Love To The Rescue

A tornado may have left Ashley Kern injured beneath a fallen tree, but it’s her rescuer who plays havoc with her emotions. Firefighter Devon Murphy is everything the single mom could wish for in a husband: handsome, a doting father and ready to join his family to hers. But how can the pretty war widow make a life once more with a man whose career is full of danger? Devon has fought some pretty big battles in his life, but can he help Ashley conquer her fears and show her the safest place of all is in his arms?

“I don’t want to scare you, but I need you to know my intentions. I’d like us to see where our relationship can go.”

She looked into his eyes, her pulse charging through her, her heart in her throat. This was a time for honesty, if she could only find it. “I understand your feelings. My heart turns to mush when I watch you with Joey. You’re loving and caring. You’d make a good father, and I never doubted you would be a wonderful husband. Never.”

“Then what is it, Ashley? What causes you to back away sometimes?”

“It’s not you. The problem is what you do. Firefighting.” She’d said it. Finally. She’d admitted aloud the deep horrible terror that she faced daily since she admitted her feelings for him. “It’s the fear, Devon. That’s it. Nothing more, and it’s something you can’t fix or change. I would never think of asking you to leave a career that means the world to you. It would destroy the generous, loving person that you are. I will not be responsible.”

GAIL GAYMER MARTIN

is an award-winning author, writing women’s fiction, romance and romance suspense with over three million books in print. Gail is the author of twenty-eight worship resource books and Writing the Christian Romance released by Writer’s Digest Books. She is a cofounder of American Christian Fiction Writers, a member of the ACFW Great Lakes Chapter, member of RWA and three RWA chapters.

A former counselor and educator, Gail has enjoyed this career since her first book in 1998. This book is her fiftieth novel. When not writing, she enjoys traveling, speaking at churches and libraries and presenting writing workshops across the country. Music is another love, and she spends many hours involved in singing as a soloist, praise leader and choir member at her church, where she also plays handbells and hand chimes. She sings with one of the finest Christian chorales in Michigan, the Detroit Lutheran Singers. A lifelong resident of Michigan, she lives with her husband, Bob, in the Detroit suburbs. Visit her website at www.gailmartin.com, write to her at P.O. Box 760063, Lathrup Village, MI 48076, or at authorgailmartin@aol.com.

The Firefighter’s New Family

Gail Gaymer Martin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned.

—Isaiah 43:2

Many thanks to the firefighters Tim Kohlbeck and Chuck Harris, who provided me with a multitude of accurate information on the lives and work of firefighters. Thanks also to Gino Salciccoli, MD,

for his assistance in the medical area of this story. As always, I send my love and thanks to

my husband, Bob, for his support, love, patience

and appreciation for my career. He’s also a

good proofreader, and he works free of charge…

plus he has a great sense of humor.

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

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Devon Murphy pulled into his driveway and closed his eyes, mentally and physically drained. His back throbbed, muscles ached and lungs burned from exertion after he and his fellow firefighters had spent all night responding to the storm emergencies. His body cried for rest.

His eyes stung as he opened them. Though the sky was still weighted with ominous clouds, he hoped the worst was over. Tornado season ripped through towns without mercy. Lovely homes sat along the streets now with damaged roofs hidden behind huge trees pulled out by the roots as if they were weeds in a garden.

Grateful that his neighborhood had escaped the spring storm, he longed for a shower and sleep, but rest came hard when rolling images relived the destructive night following the wind’s devastation on nearby neighborhoods.

He grasped the SUV’s door handle, flinching as a trash can shot like a missile past his windshield. Stunned by the power of the new wind shear, he sucked in air, watching an anonymous lawn chair tumble through his front yard and tangle in a shrub. Limbs from his neighbor’s maple toppled to the ground as if they were pickup sticks.

A few houses away, sparks alerted him electrical wires were down, and he pulled out his cell phone, hit 911 and waited to hear the dispatcher’s voice. “Ann, this is Lieutenant Murphy of the Ferndale Fire Department. Another microburst just hit the West Drayton area. Electrical wires and trees are down. Send out Detroit Energy and Consumers Energy to check downed lines and possible gas leaks.”

When he heard her say, “Help’s on the way,” he ended the call and surveyed the damage. As he headed toward the downed lines, a child’s cry jerked his attention across the street. The toddler stood beside an uprooted tree, one limb jutting through the front-room picture window while the rest covered the driveway and part of the lawn.

Devon darted across the street, dodging a fallen tree limb and scooped the toddler into his arms. “Why are you out here alone, son? Where’s your mother?”

The boy’s tears rolled down his cheeks as he clutched Devon’s neck. “Mama’s under the tree.” With hiccuping sobs and fear growing in his eyes, the toddler pointed at the tree.

Devon dashed around the trunk, stepping over broken limbs while clutching the boy to his chest. His gaze swept over the limbs sprouting new leaves and blocking his view. His own fear heightened. Where was she?

“Mama, get up.” The toddler flailed his arms toward a heavy limb close to the side door.

He scanned the area and noticed a red wagon among the limbs. As he moved closer, encouraged by the boy’s thrashing arms, he spotted the woman, her dark brown hair splayed across the concrete, her left leg pinned beneath a heavy branch.

After he made his way through the fallen debris, careful not to jar her, he leaned closer, praying she was alive. He hugged the toddler closer and found the woman’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. Relief flooded him as he felt the faint but steady beat. Below the tree limb, a trail of blood spotted her pant leg.

Her name? He’d seen the boy and his mother before in the yard, but he’d never had a conversation with her other than a pleasant greeting or a nod. “Ma’am. Can you hear me?”

“Not ma’am. She’s Mama.”

His eyes shifted to the toddler’s anxious face while the boy peered at him and accentuated his proclamation. “She’s Mama.”

Despite his concern, he couldn’t stop the smile.

The boy nodded, and from the young one’s expression, Devon suspected the child thought he was a bit dense. “What’s your name?”

“Joey.” He tilted his head as if weighing the question, but his eyes never left his mother.

“How old are you, Joey?”

The boy held up three fingers, his focus unmoving.

“Can you call your mama? Really loud?”

The toddler’s vigorous nod accompanied his screeching voice. “Maaa-maaa, wake up.”

Hoping the child’s voice would trigger results, Devon searched the woman’s face.

Her eyelids fluttered.

Relief. “Don’t move, ma’am, until—”

“It’s Mama.” The boy’s determination was evident.

He released a breath. “Mama.” He needed the toddler out of his arms, but he didn’t have the heart to put him down, fearing what he might do. The woman needed to keep still. “Is anyone else in the house, Joey?”

The toddler didn’t respond, his eyes focused on his mother.

Devon used his index finger to shift the boy’s face toward him. “No one’s home? Where’s your daddy?”

The boy’s expression remained blank.

No daddy? His chest tightened. He’d seen her and the boy outside, sometimes walking and sometimes she pulled him in the wagon. He’d never seen a man, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a husband.

The woman’s eyes opened, and she tried to lift her head.

“Stay still. Don’t move.” He placed his hand against her shoulder, encouraging her to remain quiet. “Where do you hurt?”

Fear filled her dazed expression. “What happened?”

“The tree fell, Mama.” Joey’s voice cut through the air.

“Joey?” Her eyes closed again.

“He’s fine. I have him right here.” He touched her arm. “What is your name, ma’am?” The salutation flew out before he could stop it.

Her lids flickered, then opened. “Ashley. Ashley Kern.”

“Good.” He gave her arm a reassuring pat before double-checking the facts. “Are you home alone?”

“It’s only me and Joey.”

Sirens sounded in the distance, growing nearer every second. “Please try not to move until help comes.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit 911 again. “Ann, this is Lieutenant Murphy. I’m still on West Drayton near Pinehurst. I have a female pinned under a large limb from a fallen tree. She is conscious. Pulse is faint but steady. I see blood on her left pant leg. I suspect she has a bone fracture. Likely a compound fracture with the bleeding. I’ll need a paramedic ambulance and HURT.”

The child’s body stiffened.

“Help’s on the way, Lieutenant.”

“Mama’s hurt?” Fear filled the boy’s voice.

He hit End and slipped the phone into his pocket, realizing the child misunderstood. Now he had to appease the boy’s fear. “Joey.” He bounced the boy on his hip. “HURT is what we call people who know how to lift the tree so we can get your mama out without hurting her.” Any more than she was already injured. His stomach churned, viewing the blood and the large limb holding her fast.

As he finished, the first truck pulled across the street. The men dropped to the ground, most heading for the downed wires, but his friend Clint Donatelli dashed across the road toward him, taking in the scene. “What do we have here?”

“This boy’s mother’s trapped. She’s dazed but conscious.” He motioned toward her. “I called for help.”

Clint crouched beside her and felt her pulse. “You’ll be out of here shortly, ma’am.” He rose and gave Devon a thumbs-up, then ran to the street and crossed.

A police car pulled up at the curb, and before the officers left the car, new sirens drew closer. “Here they come, Joey. These are the good guys who’ll help your mom...mama.”

