Her Firefighter Hero (16 page)

Voices filtered through the air. The whoosh of a water hose. The clamor of numerous men and vehicles working.

The smoke cleared, and Megan saw a pumper truck spraying the blackened remnants of trees, bushes and earth with a deluge of water.

The firefighters were here. And Megan had never been so happy to see them in all her life.

She carried Caleb toward the thin road. The burned remnants of their trucks sat right where they'd left them. Megan shuddered when she considered what might have happened to her family if they'd stayed with their vehicle.

There were fire trucks parked nearby, while men scraped back smoldering bushes down to mineral soil. They shoveled dirt over the smoking remains of the fire.

“Jared!” A man waved at them.

“Come on.” Jared took Megan's hand.

Megan struggled to walk, her legs weak and wobbly. She fell in the dirt, but strong hands were there to help her up. One man took Caleb, another one took June. Leland Churchill, the incident commander, greeted them, a relieved smile on his plump face.

“Boy! Am I ever glad to see you guys. We thought we'd lost you, too,” he said.

“Too?” Jared said.

Leland's eyes filled with anguish, and he brushed a shaking hand through his short hair. He was a tall, strong man, but his eyes filled with tears. “We've got a couple of hotshots unaccounted for.”

Megan froze, her heart up in her throat. That horrible day when she'd lost Blaine came rushing back with the impact of a cyclone. She staggered, barely catching herself to keep from falling to the ground. Jared reached for her, wrapping an arm behind her back for support.

“Is it Sean Nash and Zach Carpenter?” he asked.

Leland nodded. “How did you know?”

“Dale Carter told me they were trapped. That a buttonhook fire had swept around where they were working. That's how I got the warning that I needed to come after Megan and the kids.”

“Oh.” Megan pressed her hand against her lips as she burst into tears. Sean and Zach were in danger. They might already be dead. It was too much. The horror replayed over again in her mind.

Jared held her close in his arms, his face pale with grief. In her mind, Megan could hear Sean's low voice and Zach's teasing laughter. Tessa must be beside herself with worry right now. The hotshots couldn't be dead. They just couldn't.

“I'm so glad you're safe,” Leland said.

“Not half as glad as we are,” Jared said.

Leland clapped Jared on the back. “As soon as the EMTs have a look at you, we'll drive you down into town. I'd like you all to go to the hospital to get checked out.”

“Yes,” Jared said. “Megan and the kids have breathed in a lot of smoke. I'm worried about their lungs.”

“You will go with them. You've breathed in plenty of smoke, too,” Leland said.

“I'm fine, sir.”

Leland's jaw hardened. “I insist. I don't want to lose anyone under my command.”

With that settled, two medics offered them first aid, then loaded them all into a truck. The ride into town was subdued. They shared two oxygen masks, but Megan was more concerned about her kids. And Jared. The man who had saved their lives.

The rest of the night rushed by in a blur. As Megan watched over her children, she couldn't help thinking about Sean and Zach, too. She carried a desperate prayer in her heart. That God would look after the two hotshots. That somehow, they'd get out alive and safe. And that He'd comfort Tessa as she awaited news of her fiancé and brother.

The doctors and nurses at the hospital offered the best of care. Administering bronchodilators for Caleb. Giving each of them oxygen and fluids. Washing the soot off their bodies. Making sure they were stable.

The next morning, once Megan knew they would be okay, she finally slept, sharing the same room as her children. She wouldn't leave their sides to save her life. And when she awoke, her weary mind wondered where they'd taken Jared. They'd faced death together and been handed a blessing of second chances.

Later, the kids were eating lunch when Megan left them for a time. Connie had brought her a change of clothes, so she cleaned up, dressed and then walked down the narrow hallway looking for Jared. She had to see him for herself. To know he was really okay.

She found him in a room down the hall, sitting in a chair as he tied his shoes.

“Hi.” She smiled, slipping her hands into the pockets of her blue jeans.

