Yesterday's Roses (32 page)

No reply. Jake felt momentarily relieved. When he'd tumbled down the stairs he'd made enough noise to alert a deaf man, and knowing Hallie, he was sure she would have rushed to his side to give aid. Obviously she wasn't in the cellar.

While every last bit of common sense told him that he should get out, to save himself while he had a chance, there was still a niggling doubt the back of his mind.
What if Hallie had met with an accident and was unable to answer him?

The picture of Hallie lying helpless while the fire raged around her was enough to send Jake searching behind the piles of boxes and barrels.

God! If only he didn't feel so weak and dizzy.
Jake tried to suck in a breath, but the effort made him gag as blistering pain seared through his chest.
If only it didn't hurt so badly to breathe.
He heard himself moan.

Or had he?
No. The sound was coming from the far corner.

“Sweetheart?” he choked out, falling to his knees and crawling toward the sound. Every movement was as difficult as swimming against the current of a rapidly flowing river.

There was another moan, this one louder.

“Hallie?” His voice was so faint that he doubted if she could hear it.

Miraculously, she did. He heard her sob, “Over here!”

Her voice appeared to be coming from behind an enormous barrel to his right. As Jake knelt before it, a soft rustling confirmed his suspicions. It appeared that the barrel had fallen during the explosion and was now wedged between two towering piles of crates. The only way to get to Hallie was to move it.

Wrapping his arms halfway around the heavy container, Jake gave it a tug. From the other side, he could hear Hallie thumping against it as if she was trying to help. That made him smile.
No vapors or hysterics for his Mission Lady. She was quite a trooper.

A dead trooper if he didn't get her out quickly.
The fire was almost to the bottom of the stairs, and it was only a matter of minutes before the whole cellar would become a deadly inferno.

Summoning every last bit of his flagging strength, Jake gave the barrel a mighty yank that sent it tumbling over onto its side—and him onto his back.

With a sob, Hallie pulled herself out of her prison. The last thing she remembered was bending down to pick up a stack of Christmas hymnals. Then, in a flash of pain, everything had gone dark. Shaking her head in confusion, she crawled over to check on the filthy man who was lying motionless on the floor.

His face was covered with a mask of soot and blood, and his eyelids were so swollen that only the slightest sliver of color was visible. Yet she didn't need to see that fragment of green to recognize Jake's beloved face.

“J-Jake?” she sobbed, not really daring to believe it was him, yet desperately wishing it to be true.

“In the battered flesh,” he croaked, rolling over onto his belly and forcing himself to rise to his knees.

Sobbing his name, she threw herself into his arms.

And as Jake held her close, relief such as he had never known before flooded through him. His Hallie was alive.

But not for long,
he reminded himself, staring over the top of her head at the advancing flames. Smoke was quickly gathering in the tight space and the fire was consuming the last two steps at a voracious pace. The heat was getting unbearable.

Jake's arms tightened around Hallie's shivering form as he shifted his gaze to the window above. The only way out was through that window. Yet he'd seen enough fires during the war to know that opening the window would bring the air-starved fire flashing down into the cellar. But what were his options?

Unwillingly, he had to admit that there were none. Planting a kiss on Hallie lips, he murmured, “Stay here, sweetheart.”

“No. I want to go with you.”

“I'll be right back,” he wheezed, seizing an old piece of canvas from a tattered chair. “After all the trouble I've gone through to find you, do you think I'd let you come to any harm?”

She smiled wanly at that. “Of course not. It's you I'm worried about.”

“I'm not going to let anything happen to myself either, Mission Lady.” His voice broke with every other word, he was so hoarse. “I'm looking forward too much to punishing you for running out on me this morning.” Without giving her a chance to reply, he draped her from head to toe in the cloth.

Crawling nearer to the window, yet remaining as far out of the fire's path as possible, Jake picked up the first solid item he could find. It was a white alabaster angel with one broken wing. And if Jake's aim was true, it would be their salvation.

As he raised the graven messenger high above his head, he whispered, “Fly home, angel,” and threw it at the window with all his might. As he heard the glass shatter, he dove to the floor and rolled to the far side of the cellar.

In a fraction of a second, the hungry fire flashed toward the new source of oxygen, catching everything in its path. Flames shot everywhere before settling to consume the litter of discards strewn across the floor.

Forcing his abused body to move, Jake pulled himself over to Hallie, peeking out from beneath the canvas. With a sob, she tossed aside the cover and hurled herself into his arms.

Holding her close, Jake rasped, “We need to crawl to the window. Can you manage?”

