Come Morning (36 page)

Pulling his mind back to the job at hand, he silently thanked Irma for wearing slacks instead of one of her long, flowing skirts. Each step took forever as he tested the board for stability. At last at the window, he handed Irma into Chris’s waiting arms. He caught a glimpse of Briana on the lawn, her face tight with tension.

The searing heat licked at his back. “Everyone get back!” he ordered.

As soon as Chris stepped from the window, Slade took a rolling dive through the jagged opening, landing on the grass. Hurriedly, he jumped to his feet, annoyed that too many people were still just standing around. “Everyone, let’s move away from this house. It’s going to blow sky-high any minute.”

That got things moving. The bystanders began scattering, running, dashing away. With Irma in his arms, Chris hurried down the block just as an ambulance came careening around the corner. An eerie popping sound could be heard. Finally, only a few stragglers were left. Slade grabbed Briana’s hand and ran with her.

“I knew you could do it,” she told him, tears trailing down her cheeks. “Thank you.”

They stopped some distance away, but Slade didn’t respond. He felt numb, like a man sleepwalking.

Time, Briana thought, noting his sudden pallor beneath his dirt-streaked face that even the heat hadn’t reddened. He needed time to assimilate and assess all that had happened this morning.

Halfway up the street, Chris was settling Irma into the ambulance. Briana rushed over, Slade at her side. Just then, they heard a low, rumbling sound followed by a fierce explosion that had fire spurting upward from the back of Irma’s house, followed by a huge billowing cloud of black smoke. Those nearby fell to the ground.

It was several long minutes before Slade dared to raise his head, his body still covering Briana’s where he’d guided her beneath him, instinctively protecting her.

After several minutes, Slade rose, helping her up. He stood watching the greedy flames devour Irma’s home, feeling dazed and infinitely sad.

Inside the ambulance on the gurney, Irma saw the remains of her roof crash into the interior. “Well,” she said, “I’d been wanting to remodel anyway.”

Briana climbed up to her and hugged the older woman. “I’m so sorry you lost so many of your lovely things.”

“Pshaw! If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my eighty-two years, it’s that people are more important than possessions.” She brushed away a tear. “I do wish I could have saved my photo albums.”

“The insurance will help you rebuild your home. The important thing is that you’re okay.”

Irma gazed over at Slade and Chris standing near the ambulance doors. “Yes, thanks to these two young men.” She felt her eyes fill. “How do I thank you for risking your lives to save an old woman?”

“By getting well.” As the attendant settled a blanket over Irma, Slade glanced at her ankle, badly swollen and lacerated where the heavy board had trapped it. “You’ll be up and dancing in no time.”

“He’s right, Irma,” Chris chimed in. “First dance is mine.”

“You’ve got a date,” Irma told him, adjusting her wig somewhat clumsily. “Briana,” she said, taking hold of her young friend’s hand and pulling her closer, “I was wrong about Slade at first. But no more. He’s quality goods, honey. Don’t let him get away.”

Brie looked over at Slade, who’d turned back to silently watch the flames reduce Irma’s house to ashes. Was he remembering that other fire where Megan had died? Was he in shock? “Don’t worry. I don’t plan to.” She kissed the wrinkled cheek. “I’ll be by to see you at the hospital as soon as things settle down.” She hopped out of the ambulance.

The attendant closed the double doors. “They’re running out of beds at the hospital, but I hear medevac helicopters are on their way over from the mainland to give us a hand. The National Guard’s coming too, to prevent looting. I don’t know where your friend will wind up, but you can call once the phone lines are working again. They’re setting up some kind of hot line.”

“Thanks.” Slade watched the ambulance drive off, feeling filthy, exhausted, drained. A hand on his shoulder had him turning to see Chris looking at him.

“You did one hell of a job in there,” the redhead said quietly. He already admired the man for finding his daughter that evening. But what Slade had done just now had taken nerves of steel and courage not many men had. Chris had grown up on Nantucket, had known and cared about Irma Tatum all his life, yet he’d been afraid to go in. They’d gotten her out with mere seconds to spare before the house had blown.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” Slade took the hand Chris offered and shook it.