He looked up, his face freshly shaved, his dark blond hair damp and combed into place. He wore a clean Forest Service uniform, and she thought maybe Connie had brought him a change of clothes, too. Except for the dark circles shadowing his eyes, he looked great. Never better. And yet, there was a forlorn look of misery in his bloodshot eyes that she didn't understand. She only knew that she felt a rush of gratitude so strong that she wanted to cry.

A sad smile curved his handsome mouth, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked hesitant and uncertain. “Hello.”

She stepped closer and rested her hip on a corner of the hospital bed. “Are you getting ready to go back out on the fire?”

He nodded and looked away. “They...they lost Zach Carpenter. Sean made it out okay, but Zach's gone...”

Jared covered his face with his hands. He didn't make a sound, but she knew he was crying. His shoulders trembled as the grief shook his body. Tears flooded her eyes, as well.

“Oh, Jared. Oh, no. I'm so very sorry.”

She touched his arm, wanting to hold him tight. Wanting to run away at the same time. To flee and never hear such horrible news again.

“Poor Tessa. I should go to her. She'll be brokenhearted,” Megan said as tears ran down her cheeks.

“Her mom should be here soon,” Jared said. “They've pulled her and the rest of the Minoa Hotshots off the fire. Sean's being treated somewhere here in the hospital for some second-degree burns and smoke inhalation, but it looks like he'll be okay. They say he blames himself.”

“Oh, no. Did he do something wrong to cause Zach's death?” Megan asked.

“Leland says no. Apparently Sean radioed the hotshot crew, giving them enough notice to evacuate. No one knows why he and Zach couldn't get out in time. But they'll send in an investigation team to determine what went wrong.”

Yes, Megan remembered the same procedure after Blaine had died. The investigation team had found that he'd been working so hard that he hadn't noticed the winds changing and the fire creeping up on him. By the time he'd realized his error, he'd been surrounded. Human error, they'd called it. A simple mistake that had cost him his life.

Poor Zach. Poor Tessa and Sean. The three were inseparable. Sean and Tessa were planning to get married in the fall. So in love. So happy. And now this. Megan couldn't find words to say. Couldn't think this through. And yet, in her heart of hearts, she knew it would turn out okay. Because God was with them, no matter what. This wasn't all there was. Life went on eternally. Megan believed that with all her heart.

Jared looked at her, his eyes filled with anguish. “I'm so sorry for everything that happened.”

“I know, but it wasn't your fault,” she said.

“Yes, it was. I promised if you took the catering job that you'd be okay, and you weren't. You and the kids could have died...”

She interrupted him. “But we didn't. We're fine.”

“But you wouldn't have been in that predicament if I hadn't pushed you to take this job.”

“It was my choice, Jared. And I don't regret it, either. This job has blessed our lives. Financially, I'm able to breathe again. And it's allowed the kids and me to be near you.”

A blank expression crossed his face. Then he nodded. “I don't want to lose you, Megan. I don't want to let you go. Not ever. I'll get a different job, if I have to. Nothing is more important to me. But you and I have to be together.”

“We do?”

He nodded. “Yes, sweetheart. Because I love you. More than anything in this world.”

“You do?”

“Oh, yes. And I love Caleb and June, too. I feel like they're my own children. When I thought I might lose all of you in that fire, I was beside myself with grief. I couldn't stand it, Megan. I had to save you. And if changing jobs will convince you that we should be together, then that's what I'll do.”

A rush of happiness filled her heart. “That's good. Because we adore you, too. But I don't think it'll be necessary for you to get another job.”

He stood and took hold of her arm, caressing her skin with his fingertips. “It won't?”

“No. It's enough that you offered. But when we were surrounded by that fire, something occurred to me.”

He leaned near, until his nose brushed hers. “And what's that?”

“We need men and women like you, who are brave enough to put out the fires. Without you, there are a lot of people who would be in a whole lot of trouble. Because of your work, you save their lives and property. Just like you saved me and the kids yesterday.”

He tilted his head to one side. “What are you saying, sweetheart?”