“Good guys.” Joey’s grip had lessened as confidence replaced his look of fear.

In moments, the ambulance and HURT truck arrived. The men hurried to his side carrying equipment they would need. He stepped back to let them work. While one crew set off air bags beneath the lower and upper part of the limb that anchored Ashley to the concrete, another team built the cribbing, the hardwood structure used to brace the tree’s weight if either of the air bags moved and the tree slipped off the bags. Paramedics moved in with a c-collar, splints and a backboard to immobilize her for the ride to the hospital.

Joey’s tears flowed again.

He nestled the child closer. “These are the good guys, Joey. See, they’re going to lift the big tree away from your mama and then move her to the ambulance so she can go to the hospital to make sure she’s okay.”

The child’s earlier confidence had vanished, even with his reference to the good guys. Devon’s stomach knotted while he tried to explain to the toddler what the crew was doing. When Ashley had been strapped to the backboard and shifted from beneath the limb, Devon moved closer, knowing he needed answers about Joey. “Ashley, I need someone to care for your boy. Tell me who to call. I’ll explain what happened.” He turned to the nearest paramedic. “Are you going to Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak?”

The medic nodded.

He followed beside Ashley as they carried her down the driveway. “Ashley, is your husband at work?”

Her eyelids lowered. “No husband. Call my sister. Neely Andrews.”

Devon pulled out his cell phone. “Joey, your mama will be okay, but she has to go to the hospital so doctors can make everything better."

Fear returned to the toddler’s eyes.

Kicking himself, he wished he hadn’t mentioned the hospital, but he had to be honest. “Your aunt Neely will come to get you, okay?”

Joey’s arms tightened around his neck. “’Kay.” Though Joey’s voice was hushed, Devon sensed Ashley heard him.

He punched in the numbers as Ashley struggled to relate them. As the phone rang, he shifted away, hoping what Joey heard next didn’t upset him. The woman’s voice jerked him back to the phone call. “Neely?”

The line was silent a moment. “Yes?”

“This is Lieutenant Murphy from the Ferndale Fire Department.” He heard her intake of breath and wished the call could have begun differently. “Your sister Ashley asked me to call.”

“Is it a fire? The house? What happened?”

He provided the details as best he could with Joey listening. “Would you like to pick up Joey here, or should I meet you at Beaumont emergency?”

“Beaumont. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

He stopped to relay his destination to Clint and noticed a neighbor standing at a distance. He waved the man over. “Do you know Ashley?”

“Sure. She’s a good neighbor, and so’s Joey.” He chucked the boy under the chin. “Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“Can we keep an eye on Joey for her?” The man opened his arms.

Joey let out a cry. “Mama.” He reached toward her. “I want my mama.”

“His aunt is meeting us at Beaumont. I think Ashley will feel better knowing he’s there, but thanks for the offer.” He turned away but stopped. “Can you secure the house?”

“Sure thing. We have a key.” He motioned to the broken window. “I’ll cover it for her, too. Tell her not to worry.”

Before Devon could thank him, a car careened into the man’s driveway, and a woman with a halo of white hair jumped out, her hand to her mouth and her eyes wide as a basketball as she darted toward the man. “What happened? Where’s Ashley?”

Devon used the distraction to make his exit. House secured. Window covered. Now, Joey. He gave the boy a hug, thinking of his own young daughter and how she might respond in an emergency.

With Kaylee on his mind, he remembered he would need a car seat to transport Joey. He carried him across the street and located the car seat stored in his garage. The plastic he’d used to cover it was dusty, but beneath, the seat looked like new. He grinned, picturing Kaylee strapped in the chair and singing nursery rhymes whenever they went somewhere. Now more than a year older, he’d purchased a larger restraint seat for her.

Once Joey was strapped into the backseat, Devon slid behind the steering wheel and headed toward Beaumont, sending up a prayer for Ashley’s well-being.

* * *

Searing red burned through Ashley’s eyelids. She tried to raise them, but her effort faded in the struggle. Vague memories stirred through her fogged brain. A stormy sky. The wind. Joey’s wagon. The tree. That was it. The haze shifted, and she tried again to pry open her eyes.

A cool hand touched her arm. “You’re fine. Don’t try to move yet.”

She’d heard those words before, but it had been a man’s voice. A kind voice, like the woman’s, but rich and comforting. An image flickered in her mind. Dark windblown hair. Brown tired eyes, but in them, she saw compassion. A bristled jaw. And... And Joey against his chest.

“Joey.” She tried to lift her head, but a headache hammered it to the sheet. “Where’s Joey?”

“Your son is fine, Mrs. Kern.” Ashley felt the woman pat her arm again.

Her chest constricted. “Fine. What does that mean?” She tried to shift her leg to the edge of the mattress, but the weight bound her in place.

“He’s in the waiting room with your sister and a nice-looking gentleman.”

Waiting room. She turned her head sideways and willed her eyes to focus. This wasn’t her bedroom. The railings along her bed. Eggshell-colored walls. Privacy curtains. The blurred memory eased into her mind. The sirens. The tree. The men. The wail of an ambulance. “Where am I? Beaumont Hospital?”

“That’s right. Things will be clearer when the anesthetic wears off.”

Her pulse tore through her arm. “Anesthetic?” Through the fuzz, she watched the nurse adjust an IV.

“The doctor will be in soon and explain what happened.”

Before she could demand answers, the nurse slipped through the curtain. She was alone. Her mind began to clear. Memories one at a time connected. She’d been in the kitchen. Joey had fallen asleep on the sofa as he often did in the late morning, and rather than disturb him, she’d tossed a quilt over him and let him sleep. She’d noticed the May sky, strange clouds that looked threatening. Then she’d remembered her car parked in the driveway with the window down. Why hadn’t she pulled it into the garage?

Before she could act, a powerful wind caught Joey’s wagon. She’d left it outside the door when they came in from their walk. Another dumb thing she’d done. A lawn chair tumbled through her yard, and fearing the wagon would be caught in the squall, she’d dashed outside and grabbed the wagon handle. That was the last she remembered, except for the vague images that followed when she’d awakened on the ground beneath a heavy limb and Joey was in the man’s arms.

Tears edged down her cheeks. She needed to see Joey now. Where was he? Where was the doctor? How long would she have to wait?

* * *

Devon tapped his foot, thinking he should leave but not wanting to. Over an hour had passed, and his earlier exhaustion had returned, leaving his brain fried. The day seemed like a dream, but then so many of those days did. Bad dreams. At least this one had a happy ending.

Joey had become his buddy, and when his aunt Neely had arrived, the boy called her name and opened his arms to her. She scooped him up, her questions to him flying fast.

“Who are you?” she’d asked, her question causing him confusion. Then he remembered he wasn’t in uniform.

“I’m a neighbor a few houses down from your sister’s, but I’m a firefighter. I’d just gotten home from the bad night we’ve had. Everything here was fine until this storm came out of nowhere. The microburst sent everything sailing.”

Joey wiggled free of his aunt’s grasp and raised his arms to him, wanting back on his lap, but he hesitated, wondering if it would upset Ashley’s sister.

Neely’s surprised expression merged with a grin. “You’re his hero...which you truly are. If you hadn’t found Ash, who knows what would have happened.”

“No hero. Just blessed to be there at the right time.” He hesitated before asking his nagging question. “Do you know what’s happening with Ashley?”

She blinked as if surprised. “I thought you knew. They’re setting her leg...with a screw.”

“A screw. That means surgery.”

She nodded. “They’ll let me know when I can see her. She’ll be fine. I know my sister.” She leaned down and kissed Joey’s head. “I am worried about the house, though.” A frown flickered on her face. “Anyone could break in with the window—”

His head hurt. “Sorry. I forgot to tell you the gentleman next door said he had a key and he’d take care of blocking the window. Temporary, but it’ll secure the house.”

“You mean Mr. Wells. Irvin and Peggy. They’re thoughtful neighbors.” A grin stole to her face. “I feel better knowing they’re taking care of it...for now, anyway.”

Gratefulness filled her eyes, and he understood the feeling. Being there to help made him grateful. People helping people. It’s the way God wanted it to be. Again his thoughts snapped back to the scene. How long would she have lain there without help if he hadn’t witnessed the aftermath of the accident?

“Family of Ashley Kern.”

He turned toward the doorway. A surgeon stood in the threshold wearing green scrubs.

Neely bounded from the chair. “Will you hang on to Joey?”

Though she asked the question, she didn’t wait for his response as she rushed to the doorway and followed the surgeon into the hall.

Devon, letting Joey play with his car keys to keep him distracted, prayed everything went well.

In a minute, Neely returned. He waited, expecting to learn the details. Instead, Neely gave a subtle head nod toward Joey. “I can see her now, but I’m not sure if—” she eyed Joey “—they’ll allow him in, so I’ll go alone and see if it’s possible to take him to see her for a minute.” She gave Devon a searching look. “Do you mind staying with Joey?”

First he wanted answers. “I’m happy to, but what’s the diagnosis?”

