of preparing to enter a figurative lion’s den.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he said.

“Thanks for letting me. I worried about those kids all night.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Mitch drove off, staring at the road ahead as he delivered the bad news. “It’s official. They found Rob and Ellen in the office.”

“I’m so, so sorry.”

When Jill reached across and briefly laid her hand over his, he tried not to flinch. “Thanks. They were special people.”

“I never got to know them very well but I’m sure they were.” She smoothed the skirt of her dress, then folded her hands in her lap atop her clutch purse. “Is Brother Logan going to preach at their funeral?”

“Probably. It may be weeks before the crime scene techs and the coroner are finished and the bodies are released. That’s another reason I was upset about Natalie getting the kids. There’s no telling what an unstable person like her will do or say when she first hears the bad news, not to mention when we finally lay Rob and Ellen to rest.”

“I totally agree. We need a judge’s ruling about custody and we need it fast.”

“How do we get that?”

“Probably through Ms. Connors. She’ll request an immediate hearing and hopefully the court will also appoint a CASA volunteer to oversee the case.”

“A what?”

“CASA. It stands for Court Appointed Special Advocate. Those people are trained to investigate everything and then speak for children who have been abused or neglected or who may be in danger. It can’t be anybody like you or me who knows the family. It can’t be a lawyer either. Or the police. This person has to be completely impartial. That’s the beauty of the system.”

Mitch doubted anyone could remain that unbiased, particularly when innocent children were involved. He knew he sure couldn’t. “If you say so. Have you had experience with CASA before?”

“Yes,” Jill said. “There aren’t many volunteers out here in the boondocks but I do know of at least one. Samantha Rochard. She’s a nurse at the county hospital.”

“You trust her?”

“Completely.”

Once again, Jill patted the back of his hand. Mitch managed a smile for her benefit. “Okay. If you vouch for her, that’s good enough for me.” His smile waned. “Hold it. What if she was one of the nurses who helped treat the kids last night?”

“I doubt that small connection would disqualify her,” Jill said. “As a matter of fact, she’s required to check with doctors and anyone else who may have had contact with the children before and after the fire, then make a written report to the judge.”

“Meaning she’ll realize how nuts Natalie is?”

“Let’s pray that’s the case.”

“I think I’d better leave the praying to you,” Mitch said. “Judging by what happened last night, the Lord isn’t listening to me.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Jill replied, surprising him with her candor. “After Eric died, it was a long time before I could really pray again. I just kept asking why.”

Mitch was about to apologize for not being able to save her injured husband’s life when Jill added, “I imagine God was pretty sick of hearing me whimpering. It took me ages to realize I probably already had all the answers I was going to get.”

He didn’t know what to say. He shared her Christian faith, yet his own prayer life was nowhere near that satisfying. If he’d had more time to mull over her conclusion he might have commented. However, since they were pulling into the hospital’s parking lot, he took that as a strong sign to keep his mouth shut.

He huffed quietly at that conclusion. Maybe—just maybe—he was getting more answers to his prayers than he’d thought, too.

* * *

Jill greeted middle-aged, graying Brenda Connors with a handshake and a smile, then introduced her to Mitch, purposely positioning herself to act as their go-between. It wasn’t a comfortable place to be. Mitch was fighting to control his temper, which was totally understandable considering how close he was to the Pearson family. Jill simply wanted to keep the social worker on their side, at least until a trusted, sensible CASA member could be appointed.

“How soon before we can get a judge involved?” Jill asked Ms. Connors.

“I’ve already requested an emergency hearing. I’m picking up the children this afternoon. I’ve informed Ms. Stevens she had no right to take them the way she did.”

“Why did the hospital staff let her?”

“Basically, she bullied them. A few of them knew she was the aunt so they assumed she had permission. Believe me, that kind of thing will not happen again.”

She turned to Mitch, her eyes narrowing behind bifocals trimmed in silver. “Is there definitive proof that the parents are both deceased?”

“Yes.”

“Anything else you can tell me that might help?”

Jill interrupted. “Mr. Andrews was very close to the children and their parents. This is hard for him.”

“I’m sorry,” the social worker said. “But I need to know everything.”

“Ask me whatever you like,” he said flatly. “Those kids come first.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Hang on a sec. I’ll check with my chief and see if the investigation has turned up anything new.”

As Jill watched and listened, she saw his hazel eyes widen, then darken as he began to frown. Her gaze darted to Ms. Connors and she noticed that the other woman was also paying close attention.

“I see,” Mitch said. “Is that public knowledge yet?”

Jill found she was holding her breath.

“How about telling the kids’ social worker? Can I do that without jeopardizing the case?” Mitch asked.

He apparently got the okay because he quickly bid the chief goodbye and faced Ms. Connors. Jill saw the muscles in his jaw clenching, twitching. Whatever he’d just learned, it was not good.

“The arson team from Little Rock found some chemical residue at the scene,” he announced.

Jill assumed he meant plastic bits left over from the manufacture of the popular kitchen gadgets Pearson Products handled until he explained further.

“They’re positive the office was bombed. That’s what started the fire.” Mitch’s fists clenched at his sides. “This was no accident. Rob and Ellen were murdered.”