“I love you, too, Jared. I realize that now. I can't help it. I think I loved you the first time you stepped into my restaurant. I just didn't want to admit it. And I've been fighting it ever since. But now, I realize that life is too short to live in regret. That loving you makes me feel strong and fulfilled. It makes me a better mother. A better person. Like I can conquer any problem that comes my way. But only if you're by my side.”

He gave a low laugh, as though he couldn't quite believe what she said. “I feel the same way. But do you really mean that, Meg?”

“Oh, yes.” She didn't even hesitate. And she realized loving Jared meant more to her than being safe and lonely.

She loved him. With all her heart. And loving him chased away her fears. She wasn't afraid anymore. Even after what they'd gone through yesterday. Where there'd once been pain and anguish, now all she felt was calm, smooth peace in her heart.

“I thought the burnover would have pushed you even further away from me,” he said.

“No, it's brought me closer. When I realized I could have lost you, it brought me to my senses. It made me realize I'd lose much, much more if I walked away from you. And I want to stay. To be a permanent part of your life.”

Yes, the fire had galvanized her love for Jared. Because she realized, if she wasn't with him, life wasn't worth living anyway. Jared's love was worth any risk.

“Are you really sure? I mean, I know you still love Blaine,” he said.

“Of course I do. He was my husband and the father of my children. I'll always have a place in my heart for him. But you're there, too. And I've learned that love isn't limited. It just grows and encompasses everyone I care about. My love for you is so powerful, Jared. I can't imagine living without you now. Oh, yes, I've never been more certain about anything in my life.”

He laughed. “Then marry me. Be my wife and let's be a real family. You, me and the kids.”

Megan hesitated. “Are you sure you're up to that? We're kind of a ready-made family. Our lives aren't always easy to manage.”

“It's okay, sweetheart. Together, we can do anything. You're already mine. We were meant for each other.”

“Yes, you're right. Life is too fleeting, and I don't want to lose anymore. Please don't quit your job. I want you to be happy, too. We've got a difficult road ahead of us now with losing Zach. Tessa and Sean are going to need our support. But managing fires makes you happy.”

“But you make me happy, too. More than I can say. You're the most important thing to me now. You and the kids.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him close. “I think we can have both. Just promise me you'll be careful out there. Promise me you'll come home safe every time. And after that, we'll exercise our faith in God.”

He lowered his head, his gaze locked with hers. “Yes, I like that. I promise, sweetheart. I promise you that and all my love. Forever more.”

He kissed her. And no more words were needed. Not for a very long time. Not until they told the happy news of their engagement to the kids. Because love truly was worth any risk.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from COAST GUARD SWEETHEART by Lisa Carter.

Dear Reader,

I have a dear friend who is an ironworker and has walked the iron of numerous skyscrapers. My own father and other good friends have fought wildfires for a living. And I have a beloved son who is a Sergeant in the US Marine Corps. Brave souls, every one. They are my heroes. But I've often wondered how I might react if I were to lose one of them to their dangerous profession. Would I have hope and courage in the face of such adversity or fear? This is a question each of us must answer for ourselves.

In this book, Megan Rocklin's husband was a hotshot wildfire fighter who was killed in the line of duty. Suffering from a broken heart, Megan has vowed never to love another wildfire fighter, or any man who works in a dangerous profession. But I wonder if this is a realistic goal. Are any of us ever safe, no matter what we do for a living? Do we really know the day or hour when we might lose someone we love? For me, living by faith is the answer. Trusting in God and handing my fears over to Him brings me a great deal of peace.

I hope you enjoy reading this story, and I invite you to visit my website at
LeighBale.com
to learn more about my books.

May you find peace in the Lord's words!

Leigh Bale

Coast Guard Sweetheart

by Lisa Carter

Chapter One

“W
hat are you doing here, Sawyer Kole?”

Honey Duer's heart stuttered. Irrational gladness surged through her nerve endings until she tamped her feelings down to that secret place where she contained everything concerning the Coast Guard petty officer. Perched on a stool at the Sandpiper Cafe counter, he stiffened at the sound of her voice.

Kiptohanock life ebbed and flowed around them. The hearty scent of eggs and bacon permeated the diner. Weather-beaten watermen packed the green vinyl booths and sopped their buttermilk biscuits in redeye gravy while trading fish stories.

