The Perfect Match (18 page)

She narrowed one of her eyes. “I’m not sassy.”

He laughed. It echoed through the building. “I’m not even going to go there.”

Oh, she loved a man who made her laugh.
Loved.
She swallowed hard. “Now listen, bub—”

“Like I said,” he continued, “we were engaged. I had our life all planned out and thought she would make a perfect pastor’s wife. Charlene was strong and passionate—”

“Like me.”

“Yes—”

“I was just kidding.”

He cupped her face in his hands, leaned forward, and kissed her. She leaned into his touch, aware that her actions ran opposite of good sense. But she must have left that back at the hotel, along with her boring dog. Thankfully, he pulled away. “Shh. Let me finish.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Nodded.

“So right before we were about to graduate, she drops a bombshell. I knew that Charlene loved to fly—she’d gotten her private pilot’s license long before I met her, but suddenly she doesn’t want to fly only Cessnas.” His voice dropped, and she saw the old wounds in his eyes. “She wants to fly fighter jets. As in . . . the Air Force.”

Ellie stared at him, and her throat began to burn.

“She tells me that we can still get married. I can join up and be a chaplain. While she flies jets.” He closed his eyes. “I said no.”

“You said no?” Ellie heard the sharpness of her tone
and tried to regret it. But suddenly Dan the Caveman had resurfaced, the same narrow-minded—

“I was wrong.”

Okay. She took a deep breath, trying to sort through her feelings to understand his.

He held her hands, and she felt him tremble. “We should have prayed about it, sought God’s will together. I should have considered her needs, her desires, and tried to nurture them.” He looked defeated as he hung his head. “A Christian husband looks to his wife’s needs before his own, and I owed Charlene the benefit of a pause before I reacted.”

“It went badly,” Ellie said in a low tone.

“Yeah, it was ugly. She accused me . . . well, of some of the same things you did when you first arrived.”

“Ouch. Wait, did you say something brilliant to her like . . . ‘over my dead body’?”

“Round two was sort of a knee-jerk reaction.” He appeared sufficiently chagrined, and Ellie soundly enjoyed it.

“I guess girls like me bring out the best in you.”

“Yeah, and being with you has reminded me of all my thickheaded tendencies. I don’t like the fact that you’re a firefighter, but if fighting fires is your life, I’m going to have to learn to deal with it. I can’t help that I want to protect you, but I will try not to let it show. Even if it does rip out my heart every time I hear the sirens.”

And the more he loved her, the more those sirens would dig into their relationship.

Ellie ran her hand down his strong arm, knowing what it cost him to open up his past and let her take a good look at his failures and his fears.

“So . . .” He lifted her chin and pinned her gaze with his. From a distance, those eyes made her heart skip, but up close, they had megawatt power to turn her into a smoldering pile of mush. “I have to ask . . . do you think you could learn to love the town pastor?”

She suddenly hated herself. Staring at him, she knew beyond hope that she’d fallen for this man. Hard. Fast. No turning back.

She loved the way he wanted to protect her, yet fought it. The fact that he took her seriously, yet knew how to tease her. Being around Dan felt like she held joy in the palm of her hand. But as much as she wanted to grab onto him and this life he offered, she couldn’t. She’d made promises she had to keep. To herself, to Seth.

Oh, Lord, why can’t I keep those promises here?

Maybe she could. Maybe Deep Haven would turn out to be exactly the place she longed for it to be. Maybe she could find peace on all fronts in this little town.

She reached out to Dan, cupped her hand behind his neck, finally able to twirl her fingers in his hair, longing to tell him yes. Yes, she already loved him. Yes, he was a gift in her life. Yes, yes.

Instead, she kissed him. His arms immediately went around her, pulling her to himself, and she felt his emotions in his gentleness, in his strong embrace, in the taste of his kiss. Sweet and strong. If ever she wanted to love a man, it was this one.

But tomorrow held no promises.

E
llie hadn’t told him she loved him. She’d kissed him until he’d had to wrench himself free of his desires before he got them into trouble. And here he thought the hockey arena would be a safe environment to keep his feelings on ice.