She nodded. And together they crawled the short distance, carefully winding their way through the pillars of flaming debris. Above their heads they could see the ceiling beginning to buckle, threatening to collapse at any moment.

As they reached the window, Jake seized Hallie and began to ease them both to their feet, none too sure if either of them was capable of standing. To his everlasting relief, they were.

“I'm going to lift you up to the window and you're going to crawl through,” he commanded, praying that he still had strength enough to lift her.

“But what about you?” She clung to his broad shoulders, unwilling to let him go. “I won't leave you alone.”

Reaching up to the window and sweeping away the shards of broken glass with his sleeve, he asked, “Do you love me?”

“More than anything!”

“Good,” he murmured, drawing her into his embrace and pressing his lips against hers in a swift, desperate kiss. “Then do as I say.”

With that, he stooped down and yanked her skirts up to her waist. Wrapping his arms around her thighs, he somehow managed to lift her to the window. When she hesitated, he screamed, “Go!” And to his relief she obeyed, pulling herself to safety.

As Hallie disappeared through the window, Jake could feel the heat from the fire searing across his back. The blistering intensity of the flames was enough to bring tears to his eyes, and the smoke was so thick that he felt as if he was suffocating in a mire of black Mississippi mud.

Everything was growing dim now, his vision was fading. But Jake didn't need to see the flames to know that they were almost upon him. Time had run out.

Above the roar of the fire, he could hear Hallie screaming his name; he could tell that she was crying. But all that mattered was that she was safe. He hadn't failed her.

“Jake! Here!” Hallie shrieked, trying to reach him through the window. He raised his hand up to hers, and for a brief moment, their fingers touched. Then she was pulled away by strong arms.

Her last glimpse was of Jake surrounded by flames with his arms outstretched toward the window, reaching for her. His face was stark with emotion, and as the ceiling began to collapse into the cellar, she thought she heard him say, “I love you.”

It was as if he'd been saying good-bye.

C
hapter 20

“Jake's still down there!” Hallie screamed, struggling against the fireman's arms. She tried to pull free, to run back to the cellar window, but the man merely tightened his hold on her waist.

“Look.” He crushed his squirming burden against his chest in an immobilizing grasp. “The chief is doing everything in his power to save Mr. Parrish. The last thing he needs is some hysterical female getting in his way.”

“I am
not
hysterical!” Hallie planted her feet on the ground and stubbornly refused to budge. “And I will
not
leave Mr. Parrish until I've had a chance to give him aid.”

“You'll give aid when and if it's needed. Until then, you'll wait safely in the street with everyone else.” With that, the frustrated fireman bent forward and tossed her over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” she shrieked, kicking her legs impotently. As he hoisted her into the air, Hallie's crinoline skirt flew up over her backside, and as she tried to push it down, her hair came tumbling from its pins.

“Please,” she begged, shoving the blinding curtain from her eyes. “Let me go to him.” Then her voice broke and she could only whisper, “Can't you see that I love him?”

But the man turned a deaf ear to her pleas and walked through the gate, trudging toward the front of the house.

Frantically, she jabbed her knee into the fireman's ribs. She had to get to Jake. Irrationally, she believed that nothing terrible could happen to him as long as she was by his side.

Grunting at the pain in his ribs, the fireman pinned his charge's legs to his chest, effectively stilling her struggles.

Keep him safe, Lord,
Hallie prayed.
Please, I'll do anything. I'll even promise never to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh again. Unless, of course, I'm married. Anything. Just let him be all right. And please—
She paused in her plea with God long enough to cuff the fireman across the back of the head. She managed only to knock the man's helmet askew and to bruise her hand.
Please make this lumbering oaf put me down!

As if in answer to her prayer, Hallie saw Davinia rushing toward her.

“Hallie! Thank the Almighty Lord!” Davinia would have recognized her friend's mop of curly red hair anywhere—even trailing down a fireman's back. Following close behind the man, she peered anxiously into Hallie's tear-streaked face. “You aren't hurt, are you, dear?”

“No.” Hallie beat her fists against her captor's back. “But Jake is, and he's still trapped in the cellar.” She punctuated her speech by giving the man a smart punch to the kidneys.

With a yelp of pain, he dumped her into the sooty street.

“Hell and damnation!” Davinia rounded on the beleaguered fireman shrieking like a maniac. “Durned fool! Don't just stand there gaping like a hooked fish. Get Mr. Parrish out this instant.” She gave the man a shove. “Go!”

Massaging his lower back and glaring at the women, the man snapped, “Chief Killian and his men are doing everything they can to get the gentleman out.” He reached up and yanked his helmet straight. “I'll go see if I can give them a hand—if,” he paused to pass a look of admonishment from one woman to the other, “if you two ladies promise to stay put.”

