Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Holiday Family\Sugar Plum Season\Her Cowboy Hero\Small-Town Fireman (8 page)

“I did a stew thing in the slow-cooker, and there's plenty. But you probably want to get home and see your dad.”

“Mom just texted that he's sleeping and she's going over to Luke's to help Rainey make some new kind of tres leches cake thing. So I'm free.”

“Rainey's tres leches cakes are the best things on the planet,” Tina said.

“I don't know,” Max mused. “I heard something from my brother Seth about a sweet potato pecan pie that's won the hearts of the entire lakeshore. And that's saying something because that's a fair piece of geography, Tina.”

“I'll have to remember to thank Seth for the kind words.”

“Don't be too nice to him. It'll go to his head. Now.” He stopped and braced one hand on either side of the door, effectively trapping her between him and the hardware store entry. “You're really inviting me to dinner?”

“Crock-Pot stew isn't fancy enough to be called dinner.”

“Supper, then.”

“Supper works.”

“Then let's do this.” He motioned to her car. “I'll bring my car up and after we eat I'll noticeably leave your place. Then I'll circle around back again.”

Tina nodded, moved toward the steps, then paused. “Thank you for doing this, Max. The whole stakeout thing. I know it's not your fight—”

“My parents love you to pieces, so it is my fight,” he corrected her. “You might be family by attrition and I'm Campbell by adoption, but if there's one thing about us Campbells, we take care of our own. I'll meet you at your place.”

He parked on the street in front of Tina's apartment, leaving the car in plain sight. When he followed her up the stairs to her apartment, he was pleasantly surprised. “Retro chic. I'm kind of surprised and intrigued. Where's June Cleaver hiding?”

Tina laughed and brought two plates over to the small enamel-clad table. “Necessity. I had no money, and the antique and cooperative shops had lots of this fun retro stuff really cheap, so I decided I'd go with it.”

“These old bowls.” Max lifted one of the pale blue Pyrex bowls into the air. “Grandma Campbell had these. And these cabinets look like the ones in Aunt Maude's old place over in Jamison.”

“Cute, right?” His appreciation deepened Tina's smile. “I figured if I had to live in an apartment, I wanted it as fun and homey as I could get it.”

“You've achieved your goal. Can I help with anything?”

“You're doing enough standing guard into the dark of night. Sit and eat.”

Max didn't have to be asked twice. “You made bread?”

“Nope, bought it when I ran out at lunchtime. Rainey's got a nice baked-goods section over at the McKinney Farms Dairy store, and it's only five minutes away. I figured it would go well with stew.”

“Beyond wonderful.”

She turned.

Her chin tilted up. She met his gaze, and he knew the second the compliment registered, that the words were meant for her, not the bread, because her eyes brightened and she looked embarrassed.

“But—” he sat down, reached over and sliced a couple of thick hunks off the loaf of freshly warmed bread “—you warned me off, so I'm trying to keep my compliments to myself, to stay calm, cool and slightly detached. How'd I do today?” He asked the question as if wondering how his job performance was going, quick and casual.

“You got an A on detachment and a B- on cool.” She sat in the chair opposite him and offered the grades as if the assessment was the least personal thing ever.

“A B-?” Max shook his head. “On my worst day I couldn't get a B-. No way, no how.”

“Are you protesting your grade?” She set the ladle down, then looked surprised and pleased when he reached across the small table and took her hand in his for grace.

He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Naw, no protest. The bad grade just gives me incentive to try harder. Be cooler. Although I'm not sure that's even attainable.”

She laughed.

It felt good to see it, good to watch her relax. Smile. Joke around. From what he'd gleaned in his short time home, Tina hadn't had a lot to laugh about these past few years, and that was wrong by any standard. He held her hand lightly and offered a simple prayer, a soldier's grace, and when he was done, he held her hand just long enough to make her work to extract it.

She scolded him with a look that made him grin, and then they shared a hot, delicious meal in a walk-up apartment decked out in second-hand 1950s motif, and he loved every minute of it.

He wanted to linger but the clock forced him to leave.

She walked him to the door, then stayed back a few feet, creating distance. But Max hadn't served in the army for over a decade without achieving some off-the-battlefield skills.

He noted the distance with his gaze, then drew his eyes up. Met hers. “Nice ploy, but if I wanted to kiss you, I'd cross that three feet of space and just do it, Tina.”

“Which either means you don't want to, or you're being a gentleman and respecting my request to keep our lives uncomplicated.” She sent him a pert smile. “Excellent.”

“Except—” he opened the door to the stairway, then turned, smiling “—Uncle Sam trained me well. I
like
things complicated. Creates a challenge. But tonight?” He pulled a dark knit hat onto his head, and matching leather gloves from the pockets of his black leather jacket. “Duty calls.”

