Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Bayou Sweetheart\The Firefighter's New Family\Season of Redemption (22 page)
Authors: Lenora Worth
If she hadn't been running late, she would never have taken the chair next to Phillip. Only as the brief introductions had been made had she realized her mistake. Those copper eyes, set deeply into a lean, bronzed face heavily shadowed with a dark beard and carved with dimples and a cleft chin, had taken her breath away. Hair the color of coffee and a nose that showed signs of having been broken at some point added the very type of ruggedness that appealed to her. Combined with his long-limbed heightâat least three or four inches over six feetâand broad shoulders, he was definitely one of the best-looking men she'd ever met. She'd decided right then to forget all about grief support, no matter what her family saidâonly to find herself face-to-face with the man this morning.
He led them down the hallway to a swinging door, which he pushed wide, calling out, “Hilda, you have company.”
A clatter of metal heralded her aunt's appearance in the doorway. Swathed in a damp apron over a voluminous dress made of some small, gray-brown print almost the exact color as her thin, straight, ear-length hair, Hilda exuded the aromas of a bakery.
She reached over the children to envelop Carissa in her hefty arms. Stooping, she did the same with the children, all three at once. “I've set up the sunroom for the kids. But first, how was the meeting last night?”
Phillip Chatam shifted beside Carissa. She felt his interest, and that made this discussion all the more difficult. Managing a tiny smile, she recalled the words that she had prepared earlier in anticipation of this moment.
“You're right, Aunt Hilda. Pastor Hub is a very wise man. I especially liked what he had to say about helping others.”
“As a way of getting our minds off our own sorrows,” Phillip supplied.
Hilda's narrow gaze sharpened. “You were there, too, Phillip?”
“Yes. The aunties thought I would benefit.”
“Seems we were both there at the urging of family,” Carissa said drily.
“I know it's going to help,” Hilda exclaimed, throwing out her arms. Hooking one mighty appendage about each of their necks, she gave both a squeeze. Carissa winced as her head knocked against Phillip's.
The wretch chuckled. “Hilda, you're priceless.”
The good-natured cook chortled then let them go.
Carissa looked awayâand caught her eldest son's disapproving frown. She couldn't think of anything that Nathan did approve of these days, but she couldn't really blame him. Since they'd lost the house, they'd had to move into her poor father's tiny two-bedroom apartment. There was no space for a growing boy to take a deep breath, let alone play. Her father's illness didn't help, either, though he never complained about the noise or chaos. Nathan, more than the other children, understood what his grandfather's illness meant. It was no wonder he wasn't happy.
She thought of her aunt's and uncle's urgings to get the children into church again and wondered if that would help. They'd gradually fallen away after Tom's death. She had struggled to get an infant and two rambunctious little boys dressed in their Sunday best and out the door week after week on her own, but what was her excuse now that the children were nine, seven and four?
A clock chimed somewhere, bringing Carissa out of her thoughts.
“I need to get to work. Let me help you settle the children.”
“This way. This way,” Hilda urged, waddling off down the hall. She began detailing the preparations she'd made: coloring books and crayons, games, puzzles, toys. She even had a box of dress-up clothes gleaned from “Miss Odelia's big closet upstairs.” Little Grace beamed with delight.
Carissa marched the children into the room, hugged each one and thanked Phillip Chatam for his assistance. Ready to focus on what lay before her, she began to mentally plan her workday as she started back down the long hallway. She just needed one good day without distractions to ensure her job for another month. She knew her stuff; she could sell enough tech support to see her family through the immediate crisis. One good day on the telephone without three children bouncing off the walls of a too-small apartmentâthat was all she asked.
Thanking God for an aunt and uncle willing to help out, she tried not to worry. Hilda could manage three small children, and it was a very large house. Surely they would be all right for one day. With a man like Phillip Chatam around, she dared not risk more, and the same went for grief support meetings.
She didn't need those meetings anyway. Tom had been gone for four years now; emotionally, she'd come to terms with his loss long ago. Aunt Hilda and Uncle Chester were trying to help her prepare for what was to come, of course, but Carissa didn't believe in borrowing trouble. After all, didn't the Bible say not to worry about tomorrow? Each day, according to Matthew, had enough trouble of its own. She could certainly vouch for that. It seemed to her that it was time for things to go right for a change, if only for one day.