Placing his palms flat against the counter, Sawyer rose and faced her. He let his arms drop to his side.

Much against her will, Honey's gaze locked onto Sawyer's hands—strong, work-roughened and capable. A distant memory flashed of those hands cupping one of Blackie's pups.

The clinking of glasses and murmur of voices in the crowded diner faded into a distant, droning buzz as the image of Sawyer's face that long ago Kiptohanock spring welled in her mind. He'd cradled the black Labrador puppies, the lines fanning out from his eyes as he smiled. At her.

Her stomach knotted. And with her reverie broken, she found his crystal blue gaze fixed on her. In his eyes, she beheld pain, regret, sadness. And a question?

She recalled her crusty waterman father's oft-quoted saying, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”

Honey quelled the traitorous feelings Sawyer's presence evoked. She'd believed—hoped—after three long years, she'd be immune. But apparently not.

She'd learned the hard way not to trust a Coastie. Especially not this one. So with deliberate effort, she schooled her features and reined in her pulse.

The summer tourist season remained at fever pitch with the upcoming Labor Day weekend and Duck Decoy Festival. And with the Duer family's century-old lodge booked to the rafters, she didn't need this—or him—distracting her.

“Why are you here, Kole?”

Eyelids drooping, he put the stool between them. “Reassigned back to the Shore. Thought the chief would've warned you.”

Honey propped her hands on her hips—mainly to give her hands something to do. Anything but allow her hands to shake and betray their utter unreliability. “The chief? Braeden Scott knew you were here?”

Of course as Officer in Charge her brother-in-law knew. Which meant her big sister Amelia knew, too. She growled low in her throat. “How long, Kole? How long have you been skulking around Kiptohanock without me knowing?”

“A week.”

Sawyer's eyes, the blue of a winter sky over the blue-green waters of the Delmarva Peninsula, darted toward her again. “I was told you didn't work at the cafe anymore. That you wouldn't be hard to...” His gaze slid away to the diner's plate glass window overlooking the cupola-topped gazebo on the square.

And she extinguished the tiny spark of hope that had surfaced upon spotting his broad uniformed shoulders hunched over a cup of coffee and a plate of Long Johns. As if time had rewound back to that spring when she'd dared to dream, to hope...

She grimaced.

When he left her looking like a fool in front of the fishing hamlet of Kiptohanock, Virginia.

And the startling fact that hope somehow persisted—despite her best efforts to eradicate it—angered Honey. Angered her more than the gall of this here-today, gone-tomorrow Coastie, who had the nerve to show up in her town at her cafe again.

The anger, with three long years to simmer, boiled in her veins. 'Cause Sawyer Kole hadn't come looking for her. He'd come thinking to avoid her.

Eating Long Johns and drinking coffee at her counter as if nothing had changed. Some things never did change. Some men never did, either.

Like how you couldn't trust a Coastie as far as you could throw him.

“Honey, I—” His mouth pulled downward.

The anger percolated in her gut, rising. Someone tugged at her hand.

She glanced down to find her eight-year-old nephew, Max. With whom she'd come searching for a midmorning treat once the inn's guests cleared out after breakfast. Max—whom she'd completely forgotten in her sudden awareness of Sawyer.

“Is that the Coastie who made you cry, Aunt Honey?”

She flinched at the foghorn decibel of Max's voice.

Conversation ground to an abrupt silence.

Sawyer's face constricted and he swallowed. Hard.

“I'm sorry, Honey.” Sawyer pivoted on his heel toward the exit.

Her nostrils flared.
That was it?
After all this time, that was all he had to say for himself?

If he thought he was going to walk away from her again, Sawyer Kole had another thought coming. No longer able to contain the molten lava of three years of unanswered questions, her anger erupted and exploded.

“That'd be
Beatrice
Duer to you, Coastie.”

She reached across the counter and seized the uneaten Long John on his plate. She hurled the cinnamon donut across the room where it collided with a shower of powdery sugar against the back of Sawyer Kole's hard head.