Right. Just being with Ellie made his emotions ignite. And kissing her only added fuel to those feelings.

Dan took her to her hotel around 2 a.m., then returned to his dark parsonage and spent the rest of the night wondering why she hadn’t answered his question.

She didn’t love him.

Why did he always court rejection?

That thought found its way into his nightmares, and he woke raw and achy to the sound of someone banging the front door. He stumbled to the door and yanked it open. “What?”

“I see we have our happy pastor’s face on this morning. Oh, and you’re looking spiffy. Sleep in your clothes last night?” Joe leaned against the doorjamb, arms
folded in a way that made Dan want to deck him. Joe smiled, all teeth, looking like a hyena.

Dan glared at him. “Maybe.” He glanced down at his attire and cringed. “So, yes. What are you doing here?”

“I’m your carpenter slave, remember? I promised you a day of free labor.”

“Since when do slaves get to pick their day of service?” Dan scrubbed his hand down his face, noted that the sun glimmered from over the trees, and wondered if he’d slept into the lunch hour. With his stomach rubbing against his spine, it certainly felt possible. He should be grateful it wasn’t Edith Draper standing on his porch, giving him a copy of Sunday’s bulletin, or worse, reminding him he’d missed a meeting of the Advent committee. He stepped back to allow Joe entry.

“Since today is a holiday. Bolshevik Day.”

“Excuse me?” Dan closed the door behind his way-too-springy friend and scuffed his way to the kitchen. “As in Communist Russia?”

“Okay, I know it’s a bit of a stretch, but I needed an excuse. Power to the working class.”

“Oh, please. Want some coffee?”

“Are you kidding? When I can drink Mona’s?” He gave Dan a face that looked like he’d offered him roadkill. “So, tell me, why do you look like you slept under a canoe?”

Dan turned on the teapot, then opened his fridge. He’d have to make do with two eggs and a hunk of Gouda. “I was out late.”

Joe pulled up a chair, turned it around, and sat on it backward, draping his arms over the back. “Mona said you raided our fridge.”

“I stopped by to see Ellie.”

Joe’s mouth opened, and the smile that followed looked downright sinister. Dan had no doubt that if he didn’t elaborate, he’d find Liza on his doorstep next, threatening to break Dan’s arms if he shattered the town fire chief’s heart.

And what about damage done to the town pastor’s heart?

Dan cracked the eggs into a bowl, whipped them, then shredded the cheese as Joe’s gaze burned into the back of his bed head. “Okay, fine. I did a stupid thing.”

Joe held his hands up in surrender. “Did I say anything?”

“Just listen. Last night after I left the hospital I went by Ellie’s hotel room and talked her into going down to the ice arena with me.”

“The ice arena? Oh, you’re romantic, pal.” Joe shook his head.

“Hey, at least I didn’t take her to a dump on my first date.”

“No, you skated circles around her and made her cry.” Joe licked his finger and made an imaginary mark in the air.

“Thanks for bringing that up. Did you come over to make me feel like refuse, or are you going to be my friend here?”

“Is there a difference?” Joe grinned, again, all teeth.

Dan threw a smelly dishrag at him.

Joe ducked, laughing. “So what happened, Casanova?”

Dan pulled out a pan, set it on the stove, lit the burner. “That’s where I’m sorta confused. I told her . . . well, that I loved her.”

Joe didn’t say a word. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t laugh. Nothing.

Dan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and saw that his friend’s eyes were wide. “Joe?”

“You used the
L
word? Wow. You must be serious about Sparky the Fire Chief.”

Dan glowered at him as he melted a pat of butter in the pan. “Have you known me to ever date someone in Deep Haven?”

“That’s what you were doing? Dating? I thought it was more like a short-order-cook thing you had going.”

“Dating, Joe. Discreetly.”

“Are you going to give me one of those eggs?”

“No.” Dan poured the eggs into the pan. They sizzled and crackled as he grabbed a spatula. “So, there I am, pouring my heart out to her, and she starts . . . crying.”