Just one day...
Copyright © 2014 by Deborah Rather
ISBN-13: 9781460324608
BAYOU SWEETHEART
Copyright © 2014 by Lenora H. Nazworth
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Love To The Rescue
A tornado may have left Ashley Kern injured beneath a fallen tree, but it's her rescuer who plays havoc with her emotions. Firefighter Devon Murphy is everything the single mom could wish for in a husband: handsome, a doting father and ready to join his family to hers. But how can the pretty war widow make a life once more with a man whose career is full of danger? Devon has fought some pretty big battles in his life, but can he help Ashley conquer her fears and show her the safest place of all is in his arms?
“I don't want to scare you, but I need you to know my intentions. I'd like us to see where our relationship can go.”
She looked into his eyes, her pulse charging through her, her heart in her throat. This was a time for honesty, if she could only find it. “I understand your feelings. My heart turns to mush when I watch you with Joey. You're loving and caring. You'd make a good father, and I never doubted you would be a wonderful husband. Never.”
“Then what is it, Ashley? What causes you to back away sometimes?”
“It's not you. The problem is what you do. Firefighting.” She'd said it. Finally. She'd admitted aloud the deep horrible terror that she faced daily since she admitted her feelings for him. “It's the fear, Devon. That's it. Nothing more, and it's something you can't fix or change. I would never think of asking you to leave a career that means the world to you. It would destroy the generous, loving person that you are. I will not be responsible.”
Books by Gail Gaymer Martin
Love Inspired
*
Loving
Treasures
*
Loving
Hearts
Easter Blessings
“The Butterfly
Garden”
The Harvest
“All Good
Gifts”
*
Loving Ways
*
Loving
Care
Adam's Promise
*
Loving
Promises
*
Loving Feelings
*
Loving Tenderness
â
In
His Eyes
â
With Christmas in His Heart
â
In His Dreams
â
Family
in His Heart
Dad in Training
Groom in Training
Bride in
Training
**
A Dad of His Own
**
A Family of Their Own
Christmas Gifts
“Small Town Christmas”
**
A Dream of His
Own
Her Valentine Hero
The Firefighter's New Family
Steeple Hill Books
The Christmas Kite
Finding Christmas
That
Christmas Feeling
“Christmas Moon”
*Loving
â Michigan
Islands
**Dreams Come True
GAIL GAYMER MARTIN
is an award-winning author, writing women's fiction, romance
and romance suspense with over three million books in print. Gail is the author
of twenty-eight worship resource books and
Writing the
Christian Romance
released by Writer's Digest Books. She is a
cofounder of American Christian Fiction Writers, a member of the ACFW Great
Lakes Chapter, member of RWA and three RWA chapters.
A former counselor and educator, Gail has enjoyed this
career since her first book in 1998. This book is her fiftieth novel. When not
writing, she enjoys traveling, speaking at churches and libraries and presenting
writing workshops across the country. Music is another love, and she spends many
hours involved in singing as a soloist, praise leader and choir member at her
church, where she also plays handbells and hand chimes. She sings with one of
the finest Christian chorales in Michigan, the Detroit Lutheran Singers. A
lifelong resident of Michigan, she lives with her husband, Bob, in the Detroit
suburbs. Visit her website at
www.gailmartin.com
, write to her at P.O.
Box 760063, Lathrup Village, MI 48076, or at
[email protected]
.
THE FIREFIGHTER'S NEW FAMILY
Gail Gaymer Martin
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned.
âIsaiah
43:2
Many thanks to the firefighters Tim Kohlbeck and Chuck Harris, who provided me with a multitude of accurate information
on
the lives and work of firefighters. Thanks also to Gino Salciccoli, MD,
for his assistance in the medical area of this story. As always, I send my love and thanks to
my husband, Bob, for his support, love, patience
and appreciation for my career. He's also a
good proofreader, and he works free of chargeâ¦
plus he has a great sense of humor.