Her gaze shifted to Joey. “Minor concussion and a closed fracture. The bleeding was a surface wound.”

Devon nodded. “I was afraid it was a compound fracture.”

Her focus shifted to Joey. “I hope they’ll let me take him in for a visit. They’d both feel better.”

He nodded, admitting to himself he’d feel better, too, if he saw her. “Go ahead. I’ll be here.”

She managed a half grin. “Thanks.” Turning her attention again to the child, she patted his head. “I’ll be back in a minute, sweetie. Okay?”

“’Kay.” The response was accompanied with the jingle of Devon’s keys.

Neely hurried away again, and Joey held up the key ring. “Go for a ride to see Mama.”

Devon could barely focus, and he ached everywhere but especially for the boy. “We have to wait, pal. Then maybe you can see her.” He prayed they’d let the toddler into the room even for a moment. The child had been brave throughout the whole mess. He was bright as a star and sweet as sugar—maybe like his mom.

Joey rested his head against his shoulder, and Devon closed his eyes a moment. The feel of the boy in his arms took him back to when his daughter Kaylee was about that size. She loved to cuddle, and he loved snuggling to her, smelling the sweetness of her hair and the scent of innocence. As Joey calmed, stillness settled over Devon. He relaxed his shoulders and took advantage of the silence.

“Devon.”

He jerked his head and stared bleary eyed at Neely. Joey wriggled against him, arising from his sleep. They’d both gone to dreamland, and now he faced Ashley’s sister, embarrassed. “And I’m supposed to be watching this young man.”

She shook her head, a calmer look on her face. “Neither of you needed watching. I didn’t mean to wake you. I know you’ve had a horrible night, but they gave me permission to bring Joey down for a few minutes.” She bent over and hoisted the toddler in her arms. “You’re getting heavy, big boy.”

“I’m a big boy.” He grinned at her, then turned his dimpled smile to Devon.

Devon pressed his back from the chair cushion and roused himself upward. He realized this ended his excuse for sticking around. “I suppose I should go then.”

“Don’t go.” She raised her hand. “Unless you must. Ashley wants to talk with you a minute if you can wait. I won’t be long with him.” She touched Joey’s cheek. “Or if you’re too tired, I can—”

His palm flexed upward to stop her. “No, I’m fine. I’d be happy to stay.”

“Thanks. She’ll appreciate it.” She turned and headed to the door.

He sank into the chair, his heartbeat playing a rhythm against his chest. The sensation threw him. He’d received a thank-you from many people he’d helped during one disaster after another, and he’d never reacted with this kind of anticipation.

He stretched his legs and folded his hands across his empty belly, searching for a logical explanation. The boy. That was it. Joey reminded him of Kaylee. Since she lived with her mother while he had only a few days with her during his off time, he felt cheated. He missed so many firsts and heard about them secondhand.

Divorce was a nightmare, especially when it wasn’t his doing. He’d taken months to sort through his emotions and to understand what happened. No affair. No sensible reason. Gina announced she was depressed and unhappy. She needed a change.

A change. The word ripped through him. Everyone needed a change once in a while, but not one that ended a marriage. He’d been a good husband...he thought. A hard worker. A loving husband and father. He asked what he’d done wrong. She said nothing.

Maybe that was it. He’d done nothing. Perhaps her life wasn’t exciting enough, while his was too exciting fighting fires and saving lives. He even rescued kittens in trees and dogs trapped in sewer pipes. Sleep swooped over him, and he rubbed his eyes. His head spun with weariness, and he needed to forget the past. She’d wanted a divorce, and his crazy forty-eight-hour shifts complicated having physical custody of Kaylee. Instead, regrettably, he settled for visitation.

He drew in air to clear his mind. Going over it again solved nothing. It was the way it was, and he’d learned to enjoy the time he had with his sweet daughter.

Devon rose, smelling the acrid coffee coming from the urn. He took a step toward the pot, but his stomach churned. He dismissed the idea. He needed food. No. He needed sleep.

“She’s ready to see you.”

His pulse skipped hearing Neely’s voice.

She shifted Joey in her arms. “I’m going to take this boy home and give him some food and then off to bed. Thanks so much for all you’ve done. You’ve been more than kind.”

“I’m glad I was there.” Somehow the words meant more to him than they should. He gazed at Joey. “And don’t worry about the house. I’ll check to make sure everything’s safe before I hit the sack.”

She nodded her thanks and gave him directions to Ashley’s room. With another nod, she pivoted, clutching Joey in her arms and heading for the exit.

Devon strode down the hall, his legs pushing him forward, eagerness in his step. Helping a neighbor, anyone, always uplifted him. But the image of her pinned beneath the trunk depleted his breath. Strange. He’d seen those scenarios many times in his career. People hurt, bleeding, dead. Why this reaction? For one thing, he needed sleep. That had to be all it was.

Chapter Two

Ashley longed to throw her legs over the mattress and head home. She missed Joey even though she knew Neely and her dad would wrap their love around him. She worried about other damages that might have happened to the house besides the broken front window. And then, a shattered window meant someone could break in and steal... Steal what? She didn’t have anything worth stealing. Except maybe her computer. That was her most valuable possession.

Well, she could purchase another computer. Photographs, little gifts Adam had given her. Those precious items could never be replaced.

Life was precious. She thanked God her life had been spared. Joey needed her. One parent was better than none. One loving parent was a precious gift to a child. She grinned, recalling while growing up how she had been covered in love by her father.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, a heavier step than the cushioned shoes the nurses wore. Was it him? Neely mentioned his name, but she’d already forgotten. She’d seen him before, mowing his lawn a few houses down the street from hers. She shook her head, recalling that when she’d first opened her foggy eyes, she’d thought he had been an angel. Then she’d focused, noticing the dark bristles on his chin, and calculated angels didn’t have to shave. Before the smile faded, her memory became a reality.

He stood in the doorway, looking hesitant.

“Please, come in.” She motioned to the only chair in the room. “I’m sure you’re tired and want to get out of here.” She lifted her shoulders. “I know I do.”

A grin brightened his face, but as he moved toward the chair, she spotted more than weariness in his eyes. The expression aroused her curiosity. “At least I’m more alert than I was when you found me.” She extended her hand. “Sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”

He grasped her hand and squeezed. “Devon Murphy. I live on Drayton, too, a few—”

“I know. I’ve seen you outside sometimes.” On her walks, she’d admired the neat two-story home of redbrick with muted moss-green trim. She’d envied the second-floor balcony and sometimes imagined what it might be like to sit there on a summer day. She had also admired his toned build and good looks. “Neely told me you’re a firefighter. I couldn’t have had a better person than you to find me.”

He shrugged. “Most anyone would have done the same. I’m grateful I came home later in the morning than usual because of the storm. When I saw Joey crying alone in the yard, I knew something was wrong.”

Her heart gave a kick, envisioning Joey confused and frightened. She shook her head and sent up another prayer of thanksgiving. “I’d left him napping on the sofa...and ran out to save his wagon from being blown down the street and to put my car in the garage. I thought I’d be right back inside.” She motioned toward the chair again. “Please.”

“Things don’t always go as planned.” Finally he dropped onto the vinyl cushion and rested his arms on his knees, his fingers woven together. “I stuck around today for Joey. He’s my new buddy.” He gave her a tired grin. “And to be honest, I wanted to know you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” She searched his eyes, curious if he visited all the people he’d rescued. “The fuzz is gone from my brain at least. Only a minor concussion, but then anesthetic can turn gray matter to mush, too.”

Devon gestured toward her leg beneath the sheet. “And the fracture. I’m sorry about that.”

Her leg was another matter. “I’m alive. It could have been worse.” She recalled her confusion. “To be honest, I thought you were an angel when I first opened my eyes.”

His seriousness fled, and he laughed. “Me. I’d be the one with a tilted halo.”

“The Littlest Angel.” If he really were an angel, she would ask for a miracle healing so she could go home.

Devon’s grin faded. “How long will you be here?”

“I’m not sure. The surgeon talked in circles, but I hope they let me out tomorrow.”

He arched an eyebrow. “That would be a miracle.”

Miracle. He’d read her mind.

“You had a surface wound on your thigh and then surgery to set the lower leg with a screw. They’ll want to keep an eye on you for a while.”

“But...” Tears escaped her eyes and hung on her lashes. She lowered her head, hoping he didn’t notice and wanting to be the brave person she’d learned to be when she lost her husband. Before she could wipe the moisture away, tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Ashley?” He sprang up and stood beside the bed, his hand on her arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I—”

“You were being honest.” She raised her head, ignoring the tears. “I’m Joey’s only parent, and what will he do without me?”

“I’m really sorry.”

His compassion touched her. “Adam died in the Middle East. Afghanistan. He never saw Joey. Never knew his son, and—” The words jammed in her throat. “Sorry. It’s been nearly three years, but it still hurts.”

“I’m sure it does. I can’t imagine.” His face filled with tenderness as a distant look in his eyes assured her that he understood her sorrow.

