Could He Help Her Son?

There’s something achingly familiar about the look in fire marshal Chad Owens’s eyes. Widowed mom Jeannie Nelworth knows firsthand what it is: loss, hurt and yes—bitterness. Ever since the fire that changed their lives, Jeannie’s young son has borne that same look, pushing everyone away. So she’s grateful when Chad tries to get through to the boy with the help of his trusty fire station dog. But the man who’s all about safety and prevention keeps himself protected—from loving and losing again. Seems as if Jeannie will have to add his kind, guarded heart to her rebuilding efforts.

“I can test these smoke detectors for you, but I don’t think that will really solve your problem.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not really smoke you’re afraid of.” He pulled a book of matches out of his pocket and Jeannie fought the urge to flinch.

“You said you didn’t need matches to test the smoke detectors,” she reminded him.

“I don’t,” Chad said gently, “but you need them to test yourself. Jeannie, you need to get over this. You need to light a match.”

“Oh, no, I don’t!” Jeannie blurted out her refusal, even though she was embarrassed Chad had guessed her fear of flame. Did he have to strike such a nerve?

“Don’t feel bad—I’ve seen sillier reactions on much more serious people. I can help. And I won’t tell anyone.”

Why would Chad Owens do something like this for her? Jeannie couldn’t bring herself to ask the question.

Falling for the Fireman

Allie Pleiter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Know also that wisdom is like honey for you:

If you find it, there is a future hope for you,

and your hope will not be cut off.

—Proverbs 24:14

Dedication

To first responders everywhere—

God bless your courage and dedication

Acknowledgments

Astute travelers will recognize Gordon Falls bears a striking resemblance to Galena, Illinois (the beautiful fire house and floodgates are dead giveaways). Jeannie and Chad’s community owes all of its charm—and none of its faults—to the lovely town that inspired their story. Thanks to Don Lay, fire marshal of Carol Stream, Illinois; and to Mike Simmons, chief of the Galena, Illinois, fire department for their input and endurance of my endless questions. Any missed professional details are surely my own fault, and not related to their fine assistance. Special thanks to the Pokorn family for lending me their home while I “researched” peaceful atmosphere, great views, good food and awesome shopping. It is the people and places that make my job as wonderful as it is, and I’m forever grateful.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Gordon Falls, Illinois

September 2009

Jeannie Nelworth had the faucet handle in a death grip. It wasn’t that the women’s restroom of The Stew Pot restaurant was a tense place; she just hadn’t expected her nerve to go out from under her quite so completely tonight. Somewhere between picking up name tags and the Merchant Association’s first agenda item, she’d had to bolt into the ladies’ room to pull herself together. She’d found the bright red wallpaper amusing before, but now it felt loud and suffocating.

Abby Reed was predictably right behind her. A best friend can usually see through faked calm, and Abby was as intuitive as they come.

“I’m okay,” Jeannie lied the moment Abby pushed into the tiny room.

“You are not okay.” Abby turned and threw the door’s small dead bolt Jeannie had forgotten to latch. “I told Mary Hunnington not to ask you about postponing tonight’s presentation, that you’d say ‘go ahead’ when you shouldn’t have.”

“I like being at these dinners.” Jeannie forced a cheery tone, pulling her hand off the fixture to fuss with her long brown hair that didn’t need fussing. It was true. Normally she did enjoy the monthly gathering of businesspeople in town. The many shopkeepers, hotel owners and restauranteurs that made up Gordon Falls were her family. Even the tourists were part of her life here. That’s why it was so hard to have her sweetshop closed—if only for a while.

“Besides,” she continued, “Nicky’d never forgive me for ruining his monthly video-game sleepover. Much as it kills me, that eighth-grade tornado loves a night away from his mom.”

Abby sighed and gave her the look half the other merchants had. She knew her colleagues cared for her, only now their warm but pitying looks made her feel simultaneously welcome and on display. “Really, there isn’t a soul here who would have blamed you if you missed this one. You’re the last person who needs to hear tips on holiday lighting and fire safety.”

Why bother waiting? Another thirty days wouldn’t change the fact that her candy store and home had burned down a few weeks ago. “If I stayed home, what would that solve?” To stay home was admitting defeat, and Jeannie liked to think of herself as the kind of woman who gave no quarter to tragedies like that. “Okay, it’s hard,” she admitted, but even those three words felt too big, “but God is bigger than a burned building.”

“It’s not just a building, it was your home. And the home you had with Nicky. The home you had with Henry, God rest his soul. God is big, but that’s huge.”

Just the mention of her late husband’s name was enough to double the size of the knot in her throat, even after half a dozen years. She’d loved her quaint shop down by the riverfront. It hadn’t been close to the center of town, but she’d always thought that made it feel homey. It had been close enough to catch the riverfront tourists, and back then she, Henry and Nicky used to watch the sun come up over the river as they ate breakfast in their home above the shop.

Then Henry was gone. Now, six years later, the building was gone. “What’s the whole point of faith if not to sustain me through something like this?”

Abby started in, but Jeannie just blinked back tears and shot her hand up in a silent “Don’t.”

After a quiet moment, Abby pulled a paper towel from the ancient metal dispenser and blotted her own tears. “George wants to talk to you,” she said softly. A conversation with George Bradens, Gordon Falls’s Fire Chief, usually meant getting roped onto a committee for some new civic endeavor. “He says it’s about Nicky.” Abby put a hand on Jeannie’s shoulder. “Listen, this is too much. Let me make some excuse for you so you can go home.”

“I’m fine.”

Abby leaned against the red Formica countertop. “I thought we covered this already.”

The room was far too red. Red tile, red wallpaper. It all felt like sirens going off, close and loud. “Well, I’m close to fine.” That’s how she chose to view the raw-around-the-edges feeling that had continued to plague her every day—every hour—since the fire. The entire month felt like peeling off singed layers, discovering new burns in unexpected places every time she was sure she was done with all that. “I don’t want to go back to the apartment anyway.” That dingy apartment she and Nicky rented now seemed so unbearably temporary. They couldn’t see the river, and they seemed far away from everyone. It was the worst of both worlds. Stuck in the middle, endlessly coping.

Keeping her life on hold while her candy store was rebuilt choked Jeannie like smoke.

“I figure you’ve got five more minutes of old business, then Chad will be up. Really, Jeannie, you don’t have to be here.” Abby caught Jeannie’s eyes in the dingy gold-framed mirror above the sink. “So don’t go home. Go shopping, go eat a pound of fudge, go walk over and sit by the river if you want, but give yourself a break and leave.”

Abby made it sound as if Jeannie could slip out unnoticed. “Every single person in that room will know if I skip out. And they’ll know why—Chad’s the fire marshal and George is the fire chief. It couldn’t be more obvious.”

“So what?”

“Well…” Jeannie fished for a better reason than her stubborn defiance of a paralyzing fear. “If I leave, how will I know whatever it is George wants to say about Nicky?” She shut off the water with a resolute twist of the faucet. There was nothing for this but to do what she always did: fix her eyes on gratitude and soldier on. And on, and on. She’d worked at being grateful; she’d sent baskets of goodies to George and Chad and the rest of the volunteers at the fire department. Sent, because she still couldn’t bring herself to go into the fire station. The least she could do—the goal she’d set for herself tonight—was to sit through the presentation, stay upright, force a smile and be grateful Chad Owens was as handsome as he was thorough.