Chapter One
D
evon Murphy pulled into his driveway and
closed his eyes, mentally and physically drained. His back throbbed, muscles
ached and lungs burned from exertion after he and his fellow firefighters had
spent all night responding to the storm emergencies. His body cried for
rest.
His eyes stung as he opened them. Though the sky was still
weighted with ominous clouds, he hoped the worst was over. Tornado season ripped
through towns without mercy. Lovely homes sat along the streets now with damaged
roofs hidden behind huge trees pulled out by the roots as if they were weeds in
a garden.
Grateful that his neighborhood had escaped the spring storm, he
longed for a shower and sleep, but rest came hard when rolling images relived
the destructive night following the wind's devastation on nearby
neighborhoods.
He grasped the SUV's door handle, flinching as a trash can shot
like a missile past his windshield. Stunned by the power of the new wind shear,
he sucked in air, watching an anonymous lawn chair tumble through his front yard
and tangle in a shrub. Limbs from his neighbor's maple toppled to the ground as
if they were pickup sticks.
A few houses away, sparks alerted him electrical wires were
down, and he pulled out his cell phone, hit 911 and waited to hear the
dispatcher's voice. “Ann, this is Lieutenant Murphy of the Ferndale Fire
Department. Another microburst just hit the West Drayton area. Electrical wires
and trees are down. Send out Detroit Energy and Consumers Energy to check downed
lines and possible gas leaks.”
When he heard her say, “Help's on the way,” he ended the call
and surveyed the damage. As he headed toward the downed lines, a child's cry
jerked his attention across the street. The toddler stood beside an uprooted
tree, one limb jutting through the front-room picture window while the rest
covered the driveway and part of the lawn.
Devon darted across the street, dodging a fallen tree limb and
scooped the toddler into his arms. “Why are you out here alone, son? Where's
your mother?”
The boy's tears rolled down his cheeks as he clutched Devon's
neck. “Mama's under the tree.” With hiccuping sobs and fear growing in his eyes,
the toddler pointed at the tree.
Devon dashed around the trunk, stepping over broken limbs while
clutching the boy to his chest. His gaze swept over the limbs sprouting new
leaves and blocking his view. His own fear heightened. Where was she?
“Mama, get up.” The toddler flailed his arms toward a heavy
limb close to the side door.
He scanned the area and noticed a red wagon among the limbs. As
he moved closer, encouraged by the boy's thrashing arms, he spotted the woman,
her dark brown hair splayed across the concrete, her left leg pinned beneath a
heavy branch.
After he made his way through the fallen debris, careful not to
jar her, he leaned closer, praying she was alive. He hugged the toddler closer
and found the woman's wrist, feeling for a pulse. Relief flooded him as he felt
the faint but steady beat. Below the tree limb, a trail of blood spotted her
pant leg.
Her name? He'd seen the boy and his mother before in the yard,
but he'd never had a conversation with her other than a pleasant greeting or a
nod. “Ma'am. Can you hear me?”
“Not ma'am. She's Mama.”
His eyes shifted to the toddler's anxious face while the boy
peered at him and accentuated his proclamation. “She's Mama.”
Despite his concern, he couldn't stop the smile.
The boy nodded, and from the young one's expression, Devon
suspected the child thought he was a bit dense. “What's your name?”
“Joey.” He tilted his head as if weighing the question, but his
eyes never left his mother.
“How old are you, Joey?”
The boy held up three fingers, his focus unmoving.
“Can you call your mama? Really loud?”
The toddler's vigorous nod accompanied his screeching voice.
“Maaa-maaa, wake up.”
Hoping the child's voice would trigger results, Devon searched
the woman's face.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Relief. “Don't move, ma'am, untilâ”
“It's Mama.” The boy's determination was evident.
He released a breath. “Mama.” He needed the toddler out of his
arms, but he didn't have the heart to put him down, fearing what he might do.
The woman needed to keep still. “Is anyone else in the house, Joey?”
The toddler didn't respond, his eyes focused on his mother.
Devon used his index finger to shift the boy's face toward him.
“No one's home? Where's your daddy?”
The boy's expression remained blank.