The dozen or so cafe patrons, including Max, gave a collective gasp.

Sawyer whipped around. The disbelief on his features almost made her laugh.

Almost. 'Cause laughing wasn't something she'd done much since that bittersweet spring.

“Honey...” Her waitress friend, Dixie, lowered a platter of fresh baked Long Johns to the countertop. “Before you go off half-cocked...”

Sawyer just...stared at her. Which only made Honey crazier. She snatched another Long John off Dixie's tray.

This time, he made a gesture with his hand like a stop sign. “Honey...” His mouth tightened.

Honey raised her arm in an arc over her head. “I told you to call me Beatrice. Be-a-trice. Better yet, don't call me anything at all.” She drew back.

Sawyer's eyes widened. “You wouldn't...”

Honey lobbed the donut at him.

Zapping him square between the eyes, the Long John bounced and landed at his regulation black shoes on the cafe's linoleum floor.

“Hah!” She jutted her chin. “I just did.”

Max nudged her with his elbow. “Mimi says it's not nice to throw things, Aunt Honey.”

“He deserves it.” She palpitated another Long John. “This one, too.”

And she flung the donut in Sawyer's direction again. But her aim was a trifle off. The Long John only grazed his tropical blue Coastie uniform, leaving a trail of sugar across his chest.

His rugged profile remained stoic. The arctic blue of his eyes smoldered. But otherwise, no reaction.

Maddened, she palmed another pastry, which she let fly in a curveball worthy of the Kiptohanock church league champions. “And another. And—”

It ricocheted off his jaw.

A muscle ticked in his cheek. But he said nothing. Only opened his stance to hip's width and folded his hands behind his back. He lifted his face as if bracing for the next onslaught. Preparing to take whatever she pitched his way.

“Tough guy, huh? I'll show you—”

Max laughed. “This looks like a fun game, Aunt Honey.”

Grabbing a Long John for himself, he propelled it across the length of the cafe. It landed with a plop into the cereal bowl of a redheaded girl from his Sunday school class. She screamed as the milk cascaded over the rim and onto her Girl Scout uniform.

Honey made a futile grab for her nephew as he appropriated two fistfuls of fried dough. “Max! Don't—”

But too late.

The little girl yanked a Long John off a fellow scout's plate and chucked it toward Max. But instead of Max, it hit a grungy waterman in the nose.

“Hey!” The boat captain jumped to his feet. His reactionary winged donut walloped the troop leader, Mrs. Francis, upside the head.

Mrs. Francis rose with battle fury in her eyes. “How dare you, you crazy ole—”

“Boys against girls!” Max scrambled atop Sawyer's vacated stool. Using the stool as a shield, with machine-gun rapid fire, he launched the doughy projectiles at the rest of the Girl Scouts.

Who returned fire with targeted accuracy.

Max retreated toward a table of his granddad's contemporaries. Who, when the barrage sailed their way, responded with a volley of catapulted sugar and cinnamon. Ducking behind the padded booths, Mrs. Francis, the Kiptohanock postmistress and the town librarian, directed the Girl Scouts' cannon assault.

“Score!” Max fist-pumped as another donut grenade connected with the little redheaded girl.

Her answering shot left Max with a mouthful of pastry. Spitting and coughing, Max retreated behind the counter.

Donuts a-flying, Sawyer and Honey gaped at the ensuing melee taking place around them. An island of calm in the midst of mayhem.

“Your turn, Aunt Honey.”

She dodged too late as the Long John smacked her in the forehead.

Max clenched another pastry in his right hand. “Bull's—”

“Don't do it, Max... Drop it...” Sawyer stepped in front of her and scooped a mangled Long John off the floor. “Don't you dare hit your aunt Honey again, Max.”

Max chuckled and took aim. As did Sawyer. Peeping through her fingers, she covered her face with her hands.

The bells jingled as the door whooshed open.

“Executive Petty Officer Kole! What is going on in here? You will cease and desist immediately.”

Sawyer groaned at the sight of his boss, Senior Chief Braeden Scott, framed in the doorway of the cafe.

“Max Duer Scott! Honey!”