She swallowed, hoping to control her emotions, and she dug deep for strength. “With a toddler, I was blessed to find work I could do at home—secretarial work for a couple of small businesses. And I have a stack of things they need soon. The job’s been a lifesaver for me. No need to hire someone to care for Joey. Setting my own work schedule.” Schedule. Her sister’s image flew into her mind. “And Neely. I’ve really messed up her wedding.”

Devon’s jaw dropped. “How did you do that?”

She pictured the lovely dress Neely had selected for the attendants. “Her wedding. I’m the matron of honor.” She flung her arm toward her leg. “Can you picture me hobbling down the aisle? I’m supposed to be her hands and eyes. But now, my hands will be on crutches and my eyes focused on not falling over.”

His concerned expression unraveled and he laughed. “I’m sorry, but you have so many other things to worry about. The wedding doesn’t seem like your worst problem. Your sister will love you anyway.”

She narrowed her eyes and shot him a glare. “You don’t understand.”

He drew back, giving her a cockeyed look. “I probably don’t.”

His expression tickled her, and her irritation slipped away. “I...I shouldn’t have taken my self-pity out on you. It’s certainly not your fault.”

A tender look filled his eyes. “When’s the wedding?”

“August. I doubt if I’ll be—”

“Think positively. You never know. You could be dancing at the wedding. That’s more than two months away.”

She shrugged. “I hope. But I can’t help think of all the wedding plans I’m supposed to help with...and Joey. Now here I am in the hospital.”

“One day at a time.” He looked uneasy. “You have Neely’s help, and I’m sure—”

“And my dad. He’s so good with Joey, but he has things to do.” She felt foolish with her uncontrolled emotions as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I just want to go home.”

Devon drew a tissue from the box on her tray table and wiped away the moisture. “I know you do, and you will soon enough. Getting around on crutches will be the trick.”

“I can do it. If I can lift that boy of mine, I can handle a crutch.”

He chuckled again. “He is a heavyweight.” He dropped the tissue into the paper receptacle taped to the tray table. “And if either your sister or your dad needs help with Joey, I’ll be happy to entertain him for a few hours when I can. I work forty-eights hours on and forty-eight hours off with an occasional Kelly Day thrown in.”

“Kelly Day? What’s that? An Irish holiday?”

“No holiday or relationship to my Irish surname. Since we aren’t paid overtime, we receive extra days off so our workweek meets the Fair Labor laws. A myth says the surname Kelly came from the Chicago mayor who revamped the firefighters’ schedule and improved their wages and benefits.”

Seeing his grin, she realized he was even more handsome than she remembered. She tried to shift her leg so she could roll to her side, but as always the bandage and ache waylaid her. She appreciated how Devon’s playfulness distracted her from her worries even for a little while.

He stood above her, his hand returning to her arm. The warmth rushed to her heart for his kindness. “I’m going to leave and get some shut-eye, and I hope you get well fast and can get home soon.”

Ashley pressed her hand against his. “Before you leave, I want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. You’re an A-1 example of a good neighbor. I’ll be forever grateful.”

“Just get well.” He straightened and gave her a wink. “See you soon.”

She lifted her hand in a feeble wave, hoping she would see him soon. It sounded nice. But as his broad shoulders swept through the doorway, the familiar guilt came back. Even when she tried to reason with herself, her late husband, Adam, filled her mind. She felt as if she were cheating on him when she enjoyed another man’s company. One day the feeling might pass... Would pass, but for now, she couldn’t shake it off.

She feared that having a male friend would crush the new life she’d built for herself and Joey. She’d learned to stand on her own, to be strong and determined. On the other hand, Devon made her smile, and his kindness couldn’t be measured. He was an angel in a way, but friendships with the opposite sex, though aimed at being platonic, often led to romance. Months earlier she’d talked herself into a relationship that turned into a disaster. She’d been overconfident he was the real thing. She’d been duped. Even Neely’s warning had flown over her head, but her sister had been right. The guy proved to be a lustful drunk, a real snake in the grass.

Enough of him. She blotted him from her thoughts and replaced him with Devon’s kind face. He had these mahogany eyes, canopied by straight eyebrows. His lips curved to an amazing smile that made her smile back. If she ever fell in love again, Devon would be the kind of man she would want. He reflected the wonderful attributes she’d loved in Adam.

But Devon had one huge strike against him. She would never align herself with a man whose career put him in danger every day. Adam had been a soldier. Devon, a firefighter. Both careers screamed danger. She wouldn’t do that to herself. Not again. Ever.

* * *

The red digital numbers pierced his vision and Devon closed his eyelids again. A three-hour nap was all he’d had and even that had been restless. Each time he woke, he relived hearing Joey’s cries earlier in the day and finding Ashley under the tree. Too often, the images intruded. He wasn’t alone. Every firefighter dealt with the same horrible recollections.

At least he’d done as he promised. When he’d pulled into his driveway from the hospital, he’d checked Ashley’s window. As Mr. Wells had promised, he’d patched it with pieces of plywood that had seen better days, but it worked. Still the window required repairing, and the tree needed to be cut and removed. When Ashley came home, he didn’t want those problems hanging over her.

He slipped his arm beneath his head and gazed at the ceiling. Even there he could see Ashley beneath the tree. At the hospital when he saw her after the surgery, he’d been blown away by her beautiful eyes, wide-set and as brown as dark chocolate, and arched by brows as sculpted as a bird’s wings.

Knowing sleep evaded him, he slipped his legs over the edge of the bed, stretched his arms to the ceiling and dragged air into his aching chest. The short nap would suffice. Dusk hung outside the window. He glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty. Daylight savings time had given him an extra hour of light.

He ambled into the kitchen, filled the coffeemaker and stared into space. Though needing to eat, he wasn’t interested in food. Instead, he wondered how Joey was faring and if Ashley had rested after they’d said goodbye earlier. She needed rest since they would have her up soon for physical therapy. She would learn to use crutches, to walk up the stairs and move around on her own. When she mastered the undertakings and healed to the physician’s satisfaction, the reward would be to return home. That was what she wanted, and her drive guaranteed Ashley would do all she could to make it happen. He’d already recognized her staunch character, her determination.

Grateful for the day, he wanted to see what he could do to help with Ashley’s house. His own place needed dusting and vacuuming, maybe a load of laundry, but Ashley’s home needed more. His own tasks could wait.

The coffee’s gurgle roused him. He filled a mug with the pungent brew and pulled out his cell phone before settling at the kitchen table. He searched the call log, spotted Neely’s number and hit it. As it rang, he reviewed what he could do to help. After three rings, he raised his finger to end the call. Instead, a man answered. Question sounded in his voice.

“Hi, I’m the firefighter who found Ashley this morning. Is this her sister’s number?”

“Devon. That’s your name, right?” His tone became friendly. “Thanks for your help. We’re grateful.”

He assumed the voice belonged to Neely’s fiancé. “No need to thank me. I was at the right place at the right time.” He paused. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m a bit forgetful.” He chuckled. “I’m Fred Andrews, Neely’s dad. I’m glad you called. You were a hit with Joey.”

“He made a hit with me.” Devon chuckled. “He’s an amazing kid. So smart.”

“He is. You can tell I’m a proud grandpa.” His voice muffled a moment. “Hang on. Neely wants to say something.”

A rustle of noise was broken by Neely’s greeting. “I’ve talked to Ash, and I thought you’d want to know she’s doing okay. She slept after we left, and she’s a fighter. She’ll get out of there as fast as she can. Meanwhile, we’ll be with Joey. My dad’s available to help, and if he’s busy, I can take time off work. Jon, my fiancé, would take a day, too.”

His disappointment surprised him. “No other problems then?”

“Well...” She drew out the word. “Now that you ask, the house is another issue, and—”

“That’s why I called.” His disappointment faded. “I’ll be happy to pitch in where I can. I don’t have a key, but if you trust me, maybe—”

“Trust you.” She sputtered the words with a chuckle. “Goodness, you’re more than trustworthy. But I don’t want to take advantage—”

“I’m volunteering. I have a couple of days off, so I can help. I know a guy who cuts trees—unless you have someone in mind—and I know another guy who can replace the window. I can give him a call about the situation if you’d like.”

“Like? It’s perfect, and by the way, I called the insurance company so they know what happened. So, if you’re willing...” She covered the mouthpiece a moment and then returned. “How about this? Jon just arrived. He can meet you at the house in ten minutes and give you the key. Will that work?”

“Sure does. I’ll watch for his car.”

“It’s light beige.”

“Got it.” When he hung up, he rose and dug into the refrigerator. He pulled out bread and slapped salami and pepper jack cheese between the slices. Dinner with no fuss. With a refill on coffee, he walked to the living room window and waited.

His interest in the project boggled him. Dealing with injured people and property damage was a daily event, and he tried to harden himself to it. Otherwise it would eat him raw.

But today he’d experienced a sense of mission, almost as if he had been called to serve in a special way. It had to be the boy. Kids could twist hearts around their tiny fingers. He’d been twisted already when he’d looked at the little boy’s face.