No daddy? His chest tightened. He'd seen her and the boy
outside, sometimes walking and sometimes she pulled him in the wagon. He'd never
seen a man, but that didn't mean she didn't have a husband.
The woman's eyes opened, and she tried to lift her head.
“Stay still. Don't move.” He placed his hand against her
shoulder, encouraging her to remain quiet. “Where do you hurt?”
Fear filled her dazed expression. “What happened?”
“The tree fell, Mama.” Joey's voice cut through the air.
“Joey?” Her eyes closed again.
“He's fine. I have him right here.” He touched her arm. “What
is your name, ma'am?” The salutation flew out before he could stop it.
Her lids flickered, then opened. “Ashley. Ashley Kern.”
“Good.” He gave her arm a reassuring pat before double-checking
the facts. “Are you home alone?”
“It's only me and Joey.”
Sirens sounded in the distance, growing nearer every second.
“Please try not to move until help comes.” He pulled his cell phone from his
pocket and hit 911 again. “Ann, this is Lieutenant Murphy. I'm still on West
Drayton near Pinehurst. I have a female pinned under a large limb from a fallen
tree. She is conscious. Pulse is faint but steady. I see blood on her left pant
leg. I suspect she has a bone fracture. Likely a compound fracture with the
bleeding. I'll need a paramedic ambulance and HURT.”
The child's body stiffened.
“Help's on the way, Lieutenant.”
“Mama's hurt?” Fear filled the boy's voice.
He hit End and slipped the phone into his pocket, realizing the
child misunderstood. Now he had to appease the boy's fear. “Joey.” He bounced
the boy on his hip. “HURT is what we call people who know how to lift the tree
so we can get your mama out without hurting her.” Any more than she was already
injured. His stomach churned, viewing the blood and the large limb holding her
fast.
As he finished, the first truck pulled across the street. The
men dropped to the ground, most heading for the downed wires, but his friend
Clint Donatelli dashed across the road toward him, taking in the scene. “What do
we have here?”
“This boy's mother's trapped. She's dazed but conscious.” He
motioned toward her. “I called for help.”
Clint crouched beside her and felt her pulse. “You'll be out of
here shortly, ma'am.” He rose and gave Devon a thumbs-up, then ran to the street
and crossed.
A police car pulled up at the curb, and before the officers
left the car, new sirens drew closer. “Here they come, Joey. These are the good
guys who'll help your mom...mama.”
“Good guys.” Joey's grip had lessened as confidence replaced
his look of fear.
In moments, the ambulance and HURT truck arrived. The men
hurried to his side carrying equipment they would need. He stepped back to let
them work. While one crew set off air bags beneath the lower and upper part of
the limb that anchored Ashley to the concrete, another team built the cribbing,
the hardwood structure used to brace the tree's weight if either of the air bags
moved and the tree slipped off the bags. Paramedics moved in with a c-collar,
splints and a backboard to immobilize her for the ride to the hospital.
Joey's tears flowed again.
He nestled the child closer. “These are the good guys, Joey.
See, they're going to lift the big tree away from your mama and then move her to
the ambulance so she can go to the hospital to make sure she's okay.”
The child's earlier confidence had vanished, even with his
reference to the good guys. Devon's stomach knotted while he tried to explain to
the toddler what the crew was doing. When Ashley had been strapped to the
backboard and shifted from beneath the limb, Devon moved closer, knowing he
needed answers about Joey. “Ashley, I need someone to care for your boy. Tell me
who to call. I'll explain what happened.” He turned to the nearest paramedic.
“Are you going to Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak?”
The medic nodded.
He followed beside Ashley as they carried her down the
driveway. “Ashley, is your husband at work?”
Her eyelids lowered. “No husband. Call my sister. Neely
Andrews.”
Devon pulled out his cell phone. “Joey, your mama will be okay,
but she has to go to the hospital so doctors can make everything better."
Fear returned to the toddler's eyes.
Kicking himself, he wished he hadn't mentioned the hospital,
but he had to be honest. “Your aunt Neely will come to get you, okay?”
Joey's arms tightened around his neck. “'Kay.” Though Joey's
voice was hushed, Devon sensed Ashley heard him.
He punched in the numbers as Ashley struggled to relate them.