Don’t look at her. Chad Owens kept telling himself to keep his gaze away from Jeannie Nelworth. He shouldn’t single her out in any way, but his eyes repeatedly wandered over to her tight smile no matter what he resolved. It was a hopeless cause; everyone in the room seemed overly aware of the woman.

Jeannie loved yellow, loved kids and normally exuded as much happiness as twelve people, but she looked pale and drawn tonight, cornered by the collective awkwardness. George kept putting his arm around her, looking out for her as if she needed shielding from the world. That was George, everyone’s unofficial protective grandfather. The town’s most beloved fire victim at a fire safety presentation—honestly, he was amazed she showed up at all.

Chad thought Jeannie should have some space after the presentation, an escape from the small tight knot of false casualness that pushed around her after the talk, but George motioned Jeannie out of the group right away, calling her over to where they were standing.

“How are you?” George hugged her. George hugged everyone.

“George,” Jeannie said with an applied smile. “I am fine.” She pushed her brown bangs out of her eyes like a nervous teenager. “Stop worrying, why don’t you?”

“You know very well I won’t. I’m looking out for you, so help me stop worrying by saying yes to my idea.”

Jeannie rolled her eyes, crossing her hands over her chest. “How about I hear your idea first?”

George crossed his hands over his own chest and leaned in. “I want to hire Nick.”

There was a momentary flash of panic in her eyes. “Don’t you think thirteen is a bit young to be a firefighter?”

George laughed. “Every boy wants to be a fireman. But not every boy can be a firedog walker.” He said it with an absurd importance Chad didn’t feel and Jeannie clearly didn’t believe.

Chad hadn’t been in favor of George’s scheme to hire Nick to walk the portly firehouse hound. Plug certainly needed exercise, but Chad found the gesture lacking. George should know better than to put a cozy bandage on a kid’s enormous trauma. Fire stole something from a soul that could never be restored. Chad knew it. Nick and Jeannie knew it now, too, and some cuddly chore wouldn’t make that go away. Still, no one talked George out of anything once he got a plan in that meddling, generous mind of his. Chad supposed the scheme couldn’t hurt, but he didn’t think it stood any real chance of helping.

“You have volunteer firefighters but you want to pay my son to walk your dog?” Jeannie’s eyes narrowed with a friendly suspicion at the idea. Her long, dark ponytail swung as she gave George a sideways glance. Chad was glad Jeannie recognized George was up to something.

She wasn’t pretty in the stop-a-guy-dead-in-his-tracks kind of way. It was more her energy, her optimism, that pulled people toward her. Those brown eyes always took in the world like it was a fantastic package waiting to be opened. Nothing seemed to keep her down. Last year she’d had her Jeep painted in the same yellow polka-dotted pattern as her store, and while all the other merchants thought it stunning marketing, all Chad could think about was how mortified her son must be to ride in the thing. Still, everyone in town knew Jeannie Nelworth’s Sweet Treats candy store. Half the businesses in the county used her gift baskets, and the woman’s chocolate-covered caramels were nearly legendary.

“Plug would be good for Nick,” George lobbied, smiling as if every volunteer fire department had a dog-walking budget. “Boys love dogs.”

Jeannie let out a sigh. “Well, Nicky seems to need to take care of something since…” Her voice fell off, as if she’d run out of good ways to end a sentence like that. Chad knew the feeling. He knew exactly how a life split forever into “before the fire” and “after.”

“The guidance counselor suggested a pet,” Jeannie continued with a hollow laugh, “But all our landlord allows is a goldfish. Those are ‘lame,’ as Nicky so bluntly put it.”

Dr. Billings cut into their little trio. “So, Jeannie, how’s our Nicky doing?”

“Really great.” Jeannie gave the dentist a big smile. “People have been so kind.”

They’re always so kind, Chad thought. People were so kind after Laurie’s death he thought he’d drown in careful kindness. Friends and family surrounded him with casseroles and cards and “how are you’s” that hoped to avoid his sad answers. That was why it had been so easy to move here. Only George knew what he’d been through, why his history with fire went beyond the professional and into the personal. He kept him off the fire engines and at a desk; Chad liked his pain to stay private. People never looked at him the same way again once they knew, so he made sure no one did.

As for Jeannie, she had no choice. She was on display for everyone’s pity because the whole town had gathered to watch her home and business burn. He was sure she’d call it something warm and cozy like “community,” but to him it was a naked, painful exposure.

“Still, he’s been through so much for such a young man.” Billings patted Jeannie’s wrist.

“Oh, don’t you worry about Nicky. He’s coping so much better than anyone expected. You know boys. He just sees this as a chance to get cooler new stuff. Like Christmas before Christmas. People came out of the woodwork to help us, you know. Nicky and I had a week’s worth of clothes before the sun even came up the next day. The new Sweet Treats will be right on Tyler Street in the middle of all that lucrative tourist traffic. And evidently, my son is about to become the firehouse’s first official dog wrangler.”

“Told you she’d say yes.” George elbowed Chad victoriously. “Have Nicky come by Chad’s office tomorrow but don’t tell him what’s up. The boy will enjoy it more if it’s a surprise.”

“It will be bigger and better. It has to be,” Jeannie proclaimed to the dust the following morning as she stood inside what would be Sweet Treats. It made her happy just to be inside the historic building, the “old girl” as Jeannie had come to call her. The weathered beams boasted deep ridges like laugh lines. History’s scent, that indescribable mixture of dust and mold and time, hung in the air to the point where Jeannie felt she could reach out and roll it between her fingers. It was a thick, rich smell, but not unpleasant by any means. This old girl had gone unappreciated for far too long; she had too grand a history to sit dormant on Tyler Street. “How many times have the floodgates saved you?” The green floodgates at the north end of town were a Gordon Falls landmark, protecting the town from the nearby Gordon River when its fury swelled. “You’ve been a dozen different things, and now you’ll be my candy store.” Twenty-seven Tyler Street had been an apothecary shop back at the turn of the century, and then a pharmacy in the 1920s and 1930s back when pharmacies had ice cream counters and weren’t giant chain stores. “You’ve got character. We both do.”

She laughed at herself, holding conversation with wood and plaster. Still, the building and she were old friends of a sort. How many times had she passed by this neglected spot in such a prime location just across from the firehouse, pondering what she could do with it if she ever got the chance? Every couple of months, she’d slow down as she drove past it with its forlorn for-sale sign. She would toy with the idea that someday, when the timing and the finances were right, it might be time to expand, to leave the cramped quarters over by the river and make a go of it on Gordon Falls’s center stage. She’d have enough space in here to really utilize her online gift basket business—growing fast enough, thank the Lord, to keep her going over this tough time. She’d been bursting out of her riverfront home and shop already. Now, being stuck in this apartment and borrowing the church’s industrial kitchen to cook, wasn’t going to cut it much longer.

Jeannie took a deep breath, watching the way the light striped through the dusty air. Though some details were lacking, she could feel her future in here. The whole enterprise still seemed steeped in possibility—one of the things that kept her going these days. Nicky had jokingly called the project “Mom’s other baby.” How glad he was that his mother found somewhere else to put her attention. He wasn’t far off the mark. It felt as though if she didn’t move forward at full speed, she’d stop all together. For the thousandth time she thought of the little sign she’d seen in the hospital lobby the night Henry died. It said, “You never know how strong you can be until strong is the only choice you have.”