His daughter, Kaylee, filled his thoughts again. He should have picked her up today, but her mother had called and asked him to skip the visitation this week. She’d sounded different—slow and calculated. He shouldn’t have agreed, but she riled easily. To keep peace, he’d agreed to the change. He’d do anything to avoid arguing. He would see Kaylee on his next days off, but he still didn’t like it.

When headlights reflected on the road, he chomped down the final hunk of sandwich. Though the night darkened by the minute, he could make out a light-colored SUV. He swallowed the last of the coffee, set the mug on the lamp table and stepped outside.

The vehicle pulled in front of Ashley’s house, and as Devon neared, Jon slipped from the driver’s seat. The man stood tall with broad shoulders and a shock of dark hair.

Devon crossed the street and greeted him in the driveway.

Jon dug into his pocket and dangled a single key from a key ring. “This is kind of you.”

“I’m happy to help. I know Ashley is a single mom, and—”

Jon dropped his gaze. “She’s been through too much. This kind of thing doesn’t help.”

Not seeing Kaylee today arose in his thoughts. “It doesn’t.” But he’d admired Ashley’s bravery from the moment they’d met. Questions filled Devon’s mind, but he resisted and he hadn’t needed to.

Jon released a long sigh. “Adam was a great guy. Kind, loving, faith-filled. He would have been a model dad.” Sadness filled his eyes. “He never had a chance. I know that made it more difficult for Ashley. But she only grew stronger. Instead of falling apart, she threw her energy into raising Joey.” Pride replaced his sorrow. “The boy’s bright like his daddy—not to say Ashley isn’t smart—but Adam had something special. I think his son has it, too.”

Devon coughed to cover his unexpected emotion and changed the subject. “I’ll make those calls I mentioned to Neely, or if you—”

“Yes, thanks. If you’ll get estimates, I’ll call her insurance company for approval to proceed.” Jon extended his hand.

Devon grasped it. “Good plan. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

Jon clasped his shoulder. “Thanks again.” Jon shook his hand again and turned down the driveway to his vehicle.

Devon waited until he pulled away, and though temptation to go inside lured him, he didn’t. When he was wound up, his body kicked into endurance mode, and the sleep he needed might never come. Tomorrow made more sense. With that settled, he headed home. Maybe if he tried to read or watch a movie, he’d drift off in his recliner. That seemed to happen when he didn’t want to sleep. Maybe tonight it would work in his favor.

* * *

Devon turned the key in the lock and pushed open the side door. Even though he had permission, walking into someone’s house when they weren’t home gave him the creeps. He wondered if burglars felt the same way. He took the two steps into the kitchen. A carton of milk sat on the countertop and a loaf of bread stood nearby. Ashley said she’d been in the kitchen when everything happened. He poured out the milk and tossed the carton into a trash can he found beneath the sink. He added “buy milk” to his task list.

He passed through a small dining area into the living room and faced the boarded window. A lamp lay on the floor beside a toppled side table. Across the carpet, glass shards glittered in the daylight from a side window. He righted the table, moving it away from the glass, and surveyed the lamp. No damage. The contents of a candy dish lay scattered nearby. He turned over the dish and replaced the wrapped candies, then set the bowl on the table. A photograph lay facedown. When he lifted it, his heart lurched. A good-looking young man, wearing his Class A uniform, blond hair showing beneath his cap. Adam. He’d been right about Joey’s hair color, and now he noticed the similar jawline. A father who had never seen his son.

Though he’d learned to control his emotions, pressure pushed behind Devon’s eyes. He closed them and set the photo on the table, refusing to weaken. A crying firefighter was useless, but hardening his heart was tough.

He walked into the kitchen, and near the backdoor where he’d seen stairs to the basement, he found a small broom closet. He opened it. No vacuum cleaner. He followed his instincts deeper into the house and located another closet, mainly linens with a small space to squeeze the Hoover. He pushed it into the living room, plugged it in and stepped on the button. The machine’s hum filled the silence as he worked it back and forth. When the carpet looked free of glass, he attached an edge tool and inched it along the space close to the wall. Joey played on the floor, he was sure, and he didn’t want the boy to get cut.

Standing back, he surveyed the window. Though difficult to measure, he pulled the measure tape from his pocket and did his best to estimate the size in each direction, one large window and two smaller panes. He’d let the expert worry about accurate measurements.

Devon made the two calls before he left the house. Both men promised to call back and come by today as soon as they could, so all he had to do was wait.

After returning the vacuum cleaner to the closet, he passed another row of photographs sitting on a small buffet in the dining room. He walked closer, his stomach tightening. Ashley and Adam’s wedding photo wrenched his heart. Two smiling faces beamed into the camera, their arms entwined, a bouquet of white orchids tinged in pink, dark green vines twining between pink rosebuds. A lump formed in his throat, and at that moment, he realized the tears were for himself.

His marriage had ended more strangely than he could ever understand. He and Gina had never argued other than the typical little squabbles all couples had. They’d been in love...he’d thought. When he tried to sort it out, the only clue he found came after her pregnancy. She called it postpartum depression. He’d known of the illness, but had no idea the stress it would add to their lives. Days came when she didn’t want to get out of bed. She had lost interest in everything. Her mood swung from anger to withdrawn silence. Even toward Kaylee. Because of his work schedule, she suggested living with her sister who could help her. He watched her go, but he’d tried everything to bring her home. Instead of getting better, she became worse.

The memories tore through him, weighting his chest and curdling his stomach. He loved his daughter. He’d loved Gina, but the love had died. She’d become a woman he no longer knew. He’d failed her. Even prayers and pleading with God had reaped no answer, and finally he stopped, sensing that her choice was God’s will. Had he been wrong to think it had been the Lord’s decision? He still had no answer to the question.

Thinking of her call, he’d heard a new desperation in her voice. Something prodded him to call her and demand Kaylee today. He could fight for custody. He turned his eyes to the one window open, which added light to the room. As he looked at the blurred scenery, tears rolled down his cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his hand, frustrated that he’d allowed himself to succumb to self-pity.

Or was it really pity? Love for his daughter burned in his heart.

He forced himself away from the photographs, not liking the feelings they’d exposed. He scanned the other rooms. Everything looked in order, a few things here and there like any home. Ashley hadn’t planned an injury and days in the hospital when she walked out the side door to move her car and salvage Joey’s wagon.

Joey. The child would need clothes if he stayed with Neely, and he had the key. He’d call and return it. As the situations organized in his mind, a noise alerted him. He glanced out the front door and saw the window repairman. Once he was gone, he’d leave for the store to pick up milk. Or maybe he’d wait until he learned Ashley’s release date.

With Ashley on his mind, he opened the door for the window installer and led him to the living room. While he watched the man work, he reviewed the thoughts skittering through his mind. He wanted to get to know Ashley better. A lady friend sounded nice. A sweet sensation rolled through his chest, but for now, he could only handle friendship.

He had offered his babysitting services to Neely again, thinking about Kaylee and Joey playing together, but the bonus to his plan offered him a chance to bond with Ashley. He liked her. A lot. Though Kaylee was almost a year older, Joey’s skills for a three-year-old equaled hers, he was sure. They would get along fine.

But what if they didn’t? That could be the end of his plan.

Chapter Three

Ashley closed her eyes, willing away the ache in her arms. She’d hoisted Joey so many times, but lifting her own weight on crutches brought about a whole different challenge. She caught herself more than once forgetting to keep the weight off her left leg.

“One more time.”

The therapist’s command struck her again, and she wanted to rebel at his insistence even though she knew the therapy was good for her. When she could walk with the crutches, she could go home.

Home. She’d missed her place so much. She’d survived Adam’s death. This setback should have been nothing more than a bump in her life. Instead, she’d allowed it to become a dunghill.

Shame swept over her. Strength. Courage. Faith. Those attributes had been her stronghold. Where were they now?

“Ashley. If you want to go home, you—”

“I know. If I want to go home, I have to maneuver stairs. I know. I know.” The tone of her voice sickened her.

“Good. So maneuver them.”

His cocky comment grated on her patience, but his job consisted of being firm, being supportive and teaching her to walk with crutches. He’d tried firm and supportive. All she’d left for him to use was sarcasm.

She lowered her forehead to her forearm and brushed the perspiration away from her eyes. The stairs took effort and balance. She could do it.

One step at a time, Ashley made her way to the top and back down the other side. “There. How’s that?”

“Good. Take a minute and then do it again.” His eyes captured hers, and her frustration subsided.

Compassion. The emotion slipped through her, and she wished she’d not taken her defeated feeling out on him. Without another comment, she moved forward, working her way up and down each step, one at a time.

“Good job.” He gave her shoulder a pat. “You’re finished for today. In fact, I think you could go home tomorrow.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

“Your surgeon makes the final decision, but I’ll recommend it. I think you’re ready.”

After four days she was ready. Tomorrow seemed a lifetime, but her gratefulness swelled. “Thank you, and I’m sorry for—”

He put his thick finger to his lips. “Shh. No apologies. I’ve heard much worse. I’ve been called names, hit with a crutch—”

“I hope you’re kidding.”