He started down the stairs, mentally counting them as he went. If she called his name before step number ten, he'd won a major battle.

If she stayed silent?

Well, that meant there was more work to be done than he'd thought. He stepped down quickly, leaving it up to God and Tina.
One, two, three, four...

Total silence followed him from above.

Five, six, seven, eight...

“Max?”

He stopped, turned and had to keep from power-fisting the air. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” Her gaze scanned his cold-weather gear and the village beyond the first-floor entry window. “Like I mentioned before, this means a lot to me.”

“You're welcome.” He didn't wink, tease or do anything else. There was no need to. By calling his name, interrupting his departure, she'd shown her mix of feelings. She liked him and wished she didn't.

Would she hate him when she found out the truth about Pete and Amy? Their deaths affected her best friend, their family, the entire neighborhood, the town. And he had
known
Pete and Amy had been drinking and hadn't stopped them from going out.

Maybe the better question was this: Why wouldn't she hate him?

He glanced up as he swung open the driver's-side door. She waved from the window, and the sight of her, backlit and centered in the white-framed pane, made his heart yearn for that kind of send-off on a regular basis.

Blessed be the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.
That's what he wanted now. To be a different kind of peacemaker here at home. Twinkle lights blinked on throughout the town. By next week, everything would be fully decorated. They'd open the Festival of Lights with a prayerful ceremony on the church green, and then they'd “throw” the switch, lighting up the lake, the town, the park.

Right now, with the sweetness of the newly erected church manger and the decorated, lighted businesses flanking Main Street, a sweet surge of the blessed holiday engulfed him. Yes, they were lit up a little early with Thanksgiving still days off, but as he tucked his car away and slipped through the cemetery paths to take up his watch station, the sweet lights celebrating Christ's birth welcomed him home.

Chapter Six

W
hoever had been combing the ashes of the café had either found what they were looking for or smelled a trap. Either way, nothing came of the men's combined maneuvers.

Jason and Cory Radcliffe stopped into the hardware store at closing time. “Tina, can we talk to you out back before you head out?”

“Sure.” She led the firemen into the back room, then turned. “Bad news?”

Jason shrugged. “Well, not good news. We've done what we can, the arson squad has gathered their evidence, they know an accelerant was used, but there's no real indication of who did this and the site's dangerous. We've ordered the excavation equipment. They're going to clean the site tomorrow.”

Clean the site.

It sounded so simple. Matter-of-fact. A decade of work, hopes and dreams purposely destroyed, then scooped away.

Her heart ached, but it was the right thing to do. She knew that. Still.

She didn't want to be on hand to see it happen, but that couldn't be helped. “I appreciate you letting me know, guys. Thank you.”

They didn't look the least bit comfortable accepting her thanks, and when they were gone, Max cornered her at the register. “Cleanup time?”

“You were listening?” Her tone scolded. Her look followed suit.

He pointed a finger at himself and made a face that said of course he was. “Covert operator. That's what I do, Tina.”

A tiny smile escaped as she accepted his pronouncement. “That doesn't exactly rank you higher on the trustworthy scale. Snooping is unattractive.”

“Snooping's for amateurs. I was on an information-gathering mission. Highly professional. And I needed to be close by in case they made you cry.”

“They didn't.”

He smiled. “I know. Because I was right outside the door.”

A tiny part of her heart stretched, thinking of Max watching out for her again. “Then you know they're excavating tomorrow.”

“An empty lot can be considered a fresh palette.”

It could.

And yet the thought of big equipment sweeping up the remnants of her life in Kirkwood bit deep. “It's got to be done,” she admitted. “I just hate the thought of being around to watch it happen.”

“Then we'll find something else to do,” Max said as he locked the door “The weather's supposed to be fairly nice tomorrow, according to my mother. But for now, come with me.”

Max crooked a thumb toward his Mustang. Tina grabbed her purse and warm jacket, then followed him to the door. “Come with you where?”

He pointed to the passenger seat. “You did supper last night. My turn.”

“Max, I—”

“Don't disappoint my mother. She's been simmering red sauce and meatballs and made me promise to bring you. You can't insult a woman who spent half the afternoon cooking, can you?”

“You don't play fair.”

His smile agreed as he backed the car around. “All's fair in love and war.”

“Well, as long as we're at war. Okay, then.”

He laughed, but as they pulled out of the hardware store parking lot, two big rigs rounded the corner of Main Street. A huge loader with a bucket and a large dump truck chugged down the road, then parked along the edge of her burned-out café.