“Just go, man.” When he didn't move, Davinia stamped her foot impatiently. “All right, then. We promise.”

After giving the women one final look of warning, the fireman hurried back to the cellar. When Hallie tried to follow him, Davinia caught her arm.

“No. He's right. It's too dangerous.”

Hallie wrenched herself from Davinia's hold. “I don't care. Jake needs me.”

“He needs you alive and unhurt.”

Shaking her head mutely, Hallie turned to face the inferno that had once been the Mission House. Before her horrified eyes, the flaming structure shuddered once, and then crumbled into the cellar. As it collapsed, it emitted a chillingly human-sounding scream that joined with Hallie's own in a duet of heartrending anguish. Like fireflies swarming on a hot summer's night, the sparks from the blaze scattered into the smoke-blackened sky, darting here and there before settling back into the now silent pile of smoldering timbers.

Stunned, Hallie sank to her knees. Over and over again she cried Jake's name. Then she too fell silent. It was finished.

Raw pain rushed over her.
Her Jake was gone, buried beneath a ton of charred debris.
Never again would she hear the warm timbre of his voice as he called her his sweet Mission Lady; never again would she see the dimple crease his taut cheek as he smiled down at her with gentle humor, and, most wrenching of all, never again would she know the security she had known lying wrapped in the safe cocoon of his arms, comforted by the reassuring strength of his heart beating against hers.

Never again would she know a love such as she had known with Jake Parrish.

Dear Lord! Help me!
Hallie doubled over clutching at her belly.
I hurt so bad!
Her agony was unbearable, her sorrow paralyzing.

She felt herself being pulled into Davinia's embrace and through the red mist of her pain, she heard the woman speak. Slowly Hallie raised her head to stare into her friend's face. She, too, was crying.

Wordlessly they clung together, sharing their grief. One woman mourning the loss of a cherished friend, and the other, the death of the man who was her heart's blood.

With a sob, Hallie closed her eyes and buried her face against Davinia's shoulder. In the despair-filled darkness of her mind rose the ghost of Jake as he'd looked when she had left his bed.

He had been so beautiful, lying there in the dim morning light. Like a peaceful child, he'd slept, lying on his side with his face cradled against one fisted hand. Even if she lived to be a hundred, Hallie would never forget the way his long lashes had curled in dark crescents against his cheeks and how his lips had been twisted into a smile, as if he were dreaming a particularly naughty dream.

Sometime during the night he'd thrown off the blankets and now was lying there in all his naked splendor. Possessed by an overwhelming ache to touch him, she'd let her fingertips gently explore the muscular planes of his torso. She loved the way he'd groaned in his sleep and become aroused by her caress.

And at that moment, she'd wanted nothing more than to stimulate him until he was awakened by the urgency of his need. She'd longed to take him deep inside her and ride him until they met on the wild crest of their mutual pleasure.

But she'd been too much of a coward to follow her heart's desire, too embarrassed by the memory of her own unbridled wantonness to face her lover in the morning light. So she had simply kissed his cheek good-bye, savoring the feel of his stubbly beard against the passion-ravished flesh of her lips.

Hallie let out a strangled cry.
What she hadn't known was that she'd been saying good-bye forever.

“Hush now, dear,” whispered Davinia, soothingly patting her friend's shoulders. “We don't know for sure that they didn't get him out. He might be all right.”

Hiccupping violently, Hallie raised her head and gazed into Davinia's face. The woman's expression was woefully unconvincing.

“Ma'am?”

Both woman spun their heads around with whiplash speed. It was the burly fireman who had carried Hallie away from the fire.

“Jake? Is he …” Hallie choked before she could finish her question, frightened of his reply.

“He's alive. But, well—” The man looked down at the helmet in his hands and fidgeted nervously at the emblem.

“Where is he?” Hallie sprang to her feet, fear gripping her heart. It was obvious by the way the fireman refused to look at her that something was terribly wrong. “Take me to him.”

Nodding, the man took her arm and escorted her around the wreckage of the Mission House.

As they entered the back yard, Hallie saw a handful of firemen standing around a figure on a blanket. Even from a distance, she recognized the long, elegant lines of Jake's body. Crying his name, she picked up her skirts and ran to him. The brief seconds it took to reach him seemed like forever.

“Jake, darling,” Hallie whispered as she knelt by his side. Even without examining him, she could see that he was badly injured. His breathing was little more than a fast, shallow wheezing, and as he exhaled, he choked on the thick black mucus that was bubbling from his nose and mouth. His face was too covered with soot and the blood from the gash on his forehead to tell how badly he'd been burned, but Hallie could see that his eyes were swollen shut. He appeared to be unconscious.