“Nope. Fact.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Ashley, be patient with yourself. It won’t be easy, and I know you have a toddler at home who you need to care for. Just be careful. No fast moves. Ask for help when you need it, and allow people to be there for you.”

He knew her better than she realized. “I’ll remember.”

She slipped into the wheelchair, and he gave her an agreeable nod before turning to his next patient. While she waited for an escort to take her to her room, she reviewed what he’d said. Her family had been at her beck and call for so long. They adored Joey, and Adam’s death had cut off a slice of their lives, too, but she did find it difficult to ask for help sometimes. Even Devon, her firefighter hero, had stepped into her life, and though she enjoyed talking to him, her discomfort grew, feeling the old guilt as if she shouldn’t enjoy another man’s company.

“Ready?”

Her head jerked upward, hearing the escort. She managed a smile, and he turned her around and wheeled her back to her room.

Once in bed, she had him prop her pillows so she could sit up and come alive. Her leg ached. Her arms ached. Her head ached. A pill could resolve those issues, but her other problems, ones she didn’t understand, couldn’t be settled with a pill. She closed her eyes, and Joey filled her mind. He missed her, and she missed him. Terribly. Neely’s visit came with stories of his antics. Her father visited and relayed the cute things Joey did when they spent time together. Though she loved hearing their stories, they brought envy. No one should have fun with her son unless she was there to enjoy it.

Foolish, but that was how her mind worked most days.

One other person permeated her quiet moments. Devon. Despite her confusion with guilt and loneliness, she had been unable to control the longing she felt to see him again. Four days had passed with no word from him. Though it made no sense, she felt abandoned. He’d spent the day of her accident waiting in the hospital to make sure she would be okay. He cared for Joey while Neely visited and stuck around to talk with her. That was it.

What did she expect? The answer evaded her. When possibilities slipped into her mind, she chased them away. Getting involved with anyone again—anyone of the opposite sex—would take preparation and contemplation. She’d been duped by her former boyfriend and never wanted that to happen again.

Devon’s image drove Erik from her thoughts. The firefighter had been a concerned neighbor. A gentleman with every meaning of the word. Thinking about a man who had become her hero was senseless, especially a man whose career had “no involvement” written all over it.

She eyed the wall clock. Time for lunch, then one more night in the hospital. Devon’s image faded, replaced by her sweet son’s face. The image made her grin. Tomorrow. She’d be home.

* * *

Devon surveyed the oncoming crew standing around the firehouse apparatus room. “I think that’s it. After the last storm, I know we were grateful for the calm evening last night other than Mrs. Benson’s falling over her dog again.” He grinned. Everyone knew the sweet but lonely lady used every excuse in the book to call firefighters to her home for a few minutes of conversation. The call also meant playing with her dog. She and the mutt loved the attention. “Any questions?”

No one responded except for a couple of murmured comments about dear Mrs. Benson and her dog. He stifled a yawn. “Okay, then. Time for you to work and for us to go home.” He grinned, and when he spun around, he rammed into Clint Donatelli. “Sorry, pal. My radar’s out of whack.” He grinned, too tired to make sense.

“My fault.” Clint gave him a pat on the back. “Where you headed in such a hurry?”

“To bed.” Devon rubbed his eyes with his knuckle. “But I can only sleep a few hours. I’m picking up Kaylee from preschool this afternoon.” He eyed his uniform. “I need to change and be on my way. I thought I’d stop at the hosp—” Why had he said that aloud? He didn’t need questions.

A frown shot to Clint’s face “Is it your mom? I hope she’s not ill.”

“No, Mom’s fine. It’s the... Just a friend.” He squirmed at Clint’s telling expression, one eye squinting, the other boosting a raised eyebrow.

“Hmm? Could it be a visit with the young woman who was trapped under that tree.” Clint’s squint segued to a wink.

Devon shrugged. “Okay. Yes. She’s a neighbor, and I—”

“If I remember, an attractive neighbor enthralled by the brave firefighter who—”

Devon gave him a poke. “Ever hear of compassion? The woman’s stuck in the hospital, missing her three-year-old son who’s staying with relatives and probably confused.”

Clint wrapped his arm around Devon’s shoulders and gave them a shake. “Just razzing you, Dev. You know me, an old man who wished he had someone to go home to.”

An unwanted ache slithered through Devon’s mind. He’d had similar thoughts more than he wanted to admit. He let Clint’s comment slide. “You’re not old.” Clint was a few years older than his own thirty-three years. “You’re seasoned.”

“My hair is for sure. Salt and pepper.” Clint flashed a grin and ran his fingers through his thick, wavy hair.

Devon gave him a nod. “Salt and pepper looks good on you. But you’re right, Clint. I’m afraid the stress is too much for some wives. I have membership in the club no one wants to belong to—divorced men.” After the words slipped out, he wished he could take them back.

“Right, and a club where you paid your dues. But at least you had a wife once. She accepted your work enough to marry you.”

The comment reminded him of Clint’s fiancée walking out on him. “That was a bad situation for you, and I really don’t understand why she waited so long to decide she couldn’t handle your profession.”

“I never understood it either, so I decided no wife is better than being walked out on.”

The unintentional blow struck Devon.

“Hey, pal, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that about you.” Clint rested his hand on Devon’s shoulder. “Anyway, you have a bonus from your marriage. The joy of being a father.”

The bonus comment caused Devon to grin. “True.” Kaylee had become his greatest joy. “We both have to face the truth. Neither of us is about to change professions. I love my work. Dangerous yes, but fulfilling.” He shrugged. “I suppose it’s difficult for some people to understand unless they feel the passion we do about saving lives and property.”

“It’s not you or me, Dev. It takes a special kind of woman to understand.” Clint stared into the distance. “But where are they?”

Devon looked down at his work boots. “You know, sometimes I think about my marriage and wonder what I could have done to make a difference in the outcome. The Lord has a purpose for each of us, and I can’t imagine divorce is one of His choices. But it happened.” He shrugged. “I keep thinking anyway.”

Clint shook his head. “We all question what we did wrong. Maybe I didn’t give enough when I was with my fiancée. Maybe...” He lifted his shoulders and released a lengthy breath. “Maybe I’ll never know, but I’d like to think I can be a good husband if I had a chance.”

Devon nodded. “I’m with you. I hope one day I’ll have another chance.” He chuckled and laid his palm on Clint’s shoulder. “Maybe one day when I’m an old geezer like you.”

“Then you think I still have a chance.” His grin lightened the conversation.

“I sure do. You’d make any woman a good husband even if you are a firefighter. Wait and see.”

Devon strode to his locker and stepped out of his work gear into his street clothes, but his mind jumped back to the more serious side of their conversation. He’d asked himself many questions after Gina moved in with her sister. “For a while” was how she’d framed it. Worried about her depression and whether she could care for their new daughter, the option seemed the best at the time. But no matter how he sorted it out now, he’d let her down. Now he wondered if love would ever come his way again and if he would ever find someone who could deal with his career.

Clint was right. Only a special woman could grasp how much the job meant to firefighters.

As Devon headed for the exit, his purported plans for the day returned to mind—sleep and stop by the hospital on the way to pick up Kaylee.

He rubbed his forehead, searching for an answer to the question that had just flown into his head. Why visit the hospital? Ashley had enough problems in her life. She wouldn’t be that special woman for him, but she was a neighbor, and a special neighbor since he’d come to her rescue a few days earlier.

He could sleep longer if he crossed the hospital off his list. That’s what he should do. Why complicate his life?

* * *

Since hearing she could go home tomorrow, Ashley couldn’t stop her right knee from jiggling, as if the movement would make the time move faster. The clock hands lumbered around the face, seeming as weighted as her left leg, bound in bandages.

Her crutches leaned against the wall. She’d gotten up twice, once to use the bathroom and again to step into the hallway for a short walk with a nurse’s assistant. But those short trips disappointed her. She’d hoped that with therapy she would gain strength. Today she felt weaker than usual.

And Joey. She could think of no way to lift him into bed or into his booster seat. How could she do it with crutches and a leg that couldn’t bear weight? Her frustration edged on self-pity, and she knew it. Pulling her focus from the wall clock, she studied the crutches. Determination spurred her on, and she slipped from the bed, balancing on her right foot, and leaned toward the crutches. Her left foot hit the floor and pain shot up her leg in a deep throb.

She sank back onto the mattress, tears burning her eyes. Everyone had stressed the importance of staying off the leg until the surgeon deemed it weight bearing. Stupid to get up by herself. Her confidence sank and frustration took its place.

Self-pity. Defeat. Emotions she refused to succumb to. She drew up her shoulders and, using her arms, shifted closer to the wall. This time she dropped to the floor, keeping her left leg safe, and grasped the crutches. “Did it.” Her voice surprised her.

Tucking the support under her arms, she tested her weight against the underarm pads and took a step. Determination returned. If she were to manage alone, she needed strength and mobility.

She stepped forward on her right leg and swung the left, trying to forget the ache in her arms.