Honey lowered her hands. Her older sister, Amelia, glared. Max dropped the donut and shuffled his feet.

The surreptitious thud of twenty other donuts hit the floor as the townspeople came to their senses and surveyed the sugary wreckage of Kiptohanock's favorite hangout.

“Storm's a-coming.” Seth Duer, her father, crossed his arms across his flannel plaid shirt. “But what in the name of fried oysters is going on in here?”

* * *

“What were you thinking, Kole?” Sawyer's superior—and Honey's brother-in-law—stared at him. “We've got a tropical depression barreling up the East Coast and you've started a war in Kiptohanock?”

“I'm sorry, Chief.” Sawyer scanned the deserted and wrecked diner. “I accidentally ran into Honey and we sort of...collided.”

“Do you think this is a laughing matter, Executive Petty Officer Kole? Do you think this is any way for the second in command at Station Kiptohanock to treat the local populace? Represent the United States Coast Guard? Provide an example to the station crew?”

Sawyer wiped the emerging smile off his face. He went into a rigid salute, feet clamped together. “No. Not at all, Chief Scott.”

Braeden glowered. “I should hope not, BMC Kole. Or I might have to rethink requesting your reassignment here on the Delmarva Peninsula.”

“Permission to speak freely, Chief?”

Braeden narrowed his eyes. “Ankle deep in powdered sugar, I'd speak carefully if I were you, Kole.”

Sawyer cut his eyes around his thirtysomething commander toward the kitchen where the chief's pregnant wife, Amelia, reamed out a much-subdued Honey. A firm hand clamped on her orphaned nephew and adopted son, Amelia kept Max affixed in place. Fixed like a bug on a pin until his turn for her strawberry blonde wrath.

“This was a bad idea, me being reassigned to the Eastern Shore again, Chief.”

Braeden's eyebrow arched. “Oh, really?”

Sawyer nodded. “I thought after what happened three years ago...after our last conversation that night...” He slumped. “That you understood... It was better for everyone, especially Honey, for me to never—”

“What I understand, XPO, is that you acquitted yourself extremely well at your last duty station in California. You are an asset to any boat station, especially this one.” Braeden skewered him with a look. “And let me remind you the Coast Guard does not exist for the benefit of the Coastie but the other way around.”

Sawyer went into regulation stance again. “Yes, Chief.”

Braeden took a deep breath. “However in this case... In the weird—albeit endearing—way of southern families, when Amelia and I got married, the Duers adopted everyone on my side of the marriage, too. Including my father's best friend, Master Chief Davis. And I promise you the Master Chief no more enjoyed watching Honey go from depressed Honey to angry Honey to cynical Honey—”

“I'm guessing we're back at the angry Honey phase.” Frowning, Sawyer took a quick, surreptitious look across the cafe.

“Exactly. So one word in the Master Chief's ear and it was no problem getting you reassigned here. Time to work out the unresolved issues chaining the both of you to the past. Nothing worse than might-have-beens. This way—barring a few damaged donuts—better for both of you in the end. Get each other out of your systems.”

Braeden's clipped voice gouged at Sawyer's heart. “Or not, as the case may be. Time to let nature—or donuts—take their course.”

“So now we know.” Sawyer gulped. “She hates me.”

“That what you took from this?” Braeden gestured. “Don't know if I'd agree.” Braeden's lips twitched as he surveyed the culinary disaster zone. “I already hear this skirmish is going down in the annals of Kiptohanock lore as The Battle of the Long Johns.”

Sawyer smothered a groan. “I'm sorry, Chief. Really sorry. I promise you it won't happen again. I'll perform my duty watches and otherwise keep my distance.”

In the corner, the hitherto silent Seth Duer cleared his throat. “That strategy kind of defeats the purpose, don't you think?” The man's bristly mustache twitched.

Sawyer cast his eyes toward the snowy floor.

Honey's dad had never been one of his biggest fans. And rightly so as subsequent events that spring proved. Sawyer was nothing, as his own father routinely declared twenty-odd years ago, if not a self-fulfilling screw-up.