Jeannie ran her hands over beams and dusty shelves, drawing motivation from the possibilities. She’d have twice the room for stock in this place. She could have internet kiosks for customers to order for relatives and friends back home. Maybe even a class or two in that big side room off the kitchen. “I need you, you need me. We’re business partners. God set it up that way and nothing is going to stop us now.”

“Except maybe me, the insurance company and a handful of building codes,” came a deep voice from behind her. Jeannie spun around, nearly yelping in a most unprofessional manner, to find Chad Owens standing in what would be the front doorway.

Chapter Two

A set of blueprints she’d bumped began to cascade off the folding table, and Jeannie just managed to save them from a swirl of dust. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She started to say that just because the building didn’t have a working door didn’t mean a person shouldn’t knock, but kept quiet. Chad would make Nicky happy later this afternoon, if George’s plan worked, so she shouldn’t complain. Besides, she figured it would be wise to stay on good terms with the fire marshal when rehabbing a eighty-seven-year-old building on a tight time schedule.

“Obviously.” Chad wore a dark green turtleneck that wouldn’t have looked half as severe on any other man. He never dressed starkly—mostly like a man who never put much thought into how he looked—but somehow everything about him managed to have sharp edges. Even his green eyes, which currently held an unsettling hint of amusement, flashed more murky than mossy under his short, dark hair. “Do you always talk to empty rooms?”

“Henry used to say I could think only with my mouth moving.” She’d always thought it funny but now it just sounded foolish.

“Your late husband?”

It startled her that he had to ask; everyone in town knew Henry. Had Chad really not been in Gordon Falls long enough to have known him? “Yes. We lost him in a car accident when Nicky was six.” It felt odd to realize someone she knew hadn’t known Henry. As if it signaled just how long Henry had been gone.

His stance softened a bit at her answer, as if tripped up by the tragedy. Chad was as athletic as any of the firemen he worked with, but he moved like a man who would have preferred to take up less space in the world. If he ever got excited about anything, she’d never seen it.

Well, she wouldn’t allow him to do his wet-blanket routine in this place this morning. She pointed to the amazing woodwork near the top of the walls. “Isn’t this moulding incredible? It’s artwork. Why would anyone think covering up such craftsmanship with one of those boring industrial drop ceilings was a good idea? Outlaw that in one of your building codes.”

“Some people think new is better, no matter what.” Chad looked up at the partial latticework of steel strips that had held up one of those horrid 1970s foam-tile ceilings and scratched his chin. His strong features could have been dashing if his personality would just lighten up, but he always seemed rather sad. He followed her gaze up to the wondrously curvy wood moulding. “Scraping the old paint off all those curlicues won’t be an easy job.”

Jeannie palmed the fat arc of a wooden support column, ignoring his pessimism. The store had six thick columns running down each side of the long narrow shop. They were stately things no one ever put in buildings anymore. When she was finished, each column would bear rounds of wrought-iron display baskets, brimming with salt water taffy and her famous chocolate-covered caramels; a forest of sweetness down either side of the aisle. “Oh, I won’t scrape those,” she said, pointing upward. “I love the texture of all those layers. All those years, all that history. They’ll be stunning when I paint them up in bright colors.”

Chad simply stared at the ceiling with his hands in his pockets. She wondered, by the tilt of his chin, if he was trying to see what she saw. Perhaps he was just categorizing her as a loony optimist, a thorn in his side as the fire marshal and building inspector who had to sign off on all her ambitious remodeling plans. He surveyed the entire ceiling before bringing his gaze down to her with narrowed eyes. “Are you going to paint all the exposed ductwork up in bright colors, too? The sprinkler pipes and such?”

Jeannie leaned against the beam, wincing as it groaned a bit. The late-September wind whistled through something behind her, announcing the gap-toothed age of the windows and doors. She spoke over the sound. “Of course. I’m going to paint everything bright colors.”

He sighed, a sound considerably more weary than the building’s aged whistle. “I was afraid of that.”

“You don’t see it? The energy, the kids on summer vacation, the tourists buying goodies for their family back home? The noisy students after school and on Saturday mornings?” It was so clear to her, she couldn’t imagine anyone not picturing the vivid image.

“I see outdated plumbing and old wires and no sprinkler system. I see a whole lot of work, frankly.”

“You’ve no imagination.” She sighed. “That’s sad.”

“I’m paid to see exactly what’s there. That’s safety.”

The insurance adjuster was going to be here any minute, and Jeannie wasn’t going to let Chad Owens rain on her parade. Not today. Jeannie set about unrolling the blueprints, weighting down its curling corners with the thermos of coffee and box of cookies she’d brought for the meeting. “You don’t have to set foot in here once you’ve signed off on my permit,” she called over her shoulder as she heard Chad’s boots traveling the floor with calculated, assessing steps. “You don’t ever have to cross over from your dark and gloomy side of the street if you don’t want to.”

Chad stopped and looked at her. “Dark and gloomy?”

“I wasn’t talking about the decor.” In fact, the fire station across the street was another local landmark, a majestic stone castle with bright red trim on the windows and a trio of enormous red doors. The Gordon Falls Volunteer Fire Department stood as a hub of activity and civic pride. Lots of people loved the firehouse, as she had before her association with the place became a little too personal. She used to be the kind of person who loved candles, too, but now she couldn’t even strike a match. There was a reason she was bricking up the fireplace in here.

“I’m sorry,” she conceded, shooting up a quick prayer to God for a bigger helping of grace this morning. “It’s just that, while I’m all for safety, you know you can be a bit of a glass-half-empty kind of guy sometimes.” All the time, she silently added.

“You think I’m the kind of person who’d pull over Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve if I saw a taillight out.”

“If I believed in Santa. And that sleighs had taillights.”

He squared his stance at her. “It’s my job to be careful. I take it very seriously, and you should be glad that I do. Here’s the last of the forms you need to file for the occupancy permit. You can have Nick bring them over when he comes this afternoon to…start his job.” He said that final part with an air of endurance.

Even though the answer was clear on his face, Jeannie asked, “What do you think of George’s scheme?”

“I think George means well.” He swallowed the rest of this thought, she could tell.

“But…”

“But only time will tell if it’s a good idea. If it helps.”

Nicky just needed something to do, something to take care of—no one thought of this as some kind of home-remedy therapy. Of course it would help. “He’ll love it. Plug needs it as much as Nicky. More, actually.”

“He’s a fat dog, I’ll grant you that. As for the rest of it…” She didn’t like the look in his eyes as he let the sentence hang in the air unfinished. He handed her the papers she needed for the adjuster and turned to go. You’d better let me in on what You’re doing here, Lord, she prayed as Chad closed the door, because I can’t see how Nicky and Chad will ever get along.

George looked up from the hose he was inspecting, making Chad realize he’d let the firehouse door slam harder than necessary. “So,” George said with a smirk, “how are things at the Big Rock Candy Mountain?” As last night’s dog-walking proposition had proven, George kept his hands in every aspect of Gordon Falls’s community life. He kept his nose in the lives of each and every one of his volunteer firefighters, too. The younger firefighters loved George. His grandfatherly personality was half the reason Gordon Falls hosted a volunteer fire corps. People would do anything to help the guy.