The sight of them reignited Tina's internal reasons for leaving. Enough was enough.

But then Max hit the car radio. Christmas lyrics filled the air, the perfect accent to the growing number of decorated houses leading out of the village. The bright sight of her old, familiar town filled her with nostalgia.

She thought she wanted new, fresh and bright. But how much would she miss the familiarity of her hometown once she made the move?

Her phone vibrated an incoming text from Sherrie.
I know U R busy but could use help with nursery. Ideas?

She had tons of ideas. Ones she'd imagined for herself as she watched her biological clock tick for years. The thought of happily-ever-afters and cute kids had filled her with anticipation. In her quest for the American dream of marriage and two-point-four kids, had she hurried things? Charging ahead and regretting at leisure had always been part of her profile. Had she done that in matters of the heart?

Maybe. But she needed to think more on that tomorrow. With Christmas music playing, and Max easing the smooth ride around lakeshore curves, she focused on answering Sherrie.

Tons,
she texted back.
Call me later, we'll make a plan.

Thank you!
Sherrie's return text was immediate, which meant she was waiting, hoping Tina would help. Was Sherrie feeling pushed to hurry because Tina was leaving? They'd been best friends, always together, for over two decades. The idea of being too busy or too far away to be a true help to Sherrie seemed wrong.

“Max! Tina! Perfect timing!” Jenny's voice caroled a welcome as Max tugged open the side door a few minutes later. “Dad was just saying he could use some company.”

Beeze padded their way, tail wagging, as if wondering how they got through the day at work without him. He pushed his big, golden head beneath Tina's arm, knowing she'd give him a thorough welcome.

“I'm going to wash up and get rid of the remnants of changing oil and replacing hoses,” Max announced. He reached down to pet Beeze. Tina looked up. Met his gaze. And when he smiled as if seeing her with the dog, in his mother's kitchen, made him happy, her heart tipped into overdrive again. “Back in a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

She helped Jenny finish things up while Charlie sat nearby, talking over the events of the day, and by the time Max returned, supper was on the table and Beeze had been relegated to the front porch.

“I'm not all that hungry, but I'll sit with you.” Charlie pulled out the chair where he usually sat. “As long as none of you pester me about eating.”

“The smells aren't bothering you?” Tina asked.

“Not as much, no.”

“Good.” Tina beamed at him, happy to see him looking more at ease.

Jenny's sigh said she'd follow his direction about not fussing, but wasn't thrilled with his pronouncement, and Max just grinned and said, “More for me, Dad. Leftovers tomorrow. I'm okay with that.”

“Earl will be thrilled, too.” Tina held a forkful of pasta aloft and breathed deep. “I could live on pasta. Cooked any way, anytime. Short women should not have this kind of affinity for carbs. And the oven-roasted broccoli is perfection, Jenny. Thank you.”

“I grabbed the broccoli right across the street at Barrett's Orchards,” Jenny told her. “I love having all their fresh produce so handy.”

“Lacey's apple fritters aren't anything to wave off casually, either,” Max noted. “We did some racing through those orchards when we were kids,” he added. “It was a great place to grow up. The farm on one side of the house, the lake on the other.”

“Isn't it funny to have people live in the same area, but have such different experiences?” Tina observed as she twirled more spaghetti onto her fork.

“As in?”

She indicated the village north of them with a wave. “Living in town had its upsides, and I helped at the restaurant a lot, but there were no games of hide-and-seek in the orchard, or grabbing a boat and taking off to fish when they were biting. Not until I bought my own, anyway.”

“You like to fish?” Max looked surprised when Tina nodded.

“Love it. That's how I kept my sanity running the café all these years. Some days I'd just grab my little rowboat with its pricey trolling motor and cruise the docks, looking for bass and perch.”

“I haven't had fried jack perch in over a year,” Charlie lamented.

“It's late for perch, isn't it?” Max glanced from the calendar to Charlie and Tina.

“You can find them here or there if the weather's good and the wind is from the south-southwest,” Charlie said.

“Do you want to go out, Dad?” Max stopped eating and faced his father. “They're calling for a nice day tomorrow. Sunny. Wind out of the south. I can grab a few hours off and take you around the lake. We could catch enough for a family fish fry between us.”

“I'll go out with you when I'm feeling better,” Charlie replied. “But the thought of eating fresh perch sounds mighty good. As long as you boys don't mind cooking it in the garage. The smell might be a little tough, otherwise.”

“That's what the old stove is for,” Max declared. He looked at Tina.

Something in his expression said he'd do this, but could use help. Which was just plain silly because a guy like Max didn't need help with anything. With tomorrow's decent weather forecast, one last day on the water sounded good to Tina. And better than watching her business being swept away. “Max and I can go out tomorrow if Jenny can come down to the hardware store and spell us.”