“I’m going back home,” Chris said. “I don’t want to leave Pam and Annie alone too long. Looks like the emergency people are getting things under control. See you guys later.” He started to leave, turned back to Slade. “Listen, you ever need anything,
anything
, you know where to find me.” And he walked off.

Pulling in a deep breath, Slade looked out to sea. The sky was lightening, turning blue, and a weak sun was breaking through.

“Will you look at that?” Briana asked. “It’s going to be a nice day after all.” She looked up at Slade. “You’re a hero, Slade. Irma wouldn’t be alive if not for you.”

Frowning, he shook his head. “I’m no hero.” He’d saved one life, but cost a child hers. That hadn’t changed, not really. He’d managed to carry Irma out this time, but did that mean he could trust his instincts the next time? How many times before he could feel secure and confident once again?

Brie took his hand into hers, saw he was cut and bleeding. “Let’s go back to the house and I’ll fix this for you.”

Shaking his head, he pulled free. “I can do it.” Looking down, he noticed that his shirt was torn and dirty. “I need to clean up.” He started walking back toward their houses, his steps slow, lumbering.

Brie followed, frowning. “Slade, what’s wrong?” He’d done a heroic deed, yet he seemed to be blaming himself for something. He was shutting her out. What was going on in his mind?

He held out a hand, as if to keep her at arm’s length. “I need some time. I need to be alone for a while.” He glanced at her, saw the pain and confusion in her eyes. He’d put it there and wasn’t sure how to make it go away. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

Brie slowed, then stopped. “No, you go ahead.” Shoving her hands into her pants pockets, she turned to gaze out to sea. “I’ll be along.”

Irritation flooded him, at her, at himself. “Look, I don’t mean to hurt you. I just… I’m not an easy man, Briana.”

That was an understatement, she thought, feeling her eyes fill, keeping her head averted.

“I warned you that you shouldn’t get involved with me.”

So the onus was on her. All right, she’d play along. “Yes, you did.”

He gazed down at his sodden, ruined shoes, but saw only her sad brown eyes. “I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. So many things. I need to sort things out.”

“All right.” After all the hours and days and weeks, he still wasn’t certain about his feelings. After coming to grips with the truth about his father and his mother, after redeeming himself by rescuing Irma, she’d thought he’d be celebrating. Instead, he was pulling back inside that protective shell he’d arrived with.

There was nothing to do but let him go.

He didn’t know what else to say, didn’t know if he ever would. Despite everything that had happened, he was still the same man he’d been before, one filled with doubts. Things would never work between them because he wasn’t like other men. If he couldn’t trust himself, couldn’t respect himself, how could he ask her to?

He would be doing her a favor to walk away now before things went any further.

“I… I’ll call you later.” Eyes downcast, he walked away.

Briana watched a brave new sun breaking through the wispy clouds. Gramp used to say that things always looked better in the morning. Not always, Gramp, Briana thought, blinking back the tears that wanted badly to fall.

I care about you, but it doesn’t make any difference.
Maybe Slade was right and she’d only been indulging in a pipe dream.

Slade climbed onto his porch and went inside, wishing he could simply turn off his mind. He flipped the switch and saw that the electricity was back on. He walked through the downstairs, turning on lights as he went since the windows were still shuttered up, looking over everything. A stroke of luck that nothing here had been damaged except the upstairs bathroom window, while just a block away, Irma’s house was in ruins. The gods, it seemed, had been with him. He hadn’t lost his house, just the woman he cared for more than his next breath.

Oh, he could still have Briana, for he’d seen it in her eyes. But how long would her warm feelings last if the demons that lived inside him never went away? She deserved better. He cared too much for her to put her through that. He’d always been a loner and he would continue to be, foisting his dark moods on no one.

He badly needed a shower and some rest. His head hurt and the cuts on his hands were stinging. The external aches would heal long before his internal pain.

On his way upstairs, he paused in the dining room, noticing the mail he’d tossed there two days ago, before the storm had hit. He’d been on his way to Briana’s and hadn’t even glanced at it. He never got much of importance, anyway.

Casually, he fanned through the small pile until one envelope caught his attention. It was addressed to him in a tight, feminine handwriting. He flipped it over and saw that the sender was Edith Crane, Rachel’s mother. Tapping the envelope against his palm, Slade debated whether or not to open it. There was no way it was good news.