“I think you’re nuts with this dog thing.”

“But you’ll go along with it, right?”

Chad would do anything to help George—except climb a ladder again, although he’d been known to pitch in during extraordinary circumstances. George never questioned Chad’s decision to “chain himself to a desk,” even though he disagreed with the choice. They had too many mutual secrets not to defend each other. Chad was one of the few people who knew the now-widowed George even had a son. Clark had been a colleague of Chad’s back during his early firefighting days, but the Bradens men hadn’t spoken to each other in almost ten years. Stubborn as oxen, the pair of them. Despite the fact that Clark had somehow managed to refer Chad to this position here in Gordon Falls, Chad never could get either man to divulge the source of the wedge between them. He and George understood each other’s private wounds, respected them and had developed a father-son relationship of their own.

“That place is going to be a riot of color. And loud.” Chad set down the clipboard he’d taken over to Jeannie’s, pausing to scratch Plug. “Jeannie Nelworth is optimistic to a fault.”

“What a surprise,” George grunted as he wrestled the massive section of hose onto its shelf. “Still, everything’s in order?”

“Yes.” Chad finished with Plug and stepped over the dog to help George work another section into stiff coils. George was well past the age other fire chiefs retired. He ought to be sitting at the diner arguing with Gordon Falls’s other grandpas, fishing on the river and populating church spaghetti dinners, not coiling hoses. Still, stubborn old George refused to even consider the notion of stepping down.

“That’s not a very convincing yes.”

“She needs to be more cautious. That’s an old building and she’s gonna have mobs of kids in there every afternoon.”

George pushed his ever-present baseball hat back on his head, showing his balding mop of now-more-white-than-red hair. “This is a woman who’s just survived a fire, Chad. You of all people know what that does to a person. Go easy. I have no doubt she’ll go the extra mile so all those cute little tykes can stay safe buying their bubblegum. She’s just raw right now, and she needs to move forward to feel better. Take a little extra care walking her through the process, will you?”

Chad scowled. Extra care was George’s department, not his. It was George who stuffed himself into the firehouse’s Santa suit for every Christmas party, George who’d found Plug as a stray puppy and took him in despite serving no clear use short of good company. Which begged the question he’d been wanting to ask George since yesterday: “So why draft me into overseeing Nick as Plug’s official dog walker?”

“Your sunny disposition, of course.”

With a whistle Plug would ignore, George walked out of the equipment bay into the firehouse kitchen to pull open the refrigerator. “You can relate to the boy, I think. He needs watching. And you? You’ve been gloomier than usual. I know October’s coming, but…”

“Don’t.” Chad hated it when George got it into his head to play armchair shrink.

The old chief sighed. “It’s been eight years, Chad. That’s too long to play hermit, don’t you think?” George pulled out a brown glass bottle of root beer and snapped its cap against the bottle opener mounted nearby.

Chad moved in front of him. “So I need a thirteen-year-old? To supervise? This is a bit off the mark, even for you.”

“You’re just like Nick. You need something other than your losses to care about. And goldfish are lame.”

“George…”

Ignoring his challenge, George took a healthy swig followed by a satisfied sigh, then gazed out the kitchen window onto Tyler Street. “He’s a great kid, but he’s been through too much. The way I see it, you know something about holding up that kind of weight. And since you won’t go full-time back onto an engine, you’ve got too much free time.”

George could be exasperating when he hatched a plan, but Chad knew better than to argue with him. He didn’t care one bit for the orchestrating look in George’s eye as they stood in silence for a moment, staring across Tyler Street to Jeannie’s shop. A pair of work lights strung from the high ceilings of Jeannie’s shop gleamed out through the front windows on either side of the boarded-up doorway like yellow eyes over a square wood nose. Her yellow polka-dotted Jeep was still out front, but the blue insurance van had driven off. Jeannie was probably still in there, cooing to the woodwork with visions of sugarplums dancing in her head.

“I don’t want to do this, George.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t make you, either.”

Oh, I suspect you can. “She bothers me. You should see the colors she’s gonna paint that place. It’ll be like working across the street from a life-size game of Candy Land.”

“It will, won’t it?” George chuckled. “It’ll be nice to see that building full of life again, don’t you think? My dad used to take me over to that store for root-beer floats when I was Nick’s age. Best treat in the world. Not like all the sugar water they call soda pop now.” George’s beefy hand came down onto Chad’s shoulder. “Don’t be the guy to stop Jeannie Nelworth from reopening her candy store for the holidays. It’d be giving the Grinch a run for his money.”

“She’s got to be careful.”

“She’ll be careful, Chad. She’s got more reason to be careful than all of us put together with what she’s been through. I’m kind of proud of her, actually, getting back into the swing of things so quick and taking on such a big project like this. She’s got spirit, that woman. Can’t knock Jeannie Nelworth down for long.”

That was it. The fact that Jeannie Nelworth was so unsinkably cheerful, that she bobbed right back up after every blow like some over-buoyant bath toy was exactly what bothered him about her.

Chapter Three

The restaurant down the street had blocked its secondary exit with a Dumpster again. Why didn’t some of these businesses take his inspections more seriously? A knock on his door startled Chad out of his paperwork. He looked up from the report he’d been writing to see Nick Nelworth standing in his doorway. “Hey, Mr. Owens. Chief Bradens said you had something to ask me.”

Jeannie’s son had that legs-too-long amble of every teenager, but it was the way he always hung his head that caught Chad’s attention. George was right; life had beaten Nick down a lot more than the boy would let on. The kid had lost his dad to a car crash in the first grade, and then his home had burned—all before he even hit everything high school would throw at him. How could Nick hope to have anything but a dark outlook on life, even with his mother’s high-voltage optimism? From what Chad remembered, mothers and thirteen-year-old sons barely spoke the same language as it was.

He didn’t really know Nick, hadn’t known him at all before the fire, but felt an instant recognition now. Anyone could easily see the kid was quietly unhappy. And why not? Chad recalled hating every minute of middle school, and he’d had none of Nick’s traumas to overcome. Annoyed as he was at George’s scheming, Chad couldn’t tamp down an urge to help the boy. “Hi there, Nicholas. How’s it going across the street?”

Nick rolled his eyes—those same big eyes of his mother’s. “Mom’s all weird about it. She’s talking really fast and forgetting where she put things.”

The image of Jeannie Nelworth bouncing around her store hadn’t left his mind since the meeting. “Your mom’s excited about the place?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Plug wandered in, nuzzling Nick’s hand. “Whoa, Plug, that doesn’t belong to you. Don’t go getting Mr. Owens’s forms all slobbery.” Nick raised his hand out of Plug’s reach—which didn’t take much effort, because Plug never jumped up for anything—and put the handful of forms on Chad’s desk. “Mom said to give you these…and these.” He reached into his back pocket and reluctantly produced six very bright, very sparkly yellow pens. The promotional kind with “Sweet Treats” written on them in the pink swirly script that was Jeannie’s logo. Nicholas looked about as eager to be handing those out as Chad would be to use them. “They have the new address on them and the website.” He said in the monotone of a boy repeating an instructed script. Chad wondered if there was anything more repugnant to a thirteen-year-old boy than to be the distributor of sparkly pens.