“Look what we have here.”

Her pulse surged as she looked up. “Devon, I didn’t expect to see you.”

Like a searchlight, a frown swung across his face. “I hadn’t planned to come.” His expression read surprise. “But I pass this way to pick up Kaylee from preschool so—”

“She’s your daughter.”

“Yes. Kaylee’s four...almost five, she’ll tell you, but that’s a long way off.” He grinned. “Kindergarten soon. I can’t believe it.”

The grin faded and sadness registered in his expression, and she sensed he harbored a deep wound. “I’ve seen her playing in the yard once in a while.” But she’d never seen a woman.

He nodded as he eyed his watch. “To be honest, my car just swung into the parking lot.”

The image of his car pulling into the parking lot against his will might have caused her to chuckle or roll her eyes, but not today. His unexpected visit surprised her and seemed to surprise him, too.

He fell silent again, and she had so much she wanted to know. She knew better than to push, and judging from his expression, something seemed to be on Devon’s mind.

His distant look faded. “Since I’m here...” He grinned. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.” She’d started to say fine, but that wasn’t the truth.

“It’s great to see you standing.” He stepped deeper into the room. “Any good news?”

“I’m going home tomorrow.” Home sounded wonderful, but the pressure of the pads beneath her arm took away the sweetness.

“Home’s good. I’m happy for you.” A cute grin appeared on his clean-shaven face.

Funny, she kind of missed that rugged look that fitted his strong features. She pulled her gaze away and swung the right crutch upward. “This isn’t easy.”

“They take getting used to, I hear. And they’re not convenient, but the more you practice the better off you’ll be.” He closed the distance. “Can I help?”

His question confused her a moment until the meaning struck her. “You mean, walk with me?”

He eyed his watch again. “Why not. I have a few minutes, and if anything happens, I’ll be there.”

Warmth spread through her chest. His offer reminded her of Adam. He’d always wanted to help her, and when she worried about something, he reminded her that if anything happened, he’d be there. Emptiness weighted her chest. Then she looked into Devon’s smiling eyes. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on your offer.”

She made her way to the door while Devon shifted obstacles from her path and stayed as close as he could without tripping over her crutches. The polished hospital floor looked slippery, but the rubber tips of the crutches held fast, and having Devon beside her helped. She never trusted the nurse assistants who ambled beside her. Most weren’t any bigger than she was.

She remained silent, making her way down the first hallway, her mind focused on protecting her left leg and the step-swing pattern of her movement. Devon’s thoughts were somewhere, too. “Thinking about your daughter?”

He looked surprised at her question. “Always.”

Ignoring his reticence, she charged ahead. “I can’t even imagine having to share Joey with someone. I’d feel the same even with his father if we were living separately.” She couldn’t imagine that ever happening between Adam and her. “I’ve been feeling twinges of envy that Neely and my dad see Joey every day, and I don’t.” She released a stream of air. “I suppose I could visit with him in the waiting room, but...” She pictured him clinging to her and crying when he had to leave. She couldn’t bear it. “I think it would be harder on both of us.”

“Tomorrow you’ll be home. Everything will be good then.”

She hoped. Life would be difficult until she could walk like a normal person. “I hope. I’ll need patience until I can dump these crutches.”

“Time will fly.”

He fell silent. So did she, trying to figure out what happened to change him today. Though he grinned a couple of times, his face looked tense. She expected him to tell her more about Kaylee, maybe Kaylee’s mother, but he didn’t. She dug for conversation. “Neely said you were helpful getting my house back in order. I can’t thank you enough.”

“No need. If I’d had a problem like this, I’d like to think someone would be there for me.”

Ashley couldn’t imagine him without people wanting to help. The man was a giver. “You can count on me, Devon.” The offer sailed from her without thinking. How could she provide help? Sometimes she didn’t have enough wherewithal to help herself.

“Thanks. One day I may take you up on it.” Instead of a grin, he withdrew again.

Her underarms ached with the pressure of her weight, and she questioned how long it would take to get used to it. Silence hung thick again while her mind slid back to his reference to Kaylee. His reticence to talk about his daughter confused her. A caring man had to be a loving father. That seemed logical. She always talked about Joey. She paused, realizing she’d said more to Devon about her life than she did with other strangers.

She wasn’t ready to give up yet. “How long will Kaylee be with you?”

His step slowed, almost a pause in movement. She wished she would learn to keep her mouth shut. She could only guess the situation with Kaylee—perhaps her mother—bothered him.

Devon finally looked her way. “Not long enough.” His tender tone answered her question.

“I understand. My envy that my family are with Joey while I can’t be is ridiculous. But that’s what I feel. You must feel the same.” She feared she’d overstepped the line of privacy. She needed to back off.

“Your room is close. Ready to go back?”

Her heart sank. Now she’d scared him away. “Yes, and thanks for walking with me. I trusted you would catch me if I stumbled.”

He didn’t respond. When they reached her doorway, she expected him to say goodbye.

But he didn’t. Instead, he followed her into the room and waited as she eased onto the hospital bed. When she’d gotten settled, he set her crutches against the wall beside her and motioned to the chair. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” The man confused her.

He sank onto the chair and sat a moment, staring at the floor, before he looked at her. “I don’t like to talk about myself. Firefighters are supposed to be strong. We save people, so it’s not easy to admit—”

“You’re not alone, Devon. I don’t want to admit where I fail.”

“Then you understand, but the difference is you did when you talked about your envy.”

“I know, and it surprised me.” She worked to get her thoughts in order. No more comments that would upset him. “I don’t talk about personal things unless it’s with someone I’m close to. Neely, for example.” But she’d talked with him. Air drained from her lungs. She gathered her wits. “But you can’t shut me up when it comes to Joey.”

“Sometimes it hurts.”

Ashley longed to know why. Her eyes searched his. “Take a chance. Tell me about Kaylee.”

A grin stole to his face. “She’s the sweetest little girl in the world. Her mother has had problems that I couldn’t help with. I suppose that bothers me more than I admit. Gina—Kaylee’s mother—needed someone available twenty-four hours a day. My job doesn’t allow that. She had my thoughts and prayers but not my physical presence. I couldn’t—”

“Couldn’t, not because you didn’t want to. You couldn’t be there because you had a community that needed you available and alert. You were in a can’t-win situation.”

He released a sigh and leaned back against the cushion. “You really do understand.”

Adam had been in the same spot. He’d wanted to be with her and Joey, but he’d had a job to do. He’d needed focus and devotion to the military. She understood. Liking it was another thing. She managed a pleasant look and a nod.

“I don’t want to talk about Gina, and when I think of Kaylee, her mother comes to mind. I’m still confused.” He looked away. “So I don’t say much about her, but Kaylee’s another story. Maybe you could meet her one day.” His face brightened for the first time.

“I’d love to meet her. Our neighborhood doesn’t have many children living nearby, so maybe she and Joey could—”

“I thought about that.”

She studied his face. “Joey’s younger and she might—”

“Joey’s bright and verbal. Age doesn’t mean a thing in his case. And anyway, she’ll love to have someone to play with—” he chuckled ‟—although a girl would be her preference.” He looked heavenward. “Her preference now. When she’s older, she’ll probably like boys more than I want her to.”

Ashley couldn’t help but laugh.

Devon stood and smiled. “On that pleasant note, I’d better get to the school or I’ll be late.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. “If I can be of any help, Ashley, let me know. I’m right down the street. I know your first couple of days will be a learning curve for you, but you’re a strong woman. I saw that the day I met you. You can do it.” He took a step toward her, then faltered and stepped away. “Tomorrow will be here before you know it.”

He gave a wave and strode through the door. In the hallway, he paused and waved again.

Before she could respond, he was gone.

An empty feeling swept over her. Concern followed. Devon caused a rush of emotion she hadn’t felt in a long time. When Erik appeared in her life, he’d become a novelty, a test run, of being with a man who wasn’t Adam. Once again her determination had taken over, and she had wanted to prove to herself and others that she could date and find the man of her dreams. But that dream ended in a nightmare.

Then she faced reality. She needed to think clearly. Why get involved with someone who could never be that special person. Friendship sounded great, but could she monitor the desire to feel complete and whole again. Would she rush a relationship into something else like romance and thoughts of marriage?

Concern rattled her spine. She’d already compared Devon to Adam’s wonderful qualities. Comparisons triggered danger, not because of the attributes they shared, but after losing Adam, she wanted a man with a safe job, a business career, anything behind a desk—nine-to-five hours, occasional overtime maybe—but a man who came home from work at night. Not one who lived with danger every moment.

She wanted friendships, someone she could bond with and care about, but without getting romantically involved. Devon’s full life didn’t leave room for romance, either. Kaylee, his broken marriage, a demanding career. Maybe that could provide a buffer between them.

Her concern lightened. Having someone close who liked Joey and her would be nice. Their kids could play together. Giving it a chance made sense.

But could they remain just friends? The answer shivered down her back. If she perceived the friendship deepening to more than a platonic relationship, she knew what she had to do.