Charlie's face brightened, and when Jenny saw that, she agreed wholeheartedly. “I'd be glad to get out of this house for a little bit,” she declared. She sent Charlie a teasing smile. “I think Dad is tired of me fussing over him, so he'd be relieved to have me gone, and I'd get to see how things are going at the store.”

“It's a date.” Max met Tina's gaze across the table and grinned, and she had no trouble reading that smile or the double entendre of his word choice. “Me. Tina. Worms. And a boat.”

“Good.” Jenny met Charlie's smile with one of her own. “Then we can have a nice fish fry on Saturday night. Unless you're too tired to have a crowd around, Charlie?”

“Not if there's fish on the menu,” he declared, and for just a minute he sounded like the Charlie of old. Strong. Determined. Decisive.

Tina met Max's eyes across the table and read the “gotcha” look he aimed her way. She couldn't wiggle out of a fishing date with Max, not with Charlie's hopes up.

And the thought of hanging out with Max on the water, handling smelly worms and flapping fish, could prove interesting. Tina was at home in two places: a kitchen and a boat. So if Max thought he was being altruistic by going fishing with her, he had a lot to learn. She might have messed up in the old boyfriend department, but when it came to fish, Tina Martinelli knew her way around Kirkwood Lake.

* * *

The unseasonable warmth tempted multiple boats onto the late-season water the next day, anglers wanting one last spin before packing things up for the winter.

Temptation wasn't goading Max into the boat. Love for his father was. He gassed up the motor, checked the anchor and loaded supplies. Fishing poles, bait, tackle, life jackets, compass, a cooler for fish and one for sandwiches, and a thermos of coffee.

He eyed the lake, appraising.

He didn't fear the water after losing Pete. He hated it. Big difference. But the only way to make his father's fish fry a reality was with fish. And there weren't too many jack perch hanging out on shore. He tucked two flotation devices beneath the backseat, and wished he'd thought to do the same before Pete and Amy went cruising that night. If they'd been sober, with the right equipment, would they be here now, living life?

His heart ached, but his mind went straight to God.
I know what I need to do, Lord. I'm not shirking this confrontation, I'm just busy with stuff on this side of the lake. I'll make it a point to go see the Sawyers once things are settled with Dad. And the store. And the lighting gig. And if anyone tells You that small towns don't come with their own share of drama, well, they're wrong. But I'll go see Mary and Ray. Soon.

Tina's approach pushed his thoughts into actions.

“We could have used my boat.” She settled onto the seat of Charlie's much bigger rig and made a face at Max. “It's not the size of the boat—”

“It's the heart of the fisherman,” Max finished one of Charlie's favorite sayings, but went on, “That didn't stop Dad from buying this, did it?”

“Well, with a crew like yours, I suppose a bigger boat could be deemed a necessity.”

Max eased the boat away from the dock, turned it around and headed toward deeper water. “But here is where I give in to your expertise. I know the big perch usually seek deeper water in fall, but do you know any hot spots?”

“Warrenton Point with today's breeze, at the end of the longest docks. If not there, then the off side of the west curve, just north of Kirkwood Lodge.”

“She can talk the talk,” Max teased as he aimed for Warrenton. “But can she back up the talk with action?”

“Time will tell.”

He revved the motor, steering the boat through open water. As they drew closer to the point, Max decreased his speed, then idled the engine. His intent was to have a successful trip for his father.

Fish weren't always cooperative and that was a reality every fisherman faced, but today the fish were fighting to be caught.

They brought in eighteen good-size jack perch in the first forty minutes, evenly split. “I will never cast an aspersion about your fishing abilities again,” Max noted as he reeled in number eighteen. “I forgot how nice this can be when you troll into a good school of fish.”

“Not much time for fishing in the army?”

What should he say? The truth, that he avoided the water purposely? No. “Lack of time, lack of desire.” He stared out across the lake, looking at the long, sweeping curve of the west shore, but seeing Pete's face. Hearing Pete's laugh. He sighed. “And busy working my way up. That didn't leave too much time to kick back and do much of anything, actually.”

“Those captain's bars say you've done all right,” Tina noted as she shifted her line to the other side of the boat. “And it can't be easy to give that all up. Doesn't it become ingrained? The love of adventure, the joy of service?”

“It does.” Max rebaited his line, then cast it toward the docks on the opposite side of Tina's rod. “But I faced a few enemies these past few years that wanted me dead. And I decided it would be a shame to have that happen when I'd never been gutsy enough to move outside of my military comfort zone.”