Chad scooped the pens up, noting with horror that yellow glitter came off onto his fingers. “They’re very…yellow.” He raised an eyebrow at Nick, hoping to let the boy know he wasn’t expecting an endorsement of anything so cute.

“Yep.” Plug began inspecting Nick’s hand and back pocket, evidently thinking glitter might prove tasty. “They are.”

Chad slid out of his chair and came around to the front of his desk. He squatted down to scratch Plug between the ears. “Can you keep a secret?” Nick hunched down as well, and Plug rolled over on cue, to make sure they didn’t miss scratching his big belly. “Don’t tell your mom, but I’m not a fan of glitter. On anything.”

The boy’s eyes widened, then narrowed in a laugh. “Me, neither.” Hadn’t Jeannie given a thought to what a boy’s life was like surrounded by all those perky pastels?

“Perfectly understandable. Not that I have to ask, but man-to-man, what’s your position on yellow polka dots?”

The boy looked as if he were asked to reveal state secrets. “You mean Mom’s car?” he nearly whispered. After a long pause where both of them looked at the offending vehicle, Nick said, “Someday I’m gonna have to learn to drive in that thing.”

Chad could feel Nick’s embarrassment even as he tried to hide it. He was a grown man who never cared what people think, and he’d surely hesitate to climb into Jeannie Nelworth’s Jeep. He was surprised to discover his hand had landed on the boy’s shoulder. “I feel your pain, kid.” He said it in a teasing tone, but he actually meant it. He wanted Nick Nelworth to know one person understood his predicament and how hard the world was as a thirteen-year-old boy. “Maybe we can talk her down a couple of shades by the time you hit fifteen.”

Nick laughed. “Man, I hope.”

The more relaxed look on Nick’s face refused to let Chad keep his distance. Kids were not his strong suit. He gave the safety talks every year at school and did the driver’s ed pre-prom speech about drinking and driving, but that was more because he had the time to do these things. With all the other crew volunteers, he viewed this as payback for staying off the engines. Not only that, but life had handed him too many reasons to make fire prevention a personal cause.

But this? Even George had to know this one-on-one teen stuff was way out of Chad’s job description. “Plug’s getting too fat, even for him.” He rubbed the hound’s round belly, eliciting a lazy canine moan of satisfaction. “He needs more exercise, don’t you think?”

“He’s pretty big, that’s for sure.”

“Plug needs to walk off a few pounds, wouldn’t you say? How many days a week are you free after school?”

“I’ve got math club Tuesdays and Thursdays, but nothing the other days.”

“George and I are too busy to give Plug any regular exercise. Do you think you could help us out by walking him? Twice a week, maybe? For pay, of course…say, seven dollars a week?” Plug was George’s dog, technically. George should be doing this. Chad should not be anywhere near this, and yet here he was and nearly glad of it, besides.

“I think. That is, if Mom says it’s okay. She’s gonna be up here every day working on the store, anyway.”

Chad tried to ignore Nick’s eyes, and what they did to the spot below his throat. He stood up before something stupid came out of his mouth. “George already asked your mom. You’re hired. When can you start?”

“Now.” Nicholas shot up beside him. “I could start right now.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that. Which is why I happen to have Plug’s leash right here on my desk.” Chad nudged the hound with his foot. “With this kind of enthusiasm, we’ll get you fit and trim in no time, Plug.”

Nick attached the leash after giving Plug a friendly scratch under the chin. When he looked at Chad again, the boy’s face was the complete opposite of the bored reluctance it had been when he first entered the office. George would never let him forget how right he’d been about the idea of hiring Nick Nelworth.

“Thanks. We’re off!” With a wave, Nick trotted out of the office door with a slightly confused Plug lumbering behind him. From the window he could see Nick stood up straighter, walked without most of that lanky teen shuffle and generally looked delighted. Plug even went so far as to wag his tail—something Chad hadn’t seen in months.

He thought they’d take off up the street, but evidently their first stop was across the street to Sweet Treats. If Chad’s guess was right, Sweet Treats would start carrying dog biscuits when it opened, and Plug would be a regular customer.

The next day, Jeannie sat in the front window of Sweet Treats. She wasn’t calling it “the building that would become Sweet Treats” anymore, for the space had already become the store in her mind. She was assessing how a stack of yellow paint chip choices looked in the afternoon sun. Buttercup definitely outshone Sun-kissed, but Lemon had a vitality to it she couldn’t resist. She’d nearly settled on “Lemon”—it was a candy flavor, after all—when a lumbering movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention. Plug was sauntering across Tyler Street by himself.

It only took a second or two to figure out Plug’s motives; his red leash—the dog’s only nod to the classic firehouse Dalmatian—was clamped firmly in his slobbery jaws and he was heading straight for Sweet Treats. A determined, albeit slow-motion quest for Nicky. Jeannie couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Sure, Nicky had told her he and Plug really enjoyed their walk yesterday, but Plug obviously hadn’t checked the clock to know Nicky wasn’t due out of school for another hour.

Her laughter turned to a gasp when a car whizzed by too close behind Plug. He swiveled his head after the speeding car, but didn’t seem to register the possible danger of being out in traffic. Had the hound ever been in the street other than watching the engines come and go from the firehouse? She could count on one hand the number of times she’d even seen him moving. Mostly Plug sat still, as he was doing now. Only now he just stood in the middle of the street, staring into her doorway as if willing Nicky to appear there.

When a second car went by, barely slowing down as it slipped between her shop and Plug, Jeannie sucked in a breath and moved. Opening her door, she called, “Go on home, Plug,” and pointed back to the firehouse. The trio of big red engine bay doors were shut. How had he gotten out? “Get back out of the street before you get hit.”

Plug cocked his head to one side in an all-too-human gesture of bafflement. “Plug, go home!” Jeannie found herself enunciating as if to a small child or someone who didn’t understand English. This was why she’d never owned a dog—you could never reason with a pet. Unreasonable sons were just about all she could handle right now. “Home, boy!”

While he didn’t sit down, he didn’t turn to go home, either. Plug just stood there, as if waiting for her to catch on that he had no plans to cut his excursion short, escorted or not.

Jeannie looked up and down the street, hoping to catch one of the volunteer firemen out looking for him. Gordon Falls boasted a full complement of volunteer firefighters, but George and Chad were often the only two in the building. Those on call only came rushing when those horrid sirens went off because that’s how a volunteer fire department worked.

Still, shouldn’t someone have noticed Plug leaving? Seeing another car heading down the street, Jeannie realized she was the only one to come to the poor hound’s rescue. Even though she wasn’t quite sure what to do, Jeannie settled on squatting down and tapping her knee the way she’d seen Nicky call him. “Well, fine then. You come here. Come, Plug. Come on, boy. Come on over here and get your fool self out of the street.” Plug took two steps toward her. “Come on, boy!” She’d let the dog stay here for the hour until Nicky could deliver him back over if the firefighters didn’t come looking for him first. She surely had no plans to walk out there and haul him back to the firehouse herself.

No, sir, she would not haul Plug back herself. She couldn’t stomach the thought of walking to the firehouse for any reason, much less a dog. Today was not the day to tackle her fear.