She’d say goodbye.

Chapter Four

Devon gazed out the window toward Ashley’s house for the third time that morning. He ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. He turned away, amazed at his preoccupation with her arrival home from the hospital. He’d done everything he could. He’d purchased the milk, overseen the window repair and called Neely to let her know the cost of the tree removal. Jon had dropped off the money so he could pay the guy. The house was ready.

“Kaylee?” He listened but heard no response. “Are you hungry? Ready for lunch?” His gaze drifted back to the window when he heard a car passing on the street. A red truck. He shook his head. “Kaylee?”

His concern changed from the window to his daughter. He headed down the hall to the staircase and called again. This time he heard a clump. In a moment, Kaylee appeared at the head of the stairs.

“What?”

“That’s my question. What are you doing?”

She shrugged.

The shrug was accompanied by a guilty look, and instead of asking, he climbed the stairs and took a few steps from the landing. “Are you hungry?”

She nodded and slipped past him, her foot on the first stair.

Devon reached out and put his arm around her shoulder. “Hold on.”

She stood in place without looking at him.

His mind flew from one possibility to the other. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

Nothing didn’t cause her reaction. “Show me?” His worst thought was playing with matches. She’d never done that, and he only had a couple boxes in the house for lighting candles.

She dragged along beside him, and when he stepped into the room, he stopped inside the door. His fear washed away, replaced by sadness. A photo album lay open on the floor, an album he knew held memories of happier days. Gina’s pregnancy and early pictures of Kaylee. “You’re looking at old pictures.”

He knew she’d gotten them from a bookshelf in his bedroom, and he ventured her guilt was being in his room without asking. Reprimanding her wasn’t his priority. His greatest concern was the awareness that their separated lives today bothered her as much as it did him. She wasn’t even five, and he hadn’t considered how much the divorce may have affected her.

Devon picked up the album and set it on her bed, then lifted her and placed her beside it. He joined her and opened the cover. “Did you enjoy the pictures?”

She nodded and looked at him for the first time, almost as if she was surprised he hadn’t been upset with her. When she looked back at the album, she turned a couple of pages and pointed. “Was that me?”

Her finger rested on the photo of Gina with her belly protruding beneath a light green blouse.

He chuckled. “It sure was. You arrived about a month later, and let us know you were happy to be in the world.”

“I did?” Her gaze shot to his. “Did I talk?”

“Nope. You let out a howl. A happy howl.”

Kaylee giggled and turned a few more pages. “And this was me when I was a baby.”

Devon lowered his gaze to the row of photographs, close-ups of Kaylee encircled in a pink blanket, Kaylee in his arms and one in her mother’s arms. Those days wrapped around him with good memories that had faded into despair as time passed.

Weighted with the recollections, he enfolded Kaylee in his arms and lifted her into his lap. “We can take the pictures downstairs, okay?”

A faint smile curved her lips. “I shouldn’t go into your bedroom unless I ask.” She tilted her head.

He fought back a grin. “Right.” He rose with her in his arms and hoisted her into a safe one-armed position before grabbing the album. “And now, how about lunch?”

“Pizza.”

This time he chuckled without restraint. “Not pizza, but something as good. Grilled cheese.”

“Yummy.” She ran her tongue over her lips, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, precious.” And she was. He held her close as he traversed the stairs and headed into the kitchen. He lowered her to the floor, and when he did, she hurried to the refrigerator and opened the door. “Can I have milk?”

“Sure can.” He set the album on a chair and pulled a glass from the cabinet, filled it with her drink and proceeded to make the sandwiches. He liked them, too.

As they ate, he glanced at the wall clock, his thoughts drifting again to the white house with the new picture window. He’d been upstairs for a while looking at the photographs, and now he wondered.

When he rose to set his dish into the sink, his curiosity got the better of him, and he strolled into the living room and checked across the street. A car sat in the driveway, and his pulse skipped. He turned away, irritated at his irrational emotions, and returned to the kitchen.

Kaylee had ripped off some of the crust and was eating the last of her sandwich. When she finished, she pushed her saucer away before taking a long drink of milk. Before she set down the glass, she grinned at him. “Milk’s good with cookies.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, happy for the distraction. “One.”

A half frown knitted her brow. “Okay.”

He reached into the bread box where he’d slipped a package of chocolate chip cookies and handed her one. “When you’re done, we can go outside. What do you say?”

She nodded and proceeded to dunk her cookie into the glass. She nearly lost it in the liquid, but she snatched it out and bit. “Good.”

He waited while she entertained herself with the cookie-dunking, and when she finished, he rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, knowing he probably wouldn’t see Ashley anyway.

Outside, the afternoon sun warmed his back as he sat on the porch watching Kaylee search for ladybugs in the flowers. She’d found one once and she seemed to think she’d find more. She never did. Though he kept one eye on her, his glances aimed down the street. Feeling antsy, he rose and refocused. “Let’s get your bike and I’ll walk alongside you.”

Her head jerked up, and the ladybugs took a backseat to the walk idea. They rounded the house and located her bike equipped with training wheels in the garage. She jumped on and pedaled down the driveway, her legs soon too long for its small size. She’d grown up before his eyes.

The same old ache rolled down his back. He didn’t want to miss seeing his daughter grow, and even more, he worried about who was raising her. Gina or her sister, Renee. His last conversation with Gina left him feeling edgy. Something in her voice sounded different. He couldn’t put his finger on his concern, but it slipped into his subconscious and wouldn’t let go. The last thing he wanted to do was grill his daughter, but times rose when he prayed she’d reveal something that would help him understand what bothered him.

Devon hurried to follow Kaylee as she turned on to the sidewalk, and he was glad when she went left, which meant they would be heading toward Ashley’s house. As he hurried to catch up to Kaylee, he heard someone call his name. He looked across the street to see Neely waving to him from the driveway. Behind her, Joey appeared from the side of the house.

When the boy saw him, he grinned and toddled toward the street. Neely captured his hand to keep him from venturing into the road.

Devon’s heart jigged with the boy’s smile. He checked for traffic and then caught Kaylee’s attention and beckoned her to follow. He strode beside her as they crossed, and when he hit the sidewalk, Joey opened his arms to him.

“Hey, buddy.” Devon hoisted the toddler onto his hip. “Is your mama finally home?”

Joey’s smile broadened. “Mama’s home.” He turned and pointed toward the new window.

Devon turned to Neely. “I bet she’s happy to be here. How’s it going?”

“She’s nervous, but we all said we’d help as much as we can.” She gave a shrug. “I tried to get her to stay at Dad’s, but she’s determined to be here, so...”

“Ashley? Determined?” Devon gave a chuckle. “The little time I’ve known her, it doesn’t surprise me.”

Neely’s face brightened. “Me neither. My sister is strong willed.” She gestured toward the door. “Would you like to stop in and say hi? I’m sure she’d like to see you.”

He turned toward Kaylee. “What do you say?” A scowl had grown on her face, and he realized her attention was pinned on Joey. “This is Joey, Kaylee. His mama just got home from the hospital. She—”

“Why are you holding him?” Her scowl deepened.

Her reaction surprised him. Devon gave Joey a little squeeze and lowered him to the ground. “There you go, big boy.”

Joey tilted his head upward. “I’m a big boy.” He wandered closer to Kaylee and studied her bicycle. “Ride?”

Kaylee gave him a look. “No. This is my bike.”

Devon’s chest constricted. “Kaylee, don’t be mean. He has his own tricycle.” He’d never expected her to act rudely to Joey or anyone.

She grasped his pant leg and gave a pull. “Daddy, let’s go. You’re supposed to walk with me.”

Embarrassed, he gave a shrug. “I’d better pass on your invitation. Tell Ashley hi from me. I’ll catch her later.”

Neely nodded as if she understood. He tousled Joey’s hair, gave a wave and guided Kaylee back to the sidewalk, disappointed with her behavior as well as his hopes that she and Joey might become playmates. He didn’t know what triggered her attitude, but he had to say something to Kaylee and get to the bottom of her reaction.

* * *

Ashley watched out the window as Devon walked away. She’d hoped Neely would invite him in, but apparently she hadn’t thought to. Devon wouldn’t ask, not with his little daughter with him. She released a sigh and sank back into the recliner. The little girl had dark hair like her daddy, but other than that, she couldn’t see her well enough through the window to catch a resemblance. Mainly she noticed her scowl. Not a good sign.

Devon had offered to help out with Joey, and she’d hoped the kids might be friends, but the frown doused her hope. But she decided not to jump to conclusions. The look may have been caused by anything. Kids didn’t like not getting their way.

What difference? Life went on. She had no expectations of anything from Devon. A small seed of anticipation had settled in her chest when he’d visited in the hospital. A neighborly friend sounded like a positive step forward, but she had the Wellses next door. In a pinch, they might keep an eye on Joey. Still, she enjoyed Devon’s company except for the buzz of guilt that lingered in her brain. Though the feeling was ridiculous, her heart didn’t listen to her brain. She couldn’t control how she felt.

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