“Crying? Happy tears like, ‘Dan, you’re the guy I’ve been waiting for all my life’?”

“No. Wretched sobs. Like, I’ve wrecked her life. And then she blurts out this horrible thing about how her brother loved her and died trying to rescue her, and then suddenly, she’s—”

“Wait. Pause. Slow down. Her brother
died?”

“Yes, it was in a forest fire.” He opened the cupboard and pulled down a plate.

“Whoa, and she’s a firefighter? Doesn’t that ring some sort of pastoral counselor bell with you?”

Dan stared at him, brow tight.

“You’re going to burn those eggs, pal.” Joe got up, stepped over to the stove, turned down the heat. “I’m only saying that there’s something behind that scenario. Something more than just being afraid you’re going to die in a fire. I’d do a little digging.”

“Yeah, well, here’s the really strange part. I tell her I
love her, she breaks into gut-wrenching tears, tells me about her brother, and then she
kisses
me.”

“And the strange part is . . . ?” Joe sprinkled the cheese on the omelette and took the spatula from Dan. “Go sit down.”

Dan obeyed, shuffling over to the chair. “Well, it felt . . . weird. Like what I said sorta bounced off her.”

“She didn’t tell you she loved you, did she?” Joe had taken a towel and flung it over his shoulder, a regular Galloping Gourmet. He shook his head as if in disapproval. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to show your cards until you know you can win?”

Dan frowned.

Joe scooped the omelette out of the pan and plopped it onto a plate. “The reason you feel weird is because your timing is off. You gotta wait until she’s ready. Kind of like fishing. You have to let them want the bait and then hook them.”

“Did some old geezer on an Alaskan fishing boat tell you that?” Dan reached across the counter and grabbed a fork.

Joe leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on the towel, grinning. “Don’t run down old Volodia now. He’s got a woman in every port and plenty of experience.”

“Not the type I need. Hey, I just thought if she knew how I felt, maybe . . .”

“She’d run into your arms?” Joe came over and joined him at the table. “I’ll bet you even thought that she’d hang up her bunker pants and join you in planning the Christmas pageant.”

Dan grimaced. “Does it show?”

Joe patted him on the shoulder. “Only to your
friends. And anyone who saw you tackle the poor woman yesterday. Were you a defensive end?”

“Very funny. Okay, I can admit I don’t love her profession, but I’m not going to stand in her way. Besides, she fired me.”

Joe whacked the table, laughing hard. “The good thing is that now you two can be seen together in public without the choir starting a prayer chain. Enjoy it. Your termination will last for about three days. Believe me, she’ll need you on her side with Mitch stalking her like a hound dog on a rabbit.”

A chill ran up Dan’s spine. “What?”

Joe nodded morosely. “Yep. Craig dropped by the Footstep this morning. Told me that last night after the fire Mitch was down at the Billy G’s waxing eloquent about her follies and how the last two fires have been arson.”

“Arson? You’re kidding. I suspected the Simmons home, but the Garden?”

“Yep, and just between you and me, I wouldn’t put it past Mitch to do something to drive her out of town.”

Dan shook his head, suddenly not hungry. “No, not Mitch. He’s light on working brain cells, but he wouldn’t deliberately hurt anyone, would he?”

“Ruby said he came by on the day of the fire while the caterers were setting up to warn them about the dry season and not to build their usual bonfire.”

“But what about Leo Simmons’s house?”

“You know they were drinking buddies. And you’d recently gotten Leo on the wagon.”

“But arson—Leo
died
in that fire. And the kids and Cindy are still in the hospital. Why would Mitch do something like that?”

Joe pulled the plate over. “You’re not going to eat this?”

Dan yanked it back. “I am.”

“So maybe the Simmons fire was an accident. Mitch went over to talk to him and threw his cigarette into the trash.”