Other people found the red doors charming; iconic, even. Every time Jeannie looked at those huge red doors, they just seemed like hungry red mouths opening wide to eat her alive. Nope, she wouldn’t face those today.

“That’s right, come on over here and you can wait for Nicky.” At Nicky’s name, Plug picked up the pace to something that could almost be called a trot, finishing his trek across Tyler Street. He looked up at her with that comical face of his, those too-big eyes and those floppy ears, and announced his arrival by dropping the leash on the sidewalk in front of her. Then, after a pathetic growly sound which she suspected loosely translated to “Phew!” he placed his big nose on her knee and depositing a dark spot of drool on her pant leg. “You silly old thing,” she said, unable to stay annoyed once she started petting his massive, velvety ears. “Don’t you know enough to stay out of traffic?”

She didn’t like the look Plug gave her in response. His droopy eyes seemed to say “Silly yourself if you can’t walk across the street to take me home.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” she countered. “You’re not tricking me into…” Into what? Doing the thing she’d managed to avoid for weeks now? She could sit through a presentation on fire safety but couldn’t set foot in a firehouse? Who really was the silly old thing here?

No, Lord, I’m not ready. Jeannie knew she was being ridiculous, even irrational, but the thought of going near the firehouse stirred up panic in her throat. She didn’t want to be this way. She’d tried being logical, thinking of “fire safety” as a worthy community goal, but that only made things worse.

Fire was the enemy. There had been a fire during her husband Henry’s death in a car accident, as well. Looking at the aftermath of her house fire became just like being at the crash site the morning after Henry died.

I’ve been strong lots of other places. I even bought this place looking right at the fire station—wasn’t that strong? After all, weren’t these men the reason she had the ability to start over?

“You know it’s no accident you chose this building,” Abby had declared the day Jeannie signed the mortgage papers. “Some part of you needs the firehouse nearby.”

“So why am I scared to have it so close? It makes no sense.”

“You didn’t make much sense before the fire,” Abby had replied, hugging her. “I’m expecting less now.”

For five whole minutes she tried to ignore Plug’s stare, to let him wait until Nicky got home. I don’t have to go in there, not yet. Not for a dog, of all things.

She parked herself back on the windowsill and attempted a return to the paint chips. Nothing worked; her concentration had fled the building. She was going to have to go in there sometime. If not today, it’d have to be some day. Wouldn’t it be better to get it over with when Nicky wasn’t watching? That way, she’d have an hour or so to pull herself together if things were…harder than she planned. Then when Nicky showed up she could tell him how much Plug had missed him and how brave she’d been to take him back over. This was the perfect opportunity.

If she could just make herself take it.

She reached for the phone to call Abby for moral support, but put it back down. You can do this. You are stronger than this. Jeannie grabbed the leash, telling the pulse hammering in her throat to stop pounding so hard. This was a silly fear, the kind of thing she’d chide Nicky for having. No one should ever be afraid of a firehouse. Or fire engines. They meant help was on the way, didn’t they?

“Fears don’t make sense,” the school counselor had told Nicky. “That’s why you must simply face them. You can’t argue them down because they won’t listen to reason.”

“All right, then, Plug my boy, it’s time to get over this.” Strong words, but her voice wobbled as she stood up and fastened the leash to his collar with shaking hands.

“Just walk you back on over there as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. Right. Piece of cake.”

Before she could gather another bolstering breath, Plug loped off the curb and began walking. As if this had been his plan all along.

“Yep, we’re just walking across the street, taking you back home.” Talking to Plug somehow kept her breathing. “Home to the nice, clean, safe firehouse with all the big…huge…loud…red engines.”

Sounds from the fire—her fire—returned unbidden and unwelcome. Her head filled with the rumble of the engines. The noise had been so loud she felt it in her chest that horrible afternoon. The lifelike twitching and hissing of the hoses as the men fought to direct those gallons of water into the smoke pouring out of her home. The sour, sharp smell of her possessions burning, the cascading cracks of timber as her life collapsed in on itself. The running and shouting and the crunch of thick-gloved hands that kept moving her out of the way. The coaxing voices forcing her back when she wanted to plunge into the smoke after all the precious, precious things disappearing in front of her eyes. Worst of all was the crushing feeling of Henry’s memory burning with the house they had shared. She’d lost so many precious things, but the cruelest result of all was how she could fit all the surviving mementoes of Henry into a single shoebox. Without souvenirs and photographs, how would Nicky ever remember his father clearly? Videos capturing his voice and gestures were gone. His teaching notes from his physics professorship at the local state university were now ash in the wind. How could a young boy remember the best part of a man, his strong soul or the way he loved life? She could barely picture Henry’s handwriting now, and it tore her to pieces.

Jeannie shook her head, willing the storm of pain away. She was safe, alive, walking in the September sunshine. Stay beside me, Lord. I’m safe now, You’ve seen to that. Help me. Help me face this last fear so Nicky and I can go on. The prayers were coming in spurts with every step across the street. Plug tugged her forward, and Jeannie forced herself to feel the sunlight on her face, imagined God leading Plug leading her. Stay close. Help me. Nearly there. Stay close.

She fixed her gaze on Chad’s office door, where it felt safer to head rather than the big red doors. The office door pulled open, framing Chad’s surprised face in the doorway. She had to remind herself the surprise was for Plug’s “breakout.” He couldn’t possibly imagine how hard it was for her to simply walk his dog across the street. No one but Abby knew of that fear. If she could manage the last few feet, maybe no one else ever would.

Chapter Four

Chad couldn’t help but stare at Jeannie as she walked across the street. Her back was ruler-straight, her jaw tense even as she talked—to whom? Plug? The woman was quite obviously frightened to death of something. Was she terrified of dogs? She had the look of a soul walking into doom itself, forcing her feet into stiff, hesitant steps and clutching Plug’s leash as if it were a lifeline. Her eyes locked on her destination—his door at first, and then on him once he opened it.

Those eyes made part of him want to rush out to meet her, but the sheer terror in them froze the other half of him to the spot. He had to do something, so Chad held out a cautious, encouraging hand as he called Plug. It seemed best to let Plug pull her across rather than going out to meet her.

“Almost there.” She was close enough to be heard now as she squeaked the words. “Here we go, back to the firehouse where you belong.” Chad couldn’t rightly say if she was coaxing the dog or herself. He called to Plug again, hoping to hurry the dog, but Plug merely ambled along as if nothing were out of the ordinary. As if the hound were granting Jeannie the pleasure of a leisurely walk.

Searching for some way to help, Chad suddenly remembered he’d tucked a dog biscuit in his pocket five minutes ago when he’d discovered Plug was gone. Food was the only thing sure to quicken Plug’s steps. He squatted down to Plug’s eye level, pulled out the biscuit and waved it enticingly. “Come on, old boy, pick up the pace. I’ve got a biscuit just waiting.” Plug sniffed the air, gave a hearty “woof” and perked up his ears.

Chad was thinking it worked, until a metal scream split the air.

Plug had realized it an instant before Chad did, he always did. As if he remembered what Chad had momentarily forgotten: the school fire drill. And not just any drill, but a full test of the volunteer company’s response time so that the firehouse roared to life behind him and Plug surged out of Jeannie’s grasp. She made this awful sound, a gasping sort of yelp, as the bay doors lifted and the siren continued to signal the test run.