For all he knew, Rachel could be suing him, perhaps on some wrongful death suit. Lawyers were always willing to take on such cases, especially if the accused involved had money to go after. He’d given Edith his address when he’d left, explaining that his father had died and he was going to Nantucket to check things out. He hadn’t had contact with either of them since.

Why put it off? he decided, and ripped open the envelope as he walked into the kitchen. He sat down at the table. He was bone weary and thought he shouldn’t learn bad news standing. Slumped in the chair, he began to read. By the third paragraph, he was sitting up, narrowing his eyes at the page. He finished the letter, then read it again, just to make sure he hadn’t misinterpreted what Edith had written.

Could it really be true?

On the one hand, he was saddened by the news she’d sent him. On the other, he was most grateful she’d written, and suddenly elated by what Rachel’s mother had revealed. Pulling in a calming breath, Slade put the letter back in the envelope.

This changed things considerably. His first thought was that he wanted to share the news with Briana right away. And he would, as soon as he cleaned up.

Was it possible that there might be a small measure of hope for them yet? His heart racing, Slade took the stairs two at a time as he hurried up to shower, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

Maybe the gods would smile just one more time.

Chapter Sixteen

I
n her laundry room, Briana stripped down to skin and tossed everything she’d had on, including her canvas shoes, into the washer. The acrid smell of smoke lingered. Adding soap, she pushed the button and started the cycle.

How strange life was, she thought, wrapping a large towel around herself and walking to the kitchen. Something as devastating as a hurricane undoubtedly destroyed much property and even, she supposed, cost a few lives, though so far the shortwave hadn’t detailed any actual casualties. Yet there were also isolated instances of heroism. And heroes who didn’t wish to be recognized.

At the refrigerator, she took out the orange juice and poured herself a glass. Sipping, she wandered to the back door, peering out through its small, high window, the only one that hadn’t been boarded up. The storage shed lay on its side, but other than that, the old house and grounds had sustained no damage. A good testament to how well built these homes were, and to the capricious fates that had spared this end of the block.

With her heart in her throat, she and several others had stood watching Slade slowly make his way to Irma. She’d been afraid for the old woman, but afraid for Slade, too. Yet she’d felt strongly that he could do it, even though first, he’d had to set aside his own fears.

And miraculously, he had. He’d also overcome the hesitancy of the area residents to accept him. After seeing Irma brought to safety, she was certain that the people who’d witnessed his selfless act had told half the town. Irma’s savior was none other than the reticent newcomer, J.D. Slade.

Many were probably saying they’d known all along what a fine man he was. People enjoyed taking credit for spotting the good in others. Yet no one, including Slade himself, had truly believed like she had.

But what did all the faith matter if he didn’t believe in himself?

He’d offered to help her with the house when she’d been less than pleasant to him. He’d rescued a small girl’s kitten when the memory of another kitten rescue was part of his nightmares. He’d found Annie when she’d wandered away and handed her over to her grateful parents. He’d rebuilt a widow’s porch, then saved her from a fiery death. And he’d healed her own tattered and torn heart. As Irma had said, Slade was quality goods. Why was he so reluctant to acknowledge that?

Time healed all things, another clichÉ she was beginning to doubt. After Slade thought things through, would he come around? There was a time she’d have quickly said yes, but after the way he’d looked, the way he’d walked off today, she was no longer certain of anything.

With a final glance out into the backyard, now bathed in sunshine, Briana drained her glass. And if he didn’t come around, well, she would cope. Somehow, some way. She’d lived through worse. She had learned that a strong person could survive almost anything.

But, dear God, she didn’t want to lose yet another person she loved. A lump clogging her throat, she went to shower.

The water wasn’t exactly hot, since the power had been off for hours and along with it, the hot water heater. But it was warm and wet and cleansing. Stepping out, she wrapped a small towel around her wet hair and dried off with a big one, rubbing her skin until it was rosy. Slipping on a yellow T-shirt and clean jeans, she slid her feet into scruffy slippers. Huffing out her hair so it would dry, she walked back to the kitchen. She’d put on some coffee because maybe Slade would change his mind and…