Dan cut up the omelette, wondering if food would slow the slide into nausea. “Do you really think someone is setting these fires on purpose?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Ellie’s a good fire chief, but she doesn’t have everyone behind her, and frankly, with Bruce lying in the hospital, things could get ugly around here. Mona and I are praying for her.” Joe stood up. “You about ready to head out, master?”

Dan nodded and finished the omelette.

“Hey, Dan, I have an idea for you.” Joe leaned against the kitchen counter with his hands in his pockets. “You want Ellie to fall for you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Then get behind her dreams. Really, 150 percent. Help her find the arsonist. Maybe then Deep Haven will see what you see . . . a woman with smarts who can handle this job.”

So she could break his heart every time the alarm bells chimed? Dan gave a wry nod, not sure if he wanted to see Ellie’s dreams come true or pray that they would change. “Good idea.”

He set the plate in the sink and snatched his grimy baseball hat off the top of the fridge. Thankfully, he left his tools in the VW for just these types of occasions. Grabbing his work boots, he was wrestling them on as the telephone rang. He hopped over to it on one foot. “Hello?”

He lowered his foot when the voice on the other end
identified herself as the administrator from Duluth’s St. Margaret’s Hospital. Dan closed his eyes while he listened to the news, pain radiating through every nerve. He hung up slowly.

“What is it?” Joe stood in the door, concern on his face.

Dan took off his hat and tossed it on the table. “Cindy Simmons passed away last night.”

This time the dream started with the fire. Ellie nearly felt the heat of it as she stood on the ridge, a yellow bandanna around her mouth, her Pulaski dangling in her hand. She watched the wall of flames, nearly half a mile away, devour the side of the mountain, barreling toward the gulley. Her lungs burned when she gulped air, her heart still racing with the fear that had driven her from the fire line she and the other Rocky Mountain Hotshots had been clearing. Now she stood mesmerized by the fury of the blaze. Mad for oxygen, the flames charged down the mountainside, jumping from one treetop to the next, shooting up fully grown trees like torches. Even from this distance she heard it rumble like a freight train, chewing up the tracks toward her.

“Run, Ellie!” In her dream, it was again Fire Mike, her captain, although she knew he’d long ago run back to hustle the other hotshots up the mountain. Inside, a voice pulsed, sounding like Seth’s. “Get to the firebreak!” Only the cleared field and her fire shelter could save her now. Adrenaline poured into her limbs, but still she stood gripped by the wall of flames. Other hotshots ran by her; one caught her arm. She wrenched free.

Always in the dream the screaming started the moment she took a step away from the flames, toward escape. On the back side of subconsciousness, she recognized the screaming as only the howl of her heart, but in her dreams it sounded guttural, desperate, afraid. In her dreams, as in history, she hesitated.

It was in this hesitation she felt the invisible cord between her and her brother knot and pull taut.

“C’mon, Ellie,” yelled Fire Mike, and then he appeared next to her to grab her arm, drag her along.

Their fate crackled on Mike’s two-way as the smoke jumpers relayed a panicked request to the escaping hotshots. One of their own had run down the mountain. One of their own, desperate to save the hotshots blinded by the ravine. One of their own, searching for his sister. Had they seen him?

Seth.

Right then sanity lost its grip. She wrestled free from Fire Mike. He let her go, fear winning over valor. Turning, she raced toward the fire.
Seth!

Even in her sleep, she felt her breathing quicken, her heart tight, heavy. Her face burned; tears sizzled on her cheeks. The fire had reached the gully now. Spears of pure flame arrowed into the sky, sparks spiraling through a wall of smoke and ash. Her lungs burned from the heat. “Seth!”

And then someone emerged from the smoke. His brown jumpsuit sooty, his eyes blinded with tears . . . he ran up the hill toward her.

Seth.

Even now she had a hard time blinking back her disbelief. Tears etched trails down his cheeks, and his
blond hair had curled, as if burnt. Her big brother. Hero. Larger than her dreams. He grabbed her arm and motivated her up the hill with a speed that seemed superhuman. She screamed more than once at the wall of fire licking their heels. He didn’t slow even when she stumbled but nearly yanked her arm from its socket.