Chad was supposed to be observing the company’s departure while George stood at the school observing their arrival. Despite the fact that it had been planned for weeks, this was the absolute worst scenario for someone like Jeannie. Plug galloped past him, nearly knocking him down while Jeannie stood rigid with fear right in the path of the engines.

She couldn’t stay where she was; the engines would be pulling out any second. Chad bolted out into the street, ignoring the sound she made as he grabbed her shoulders. She actually resisted him, stunned as she was with fear, but he pulled her off balance and threw an arm around her torso, dragging her away from the thunder as the firefighters started the engines. She was so small in his arms, and she was shaking fiercely—her chest heaving. More volunteer firefighters would be swarming over the station within seconds, and he would have picked her up and carried her out of the way if she fought him further.

As it was, Jeannie stumbled a bit but clutched at him as he dragged her out of the street. Forgetting his supervisory duties, Chad pulled her away from the bay doors and into his office, kicking the door shut behind him in a futile effort to muffle the sound. That sound. Even when he knew it was coming, the shriek of the siren could still send ice through his veins. “It’s a drill,” he shouted above the roar. “There’s no fire.

“Just a drill, Jeannie,” he repeated loud enough for her to hear. “You know the school has them every September. Everyone is safe.” At the mention of the word school, Jeannie whipped her face around toward him. He didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to go wider. Around him he heard the sound of volunteers climbing into gear and radio chatter. He was shirking his duties, but she mattered more right now. The siren’s pitch finally descended as he guided her to his office chair, and as she collapsed into it. Once the siren fell silent, he heard her pulling in gulps of air like she’d just been dragged from the river. He’d never seen her undone like this; it made him crazy with worry that she’d faint. Getting down on his haunches in front of her, he kept his voice low and steady. “Jeannie, are you all right?”

She just shook her head, looking down.

“It’s the middle school fire drill. We’re using it this year to evaluate the company’s response time. That’s why everyone’s running out.” Suddenly, Chad put the pieces together. She was afraid of the station. Since buying the building, she’d never once crossed the street. And Jeannie Nelworth visited everybody. Despite Nick’s many visits and even the baskets he knew she sent over, Jeannie herself had never set foot in the firehouse. Until today. How cruel was that? “I’m sorry you had to be here for this, Jeannie. I…”

“Why didn’t I know?” She cut in, looking up with anger. “Someone should have told us. Nicky isn’t ready for fire trucks to come screaming into the school parking lot. He needs to be ready.”

“If everyone knows it’s coming, it’s not much of a test.”

The fear in her eyes turned to fire. “So it’s okay to scare my son out of his wits on account of procedure? Did you have to plan that test for that school this year? Oh, Nicky.” She clutched a hand to her chest. Her fingers were actually shaking.

Chad heard the metallic rumble of the huge equipment doors shutting. In the distance, the engine sirens died down and Chad could envision firefighters climbing out of their trucks calmly while teachers and students stood in lines on the school field. And he could just as easily imagine Nick standing, breathing hard and wide-eyed like Jeannie had just been, fighting to look calm while his insides were going off like firecrackers. George had suggested moving the company drill to the high school, but Chad had declined. He, who of all people knew what this might do to Nicky, had tried not to single the boy out in any way but had chosen wrong. “I’m sorry.” The words seemed weak and too late, the quieting firehouse a condemnation of all the commotion and noise he’d sent Nick’s way.

Jeannie rose, then squinted her eyes tight and let out a breath. “Ugh. No, wait. I’m sorry, this isn’t your fault.”

He was impressed that she was trying to smooth this over, and it only served to make him feel worse. “No, this is my fault. George wanted to move the drill to another school, or even pull this test off the school drill, but I thought it would be worse to do anything special to single Nick out.” It sounded like the worst decision ever when he said it out loud. “And I was wrong.”

It was a funny thing; he could see her apply that parental control thing mothers had, could actually see her pull herself together for Nick’s sake. Normally he didn’t see those things in people, but her emotions were obvious to him somehow. “I should go over there right now.”

Chad put a hand out, knowing instantly what she was up to and certain it would only make things worse. “You know, I’m not so sure that’d be a good idea.”

Jeannie huffed and stepped around his hand. “Of course it is. He’s probably panicked out of his mind right now.”

Chad had never been a parent, but he had been a thirteen-year-old boy. Despite not having enough sense to move the drill, Chad did have enough sense to remember that someone’s mom coming to the rescue would be instant humiliation in middle school. He owed Nick the only thing he could still do—delay the boy’s mother until she calmed down enough not to make a scene. Maybe even keep her from showing up at all. He grabbed the doorknob before she could reach it. “Even if he is upset—and yes, it’s my fault if he is—you rushing in to scoop him up is only going to make things worse in front of his friends.”

Any fear in her face was now replaced by a fierce, protective glare. “That’s out of line. You’re not his mother.”

“No, I am not his mother. I botched this, but let’s leave it at that. If you go over there and make any kind of scene, you’ll just make my bad call a worse situation.”

“I wouldn’t make a scene.”

He looked at her. She was a loving mother. She’d most definitely make a big scene. It was what loving mothers did. It was part of what made being thirteen so wonderful and awful at the same time—that much he remembered vividly. “You wouldn’t? Really?” He pointed down at her clenched fists.

“Okay.” She unclenched her hands, a tiny bit of the tension easing off her shoulders as well. “I might make a bit of a scene. I mean, look at me, I’m a mess already.”

He couldn’t help but smile just a bit. “Yes, but you know it’s a drill now and you’re less of a mess. I expect the same is true of Nick. We threw him a curve, but he seems like a strong kid. Maybe we need to let him figure out a way to get over it on his own.” He gestured toward the chair, and she sat down again. “If you like,” he went on, grasping for any idea that might help, “I can call the guidance counselor in ten minutes. You know, see if everything went okay. I can casually mention Nick and see what she says. You and I can get a cup of coffee in the meantime and think of ways to punish Plug for his thoughtless escape.” When she hesitated, he was surprised to hear himself add, “And maybe think of some way to reward you for making it across the street under dire circumstances.” His tone of voice seemed to be coming from some other man. Some warm, friendly guy he didn’t recognize. He disliked her stalwart optimism, but she fought so hard for it that he couldn’t bring himself to fault her. “Coffee and ten minutes. Then you can boast to Nick about having made it across the street and into the firehouse for a whole ten minutes. Sirens included.”

Her hand flew to her chest again, flattening up against the big, cream-colored fisherman’s knit sweaters she wore. The thick weave made her seem even smaller, made the flush in her cheeks stand out all the more. “I don’t think my pulse has come back down to normal yet.”

Chad felt a grin take over his face before he could stop it. “In that case, maybe you shouldn’t drink George’s coffee.”

Chapter Five

Chad made sure he was in the firehouse when Nick came over to walk Plug the next day. He also made sure Plug stayed in his office so he’d have a chance to see how the boy fared. No amount of remorse would shake responsibility for what he saw in Nick’s blue eyes: the inner storm beneath his pose of teenage apathy. Yesterday obviously hadn’t been the best of days for Nick. He was very glad to be here, but trying hard not to show it.