As the phone rang, he shifted away, hoping what Joey heard next didn't upset
him. The woman's voice jerked him back to the phone call. “Neely?”
The line was silent a moment. “Yes?”
“This is Lieutenant Murphy from the Ferndale Fire Department.”
He heard her intake of breath and wished the call could have begun differently.
“Your sister Ashley asked me to call.”
“Is it a fire? The house? What happened?”
He provided the details as best he could with Joey listening.
“Would you like to pick up Joey here, or should I meet you at Beaumont
emergency?”
“Beaumont. I'll be there as quickly as I can.”
He stopped to relay his destination to Clint and noticed a
neighbor standing at a distance. He waved the man over. “Do you know
Ashley?”
“Sure. She's a good neighbor, and so's Joey.” He chucked the
boy under the chin. “Is she okay?”
“She'll be fine.”
“Can we keep an eye on Joey for her?” The man opened his
arms.
Joey let out a cry. “Mama.” He reached toward her. “I want my
mama.”
“His aunt is meeting us at Beaumont. I think Ashley will feel
better knowing he's there, but thanks for the offer.” He turned away but
stopped. “Can you secure the house?”
“Sure thing. We have a key.” He motioned to the broken window.
“I'll cover it for her, too. Tell her not to worry.”
Before Devon could thank him, a car careened into the man's
driveway, and a woman with a halo of white hair jumped out, her hand to her
mouth and her eyes wide as a basketball as she darted toward the man. “What
happened? Where's Ashley?”
Devon used the distraction to make his exit. House secured.
Window covered. Now, Joey. He gave the boy a hug, thinking of his own young
daughter and how she might respond in an emergency.
With Kaylee on his mind, he remembered he would need a car seat
to transport Joey. He carried him across the street and located the car seat
stored in his garage. The plastic he'd used to cover it was dusty, but beneath,
the seat looked like new. He grinned, picturing Kaylee strapped in the chair and
singing nursery rhymes whenever they went somewhere. Now more than a year older,
he'd purchased a larger restraint seat for her.
Once Joey was strapped into the backseat, Devon slid behind the
steering wheel and headed toward Beaumont, sending up a prayer for Ashley's
well-being.
* * *
Searing red burned through Ashley's eyelids. She tried
to raise them, but her effort faded in the struggle. Vague memories stirred
through her fogged brain. A stormy sky. The wind. Joey's wagon. The tree. That
was it. The haze shifted, and she tried again to pry open her eyes.
A cool hand touched her arm. “You're fine. Don't try to move
yet.”
She'd heard those words before, but it had been a man's voice.
A kind voice, like the woman's, but rich and comforting. An image flickered in
her mind. Dark windblown hair. Brown tired eyes, but in them, she saw
compassion. A bristled jaw. And... And Joey against his chest.
“Joey.” She tried to lift her head, but a headache hammered it
to the sheet. “Where's Joey?”
“Your son is fine, Mrs. Kern.” Ashley felt the woman pat her
arm again.
Her chest constricted. “Fine. What does that mean?” She tried
to shift her leg to the edge of the mattress, but the weight bound her in
place.
“He's in the waiting room with your sister and a nice-looking
gentleman.”
Waiting room. She turned her head sideways and willed her eyes
to focus. This wasn't her bedroom. The railings along her bed. Eggshell-colored
walls. Privacy curtains. The blurred memory eased into her mind. The sirens. The
tree. The men. The wail of an ambulance. “Where am I? Beaumont Hospital?”
“That's right. Things will be clearer when the anesthetic wears
off.”
Her pulse tore through her arm. “Anesthetic?” Through the fuzz,
she watched the nurse adjust an IV.
“The doctor will be in soon and explain what happened.”
Before she could demand answers, the nurse slipped through the
curtain. She was alone. Her mind began to clear. Memories one at a time
connected. She'd been in the kitchen. Joey had fallen asleep on the sofa as he
often did in the late morning, and rather than disturb him, she'd tossed a quilt
over him and let him sleep. She'd noticed the May sky, strange clouds that
looked threatening. Then she'd remembered her car parked in the driveway with
the window down. Why hadn't she pulled it into the garage?