Using a soft corner of her petticoat, she gently wiped the suffocating secretions from his nostrils and lips. She was glad he couldn't see her, for she was unable to stop the tears from coursing down her cheeks.

Fighting the panic welling up inside her, Hallie laid her fingertips against Jake's neck and felt his pulse. It was racing at an alarming speed. Not a good sign. She'd treated only one other patient in this condition before, a child who had been trapped in a factory fire. It had been when she was a student back in Philadelphia.

Respiratory burns, her instructor had told her. Usually fatal. And in that case, they had been. Hallie could only pray that Jake would be luckier.

“Chief Killian, ma'am. At your service,” offered a middle-aged man who came forward and knelt next to Hallie. “He took in an awful lot of smoke. He was unconscious by the time we got him out, but we were able to get to him before the fire touched him. His burns shouldn't be too severe.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” It was Hallie's burly rescuer. “Anything for Mr. Parrish.”

There was a murmur of assent through the quickly gathering crowd. It appeared that Jake was very popular among the group.

“We need to get him home where he can be properly tended,” she replied with more confidence than she felt. “He also needs to be propped up. It might help to ease his breathing a bit.”

Nodding gravely, Chief Killian barked orders to his men. One man went to get a stretcher, the other to secure a wagon. Everyone seemed eager to help.

Two of the firemen carefully raised Jake's head and shoulders onto Hallie's lap so she could keep his airways swabbed clear. As she sat holding the unconscious Jake, alternately whispering unheard words of love into his ear and wiping away the mucus, Hallie braced herself for the biggest battle of her life.

Her opponent would be death, and the prize they both coveted was Jake's life.

Suffocating … dark … cold.
Jake struggled to see through the roiling black mist. It was everywhere. Endless shadows surrounded him, closing in, smothering him. He tried to breathe, to fill his oxygen-deprived lungs, but he couldn't. There was no air. Just fog. Murderously thick, wet fog that slithered deep into his airways. Blocking them … choking him. Making his lungs ache and his throat burn.

He would die if he didn't escape.
Desperately he searched for a beacon, for some feeble light to guide him out of the oppressive gloom. To take him where the air flowed free; to someplace warm.

Warm?
A sob escaped his lips as pictures, vivid and terrifying, flashed through his mind.
Awful memories of heat, smoke … and Hallie. Fire.
He remembered fire.
Hallie … sweet Hallie. Safe? Yes.
But he'd been trapped … it'd been hot.
Scorching. Hurt.

Then why was he so damn cold? Why was he shivering so uncontrollably, convulsing with the chill?

Strange. It was as cold as the grave.

Grave?
Panic, more visceral and hideous than anything he'd ever experienced before, paralyzed him. He opened his mouth to scream. Nothing. Silence.

As silent as death.

Had they thought he was dead? Had they buried him alive? Or was this death: a great void with no heaven or hell? Eternal darkness?

Jake tried to scream again. This time he heard a low, hoarse cry. His cry. He wasn't dead.

They'd buried him alive.

Frantically, he struck out, desperate to beat against the confining coffin lid. Had to get out.
To the air … the light. Escape.

But his fists simply flailed in empty, airless space.

Where the hell was he?

Terrified, he flung his arms out to his sides, searching for something solid. Something familiar. Anything.

Still nothing.

Disorientation made him violent. Ignoring the way every move made his body scream with pain and left him breathless to the point of suffocation, Jake thrashed about wildly.
He had to get out … before he died.

There was something wrapped around his naked body.

Tangled … in something cold … damp. His shroud?

He let out a horrified sob and clawed at the fabric. It twisted around his hips. Repulsed, he tried to hurl himself as far from the foul thing as possible.

Then he felt a steely grip clamp around his shoulders, restraining him. He arched his back, trying to escape.

“Jake! It's all right, darling.”

Darling?
Had he heard Hallie's voice? Or had it all been a cruel trick of his imagination?

“H-Hallie?” he whispered, frantically groping in the dark, looking for her.
Please, God, let her be there.

“Hush, darling. I'm here.”

Jake felt something cool and rough against his cheek.
Hallie. Yes. He'd know the feel of that calloused palm anywhere.
Relief took the fight out of him, and he let his body fall limp.

Everything would be all right now. Hallie was here.

With a sigh, Seth released his hold on Jake's shoulders. Christ! he thought as he watched Hallie peel the urine-soaked sheets from his friend's hips.
Even during that terrible crisis period after he'd been wounded, Jake had never lost control like that.
It frightened Seth more than he cared to admit.