“So the fire drill was no big deal?” Chad made a careful effort to sound casual as he handed Plug’s leash to Nick. He double-checked the file he was “reading,” making sure he wasn’t holding it upside down. He suspected Nick would linger in his office, and the boy had. Nick spent a few minutes playing with Plug, tussling with the hound in fidgety unease. Chad caught as many surreptitious glimpses as he could over the top of his file.

“It was a…bit…weird,” Nick finally offered after a pause that was so long Chad had forgotten he’d asked a question. The boy busied himself with the leash. His hands stilled just a bit before he added, “Loud.”

Chad pretended to need another folder from his filing cabinet, which meant he had to walk close to Nick. “That siren sure is loud, especially in here. If you’re in my office when the siren goes off, it’ll rattle your teeth.” He snatched a glance at Nick and then shifted his gaze out the windows to Tyler Street. “Hey, I wonder if it rattles the windows in your mom’s shop? Do you know?”

Nick forced out a bit of a laugh. “She jumps every morning at ten when you guys test the sirens. I don’t know about the windows, but it rattles Mom, which is dumb because you do it every day. She knows it’s coming.”

So the boy sensed his mom’s fear of the fire station. That made him doubly unlikely to tell his mother anything about yesterday, and Chad knew from the principal that yesterday hadn’t gone well. Any other fire drill, and it would have been purely an internal school matter—no sirens, no fire trucks. Any other kid, and Chad might have waved it off as just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Chad wasn’t one to poke his head into these kinds of things, but there was just something compelling about Nick Nelworth. For whatever reason, Chad wanted to help Nick if he could. Provided things didn’t get messy or complicated.

Chad pretended to hold a receipt up to the light coming through the window. “She tell you Plug dragged her over here yesterday? In the middle of your fire drill?” He kept his voice as casual as if he were asking the weather.

He watched Nick’s reflection through the window glass. He was surprised, which meant Jeannie hadn’t told him of her escapade here. He wondered what that meant as he watched Nick think it over, too.

“You came looking for me, did’ya, boy?” Nick ruffled Plug’s floppy ears, but made no comment about his mother. “I was in school and besides, I can’t come by every day. At least not yet, anyway.”

Chad turned around to face Nick. Plug was a big dog, and Nick was small for an eighth-grader, but he seemed especially small as he sat there on the floor of the office. Chad parked himself on the window ledge for a moment, letting himself enjoy their playful interaction. Plug’s constant slobber didn’t phase a thirteen-year-old in the slightest, and the dog came to life around Nick in a way Chad hadn’t seen before. George was wise to put them together. “The whole thing was pretty funny, actually. Plug snuck out, near as I can tell. He carried his leash over to the shop and everything.”

Nick pushed his forehead up against Plug’s droopy eyebrows. “Did you do that, Plug? Did’ya?” Plug responded with a generous wet lick up Nick’s cheek that sent the boy into giggles.

Chad ventured further. “You ought to be proud of your mom. It scared her to death to come over here with the sirens wailing but she made sure Plug got back home safe.” That wasn’t exactly how it happened, but close enough.

“She even freaks out whenever the sirens go off at home…at our apartment.” Nick corrected himself with obvious distaste. “And we’re four whole blocks away up the hill. She won’t come over here. Well, she wouldn’t come over here before.” He caught Chad’s eye. “Betcha she’ll still say she sends me ’cause she’s too busy, but it probably still creeps her out.”

Chad had to tread very carefully here. He slid his weight off the windowsill and hunched down to Nick’s level under the guise of finding a twig on the floor. “Probably still does. Sirens and fire engines do that to lots of people.” He waited to see if that elicited some kind of response from the boy. When it didn’t, he added, “I had a big fire happen to me…and a friend of mine…years ago and I still jump a bit when that thing goes off.”

Chad never admitted that to anyone but George, and it felt risky to say it aloud even in his office. Still, it seemed like the best way to give Nick permission to admit that the sirens made him nervous, too. The boy said nothing, fiddling with the ID tags on Plug’s collar as if he hadn’t heard Chad’s remark.

Chad let it sit for a moment, twirling the twig he’d picked up from the floor. Nick’s guidance counselor, Mrs. Corning, had happened to be in the field near Nick during the fire drill—one of those things Laurie would have called a “God-incidence.” While Mrs. Corning’s initial report was good enough to keep Jeannie from barreling over to the school, a later call from her gave Chad reason to worry. Nick had held it together, but just barely. He’d been visibly shaken during the drill, argumentative in his next class and then quiet and sullen the rest of the afternoon in school.

“Plug howls at sirens,” Chad tried again, just to see if the boy was listening. “Can you believe that?”

Now that they’d reached a safer topic, Nick looked straight at him. His eyes were as striking as his mother’s, even though they were blue to Jeannie’s brown. “He does? He howls?”

“Like a wolf. I suppose he thinks he’s helping, but it’s really pretty awful sounding. Stick around long enough, and you’ll get a front-row seat to that show, although you may be sorry you did.”

Chad hoped he’d opened up another window in the conversation, but got no response. There was little reason to be surprised. Hadn’t he done the same thing himself? Whenever the topic of Laurie and the fire—or loved ones lost in fires, or loved ones lost at all—came up in conversation, Chad always shut down. It was just easier not to go there at all than to try and keep up some kind of “all better now” facade.

“Your mom still planning on opening up for the holidays?” That wasn’t a safe topic of conversation, either. He’d lectured Jeannie about the size of the restoration she’d bitten off. The building she chose had been vacant for almost a dozen years. Most of the firefighters encouraged her, convinced Jeannie’s shop would be an easy source of goodies once she opened, but Chad had reservations.

“Yep,” Nick replied. “She says we’ll have our own Christmas tree in our own place above the shop. I can’t wait.”

Chad stifled a sigh. Half the interior walls needed to be rebuilt, and if she did as much internet business as she said, she’d need a lot of rewiring. Given all that, Chad would put the mark closer to six months. He was trying to figure out what on earth to say when Nick quickly fixed the leash to Plug and stood up.

“Okay, we’re gonna go out now.”

So much for that opportunity. Nick wasn’t going to offer up squat about what happened yesterday at school or how he felt about it. Should Chad be glad it was over, or annoyed that he’d lost the chance to get the boy to open up? Since when did he care about getting young boys to open up, anyway?

Watching them stop at the corner, seeing Nick reach down and give the dog yet another pat, it was clear they would be good for each other, needed each other on some level. Somebody—canine or human, needed to pull the hurt out of that boy. Not that it was Chad’s place to do it—the school had counselors for that. Still, something in the shadows of Nick’s eyes grabbed a hold of Chad and wouldn’t let go, as if the boy needed to escape and Chad held the only rope. He was still standing out the window, wondering how he could have been better at helping, when George came up behind him.

“Heard it didn’t go so well yesterday,” George said, staring at Nick and Plug.

Chad ran his hands down his face. “You were right. We never should have put Nick Nelworth through the full company showing up at his school. I messed up, George, and that poor kid paid the price.” He stared after the unlikely pair as they headed down the sidewalk. A stumpy-legged hound loping happily after a gangly legged boy. Opposites, or maybe just complements. He suspected Nick took after his father in appearance, being light and tawny compared to his mother’s dark and dramatic features. He’d never known Henry Nelworth, but people spoke of the fatal car accident with great sadness. Nick’s late father had obviously been a good man, a great loss in that boy’s life.

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